In memory of Sammy
by Dave Gibson
A herd of Thompson’s gazelle (or Tommie) round a bend in the forest and nears the water’s edge. Cautiously at first, the lead gazelle gently dips its head for a drink. The crocodiles start to waggle upstream in a sinister jockeying for position. The gazelle jerks its head to the upright position seemingly aware that something is amiss. The rest of the herd skitters back into the woods, only to shortly reappear. At once, the foremost gazelle, with its dedicated disciples in tow, decides to make a go of it. A dozen crocodiles edge calculatedly within striking distance as he reaches midstream. In a burst of unbridled fury,a crocodile lunges at a Tommie who barely escapes with his life, as he bounds toward the opposite shore. The next in line wouldn’t be so fortunate! In an instant another croc grabs a hapless gazelle by the neck. As he gives what would ultimately turn out to be a pathetic, futile struggle, his jet black eyes stare blankly into space. The antelope are frenetic now. You would think that after seeing their compatriot mercilessly mowed down that they would turn around and try to cross somewhere else, but regrettably for a few, instinct drives them forward. One after another, eight Thompson’s gazelle are systematically slain, some swallowed whole after a few chomps, and others ripped to pieces by groups of crocs. The gruesome sound of bones being snapped like sticks is one I’ll never forget! The remaining gazelles, with their ranks in disarray, finally get the hint and abandon their crossing attempt.
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