The New Noah by Gerald Durrell

icicle-shaped head swinging from side to side and his great tail fluttering out behind him like a banner.
    We rode after him as quickly as possible and I went to one side to prevent him from getting back into the long grass while Francis took the other side, uncoiling his lasso as he urged his horse
on. Gradually he drew level with the galloping ant-eater, and whirling his lasso he threw it. He had, unfortunately, made a mistake in the size of the horse. It was too big and so, although it was
well in front of the ant-eater, the animal just simply galloped through it and continued on across the grass, snorting and hissing. Francis halted his horse, re-coiled the rope and set off in
pursuit once again. He drew level with the animal and threw his lasso again. This time he was lucky, and drew the rope tight round the ant-eater’s neck.
    He was off his horse in a moment, hanging on grimly to the end of the rope while the angry ant-eater rushed on across the grass, dragging him with it. I jumped off my horse and ran over and laid
hold of the rope as well. It was quite amazing the strength the ant-eater had in his stubby legs for he dragged us to and fro across the savanna until we began to feel quite exhausted and our hands
were being cut by the rope. Francis, looking over his shoulder, grunted with relief. Looking round, too, I saw that our struggle had brought us fairly close to a small tree about twelve feet high.
This was, in fact, the only tree to be seen for miles.
    Sweating and panting we dragged the reluctant ant-eater towards this, and then wound the loose end of the rope round and round the tree trunk and tied it fast. I had just tied the last knot when
Francis glanced up into the branches of the tree above and gave a yelp of dismay. Looking up, I saw about two feet above our heads a large circular wasps’ nest about the size of a football.
The ant-eater, tugging on the end of his rope, was making the tree sway and bend, and the wasp colony was not at all pleased with this and they were swarming out on the outside of the nest, buzzing
angrily. Francis and I retreated with all speed.
    Now that we had the ant-eater safely tied up (or so we thought) we went back to the horses to collect the various items that we had brought with us – some strong twine and some large sacks
for carrying the quarry in. When I returned to the tree I was just in time to see the ant-eater claw off the last loop of rope, shake himself like a big dog, and start off plodding across the
savanna in a slow and dignified manner. Leaving Francis to retrieve his lasso from the wasp infested tree, I ran after the ant-eater on foot, fashioning a slip knot at the end of a length of twine
as I ran.
    I rush up to him and flung my amateur lasso at his head, but not being as skilful as Francis I naturally missed. The ant-eater kept plodding on; I tried again with equal lack of success and then
a third time, but the ant-eater had become a little irritated with my constantly flinging yards of twine at him and he suddenly stopped, faced round, and rose up on his hind legs. In this attitude
his head was on a level with my chest and I looked warily at the great curved six-inch claws on his front feet that he held at the ready.
    He snuffled and sniffed, waving his long, slender snout from side to side and swinging his forearms so that he looked rather like a boxer. As I did not fancy having a rough and tumble with a
creature that was obviously capable of doing considerable damage with his front claws, I decided that it would be better to wait until Francis had joined me and then one of us could attract the
animal’s attention, while the other tried to capture him. I walked round the ant-eater to see if I could take him unawares, in the rear, but he merely revolved like a top, always keeping his
big claws pointed menacingly at me. So I sat on the ground to wait for Francis.
    The ant-eater, realizing that there was a break in hostilities, decided