The Old Man

In Kruger you drive yourself. No guide, no tracker, just you, a map and your own patience. It also means nobody tells you where to look. You miss more that way, and every so often you find something you would otherwise have driven straight past.

This was late in the afternoon. In the trees beside the road the young baboons were tumbling about, which is where everybody points a camera. He was sitting underneath them, well off to one side, his back half to me and his head turned toward the noise. He was doing nothing. He was keeping an eye on it.

The sun was low enough to come through his coat from behind and separate every hair of that ruff. His face stayed dark, exactly as it should.