Hwange is a dry park. Pans are pumped, rain is uneven, and a herd will cover tens of kilometres between a morning drink and the next reliable water. That is not restlessness. It is memory — cows leading calves along routes older than the lodge roads.
When you sit in an open vehicle and the ranger goes quiet, he is often watching that line of travel: not just the animals in front of you, but where they must be by dusk.
