Ah, splendid question, old chap! The majestic king of beasts, the lion, doesn’t so much as bat an eye at a safari vehicle for reasons that are as fascinating as they are simple.
First and foremost, the lion sees the vehicle not as a collection of humans but as one large, unthreatening object. It doesn’t move like prey, nor does it act like prey, and importantly, it doesn’t panic like prey. Lions, being the astute predators they are, have come to recognize that these slow, lumbering vehicles are neither a threat nor a source of food. The sheer consistency of these encounters – day in, day out – has taught them that these odd contraptions pose no real concern.
But – and this is a crucial point – it all changes the moment someone disturbs that delicate balance. I remember a situation I experienced firsthand, when a photographer leaned too far out of the vehicle, far too close to a lion. The shift from calm to danger was instant. The lion, no longer viewing the photographer as part of the harmless vehicle, attacked with alarming speed and ferocity. The photographer was incredibly lucky to escape with his life. It was a stark reminder that, while lions may tolerate vehicles, they are still wild, instinct-driven animals, and any breach of perceived safety can have deadly consequences.
The vehicle itself, large and elevated, keeps the passengers separate from the natural food chain, but the second you break that illusion – by stepping out or leaning too close – you immediately trigger the lion’s primal instincts. The safety we feel in safari vehicles is based on respect for the rules and for the lions’ territorial boundaries. Step outside those lines, and you’re back in the wild, where the lions rule supreme.
Lions actually tolerate the vehicles as long as we remain part of them. It’s a tenuous balance of respect and recognition that allows us to witness these magnificent predators up close – without becoming part of the food chain ourselves.
To a lion, a safari vehicle is just one big, weird, harmless thing trundling through their kingdom. It doesn’t act like prey—no running, panicking, or looking deliciously gazelle-like. And because lions are practical hunters (why chase when you don’t have to?), they’ve learned that these giant metal beasts aren’t food, threats, or anything worth their time.
Over years of exposure, lions have basically filed safari vehicles under “boring background noise.” The key is that humans stay in the vehicle and don’t disrupt this delicate mental filing system. As long as you’re part of the big metal blob, you’re not even on their radar. Step outside or stick an arm out, though? Congratulations, you’ve just downgraded yourself from “harmless fixture” to “potential snack.”
This isn’t hypothetical either—lean too far out for that perfect Insta shot, and a lion might decide you’ve crossed the line between “meh” and “ooh, interesting.” Lions are still wild animals, after all. Their patience doesn’t mean they’ve gone soft—it just means you’re not worth the effort yet.
So, the next time you’re on safari and amazed at how chill the lions seem, remember: the vehicle is your invisibility cloak. Break that illusion, and you’re back in the food chain. And trust me, nobody wants to be the tourist who made the lion think, “Hey, that looks bite-sized!”
Here’s a lion being an asshole.
Oh, and another.
(This dude probably just killed a baby gazelle or small zebra or something)
We were on Safari in Botswana when we came across a sleeping lion right next to the track we were on. We all grabbed the opportunity to grab some close-up photos. After a minute, or so, he obviously got fed up with all the attention and got up to leave. He decided to walk alongside our vehicle, close enough so that, if I were extremely foolish, I could have stretched my hand out to stroke him.
Just as I was taking that photo one of the women behind me let out a high-pitched squeal. The lion whipped his head round and stared into the vehicle.
As one, we all put our heads down and kept unbelievably quiet. For a dozen seconds, which felt like a few years, the only sound was hearts trying to beat their way through rib cages. Until the lion decided that there wasn’t a tasty morsel hidden amongst us and wandered off.
