The Ugly Duckling (Excerpt)

Atlas

A chill wind touched the back of my neck, and I shrugged deeper into the camouflage jacket bought from Bushbuck Ridge Reserve's little souvenir store. Unfortunately, we didn't expect sunny South Africa to be so hot during the day and nippy at night. Not "winter in Canada," cold but crisp.

I leaned back and stared at the stars, entranced by their beauty and the quiet night as the fire reached toward the heavens and people sat outside talking instead of hiding in their rooms. Except for those few who congregated in the lodge's spacious dining room.

***

Since we arrived five days ago, Harris had us acclimating the first two days, staying close to the lodge and our chalets, spending time by the pool, sleeping off our jetlag, and getting used to our hosts' way of doing things.

Before dawn on day three, we watched the sun rise in a blaze of golds and yellows over the watering hole from a lookout post, and it was amazing as the animals arrived one by one or in groups, dark silhouettes against the sky.

Everything was so vibrant, alive, and utterly different from anything I had ever experienced.

The monkeys messed with the other animals, and a herd of elephants arrived with their babies. Bucks and buffalo drank from the dark, reflective surface of the manmade dam while predators stalked from the shadowy savannah grass, and a few hippos looked like floating rocks with only their heads above the water.

Regretfully, we had to leave just after dawn on our way to the mountains and our second adventure.

***

Thabisho and Barry led us on a steep hike to another lookout point, leaving me half dead, but it was worth it as we stared over the austere beauty of the bushveld landscape interspersed with camel thorn trees and the snaking green band of the river cutting through it.

"That is so beautiful," Dean said beside me as the sun baked down on us, and I glanced at him.

He didn't even have the grace to sound winded and stood with his thumbs looped through the shoulder straps of his mini backpack, shoulders relaxed, a smile touching his lips, and his eyes so peaceful.

"Yes, beautiful," I echoed, but I wasn't looking at the landscape anymore.

Although we returned to camp just after four for food and a nap, we did a game drive that evening.

It demonstrated both the splendor and cruelty of the African continent in its most primal and forbidding form as we came upon a pride of lions after they brought down a large buck.

The sight was gruesome and fascinating as we watched them rip apart their prize.

Hyenas and other critters lurked in the shadows, waiting their turn. Yipping into the night, trying to tease the lions into reacting so they could steal bits and pieces of prey, but the lions kept them at bay.

The caged vehicles gave the animals a good berth, but the night vision cameras mounted on the roof gave us an excellent high view, and we continued to watch on the screens when Barry shut off the spotlights that were making the lions restless.

"This is gross. Can we leave?" Sherise asked after a while, hiding her head against my shoulder.

"The night is for predators," Thabisho, the tall, dark-skinned game warden, warned us with his unexpected and very Afrikaans accent. "The bush is always dangerous and must be respected at all times."

He took his job seriously, but when he wasn't being serious, his quirky sense of humor and dry wit slayed.

***