Yet again the shabby Tanzanian burning trick has achieved nothing more than a lot of hot air. Last week grumpy storms rippled across the Mara turning the straw coloured grass an envious green.
A long way South a lead wildebeest stallion turned up his nose to the distant anvil nimbus and sniffed. Like party-goers who don’t know when last orders are, they decided it was far too early to leave.
Any crossing is a good crossing but when they are coming in to the Mara, leaping into lenses and binoculars alike it is extra special. This thrill is exacerbated when they do it early, the Bourneville banks breaking under their weight as they cascaded into the chocolate currents. Single capillaries snaked across, joining on the North bank – a constant pumping, pulsing, throbbing stream, a charcoal aorta choking with ruminants …. And a river runs through it.
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