Chapter 6

  “Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention please,” said the Colonel, who was standing at the head of the breakfast table lightly tapping a spoon on his coffee cup. “Since we are on an abbreviated safari we will be going to a place I normally wouldn’t take a group.”

  “How exciting. Where are we going?” asked Clara.

  The Colonel raised his index finger, “We will be going to the Maasailand watering hole. There we will see an immense number of animals.”

  “A watering hole? That doesn’t sound very big,” said Clara, leaning back in her chair.

  “Oh my dear, do not confuse the small size of the word with the largeness of the place,” said the Captain.

  “Quite right, the watering hole is a seasonal lake made by the rain and streams that come only in the spring and summer,” added the Colonel.

  Clara looked down at the napkin in her lap, “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. This trip is all about seeing and learning,” said the Captain.

  “So if you please, might I suggest finishing breakfast so we can be off. The beasties won’t wait around for us and you never know what may happen at the watering hole,” the Colonel said, taking his seat.

  Clara looked up at the Captain, “I wonder what we are going to see?”

  “You never know at the watering hole. Come, let us get our things together.”

  The coaches jostled down a non-existent trail through the parched landscape. The tall dry grass cracked and bent under the wheels. Rippling waves of heat radiated off the ground and rocks. A low hum filled the air from the thousands of unseen insects.

  “Look at those huge white birds above us. They’re beautiful. Their necks and legs are so long,” said Clara.

  “Those are whooping cranes,” replied the Colonel.

  “Why are their beaks so long and pointy?”

  “They are amazing creatures. Their beaks are used to stab fish in the water.”

  “You mean like a spear?” asked Clara.

  “Exactly. They then pull the fish out of the water and take it to land to eat it. There is a great description of them in this field guide, Miss Clara.” The Colonel handed Clara a leather bound book.

  “Thank you, Colonel,” Clara said, thumbing through the journal, looking at all the meticulous line drawings of animals.

  “That will come in handy on today’s excursion.” Turning to the coachman the Colonel said, “Here we are. This spot will do nicely. We can stay under this stand of trees. We won’t be in the path of the animals, but still close enough to see them. We must still be vigilant of snakes and spiders. They can get almost anywhere.”

  “Spiders,” Clara relied, as her skin began to crawl.

  “Clara, here are some field glasses. These will help you see the animals better,” said the Captain.

  “Today seems to be my day. A field guide and glasses. Thank you, Captain. So what can we see out there?” Clara asked, adjusting the lenses.

  The whole party scanned the waterhole and surrounding areas for all the animals.

  “There are so many,” commented Mrs. Peabody, “I would never have imagined.”

  “The animals seem to be coming in droves but it’s so orderly. None of them are fighting for a place on the water,” noted Clara.

  “Wonderful observation,” said the Colonel, “This is the main water supply for miles around. The animals must share, or they die. It must be something that is programmed into their brains. It’s the part of the brain that naturalists called animal instinct.”

  “Clara, what animals can you identify?” asked the Captain moving behind her.

  She scanned the waters edge, “Well, let me see. The easy ones are elephants, zebras, and some sort of gazelle-like animal.”

  “Very good, my dear. You seem distracted. What is it?”

  “Do you see those animals by the edge of the sand bar? The group of zebras and gazelles together, they’re drinking but seem agitated, like there’s something in the water.”

  “Well, let us take a look,” said the Colonel.

  The entire party scanned the area with their field glasses and then snap! An animal surged out of the water.

  “What is that?” asked Clara, stumbling back into the Captain’s arms. She felt a spark run through her as the Captains hand grabbed her arm.

  “A crocodile. Jolly good,” replied the Colonel.

  The herd of animals jumped and leapt to get away from the crocodile’s attack. The sound of hooves scratching in the dirt to get traction, the screaming emitted from the herd was unnerving. The electricity and tension could be felt in the air.

  “By Jove, the croc’s got one,” said the Colonel. “He’s captured that zebra, and what a fight it’s putting up.”

  “I don’t think I can watch this,” Mrs. Peabody said, transfixed to the scene.

  Clara put her hands over her ears, “That sound is awful.”

  The wounded zebra thrashed about and screamed, fighting with every inch of its being to get away.

  Clara turning her face into the Captain’s chest, “Will this take long?”

  “No, I don’t think so. The croc seems to have a good hold on the zebra. Look, he’s starting to take it under the water.”

  “Why is it doing that?” asked Clara, turning back to the water hole.

  “He will start what is called the death roll. He’ll get the zebra under the water and start rolling. This does several things. It disorients the prey and drowns it to speed the end along,” the Captain explained.

  “The croc also doesn’t want to let go of its catch. When those teeth clamp down, they’re not opening until its victim is dead,” said the Colonel. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but the croc got that zebra by the leg. That’s not a life threatening injury. If the croc lets go, the zebra can get away, quite injured, but then the croc has lost its lunch.”

  “All so very savage,” said Mrs. Peabody, fanning herself vigorously.

  “Madam, they do not call this the untamed wild for naught,” replied the Colonel.

  The Captain pointed at the shore. “Look. The croc and zebra are completely under the water now. You can’t detect even a trace of them,”

  “All of the animals are coming back like nothing happened,” Clara observed.

  “It’s a cruel world out here, but the animals have to eat. That is the way life tends on the Savannah,” said the Colonel, “To draw your attention from such an exciting event to something calmer, direct your attention to the left, if you please.”

  “It’s a baby elephant, playing in the water. It’s so cute and small. Wait, do you think the crocodile will come back?” asked Clara.

  “No, he will be occupied with the zebra for quite some time and small is a relative word, my dear. Do you know how much an elephant weighs when it is born?” asked the Captain.

  Clara shook her head, “No, not at all.”

  “They’re about three hundred pounds.”

  “That’s huge. I guess he’s not so small after all. But he’s still cute.”

  “Maybe someday we will go to India, and you can get a first hand, up close look at an elephant.”

  “That would be an exciting adventure,” replied Clara.

  Lowering her field glasses, Mrs. Peabody commented, “You two are already planning your next excursion when this one isn’t even over?”

  “Yes, madam, you must dream big and dream often to make your dreams a reality.”

  “Well said, Captain,” Mrs. Peabody replied.

  The sun beat hot on the party as they watched the Savannah. Animals came and went from the water without much incident. Monkey’s swung in the trees, chattering at one another. The bugs lazily drifted upon the warm breeze.

  “Clara, my dear, you are not looking well,” said the Captain.

  “I’ve had a headache for the last couple of hours, but now it’s getting worse.”

  The captain motioned to Clive, “It looks like we’ll be returning hom
e.”

  “Already? Why?” asked Clara squinting her eyes and furrowing her forehead.

  “We stayed too long for your first trip. This jumping through time takes some getting used to and we got a bit ahead of ourselves taking on such a big adventure.”

  A hot wind kicked up. The dirt swirled around them. Then a sickening, falling feeling struck Clara. A glaring bright light stung her eyes. The Colonel, Mrs. Peabody, the carriages and all the animals grew fuzzy and out of focus. They blurred together spinning faster and faster as Clara tried grabbing for the Captain.

  Then nothing.