The migration has been going for almost two months now. Her legs are tired, the sun beats down, the rain seems a far off dream. Yet, she still puts one foot in front of the other. What for? The sweet grass that comes with the rains, that provide the nourishment her calf needs to grow and survive. Bodies are pressed together, a pulsating artery in the savanna of animals rushing in a anticipation to get the plains. The risks are evident.She has seen the crocodiles writhe in the water, their jaws snapping at legs rushing by. She will cross the river, perhaps avoiding death. Once passed the river, there are still many dangers she will face; exhaustion, dehydration, hunger, or an unlucky encounter with an opportunistic predator. However, instinct and the pull of the herd is strong and she will continue her migration: even if it kills her.
The migration…
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