The Hippo Is Not Yawning

The mouth opens. And opens. And keeps on opening.

Pink gums. Teeth like fence posts. For a second it looks funny, a huge sleepy yawn from a huge sleepy animal.

It is not a yawn. It is a hippo telling everyone this water is taken.

And you believe it.

Out of the water they look almost silly. Fat, shiny and grey. A pile of them lies sunbathing on the rocks, all heaped together like holidaymakers who fell asleep by the pool.

You smell them before you see them. Earthy and strong. Not lovely.

Every so often one grunts, the heap shifts, and everybody settles down again. Nobody is going anywhere in this heat. You could sit here all afternoon and nothing would change, apart from the sun.

Then one wanders down to the water to drink. Its reflection rises to meet it. The surface barely moves. For something so big, it is surprisingly gentle.

That is the thing about hippos. Calm, calm, calm.

Then that mouth.

You laugh. Then you stop laughing and give them plenty of space.