Cry of the Kalahari

It's a good thing we're stupid when young: no sensible adult would travel one-way to Botswana, drive around treacherous sinkhole-filled desert with inadequate water or fuel or knowledge, or sleep under the stars in lion country. And then we wouldn't have this marvelous book. (Then again, if humans were born with sense we wouldn't need this book, or researchers or conservationists to fight battles against greed corruption destruction).

Reading this was a sublime experience, also heartbreaking. You and I will never experience these animals or sensations. We live vicariously through the Owenses, getting within spitting distance of lions and hyenas, watching a mass of wildebeest in migration, making friends with hornbills; undergoing unimaginable heat and drought and thirst; learning and documenting previously-unstudied and unknown animal social structures; observing death and suffering but also the triumph of life against great odds. Every page is worth it, although there's an element of discomfort in the way they write about locals.