Ken had got to know this caracal well. Living in Kenya's Masai Mara, he was a young male, whose mother appeared to be trying to encourage him to become independent. 'She would leave him alone for long periods of time,' says Ken, 'presumably hoping he would learn to fend for himself. He slept in a den in the ground during the day, emerging in the evening to wait for her.' Early one morning, as Ken explored the spot where he had last seen the caracal, he heard the thunder of hooves. As a herd of wildebeest galloped past, pursued by hyenas, the terrified young caracal shot out of the grass and up the nearest tree. He did the right thing. 'They stampeded straight over his den,' says Ken.
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