Delta Force.

Egrets, I've had a few.

Okavango Delta, Botswana – The bleached bones of a years-dead elephant lie scattered like broken china on the lawn. Its skull is amazingly simple to lift.

Awakened before the sun, we're on a 15-kilometre hike into the Okavango Delta, where we just came within 50 metres of a pair of elephants – likely the ones from overnight. The breeze is a saviour in the already-blazing sun.

We trace sandy paths through the parched grounds of one of the larger local islands, stepping over prints left earlier by four lions. They have chased much of the wildlife to another corner of the delta. Still, skittish antelope and zebra graze amidst various elephant families.

Towering termite mounds and football-sized elephant dung punctuate the land like exclamation marks. Both are critical to the inland delta's survival.

The termite mounds, which – like icebergs – are 90 per cent underground, provide the basis for many of the delta's islands during the wet season, creating homes for wildlife. They also serve as signposts given that they point west – they follow the sun when they're still wet.

Elephant dung, meanwhile, is full of seeds and plays an essential role in 'drop planting,' ensuring life returns to the delta, providing food sources and shade.

At that, it's amazing to consider we have seen but the tiniest speck of the greater delta.

Sleepless.

My eyes, in the morning.

Okavango Delta, Botswana – The plastic bag at my father's feet crinkled like a candy wrapper.

It was, however, just the start of a much bigger symphony played out under a bejewelled sky.

I have just been rousted from my sleep by a snarling roar over my left shoulder, which was immediately greeted by a loud trumpet: an insistent reprimand.

It’s 2:30 a.m., and a lion has apparently overstepped its bounds amidst grazing elephants. There are no fences where we’re camping in the middle of the Okavango Delta.

Closer, a branch snaps. Then another.

And another, still closer. A crack. From the low tree that hangs over our tent. Dinner for some means no sleep for others.

Drawing an arc behind us like the thin moon, the massive animals make their way to the water nearby with a splash. It’s a thud of biblical proportions.

With it, the low, rooting snort of a hippo.

What a tremendous time to have to answer the call of nature.

OK, Van Gogh.

Pole pole.

Boro Village, Botswana – In unison with dragonflies in the air, water bugs skitter across the glassy surface. White day lilies sway gracefully amongst the tall reeds.

Our pilot, Kay, stabs at the ground with a long pole, guiding our narrow fibreglass mokoro – a traditional dugout canoe – through the narrow arteries of the Okavango Delta toward the island that will be our home for the next couple nights. It's utterly peaceful as we glide over the surface of the shallow water.

Apart from the odd reed that slaps you across the face as you pass.

In the distance, a massive bull elephant grazes indifferently.

In the afternoon, we have an opportunity to borrow a mokoro – standing tall with a long pole, trying to maintain balance at all costs – to visit the swimming hole. Just be sure to avoid the hippo pool, we’re told.

Free in the Okavango Delta: amazing.