BRENDON CREMER
BRENDON CREMER
Early morning sunlight seeped through the bush, a molten tide that gilded the acacia trees and ignited the feathery grass heads. When it touched the lions, sprawled in a clearing, they responded lazily. A young male stood, stretched and flopped, while the rest of the pride rolled in the grass, pawing and nuzzling one another in a feline tangle of tawny limbs and black-tipped tails. They barely glanced in our direction. We were parked just a few metres away, yet the big cats seemed completely indifferent to our presence.