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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.