UNTAMED PASSION...

A DREAM SAFARI IN THE SERENGETI SERVES UP THE EXTREMES OF LIFE AND DEATH FOR FRANCES MILLAR

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A BREEZE rustles the grass, sending their feathery tips swaying in the scorching sun.

The hum of the savannah fills the air as our 4x4 rolls to a stop.

In the middle distance, flamingos wade through a shimmering lake. A rank smell drifts into the car.

To our right, our expert guide Chambo points out the remains of an unfortunate wildebeest. A white-backed vulture picks over what is left of the carcass as we creep past.

Moments later, we see him. Mere yards from us, a magnificent golden-maned lion rises from the wispy scrub, his missus lying beside him. With a sudden move, he mounts her, teeth bared, a bite on her neck, and in a flash it’s over... I'm left silently gasping. Sex and death. Side by side.

This is the Serengeti - where the wild things are.

As a first-time safari-goer, I didn’t know what to expect. Maybe the odd distant sighting. Certainly not a front-row seat to a documentary-worthy action scene.

“Lions can copulate more than 200 times over a week,” Chambo tells us in hushed tones. “Every 10 or 15 minutes at the beginning, about an hour towards the end.

“They don’t care about food, but when they are mating they are very, very dangerous.” Noted.

We wait in silence, our eyes glued to the binoculars, and sure enough, it wasn’t long before we witness the spectacle again. Job done, the lion stalks off a few paces, flops down and rolls on to his back, paws in the air. Satisfied.

It was just one of many extraordinary encounters during my five-day trip in the Tanzanian Serengeti but another, in particular, had me tearing up. The Great Migration sees tens of thousands of zebra and wildebeest moving together across the plains, and with the sound of the hulking gnus - a guttural, tuneless chorus of honks - it’s a cacophony that surely piques the interest of every apex predator for miles.