(Editor's note: This is the second in a series of three articles.)

Dawn comes to the African bush as the silhouettes of bare, finger shaped trees appear through the mesh of our tent. After a quick wash my wife and I have a light breakfast along with the other trip participants and our guides. We are soon in the Land Rovers for our first morning game drive in the remote wilderness of the 963,300 acre Moremi Wildlife Reserve in Botswana. We've little idea about what to expect.

There is a red-billed hornbill, nicknamed the flying chili pepper, a striking twenty-two inch bird that is black and white with a deeply curved red bill, which is used to forage for dung beetle larvae. Slowly we cross a makeshift log bridge inches above the water and are then on a narrow sand road where we see seven blue wildebeest. I call them The Truth. Blue wildebeest are dark gray antelope, which have thick shoulders and necks topped by shaggy heads and beards. Their lower bodies are less bulky and their thin legs allow for a loping walk. The young have straight small horns while the adults' horns also small are curved inward. They are oddly beautiful.

Red lechwe are long bodied, antelope with powerful high rears and lower shoulders. They are a bright chestnut with black steaks on their front forelegs. Their long spiraled antlers bend backward then turn up. There is a herd of twelve males standing by a marsh looking at us curiously. In the water near them are a few black-winged stilts and with a brown, brick shaped body, a large hammer-like head with a backward pointing crest. The hammerkop feeds on frogs and tadpoles and according to one field guide is thought by indigenous people to have supernatural powers.

Soon we are watching a leopard dozing in a mopane tree perhaps twenty-five yards from us. This solitary nocturnal hunter, for whom impala is a favorite prey, is lying on a branch. The big cat opens its pale yellow eyes and looks directly at us but hardly seems to care. Eerie. Its dark spots and yellow fur blend in so well with the swirls on the bark of the tree. If you didn't know it was there, looking at you, you'd never know it. Now the leopard turns to give us a view of its left profile. We sit there not getting up or talking loudly so as not to scare the leopard off or have it charge us. Chris, our guide, tells us that leopards do a "crawl" where they raise their shoulder blades allowing them to lie flat on the ground and inch toward their prey.

After 40 minutes we leave and soon find a male lion in the shade of a tree about 50 yards from us. Its shaggy mane is yellow but darker below. The lion is so well camouflaged in the dried grass that it could be mistaken for a large rock. He's between 5 and 7 years old, in his prime, with features that are so well drawn that he seems unreal. He moves slightly only as the shade moves and is oddly boring.

We leave and soon find three lionesses in a sandy clearing. With white bellies, tan backs, legs and heads, they are so well camouflaged by the road that they are nearly impossible for the untrained eye to see. They have gorged on the remains of a nearby elephant and are sleeping. Their breathing is labored and there is some occasional twitching. One licks a heavily padded paw. One about ten yards away is lying on its side asleep with its belly sagging. While I'm looking at her my wife whispers and points out another, five yards from us sitting up, showing her tawny face. I simply never saw her. My eyes bulge and my mouth won't close. Her pale yellow eyes open and look directly at us. Mama mia! The third lioness is close to them and they occasionally move as the sun falls on them. While leaving I breathe a sigh of relief as female lions frighten me and the smell of the decaying elephant on the warm breeze is palpable.

I don't remember how many baboons there were in the troop that we encountered minutes later. The only one that I watched was picking up a "sausage" from the ground under a sausage-tree. Holding this fruit the color of butternut squash in his left hand, like a hero sandwich, the baboon sits down and begins to gnaw on it. I can't take my eyes from its long smooth nose. The baboon's face looks so placid and gentle. Some days later I pick up one of those sausages, surprised at its heaviness and remember how casually the baboon handled it.

A herd of 14 female elephants including two babies and a juvenile are making their way single file across the dried grass. Crossing the road they move steadily toward a marsh with the matriarch in the lead. Their ears, roundish and gray, resemble enormous cabbage leaves. It has gotten hot and they flap their ears periodically for a cooling effect while a breeze cools us. The elephants appear majestic and seem to have a silent wisdom. Reaching the water the matriarch turns around making sure that all are here.

Back in camp, in our tent after showers, my wife and I are contemplating what we've just experienced. In the past five hours we've seen: exotic birds, strangely beautiful antelope, been close to big predator cats who snoozed seemingly indifferent to us while our hearts raced, plus silent and mysterious elephants. Whatever our expectations were about this trip, they've already been exceeded. What we couldn't have known then was that in the following week and a half, practically every game drive would be better than the one that preceded it.