Zebras leave their trails across 300 km of grassland in Botswana on a yearly migration that begins with the first rains.
At first the hazards of huge herds migrating together is daunting enough but at each stage of the migration more and more of their vulnerable lifestyles is revealed.
From when they leave Linyanti in the north the zebras of Northern Botswana must run a gauntlet of death.
However, along the way we come to know the zebras as they know each other; as individuals, not as one moving mass of striped horses. Each zebra fits into a hierarchy, each with a pattern as different as our own fingerprints and every one part of a small family group.
Patterns in the grass are left by these delicate painted horses, but each year these patterns become fewer and fewer. Less important than Pandas and rainforests? Perhaps, but who will take care that in time we are not left with only the patterns in the grass?
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