National Geographic: Last Feast of the Crocodiles Page #3

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The pool is steadily shrinking and is

already too small for so many animals.

But the hippos can't settle fights

caused by overcrowding.

There is no place else to go.

As usual now, the hippos subside

in an uneasy truce.

Subdued by the day's heat,

and temporarily at peace,

the baboons relax around the pool.

His peace is shattered by

a familiar cry of outrage.

He's innocent

but he's too close to the nest

and the plover has a good eye

for trouble...

...an young male baboons...

are especially targeted.

A sudden spat between rival crocs

send a ripple of panic through the pool.

It's small wonder that the plovers

are having trouble.

A fresh track shows that a crocodile

ploughed right over their eggs.

This is their third nest of the season

that's been lost to the crocodiles.

Starting again from scratch

the plovers perform the ritual of

selecting a site for a new nest.

The baby hippo is exploring her world.

The restraint of the crocodiles seems

out of character,

but with two tons of

devoted mother nearby...

...she is free to treat crocodiles

with the same bold familiarity

as the adult hippos do.

These great artist of violence

are obliged to hold a kindly pose

as the hippo child wanders

on her playground

of gently smiling dragons

and slobbers on their tails.

A yellow-billed kite checks pool for

an easy meal, and sights a dead fish.

The surrounding land is parched

and bare and each night the hippos,

must trek for miles to find grazing.

Other animals wander in the river-bed

in search of the few remaining pools.

But most now are little more than

reeking mud wallows,

full of dead and dying fish...

Even so, the impala would drink here,

but the pool is dominated by

a single croc,

the last of a group of more than

forty that were here a month ago.

The monkeys won't risk it - and drink,

instead, in deep footprints.

The fawn's attempt to drink

is a small disaster.

Now it's covered

with stinking mud.

The mother sniffs her offspring

but doesn't recognized it

in this foul disguise.

The crocodile that has held back

the drinkers suddenly leaves.

Perhaps there is no future for it

in this tiny pool.

The mother has made up her mind.

This is not the sweet smelling

youngster she came with.

But the fawn knows better.

The little impala is persistent.

Soon the mud will wear off

and the mother will again accept her.

The crocodile reappears,

covered in fresh red earth.

She thrusts her head into the mud

and swings it from side to side.

At first her peculiar behavior

is a puzzle.

And then her secret is revealed

as her muddy jaws open gently

to release the newly hatched babies

she has carried down

from her nest on the riverbank.

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