Mother Warthog

I was gazing out across the plain as the family of warthogs came bumbling towards me along the edge of the escarpment. The two young ones ignored me as they searched for food among the dry vegetation.

Now and again, they would go down on their front knees to feed when they found something succulent, as if giving prayerful thanks for what they were about to receive. All three communicated as they hunted for food with a quiet chorus of grunts and squeals, and Mother kept a wary eye on me, continually assessing the potential threat.

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