There is something primal about the African savannah. The Serengeti is a seemingly endless sea of grassland, stretching from horizon to horizon--gazing across its expanse the mind can't help imagining predators quietly lurking in those tall grasses, ready to ambush the unwary. South Africa's Kruger Park, dotted with trees and dense thickets, seems designed to hide those same predators, lying in wait for their prey. And herein lies the primal fear, for humans, along with the vast herds of herbivores, were, and still can be, prey--humans are not always at the top of the food chain.

Save the occasional lodge, and the ubiquitous dirt vehicle tracks, this place appears wild and untouched by human hands--unchanged since the dawn of humanity in this very place so many millennia ago. Wandering the plains are animals of so many sizes, temperaments and appearances it staggers the mind of modern humans, so accustomed to the pampered world we have created for ourselves. Here life is ruled by the strong and death is the realm of the weak. As mere observers, riding around in the relative safety of our mechanical vehicles, we too often spot an injured animal limping across the open plains, knowing its fate is inevitable.