I wake at sunrise, 05:30, and go out to enjoy the cool breeze coming off the river. On the other side, multiple small brushfires are clearly visible, burning their way down the hills toward the river.

I notice that one of Rosemary's sandals, which had been left outside, was moved about five feet away. Craig figured it was probably a hyena. I decide not to leave anything outside the tent at night anymore.

We have a quick breakfast of coffee and cold cereal, and leave camp at 06:30 for our first bushwalk. To get to our starting point, we drive for half an hour back down the same dirt track we came in on, pausing to view a lone bull elephant, some beautiful kudu antelope as well as three lions resting near the road. A lucky sighting so soon in the trip! The big male lion is not very cooperative from a photographers point of view, but it is exciting to see them so close.

Park rules restrict vehicles from driving off the roads, but you can walk anywhere you want to. There is also no requirement that you be accompanied by a guide, armed or otherwise. Many people from Zimbabwe and South Africa drive into the park and stay at the main public campground, a few miles down the road. Every now and then, someone does something stupid and gets killed, usually by a buffalo, but not that often.

Gus drives on, leaving the lions behind. A short time later he parks the Land Rover just off the road under a tree. He gets out and goes through what soon becomes a familiar routine. First he removes his .357 bolt-action rifle out of it's tattered cloth case. From his cartridge belt, he removes a single round and inserts it into the chamber, closing it with a solid metallic "click", then clicks on the safety. He straps on the belt, which features a holstered .44 Magnum revolver, rests his rifle on his shoulder and says quietly, "Well, lets go see what we can see" and sets off. Rosemary and I look at each other: this was one heavily armed safari guide!

We follow Gus in single file. Walking in Africa at last: a feeling of exhilaration comes over me. This was what I had come for: to feel the ground, touch the trees and be at eye level with the wildlife.

For the next three hours, zebra and impala are nearly always in sight, though at greater distances than when we were in a vehicle. We pass innumerable dusky red termite mounds, many taller than I. The air gradually warms up, and the dry grass crunches satisfyingly under my boots.

Mana Pools park is so named because the section near the river contains a number of elongated pools that were once side channels of the river and later became isolated from the main channel. At this time of the year the water levels are minimal, but the pools attract large numbers of game.

We stop at "Long Pool", which now only contains water over about 50 meters of its 200+ meter length. A family of Egyptian geese with ten ducklings decide they do not like our presence and exit the water at the far end. I notice that one duckling did not seem to realize that the rest of the family are leaving, and is left behind. A tasty morsel from some opportunistic crocodile, its lifespan is now probably measured in hours.

We move on from the pool. A bit farther on, Gus pauses and pokes a small clump of brush with his rifle barrel. He straightens up, looks around, then bends down and reaches into the brush, extracting one limp baby Egyptian duck. "She was left behind at the pool" he states calmly. I am amazed that he saw it, but it turns out he didn't: the brush was the only place it could have hidden and he played a hunch, though one born out of experience. The duckling plays dead in his hands, limp but quivering slightly. Gus slips it into his shirt pocket and we set off to search for the parents.

A ten minute walk to a neighboring pool and there they are! Gus walks down to the edge of the water and releases the duckling. Upon hitting the water, it practically walks across the surface to rejoin its parents, who are now quacking up a racket. Gus's approach to the pool has alarmed the parents, who still have nine other offspring to worry about, and they fly away from their flock in an attempt to decoy Gus the "intruder" away from their children. The flock paddles left, parents and lone duckling go right. When the trio settle down, they paddle for the opposite bank of the pool. The nine ducklings start to make their way back towards their parents.

Big mistake. We count six crocodiles lounging in the shallows on the far side. The flock is heading right for two of them. Suddenly one of the crocs makes its move and scoops up two ducklings. "Saved one and lost two" murmured Gus. So it goes.

Time to move on. We come across two old bull buffalo lounging in the shade of a spreading acacia tree. We walk up to within 12 meters and observe them while standing next to a termite mound.

Gus said, "Sometimes these lone bulls can be dangerous". He agreed with me that "buffalo are the most dangerous animals in Africa", not lion or elephant. But "in a herd they are just like cows. On their own, the bulls can be nasty."

By 10:30 it is becoming uncomfortably hot and we head back to the Land Rover. Returning to camp we discover it was even hotter inside our tent, but I still manage a two hour nap: my body had yet to adjust to local time.

In the late afternoon the routine is to go out on a game drive, no walking. We spot a family of five elephant, two of them young calves. Farther on we come across the same three lion seen that morning, though they are only just barely visible in the brush. Gus says there is no point in trying to approach them more closely on foot, they'll only move away. Driving further on reveals vervet monkeys and buffalo. We park by the river and Craig shows us a colony of several hundred Carmine bee eaters that have built nests in the soft dirt of the bank above a feeder stream.

By now it is dusk, and a hippo is out grazing a hundred meters off. I try for a photo in the fading light, completely missing out on noticing a huge herd of buffalo in the background, a fact which was later brought to my attention - with some hilarity - by my spouse. Returning to camp, we spot our first hyena.

It was a satisfying first day of bushwalking.