Elephants and Lions, Oh My.

I'd be lion if I said she wasn't a beauty.

Chobe National Park, Botswana – Our entrance to the park is punctuated by felled trees so crimson they resemble logs of red velvet cake. The roads, however, wear the well-worn wrinkles of time, causing our guide, Perci, to slip repeatedly in the deeply pitted ruts of the sandy path.

Almost immediately, a sign of things to come: in the valley, a hundred elephants – their faces creased and grey like the roads – smack at the ground to loosen grass, salt and calcium. They are perched on three legs, alternating their balance to distribute weight, which elephants carry most of on their front legs. If you haven't noticed, that heft is substantial.

By the end of the day, we'll have seen more than 500 of them, including countless calves snuggling into their mothers as others stand guard like massive boulders at which even Atlas would have shrugged. One calf sprawls in the dusty road before us, playing gleefully and unable to control its trunk, which swings like a wet pasta noodle.

We stop, giving him right-of-way.

Interspersed among them is a herd of zebras. Alternating stripes allow them to regulate body temperature by controlling absorption of warmth like an on-off switch built into the skin. Nearby, a lioness crouches into a prowl, then decides to take a break.

Later, a rare sighting: a large pack of wild dogs, tucked under a tree. Just as lazily as the cats we have seen.

Then, the sun sets in a swirl of red, orange and purple. Backlit against the sherbet sky, elephants appear to exit the river upside down – their shadows kaleidoscoping into each other. It’s a stunning sight.

They dance us into the darkness of our campsite within the park, alone with all we have seen today. But hardly alone.