Panthera Spelaea
Boat Ride

The following day I couldn’t wait to get back to the site.

We almost missed it.

The Cave Lion was intact, and crews on swings and nights had nearly freed it from the surrounding soil. However, it was much slower going, as they were digging a pit that would fill up with the water they used to blast the frozen ground away. In addition, the fur and hide weren’t as thick and tough as the mammoth had been, so they needed to use smaller nozzles and lower pressure spray. They also had to dig a sump down to collect the water and rig a submersible pump to remove the water as it collected. Unfortunately, you can’t use a gas pump inside the cave, so the crews set up a portable generator and ran extension cords.

Our crew had the slowest and most demanding job; since the cave lion had been submerged and wasn’t as thick, the prolonged exposure to warmer air and river water was thawing it out as we worked. Working from back to front in the narrow channel around it, we had to bring wood planks to stabilize it as we undercut the body. It was slow, messy, and cold work. Finally, I cut through the last section of mud just before lunch, and it was free.

The specimen was in great shape despite having been landed on by a six-ton mammoth. It was intact, although the right front leg and multiple ribs appeared broken. It must have landed in water or soft mud, which was lucky for us. It was an impressive animal, bigger than the African lions I’d seen in zoos. It looked very similar, except this male didn’t have a long mane, and the fur was thicker and lighter in color. We measured it at 2.54 meters (8 ft 4 inches) long and estimated its weight at 350 kg (771 pounds).

He was one intimidating predator; paws the size of dinner plates, claws longer than my finger and still sharp, and a mouth big enough to engulf my head.

Luckily, removing this specimen would be much simpler. We brought in straps and every person we could round up and used six lift points to move him. We went slowly due to the cramped quarters and slippery ground, letting him down a few times to rest. When we exited the cave, one of the expeditions’ flat-bottomed riverboats was waiting with a tarp already prepared. Walking across the muddy riverbank like we were casket bearers, we positioned the lion on the boat and set it down. “Set the straps down along the outside, and cover it with the tarp.”

We did so, knowing the hot sun would be accelerating the thawing and the decay.

The prospectors were happy we finally finished our work; they’d lost two days of prospecting to this. The expedition would pay them for their labor, but they might have made more continuing their quest for ivory without it. They weren’t even getting the tusks from this animal; since it was such an important specimen, the Russian Government was buying the tusks from them, kind of an “as-is-where-is” deal.

Vitali chose Nicole and me to ride back with him to Belaya Gora with our Cave Lion. My expedition leader and favorite professor climbed on board and went to the back of the thirty-foot boat, where a local fisherman was at the tiller of his outboard motor. “Stay in the front and try to keep him from getting wet,” Vitali told me.

I needed help to push us off the muddy riverbank since the boat now weighed fifteen hundred pounds more than it did when it landed. As it broke free of the muck, I clambered on board and found a place near the cave lion’s head to sit down.

You couldn’t get the smile off my face as we turned upriver and started to move. Nicole was the same way; we had done it; we’d been part of a find that would send shock waves through the world of paleontology. First, the two carcasses would be sampled, x-rayed, examined, measured, and autopsied to determine all we could about them. Then, when the autopsy was over, samples would be taken and distributed to universities worldwide. DNA samples would go to Harvard, I was sure.

After all that? I expected to see two teams of taxidermists taking on the challenge of a lifetime. The preserved fur and bodies would end up in a Moscow museum. They would show the next generation of young children the wonders of the Ice Age era, thanks to the permafrost and our expedition.

The outboard was pushing us slowly upriver, and the wind was warm. I took off my gloves and cap for the first time since lunch; the water was so cold that you’d be useless in a minute without the insulated and waterproof gloves and clothing we wore. I set them by my leg right for now. The warm breeze felt fantastic on my face and hands; working in the frozen underground made you appreciate the simple things in life. I closed my eyes, letting myself enjoy the moment.

I opened my eyes just as a gust of wind blew the tarp away from the cave lion’s head.

I got on my knees, crawling over to grab the tarp and pull it in place. As I looked down, I realized that I’d never touched the specimen without gloves; hell, none of us had! The temptation to feel the wet fur and teeth of an extinct animal was too much to resist. I leaned down, holding the tarp with one hand while the other moved to touch the fur at the side of his face.

My fingers touched the fur, and it felt like a jolt of electricity surged through my body. I could have sworn the lion’s eyes glowed red, but then the pain hit. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t breathe. My body froze in terror, the adrenaline dump useless against this. My stomach trying to throw up but unable to.

The pain wasn’t enough to keep me from feeling something pushing into my consciousness.

Then the pain was too much, and everything went black.

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