Seems like every year brings a different trendy “killer animal” for the general public to fear and demonize. Last year Southern California was held in a grip of fear by mountain lions that had supposedly gotten sick of eating In N Out leftovers and decided to sample homo sapiens instead. Tigers have so terrorized outer Mumbai that the city considered changing its name back to Bombay to throw them off the scent. And who can forget the shark attack frenzy of several years ago, when people stayed away from the beaches for fear of becoming chum? Come to think of it, someone should make a movie about that…
This year, killer alligator is apparently the new killer shark. And let me tell you, alligators have dreadful timing. I recently completed a screenplay for an animated film titled Home Sweet Swamp (I know, you’d think that writing this column would be fulfilling and lucrative enough not to need a hobby like screenwriting, but I’m a workaholic). The story is about an alligator captured by poachers who has to escape captivity to return home to the Florida Everglades. In a twist on the animated movie paradigm, my talking animal is cute, relatable and anthropomorphic.
Just after I’d completed the script, my protagonist’s real-life counterpart decided to go on a freaking rampage. Every time I turned on the computer, there was a new story about a gator attacking a tourist, or a retiree, or a Golden retriever. I think one of them even carried off a retired tourist riding a Golden retriever.
These incidents have prompted me to ponder one of the most profound and enigmatic questions of our time: what exactly is the most dangerous game?
You probably remember the original story “The Most Dangerous Game” by Richard Connell, in which a bored big game hunter turns his sights from hunting animals to hunting humans instead. While I always thought the book was cool, it also seemed a little silly. I guess if you’re hunting a particularly agile and cunning human being they’re harder to kill than your average leopard or lion, but most people I know aren’t exactly a tough out.
When I was participating in field guide training in South Africa, I posed the question to my guide instructor. South Africa being a place where both wild animals and people have been hunted over the years, I figured he’d given the question some serious thought. Because let’s face it: if “What is the meaning of life?” is the first question most people will ask of God, “What is the most dangerous game?” has got to be 1-B, right?
Plus, my instructor was an articulate and sophisticated man who had a very romantic way of talking about the beautiful, elegant creatures in his country. He’d say things like, “The best way to stop an elephant in a serious charge is with a brain shot, or possibly by severing the spine.” Pure poetry. (Although the South African accent can make lots of unsavory things sound like poetry - like the act of putting a bullet through an elephant’s brain).
Anyway, I was expecting a sage response to the age-old question of which is the most dangerous animal on the planet, and I was not disappointed. After just a few brief moments of deliberation, he coolly responded with an answer fitting the transcendental question of our age:
“The most dangerous game is whichever one finally kills you.”
