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There were but a few white clouds
in an otherwise blue sky.
Our canoes drifted quietly down the slow flowing
Zambezi river. Now and then a lazy stroke with
a paddle to keep the bow pointing down river.
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Hippos wallowed in the shallows near the shore.
Their quiet, content grunting once in a while
interupting the silence of High Noon
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Kelvin estimated the temperature to be about
40 C. in the shade. Now and then I filled my Tilley
hat with water and put it back on my head
allowing the cooling water to run down my body.
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Crocodiles of varying sizes populated the shore line,
wide gaping jaws catching what little breeze there was.
My camera shutter-release finger was working overtime
as we drifted closer and closer
to one of the sleeping crocs.
A little closer...
... now another foot closer.
The Croc awoke, or maybe it had not been asleep at all,
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and with one gigantic leap into the river, it cleared
our boat, just feet in front of our bow.
In retrospect it was clearly a desparate attempt
to get away from us
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at the time, however, when I saw its
yellow-greenish underbelly
it looked very much like an attack.
It made my heart skip a beat or two.
1 comment:
Very cool
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