The Buffalo Stampede

Right next to the dirt road that Ian and Marcelle want to drive down stands a herd of the meanest, nastiest, ugliest beasts in all of Africa — the cape buffalo. This bull-like creature is one of the so-called “Big Five” most dangerous animals in Africa. It has thick horns that part across its forehead and curve to each side like a villain’s mustache. The horns taper into the meanest, nastiest, sharpest points you’ve ever seen.

“I guess we’re not going to be able to get to the river,” says Marcelle. 

“I think we can edge past them.” 

“I don’t know — they look mad. Let’s flip a pula.” Marcelle plucks a coin from the console and studies it. “Shield or zebra?”

Ian rolls the car forward.

“Too fast!” shouts Marcelle. She rolls up her window. It won’t protect her if the buffalo charge, but it makes her feel better. The car moves cautiously alongside the herd. 

“Too close!” warns Marcelle. 

Ian stops the car. “Are you going to let me drive?” 

There is a cape buffalo standing so close to Marcelle’s window that she can see the bloodshot whites of its eyes. A hairless scar runs down its nose and a chunk of ear is missing. The ear twitches. 

If you are going into the African bush, you need to know the signals an animal gives when it’s mad. An elephant faces you and flaps its ears. A lion bares its teeth and snarls. A rhino drops its head and charges with its sharp horn pointed at your belly. A cape buffalo pretty much always looks mad. 

Marcelle exhales as they pass the last buffalo and continue along the dusty road, which winds through a grove of small trees. She and Ian scan the terrain, looking for animals. 

“Elephant,” Ian points. 

“That’s a termite mound.”

“Giraffe … no, sorry, it’s a dead tree.”

“This is camouflage in reverse,” observes Marcelle. “Inanimate things are pretending to be animals.”

As the Land Rover emerges onto the bank of the river, it startles three massive elephants taking their afternoon bath. They glisten red in the sunlight from the muddy water they have thrown on their backs. All three elephants have long white tusks. Marcelle grabs her camera, but by the time she removes the lens cap, the elephants have fled into the shrubbery. 

“Rats! I wanted a picture of those red elephants,” Marcelle says. 

“Then you should keep your camera ready,” says Ian. 

“I don’t want to drive around with an uncapped camera in my lap," she reasons. "It would be uncomfortable and the lens could get scratched.”

“Then you’re going to miss shots,” Ian reasons back. 

“Who would believe three huge elephants could disappear so fast?” 

The afternoon sky glows yellow-red and the fiery ball of the sun reflects a bright orange stripe in the water. “Wouldn’t you like to just paint that?” sighs Ian. 

Marcelle takes a picture of the sun setting over the river, then replaces the lens cap and stows the camera at her feet. 

“Hey, there’s a crocodile!” Ian points.

“That’s a log.”

“Over there, is that a hippo?”

“No, a boulder. We better get back to our campsite,” Marcelle says.  “It’s going to be dark soon.”

Ian turns the car around and heads back through the trees. As they round a bend in the road, a swirling cloud of dust rises before them. Out of it emerges the herd of cape buffalo, charging straight toward them. 

“Stampede!” Marcelle shouts. 

Ian throws the car in reverse and races backward down the road as the buffalo barrel toward them.

Marcelle imagines the Land Rover being squashed like a tin can when, miraculously, the buffalo stop. 

The Land Rover stops.

Marcelle barely has time to exhale before the buffalo start charging toward them again. 

Ian stomps on the accelerator, racing backward.

“What should we do?! What should we do?!” yells Marcelle. 

Shouting at Ian while he is driving backward at speed being chased by a herd of cape buffalo is not helpful, but she can’t think of anything else to do, so she yells again, “What should we do?!”

“Take a picture!” Ian shouts back.

“Are you crazy? We’re about to be trampled to death and all you can say is ‘Take a picture’?” Then she realizes this is sensible advice. There is nothing she can do, so she might as well document their last moments on earth. 

She grabs the camera, fumbles with the lens cap and takes aim — just as the buffalo swerve off the road and disappear into the bush. Through the viewfinder, she sees nothing but shrubs and a few hooves underneath. 

The car comes to a stop. “Did you get the shot?” Ian asks. 

“No,” says Marcelle. 

“Hmph,” says Ian. He puts the car into gear and drives forward.

Marcelle waits for him to say, “I told you so,” because she didn’t have the camera ready. But he doesn’t, which is one of the reasons she loves him. 

“What do you think made them stampede?” she asks. 

“Probably spooked by lions.” 

“You think there are lions up ahead? 

“Could be.” 

Marcelle keeps her camera in her lap with the lens cap off so she’ll be ready to take a picture of lions if they see any. But they don’t. 

With their clever camouflage, lions can be hard to find in the wild unless you’re a professional guide. On their own, Marcelle thinks she ans Ian won't be able to find any lions. 

She hasn’t considered that the lions might find her. 

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