In Hwange, the trees are wearing their autumnal coat prior to shedding their leaves for the winter period. They provide a beautiful backdrop for the open grassland that forms the lower ‘layer’ of Hwange’s scenic landscape: the waterholes that are of critical importance for wildlife during the dry season, and the scrapes of mineral deposits that enrich their diet. The landscape provides an arena for the daily activities of the local players. Both day and night, wildlife enters the stage in small or large groups and exits when the script dictates. To the novice viewer the relationship of the players is often invisible or mysterious. But, for sure, there are patterns playing out, and patience and time are required to gain understanding. Some relationships are obvious—the tiny baby elephant surrounded and protected by a small herd such that it becomes lost amongst giant legs—but others less so: such as when large elephants are spooked—sometimes a herd of buffalo but often an unknown reason—and swiftly exit centre stage. To those more experienced, the elephants were restless and cautious, and on several nights their cacophony of trumpeting communicated their boundaries of personal space. However, for a huge animal they are astonishingly quiet on their large padded feet. And at night they would have passed unnoticed were it not for their scratching at the mineral deposits, and the hoovering then blowing of the rich dirt into their mouths. These were the pleasurable distractions from our meeting.