"A shot rang out, sharp and still, puncturing the silence of the African dawn: my heart stopped for a moment, and I stood tense, alert, listening…

Even Jacopo noticed what had happened and stopped nursing at my breast. I looked out the window. It was a beautiful morning, with Kilimanjaro covered in snow, its silhouette outlined against a sky of pink and orange. The doves began their song, so dear to my heart; nature was awakening, and everything seemed fresh and clean, ready for a new day.

My thoughts immediately turned to Luca. I knew he had been running into a large buffalo on our path for several days and was worried it might charge. The enormous animal was injured in one eye, old and solitary, and therefore, extremely dangerous.

For days, it had approached the camp with unsettling ease, no longer fearful; it came as close as the kitchen and our home far too often. One of our Maasai waiters had told us he had been charged by the huge animal with menacing eyes more than once at dusk and had miraculously escaped.

Buffaloes, along with hippos, are the most dangerous animals in Africa. If one intrudes on their personal space, they can charge at a speed that’s unimaginable. Many fall victim to buffaloes they never see, hidden in the darkness of night or behind a bush in the midday heat.

One rarely survives when charged by a buffalo. Therefore, like elephant hunting, buffalo hunting is extremely dangerous. A buffalo, when wounded, will lie in wait for the hunter who shot him, charging and piercing him at the right moment, to finish him off without mercy. We had always held great respect for these immense animals. We knew there was never a second chance if a buffalo decided to come at you.

Often, in the evenings, walking home after dinner from Tembo House, we had come upon buffaloes grazing right on the path to our home. We would wait for a few minutes, shining our torches on the enormous animals in complete silence; always alert and ready to flee. If the buffaloes didn’t move, Luca and I were forced to turn back and fetch one of our Land Rovers to drive home. The right of way always belonged to them on the paths of the savannah!

Luca had left the house that morning with his rifle on his shoulder. He told me later that he had a premonition, a feeling that something terrible was about to happen. My husband had not fired a shot since we had arrived in Africa. He had been a hunter when he was younger in Italy and later in Tanzania, but after settling in Kenya, he could no longer bring himself to take a creature’s life. His hunter's need to possess nature had been overcome by the simple awe of contemplating it instead.

Since arriving in Kenya, Luca had become a passionate and conscious conservationist, dedicating himself daily to protecting the African fauna and flora surrounding him. The last thing he wanted to do was pick up a rifle and have to shoot an animal. But that day, unfortunately, things did not go as we would have wanted..."