The Tank at First Light

We reached the tank before the light did. The water was flat and grey, the far bank still a guess. Amavin parked the jeep at an angle to the east, cut the engine, and we waited for the morning to arrive on its own terms.

For the first hour nothing came. A cormorant worked the shallows. A pair of painted storks stood where they had stood the day before. This is the part most jeeps skip — the long, uneventful sit that the park rewards only if you give it time.

Then the light turned, the way it does in the dry zone, all at once. The grey went gold. A small herd of buffalo waded out chest-deep, and behind them, on the bund, a jackal trotted the length of the water and was gone. None of it was rare. All of it was worth the wait.

We stayed until the heat flattened the colour out of everything and the birds went quiet. Then we drove back slowly, in no particular hurry, which is rather the point.

— Amavin