The walk to Crocodile River Bush Camp () was enlivened by seeing a miniature ‘dust devil’ in the near distance, together with another elephant skull (), not to mention impala scrapping, and a tribe of baboons. An early morning walk such as this is the opportunity to ‘read the daily newspaper’, in other words to catch up on the overnight news – by observing the tracks and droppings left in your path, and assessing their age (). Many of these indications are quite subtle – for example the faint drag marks left by the quills of a porcupine - but it is always a thrill to come across fresh lion or leopard footprints.

Crocodile is quite a differently designed camp to Chikoko (although virtually as ‘bushy’, being constructed on one level, of brush, with the usual bathroom open to the stars). An unusual feature was the presence of numerous bats () hanging from the roof, waiting for the evening so that they could be on their way.

Lunch was a revelation. Usually one of the pleasures of being abroad is that of sampling a different type of (local) cuisine. Not so in Zambia. The local cuisine consists virtually entirely of nshima - mealie meal livened up with a relish, which fails to appeal much to the Western palate (although we have also tried ‘mopane worms' () the caterpillar of the Emperor Moth, described by one food expert as ‘having the taste of seasoned cardboard, with a definite hint of timber’). Accordingly the food provided is whatever the chef or camp hostess chooses, and may range from Thai food, through Indian curries, to barbeques, spare ribs, chops and stews – always extremely tasty, cooked in the simplest of bush oven (i.e. a hole in the ground) () and served with delicious home grown vegetables and home baked bread of a kind never to be found in your local supermarket.

On this occasion lunch was simply beef burgers and chips, which we fell upon like wolves! (Incidentally we travelled out once with a client who is not just a vegetarian, but a vegan, and thought that he would be a real problem to cater for (there can’t be many herds of tofu still roaming the plains of Zambia), but the food provided for him – by ace camp hostess Sally - was so good that he actually had to fight to get his share!).

The evening game walk comprised little more than a short walk to a nearby lagoon, where we just sat and watched the animals and birds until the sun went down (), there being plenty to see – puku, impala, warthog (), both slender and black tipped mongoose, and a ‘green five’ sighting of a rhino thistle. Off to bed at 8.30 p.m., after pork chops and crème caramel for dinner. My hut was the furthest from the boma, and on my way I heard a rustle in the bush to the side of my path. This was definitely a ‘moment’ and I clearly recall just freezing, and the realization that I was going to have to deal with this one by myself. A noise like this could be anything from an elephant to an elephant shrew, although the accompanying puku warning whistle suggested something more sinister. Then a quick flash of the torch revealed it to actually be a leopard, stealthily making its way off into the bush. I certainly locked my door that night (or would have done, were such things possible in bush camps). Actually I slept very soundly.

One of our guides, asked about his hairiest moment, recounted a night game drive in a remote region of the Park, when the (open topped) vehicle suddenly lost all power. It eventually turned out that a battery lead had simply come loose, but they weren’t actually able to lift the bonnet and explore the problem, since, at that moment, a large pride of lions chose to settle down in front, behind and alongside the vehicle, close enough to touch.

Without power for the radio, a long and uncomfortable night loomed ahead, until an adroit guest, with an expensive camera, managed to jury-rig the camera’s battery into the radio, by the aid of torch light, and help could be summoned.

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