With eyes so black they invited the soul right in, the giraffes took a moment to turn their gaze our way.
The giraffe stands as if to welcome the dawn sun, warming herself and melting my heart at at once.
The giraffe was living velvet with eyes of innocence, a spirit inside an animal so noble. As she moved I fell in love, smitten with her, with her species, with this golden plain and deep green trees.
The giraffe moved her co-ordinated way, an embodiment of relaxed grace as her hooves met the grassland. Her ears waggles and shivered when the breeze caught them. I could have watched her all day and still I see her in my daydreams.
The giraffe was a salve for my weary eyes, a pure animal spirit alive under the African sun. Her eyes were dark yet shining, her coat so soft in its umber shades. That moment spent watching her was too short, over too fast, gone before I could think of taking a photograph.
The foal fell from its mother, a tangle of shiny limbs in the tall grass, spindly and delicate, covered in its amniotic sac. After a brief pause its mother turned, bending that neck right down to her newborn, but finding that even her neck wasn't quite long enough. She splayed her front legs outwards so that she could nuzzle and lick. The calf stirred as if brought out its post-birth shock and it raised its head, leaning against mother's legs. After more nudges it tried to stand, the first two times collapsing in a heap of disorganized legs, rolling, struggling. But on the third attempt it rose to standing and soon mother was pushing it gently along to encourage it to take some steps. Gabby sighed with contentment, a safe birth, mother and child doing well.
The giraffe in the paddock leaned its long neck over toward its mother, resting its head against her silky fur and half closing its eyes in bliss. Terri was mesmerized by their shape, so elegant, beautiful. Their pattern was like a rich chestnut painted on golden cream and their heads were art. She watched them, ears like cuddly toys moving according to their mood. She couldn't quite get over their legs, so stretched looking but strong at the same time. Then as if right on cue the smaller giraffe looked her way, its eyes a rich brown. It reminded her of that time a beluga whale had eyed her at the aquarium. Then she knew why - it was the moment she realized that there was someone in there, someone sentient.
Over the baked golden grass trod the hooves of the giraffes, their legs as slender as stilts with wide knees. From their withers their backs sloped down to their tails that flicked in the heat. Higher still were the necks that stretched upward into the sky, heads tall enough to reach for the leaves in the boughs. There was something lazy about their motion, like inside their hearts beat a steady rhythm unless a lioness should prowl. As they passed Todd lined up his camera and took a video, this was just the sort of thing he wanted to show the folks back home.
Mike had seen giraffes on wildlife shows, he'd seen them make their way over plains with their gangly running motion. But now that he was up close he couldn't get over how large her eyes were, like pools of chestnut gloss. When she stuck out her tongue to take in some leaves he couldn't help but smile. On the TV they had been elegant, enchanting, but here in real life she was simply bewitching. Her splotched fur lay perfect over the lean muscle below and if anything her legs were even longer than he'd been expecting. After a time he pulled out his camera and began to take pictures, none of them would do her justice, he knew that - but at least he could try.