A collective shudder caused the van to go silent for a moment, and I could look out over the peeled-back roof into the landscape that stands as Africa's Wonder of the World. Even though, at 5,700 square miles, the Serengeti is approximately as large as the state of Connecticut, size alone hardly sets it apart. Birdwatchers have 500 species to catalog. In the long grasses and at the water holes, elephants throw their weight around. Giraffes nibble at the acacia trees, their long and adroit gray tongues somehow skirting the thorns.
Crocodiles bask in the mud at water holes, and lizards scurry to get their fill of insects.
Because of the abundant creature population and the impressive wildebeest and zebra migrations after the November-April rainy season, it would be easy to reduce the Serengeti to a kind of zoological roll call. Twice-daily safaris in Douglas Lema's van could make it appear to be a killing ground. He would find a pride of lions ostensibly napping in the tall grass. But their ears stand at attention and their eyes open wide. They might have been on the alert for the Saturday gazelle that would sustain each lion until the next Saturday.