Text and photos by © Alexandra George
In Nxai Pan, springbok grazed across the open grasslands, their movement stretching toward the horizon – one moment among many that would follow.
From the high ground, the landscape opened wide
A cheetah rested on a low mound, enjoying the late afternoon sun.
She stayed there for a long time, barely moving. Then she stood, stepped down and walked across the pale grass at the edge of the reeds. She paused under a tree, looked up briefly, then continued on, lay on the dry grass, rolled on her back.
Eventually she disappeared into the dry fringe beneath the taller green reeds.
She was pregnant, carrying the promise of cubs – a fragile, hopeful future.
Masters of disguise
A female leopard lay relaxed in the tall, emerald grasses of the post-rain season, her form almost dissolving into the surrounding green.
Another lay half hidden beneath the low branches, leaves and stems falling across her face as she rested in the shade.
During one night drive, I first saw the leopardess alone, moving quietly through the darkness. Minutes later, she reappeared beside a male, and we stayed with the pair for nearly two hours. The leopardess, strikingly beautiful, moved around her paramour restlessly, brushing close and doing everything to provoke a reaction, while the male lay still throughout, watching without the slightest response.
On another night drive, a young leopard appeared, taking a leisurely stroll down the sandy Pom Pom path.
Holding the mound
The lion brothers remained on a mound for two days. What was left of the buffalo was reduced to the head. They lay beside it, heavy and unmoving. When one stood, his size was striking. Even among full-grown males, he stood out.
Lords of the Kalahari
A magnificent black-maned lion lay alone in the grass at first light, his dark mane catching the first warmth of the morning sun. He watched quietly, alert yet unhurried – master of the open Kalahari.
Later in the morning, a lioness appeared, settling into the grass as the day warmed. In time, the two came together, and we watched them take a long, unhurried stroll through pale, waist-high grass, still green after the rains, broken by low shrubs and thorn trees. A journey that carried them steadily into the afternoon.
Elsewhere in Tau Pan, three subadult lions from the pride were hanging out on their own, resting and bursting into play, batting and circling, their movements quick and light across the grass.
Nxai Pan – Lines across the horizon
Zebras crossed the pans in loose lines, moving steadily across the horizon.
At a larger waterhole, families gathered in numbers, together with wildebeest. Groups stood close together, some drinking, others waiting at the edge. Movement was constant – arrivals, departures, small shifts within the herd. During the rains, the zebras come from further north, from Chobe and beyond, moving across the landscape to graze and give birth here.
Giraffe herds were a common sight in the mornings, moving slowly from acacia tree to acacia tree. On one morning drive, a herd of giraffes appeared – a quiet, improbable gathering. They moved between the acacia trees, feeding from the higher branches, then lowering themselves to drink from shallow puddles.
Later, giraffes and zebras crossed the same stretch of ground, passing without pause, each continuing in its own direction.
Nxai Pan – Gathering at the waterholes
In the morning, the waterhole lay directly in front of my room.
Animals came and went throughout the early hours. Zebras arrived first, gathering in small groups before moving on again. Giraffes followed, standing apart at the edge, lowering their heads carefully to drink.
Elephants came later.
Some moved in pairs, others in small family groups. Younger ones stayed close, stepping forward and back as if unsure of the distance. The older elephants remained steady, drinking slowly before turning away.
There was no fixed pattern.
Groups formed, dispersed, and reformed again. By mid-morning, the waterhole had emptied, leaving only the open space and the tracks in the sand.
These moments did not form a single story.
They remained as they were seen.
Mid-morning rest – painted dogs near Pom Pom airstrip
We were driving to the airstrip, a short distance from Pom Pom Lodge, reluctant to leave this Eden behind, when suddenly, out of nowhere, we saw them: the resident Pom Pom painted dog pack resting beneath scattered trees. After ten days without a single sighting of painted dogs, the discovery brought a surge of excitement.
The pack lay sleeping in the shade after the morning hunt, their bodies stretched across the cool sand as the heat of the day gathered. We were leaving a wondrous ten-day safari and heading back to Maun – a fitting farewell.
