SIDE BY SIDE

@OrlaThomas

@justinfoulkes

The elephant is so close I can hear him chew. His powerful jaws crunch effortlessly through a mouthful of whistling thorn acacia, a tree with the texture of a medieval mace. Another member of the herd is grunting with exertion as she uproots a bush, a procedure being copied – rather ineffectually – by her tiny baby. His stubby legs aren’t long enough to manage the twist-and-pull method his mother deploys to devastating effect, and, eventually, he slumps to the ground to rest his head on her giant toenails. I arrived in the Mara just hours ago, but feel far from weary myself. Being so near the group is electrifying, and I sit in the Land Cruiser in awed silence, watching as they make their way across the plains, the sun burning high in a cloudless sky. The collective noun for elephants is a ‘memory’, and these will be forever etched on mine.

AFTER half an hour, the elephants start to move on, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake: fallen tree trunks, branches stripped of leaves. Some of the 30-strong herd brush against the bonnet, others clip the 4WD’s tyres with their tails as they swish