The savannah is preparing to welcome its guests in anticipation of the upcoming tourist season. The animals have had time to relax, detoxifying themselves from the noise and air polluted by the numerous Land Cruisers that have crossed the savannah's red tracks in the early months of the year.

A much-needed restyling of the main dirt roads makes them even more pleasant to drive on: having smoothed out the deep roughness of the corrugated terrain, filled in the rough scars and dangerous unevenness, one travels more comfortably, without jolts and bumps.

The rainy season has begun and upon entering the park, one expects to see expanses of heavenly green and vanilla-scented flowers. Not so! From Sala Gate to Aruba, the landscape is almost completely dry, inhospitable, so much so that not even birds dare to perch on the dry branches of those low, grey bushes. The few puddles of water, scattered along this route, have dried up completely.

Fortunately, once past Ashnil Lodge, a decidedly different scenario opens up, one that offers unique emotions. The Tsavo has received enough rain to green up a vast area as far as the Voi Hills and the overflow of the seasonal rivers has created emerald green meadows and trees with lush foliage that attract large numbers of herbivores to feed, especially in the cooler hours of the day.

Giant male elephants with huge tusks move slowly across the grassy expanses like solemn emperors, while families, with cubs trotting around attached to their mothers' legs, prefer the wooded areas in the dense vegetation. Herds can be seen in the distance intent on feeding, almost motionless, beautifully rounded and healthy. Herbivores mingle freely among them: buffaloes, impalas, gazelles, warthogs, waterbucks, zebras and among them numerous giraffes that lend elegance, with their hieratic gait, to the savannah landscape. All are present, ready to be admired with their shiny coats and vivid eyes.

There are also areas where the giraffes are exceptionally concentrated: never have so many giraffes been seen drinking all at once, and we are talking about several groups of ten to fifteen. Some drink while others, sniffing the air warily, look around to check for predators in the vicinity, aware of their extreme vulnerability when they bend down to drink. An elegant dance of long, sinuous necks gently swaying: up and down with impressive elasticity in a calm, confident rhythm. The gaze cannot tear itself away from such beauty and time passes slowly in their company.

Predators are always lurking. Under a tree, surrounded by hospitable bushes, we find six snoozing lionesses, well fed and looking satisfied. They had killed, the previous day, a small elephant, devoured in 24 hours. My heart sank and I was deeply saddened, but the law of the savannah is cruel: every day death and life coexist inexorably and every day the drama of hunter and prey is repeated.

Not even the skin is left of the poor little elephant, and the hyenas prowling around have cleaned up the crime scene to perfection while their howls, resembling hysterical laughter, resound late into the night. The lionesses lie there, indolent with their swollen bellies, watching us with indifferent curiosity and moving only to yawn or to lick their muzzles and paws.

At dusk, a cheetah with a perfect sinuous line attracts our attention: standing by the side of the road, it emits strange meows almost like a chirp, a call perhaps to its cubs, left well hidden, so that they can get away and get food. The beauty of its spotted coat, combined with the elegance of its gait, leaves us breathless and excited. But the savannah gives us, the next day, the vision of another splendid cheetah sitting on a termite mound, framed by a warm blue sky, in an area close to the Galana river, totally arid. He seems as still as a sculpture, but with his gaze he scans the landscape in all directions, observing what is precluded to us by the dense concentration of sadly dry bushes. After a few minutes, he arches his back and with a feline leap, gliding softly, descends from his observation point and moves away, blending perfectly into a patch of bushes, thus disappearing from our sight.

An atmosphere of tranquillity reigns everywhere: the animals are not stressed by the invasion of their habitat, they do not flee to get away from the road and life in the savannah seems to proceed at a slow pace, almost suspended in anticipation of the tourists who, according to the best predictions, will be numerous. It is an atmosphere that makes you realise the difference between what is beautiful and what is magical: let us not break this enchantment by observing them too closely, perhaps going off-trail to photograph them with our mobile phones, creating stressful situations in the animals, altering the rhythm of their lives. We must never forget that when we enter a park we are 'guests', not tourists because the animals open their home to us, not ours.

The savannah is a wild entity that never ceases to fascinate, of incredible beauty and fragility: a priceless value and heritage that we all have a duty to respect and protect.