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.The guides each seemed to have "their" areasmarked out, and I noticed that rarely did we get within a quartermile of any other parties.Kevin asked us if we wanted to sit in the shade until theheat of the day had passed, but since this was our next-to-lastday on safari we voted overwhelmingly to proceed as soon as wewere through eating.It couldn't have been ten minutes later that the disasteroccurred.We were clambering down a steep slope in single file,Kevin in the lead as usual, and me right behind him, when I hearda grunt and then a surprised yell, and I looked back to see Mr.Shiboni tumbling down the path.Evidently he'd lost his footing,and we could hear the bones in his leg snap as he hurtled towardus.Kevin positioned himself to stop him, and almost got knockeddown the gorge himself before he finally stopped poor Mr.Shiboni.Then he knelt down next to the old gentleman to tend to his brokenleg -- but as he did so his keen eyes spotted something we all hadmissed, and suddenly he was bounding up the slopes like a monkey.He stopped where Mr.Shiboni had initially stumbled, squatteddown, and examined something.Then, looking like Death itself,he picked up the object and brought it back down the path.It was a dead lizard, fully-grown, almost eight inches long,and smashed flat by Mr.Shiboni.It was impossible to say whetherhis fall was caused by stepping on it, or whether it simplycouldn't get out of the way once he began tumbling.but it madeno difference: he was responsible for the death of an animal in aNational Park.I tried to remember the release we had signed, giving thePark System permission to instantly withdraw money from ouraccounts should we destroy an animal for any reason, even self-protection.I knew that the absolute minimum penalty was $50,000,but I think that was for two of the more common birds, and thatugaama and gecko lizards were in the $70,000 range.Kevin held the lizard up for all of us to see, and told usthat should legal action ensue, we were all witnesses to what hadhappened.Mr.Shiboni groaned in pain, and Kevin said that there was nosense wasting the lizard, so he gave it to me to hold while hesplinted Mr.Shiboni's leg and summoned the paramedics on theradio.I began examining the little lizard.Its feet were finely-shaped, its tail long and elegant, but it was the colors that madethe most lasting impression on me: a reddish head, a blue body,and grey legs, the color growing lighter as it reached the claws.A beautiful, beautiful thing, even in death.After the paramedics had taken Mr.Shiboni back to the lodge,Kevin spent the next hour showing us how the ugaama lizardfunctioned: how its eyes could see in two directions as once,how its claws allowed it to hang upside down from any unevensurface, and how efficiently its jaws could crack the carapaces ofthe insects it caught.Finally, in view of the tragedy, and alsobecause he wanted to check on Mr.Shiboni's condition, Kevinsuggested that we call it a day.None of us objected -- we knew Kevin would have hours ofextra work, writing up the incident and convincing the ParkDepartment that his safari company was not responsible for it --but still we felt cheated, since there was only one day left.Ithink Kevin knew it, because just before we reached the lodge hepromised us a special treat tomorrow.I've been awake half the night wondering what it could be?Can he possibly know where the other dik-diks are? Or could thelegends of a last flamingo possibly be true?#February 19:We were all excited when we climbed aboard the vehicle thismorning.Everyone kept asking Kevin what his "special treat" was,but he merely smiled and kept changing the subject.Finally wereached Olduvai Gorge and began walking, only this time we seemedto be going to a specific location, and Kevin hardly stopped totry to spot the dik-dik.We climbed down twisting, winding paths, tripping over treeroots, cutting our arms and legs on thorn bushes, but nobodyobjected, for Kevin seemed so confident of his surprise that allthese hardships were forgotten.Finally we reached the bottom of the gorge and began walkingalong a flat winding path.Still, by the time we were ready tostop for lunch, we hadn't seen a thing.As we sat beneath theshade of an acacia tree, eating, Kevin pulled out his radio andconversed with the other guides.One group had seen three dik-diks, and another had found a lilac-breasted roller's nest withtwo hatchlings in it.Kevin is very competitive, and ordinarilynews like that would have had him urging everyone to finish eatingquickly so that we would not return to the lodge having seen lessthan everyone else, but this time he just smiled and told theother guides that we had seen nothing on the floor of the gorgeand that the game seemed to have moved out, perhaps in search ofwater.Then, when lunch was over, Kevin walked about 50 yards away,disappeared into a cave, and emerged a moment later with a smallwooden cage.There was a little brown bird in it, and while I wasthrilled to be able to see it close up, I felt somehowdisappointed that this was to be the special treat."Have you ever seen a honey guide?" he asked.We all admitted that we hadn't, and he explained that thatwas the name of the small brown bird
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