Many pairs of human eyes are focussed and intently looking towards the waterhole and surrounds. Each onlooker is eager to be the first to alert the gathered crowd to any approaching thirsty wildlife. The sun sinks lower and, as if by magic, a large, confident and steady-paced beast materialises from the bush. Contrasting with the wary, furtive and nervous approach of other animals, this relaxed animal seems unaware of its own critical vulnerability. It is the price that it might pay for wearing two horns on its head that bates our breath at its appearance. Black rhinos are rare: rare because of an incomprehensible desire to feed desire. Our rhino has been here many times and knows the drill: slowly follow the curve of the waterhole; pause; resume walking until aligned with the setting sun; choose tonight’s drinking pad; turn occasionally, but blindly, towards the mesmerised onlookers; sip gently and silently from the waterhole; rest motionless for at least five minutes; and then resume drinking from the waterhole. The first night we saw two of these endangered animals. They appeared happy to see each other and rubbed muzzles and horns, which corroborated information that said they were sociable in their nature. The second night, four came to drink, one a youngster, but they were wary of each other and after some bickering they kept their distance. Whatever their personalities and disagreements, they all shared the same uncanny ability to melt into the African bush as mysteriously as they emerged. Leaving us to ponder, emptily, their gradual disappearance.

P.s. The Africa trip is over but it was so full on, and wifi was so unhelpful, that blogging was impossible. I will add more blogs on Africa in tandem with my UK leg of the trip.