The morning chorus at Kuyenda has to be heard to be believed. The tuba-like booming of the ground hornbills were joined by the Hueglins robins who sang with a sweetness and volume that totally belies their diminutive size.

This was our last day at Kuyenda and this morning we were going on a giraffe hunt. The Thornycroft giraffe is actually the animal responsible for the creation of the South Luangwa National Park. Unique to this part of Zambia, the Thornycroft is slightly smaller than other African giraffes and always looks to be wearing long pale socks as it has no markings below the knee.  

As we set out on our morning walk, Phil talked of his twenty-seven year obsession with this species. Over that time he has recorded literally trunk-fulls of daily details about the giraffes. Sketches of each individual giraffe's markings (the equivalent of a human fingerprints), the time of day he sees them, what the weather conditions are - even how many bites it takes them to chomp through a huge tuberous sausage fruit - all this is meticulously observed, written down and filed for future reference.  

Awed by the depths of Phil's knowledge, it almost came as a bit of surprise that the giraffes didn't stroll up and shake hooves when we came across them ("Morning Phil", "Morning Spot, how are the leaves today?")! The first ones we saw were quite an elderly pair according to Phil as he scribbled down undecipherable notes and checked the time.  

They ambled majestically amongst the trees, benign expressions on their faces as they thoughtfully chewed at the leaves. Talking quietly, Phil told us his nicknames for each giraffe, how many calves they had had and what they had been up to recently. The original pair were then joined by several other couples who were accompanied by leggy, shy babies and Phil told us their ages and at what stage they were at in their development. We were all happily snapping away and the giraffes seemed perfectly content to let us watch them without too much concern.

Heading back to camp for brunch, we came across what were, by now, all the normal animals - pukus, zebras and monkeys. Behind us, now in the distance, the giraffes slowly wandered off in search of new leaves and way over beyond the river, we could hear a pair of lions roaring to each other. This last walk really did round off one of the most memorable holidays of my life and I knew that I had seen and done things in the last ten days that would stay with me for ever.  

Suddenly I had a tremendous reluctance to return to the city - maybe I could stay here and retrain as a guide perhaps, or learn to heat water to the correct temperature for a refreshing shower? Mad thoughts assailed me all through the last excellent brunch at Kuyenda and our farewells to Babette, Phil and Andy. 

By the time we set out to drive back to Mfuwe airport, I was still feverishly planning my future career as a bush babe. The beauty of the landscape and the wholesome purity of watching animals without interfering with their lives or habitat had exerted a powerful influence over me. 

Although realistically, I knew I couldn't live forever in an environment where pizza delivery is an alien concept, part of me would always remain in the Valley. 

We had been present at a lion kill and almost touched a leopard, shared a midnight feast with an elephant and romped with baby wild dogs. There are very few places left on this Earth where you are allowed such close and intimate glimpses into the lives of other creatures and I was proud that I had been part of this trip. One thing was for sure - I would be back soon, and next time, hopefully, with a Tarzan of my own in tow to share the spectacular sunsets and very special memories.
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