Do Not Argue With a Buffalo

He lifts his head and stares at you. Not curious. Not scared. Just not impressed.

A Cape buffalo bull, face on. Horns that meet in a thick, heavy boss across the top of his head, like a helmet he never takes off.

You have seen lions today. This is the look that makes you sit back in your seat.

Nobody in the vehicle says anything clever.

Behind him, the herd starts to move. One by one they step out onto the track, then all at once, a slow river of black backs and swinging heads. The ground thuds. Dust rises. You smell them, warm and earthy, as they go by.

The vehicle waits. Of course it waits. Nobody argues with a buffalo herd.

And riding along with them, small and white, come the egrets. One sticks close to a buffalo like a little white shadow, as if it has paid for a ticket. The herd stirs up insects with every step, and the egrets are there for them.

The buffalo do not mind. The birds do not mind. Everyone has a job.

Then the last one crosses, gives you one more look, and the track is yours again.

You let out a breath you did not know you were holding.