We are crouched low to the ground, hovering like flies.
Caesar rolls onto his back, exposing his belly as he scratches his brow. At this distance, I can see the individual lashes, so like ours, surrounding his coffee-colored eyes. For a while, he watches us; poses for us; seems to want to communicate with us.
Read MoreA goat has gone missing, the fifth in a month's time. A farmer locates its half-eaten carcass several days later and blames the wild cheetah he's seen darting across his property during early sun-drenched mornings. He can't afford to lose another of his livestock, so he gathers his workers and the live-trap from the barn, careful to arrange it in front of a low-leaning acacia tree, one bearing a series of jagged claw marks. He places a slab of goat meat in the trap.
Read MoreFor the first time in three weeks I am alone, driving from Windhoek toward the Namib Desert beneath a ubiquitous blue sky, its presence above the savannah creating the illusion of a flat, wide Earth. Traffic quiets as the landscape shifts, from dramatic rock piles that converge incongruously to the Naukluft Mountains, a sort of highway toward the dunes.
Read MoreIt was pitch-black as I walked to my cabin after my first day of volunteering at a big cat sanctuary in Namibia. Reflecting on my day as I navigated the contours of the dirt path, I recalled grueling work in the bush. Morning devoted to cutting raw horsemeat in preparation for afternoon feedings, outings to which I was not invited, relegated to cleaning a vast aviary where I shoveled dirt and bird feces for several hours, their stains imprinted on my clothes for days to come.
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