We no sooner drop our things at the lodge than a jeep ride is arranged.
Paula, Pam, Craig, Ron, Clare and I clamor into the open Range Rover.
Our guide and tracker, Moses, stops to show us plants and birds along the black lava road winding through the hills thick with Acadia trees and brush. Clare and I immediately start using the rough leaves from the sandpaper bush to file our nails.
We chew on bark from the toothbrush tree.
It’s also good for treating malaria we’re told.
There’s a peace tree that the Maasai place around their homes when there is conflict with family or neighbors.
Ron spies what he thinks is a small animal but turns out to be a pile of elephant dung. We stop the jeep and look down. Dung beetles are working on the pile rolling the dung into perfect balls. They use their back legs to push the balls of dung down the road until they find a good place to lay their eggs.
Ron accepts the beetle as his logical totem.
We approach another Land Rover and Moses talks to the driver who has seen elephants. After driving in small circles over bushes and trees trampled by an elephant and littered with dung near by, we turn a corner and stop short. 100 yards away stands an elephant. He raises his trunk in alarm and a trumpet of anger and warning comes our way.
I’m terrified. Moses turns off the engine.
Clare wants to know if the elephant is mad. In a loud whisper, Pamela tells Clare to be quiet. I’m thinking that if it’s like a dog, the elephant knows I’m scared. Will it charge? It’s so close and my heart is pounding so hard I think the jeep is rocking. Suddenly there is a rustling from a tree that I didn’t notice until it starts to make noise. Another elephant emerges aggressively rubbing the tree with his body. Once he clears the tree in front of us, he backs up and shits. Great, two elephants to attack us. I see two tusked elephants on the day of arrival and we’re tragically stampeded to death.
I’m thinking how ironic this is when the elephants start butting into each other.
Clare asking Pam in a loud whisper, “Are they playing or fighting?”
“Are they playing or fighting?”
“Are they playing or fighting?”
Pam says, “Fighting.”
They push their enormous bulk into each other, clashing tusks and flapping their ears. 
Their mighty legs push first in one direction and then another. Acacia trees tremble. Their movements are strangely quiet except for what Clare later describes as the hollow sound of tusks cracking together like baseball bats. Moses says they are adolescent males fighting for dominance. This becomes a theme during our trip.
We can’t take our eyes off the slow motion battle of bulk. One of the elephants grabs a chunk of tree and throws it.
Ron whispers, “He just threw a tree at him!”
My fear changes to excitement as the elephant battle moves further into the bush. When separated, their heads roll around, their ears flap and tusks rise and fall in circles in the air. The fight continues.
Moses starts the engine and we move closer.
