Tourists lured to South Africa to take part in shameful trophy hunts
THE lion cub in my arms is just two months old. His dappled yellow fur is cotton-wool soft and his long lashed eyes glow gold. He is calendar-cute, picture perfect, but when he scrambles out of my arms razor-sharp claws scrape my skin and I’m jolted back to reality, reminded that he’s a wild animal. That I’m able to cradle him at all is paradoxical.