Three Rhinos in a Row

At first they look like rocks.

Three grey lumps far off on the green plain, under the crater wall. Then one of the rocks moves its head.

Rhinos. Three of them, grazing nose to tail in a neat little line, like they have been told to queue.

Everyone in the vehicle goes quiet. You lift the binoculars and your hands are not quite steady.

They do not hurry. Rhinos never seem to hurry. Heads low, chewing, taking a step, chewing again. Behind them the crater wall rises steep and dark, and they look tiny against it, and ancient.

The light is soft. A breeze moves the grass. The only sound is the wind and the click of cameras.

One of them grazes a little closer. You can see the horn now, the thick folded skin, the small ears turning this way and that. Listening. Always listening.

It is hard to explain how it feels. Lucky, mostly. A bit humble.

There are not many places left where you can sit and watch this.

You watch for a long time. Nobody suggests moving on.