Impala

In December, when the world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful, the savannah is full of little impalas, and it seems the whole landscape has been created for staggering, spindle-legged, big-eyed, hard-suckling life.

- As told to Simon Barnes

Rain, rain, rain, rain ~ beautiful rain.

Monday

If you were here last October, you wouldn’t believe it’s the same place. Back then it was a brutal world: desert-dry, hot enough to fry your brains, little to eat apart from dry twigs, and the only place you could get a drink was the river. We had to stay close to it ~ and the dogs and the leopards and the lions always knew where to find us. If you're alive when the rains come you've really achieved something.

Tuesday

In October the world was dirty yellow, the colour of lions. Disgusting. But now it’s green and lovely, so instead of trying to suck nourishment from the bushes I’m grazing on sweet new grass. The whole world is a buffet lunch and my young one is small and glossy and learning to leap.

Wednesday