When I first packed my bags to move to Zambia, I sat diligently checking items off a seemingly endless list; anxiety urging me to prepare for every potential mishap or bout of bad luck. Antimalarials? Check. Sunscreen with DEET? Check. Back-up hard drive, and a back-up for the back-up? Check. Clothing to bear both the brutal shock of a Zambian winter, and the torrid heat of dry season? Check. Check, check, check. I was expecting to battle a blistering, relentless sun and deadly mosquitos; I knew I was to be intimately acquainted with the joys of frequent food poisoning. I was prepared for the constant power outages; and the inevitable culture shock and homesickness. I didn’t, however, expect to find an elephant in my garden. They had been wreaking havoc for weeks - after a record drought, the elephants had descended upon Livingstone with vigor - tearing down ancient mopane trees on a whim; trampling iron fences and crops; causing frequent traffic jams along the main road. There had been multiple instances of sizable grey suspects breaking and entering our small property - in the silky still of the African night, soft sand masks the footsteps of five tonnes of mass moving past your window. I had slept on, oblivious to the nocturnal intruders. Dawn arrives, and I learn of their nighttime exploits from the security team; themselves helpless to do anything but watch from the safety of the gatehouse as industrial-strength electric fences are flattened. Ignatius, our regular nighttime watch, finds humour in my child-like fascination with the creatures. To many here, elephants are at best a nuisance; at worst, they inspire fear, anger and even hatred. An exploding human population and urban sprawl have rapidly extinguished their habitats. But, the elephants have walked these migratory routes for thousands of years, and will not be deterred by man nor his feeble attempts at establishing boundaries. As a result, conflict between humans and animals has seen a marked, violent increase. An elephant does not understand that grazing on well-growing crops can spell dire poverty for an entire family; likewise, humans don't often consider the wider implications their personal defences can have. Misinformation and misunderstandings between the two parties fuels an impossible, often deadly battle. It soon becomes unsafe for me to walk into the town in the mornings; the risk of ambush by elephant is too great. Each year, fatalities among pedestrians and cyclists will continue to grow, until relations and understanding between the two species improves. It is therefore a shock to be woken to the shadow of trees violently dancing across my bedroom wall; a private black and white cinema show. A near out-of-body experience follows; I watch myself rise, in time to see a dark trunk coil around a heavy branch; which promptly springs back, bared of leaves. A bubble of laughter grows in my chest when I notice my laundry pegged to the line - now coated in droplets of congealed elephant saliva and tree bark. All amusement evaporates as a gargantuan head swings towards me, ears swishing, my position uncovered. It might have been hours that I stood there, hardly daring to breathe. Three enormous, elegant, wild elephants - close enough to count their individual eyelashes. I stalk them from the safety of my concrete observatory; creeping on tip-toes and crouching below windows. As the visitors move through the bush, taking their pick of leaves and wild fruits, I am in awe of their ability to be completely silent. Grey blotches soon melt into blackness once again. My mind is buzzing with thoughts of these stoic creatures; stubbornly traveling the routes of their ancestors despite our efforts at keeping them out. How the true invaders have, tonight, become the invaded. I might never have expected to find an elephant in my garden; but these encounters soon became part of the beauty, and danger, of choosing to live on the boundary of a National Park. An integral part of a chapter of my life which somehow tempered and soothed my anxieties and fears; through showing we will never truly be able to expect, nor prepare for, the unexpected.