As we make our way down the two-rut road, a mob of Helmeted guineafowl runs ahead of us. They dart from one side of the road to the other, a bunch of silly old biddies, with shrunken featherless heads, thick bodies covered in spotted dark gray plumage and large rumps that bounce when they run. Blue jowls on their necks flap back and forth under their beaks. They never once consider flying to get out of our path.
The guineafowl call excitedly to each other as we flush them: Keck, keck, keck, keck, keck, keck, KECK!!!!!!! Eventually they dash to the side of the road and disappear into the bush.
Ignoring them, the elephant in front of us steadily treads down the right rut of the road. His pace is unhurried, measured, constant. A shoulder lifts, a leg straightens, accepts weight, and the foot splays out. A back leg moves forward, toenails scraping sand, straightens, accepts weight, and the foot splays out. A creature bigger than most monuments is on the move.