The old lion looked down gravely at his pride.  

   "I have gathered you here to discuss with you our lacking performance in the area of wildebeest catching this past summer." 

   Murmurs arose from the assembled lions. Nobody liked to talk about that kind of stuff. Why did the old lion always have to ride around this old topic? Could he not praise them for the neat and tidy waterhole they kept? They had invested a lot of time and effort in it. 

   "Roaring Mane, you, our chief hunter, what are your strategies to make sure we perform better next summer? Our cups are hungry," the old lion said. 

   Roaring Mane was a specimen of a lion. Well-fed and with a magnificent head of hair, he towered over most of his fellow pride members. He rose from his cool spot under the large palm tree.  

   "How about we find out where the wildebeest graze, encircle them and then pick them off?" Said Tabea, one of the older lion cubs, silently, so only her mother and brothers could hear her. 

   "Psst, Roaring Mane is speaking," Tabea's mother said, looking at the large lion with awe.  

   "I have thought long and hard about this question, Sire, and consulted about it with the most senior hunters at length." 

   Roaring Mane waved his paw at the large palm tree where the leaders of the hunters resided with him. They met his gesture with just the appropriate amount of humility. 

   "As we all know, we are the kings and queens of the animal kingdom and this follows that it must be the greatest honour for all beasts to serve their purpose and become our nourishment." 

   A general rumble of contented ascent rolled through the assembled pride. Particularly among the seasoned hunters under the tree.  

   "Impala shit," said Tabea, earning herself reproachful looks of the grown lionesses around her but sniggers from her brothers.  

   "This means that we must make it clearer to the Wildebeest where we are so that they can find us easier and come closer to us. I, therefore, have worked out a three-phase plan on how we can grow our palm trees and increase the volume of our roaring by at least 20% until next summer." 

   Most of the assembled lions roared in approval. This meant no additional hunting trips. Everyone hated the exhausting hours spent chasing after prey. This would be much easier.  

   Realising the popularity of the proposal, the old lion nodded satisfied.  

   "And how do we measure the success of your strategy?" 

   "Hunted Wildebeests?" Tabea said a little bit too loudly before her mother could place her paw over Tabea's muzzle. Roaring Mane turned his head in their direction. He was smiling indulgently. 

   "No, young one, mine is a long term plan. We need better success indicators than that. Your approach is a little to… simplistic. However, it is great of you to participate. I am sure you will make a fine hunter one day." 

   Roaring Mane turned back to his superior. 

   "No, we will measure the height of the palm trees, the number of birds shooed away by our roars each night and the number of hoof tracks around our waterhole as indicators of success. This will give us a great idea about the efficiency of our measures." 

   In the coming months, the pride did everything the seasoned hunter had suggested with great enthusiasm. And while they watered, roared and counted, the cheetahs, hyenas and leopards rejoiced, hunted and grew fat.