A mother hippopotamus protecting her young is one of the most fearsome forces of nature. Luckily, I’d just married someone ready to meet it head-on
Anna and I got married in Portugal in September last year. We had been together for 13 years. She said in her vows, “I don’t know what life is going to have in store for us, but I know our love for each other is always constant.”
Ten days later, I found myself in a swamp in Botswana with my intestines hanging out of my back.
We were on our honeymoon in the Okavango Delta. That evening, we had set off with a group in traditional canoes. We weren’t looking for hippos; the excursion was supposed to be about plants.
Before we left, we were warned that a mother hippo with two babies was nearby, so we would stay away from her. I spotted the hippo in the distance and zoomed in to take a photo – she was huge, her open mouth showing big teeth; the calves were behind her.
Our canoe had drifted away from the others. Suddenly, I heard a noise behind us – splashing, grunting, growling. The boat started rocking. I turned to my left and saw the same hippo, mouth still open, charging.
