On our drive out on the last day we managed to come across a leopard, trying to sleep up in the branches of a tree.  Luckily we didn't drive straight underneath her; according to Thuto, the only time (so far) that anyone has been attacked on one of these safaris was when a guide sneaked off under a tree to have a cigarette, and was dropped on (fatally) by a leopard.

Our Botswana safari ended in the city of Maun, where we hopped a plane back to Johannesburg.  The airport in Maun seemed to be in near chaos, but in retrospect we probably got through there quicker than anywhere else.  I did run into a problem when the zipper on the front pocket (which contained Thuto's tip) of my shorts totally jammed.  Luckily Thuto had his multipurpose Leatherman handy; I borrowed it to rip open the zipper and save his day.

An excerpt from Patti's blog: It's past midnight and there are hippos outside our Linyanti tent. More than four? Less than 20? Cautiously making their way to the water, where they feel most at home, a small herd of hippo feet: The sound of heavy webbed toes along the path, the sound of water radiating in circles, away from the wading hippo legs, and then the splash of a hippo's plunge. This is a rare break from the chimes of bellfrogs, the chatting of yellow hornbills -- a world alone; untrampled by the daily news of world issues. We've gone back to the beginning and we're sharing a hippos' marsh.

The next day, or maybe the next (I've lost track of time) we're floating down the Chobe. The only sounds are the clicks of our cameras, the quiet excited whisper, the sound of water running from an elephant's trunk. Four young bull elephants are grazing the river's edge. They wade and snorkel across the river. Hippos stand nearby, occasionally warning us with their gaping mouths. White and slatey egrets, storks and jacanas wade through marshy grass as if it were nothing special to see an elephant snorkel.

Some time passes and we're polling through the Okavango Delta. Red lechwe, hippos and African buffalo all browse the leaves and grasses of this delta. Giraffes stretch their necks for a closer look as we float beneath the papyrus. "African Paradise-flycatcher, Pied Kingfisher, Wooly-necked Stork, Saddle-billed stork, African Sacred Ibis"-- Bones, who grew up polling these canals, calls out the name of each bird we pass. 1/2 hour earlier he and our guide Thuto were herding us back to the mokoro, in a hasty retreat from a cool-eyed African Buffalo. African Buffalo are very secretive with their thoughts (or, perhaps, they are just quick with their decisions). No one can read them. They charge without warning; unlike the hippo, who warns before totally losing patience. But, Bones' first toy was probably a mokoro. Against the current, he wins every mokoro race, away from the buffalo's gaze; and, the approaching rainstorm that deprived us of a lesson in polling from this polling master.

Our expert guide Thuto, gifted us all of these experiences. He shared his knowledge and love for the dreamlike beauty of Botswana -- The Chobe, Linyanti, the Okavango, of the endangered wattled cranes; of the small and lowly dung beetles and their place in the ecosystem and an epic battle for a prize ball of dung; the watchful gaze of a lioness, her hunt for a meal to feed her cubs; the tender play of the elephants in the Chobe; and when we should wait and be still.