IT’S very late. The Milky Way cuts a brilliant swathe through a dark sky ablaze with stars. Hippos are on the move chortling, swishing, splashing round the camp. A Pel’s fishing owl – one of the world’s most sought-after birds – screeches from a low branch, its call like that of a soul in torment. A lion roars softly in the distance, as closer, a hyena whoops. Painted reed frogs supply a backing chorus of piping chirps.