We waited, practically holding our breath as we watched the string of elephants coming along the path. The sound of their footsteps in the long grass hidden beneath their deep breathing and gentle rumblings. We watched in silence, forgetting our breakfast, as they marched in line, pulling up great tufts of grass to stuff into their mouths. White birds called cattle egrets rode along on their backs, watching the ground below for insects and frogs that might be disturbed. Now and then, the egrets would dart to the grass to grab a quick meal, sometimes narrowly escaping a giant footfall. There were three baby elephants in the group. Elizabeth, Jacob, and Katherine were all about six months old, and though they were really first cousins, they acted more like brothers and sisters. They were always together and we always argued about which one was which. The fact that they nursed from all three mothers interchangeably, made it even more difficult to tell them apart. Overhead, across the plains and far to the south, we watched the silvery, snow covered cap of Mount Kilimanjaro come gradually into view as the morning sun broke over the horizon.
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