ode to a giraffe

Giraffe, how do you still exist in the world?  Like some prehistoric throwback, it doesn’t seem possible that you’ve survived the millennia without falling prey to extinction. I take it as some kind of omen that on my last day in the bush I’m greeted by a parade of you, poking through the Acacia with that curious, quizzical look on your faces before galloping across the field en masse. I’m told you’ve got quite the kick, yet ever since Toys “R” Us marketed Geoffrey Giraffe as its cuddly, docile mascot, I’ve had to suppress the urge to squeeze you like a favored stuffed animal.


mother and child

Nothing quite compares to your first sighting of an untamed animal oblivious to your presence.  (Or if not exactly oblivious, completely unconcerned.) We were lucky this afternoon to come upon a herd of elephants feasting on the thorny Acacia shrubs that litter the plains of the Masai Mara. As the herd munched, they paid us absolutely no heed and we were able to come in close enough to see this baby nuzzle in to its mother.


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