The Ethics of Stillness in the Bush

There is a particular atmosphere that settles over a vehicle when an animal decides to approach. It is an instinctive acknowledgement that, for a moment, we shift from being observers to participants in an encounter we did not initiate.

I have experienced these moments many times as a guide. Sometimes it is the soft padding of a hyena’s feet materialising out of the dusk, drawn by curiosity. Other times, it is an elephant cow emerging from behind a stand of marula trees, watching us as she moves on feeding. And occasionally, on rare mornings, the powerful stride of a large male lion walking straight down the road towards the vehicle.

Guests often whisper, with bated breath,

“What do we do?”

The answer, though simple, is a fundamental lesson in safari etiquette: stillness.

The Art of Stillness

Our human instinct is to react, to shift, to speak, or to adjust our position for a better view. However, when wildlife approaches on its own terms, the most respectful and ethical action is stillness.

Stillness is not passive; it is a deliberate communication. By remaining static, you convey a clear message to the animal:

I am no threat. I am no competitor. I am merely here, and I see you.

We choose stillness not out of fear, but out of protocol and respect for the animal’s space and decision-making.

Allowing the Animal to Lead

Guiding teaches patience and humility. An animal approaching is not an invitation for us to close the distance or dictate the terms of the sighting. It is a privilege extended on their timeline.

Birmingham At Night

When an elephant calf wanders toward the vehicle, ears loose, trunk swinging like a piece of rope, learning to be alive, the temptation is to reposition the vehicle for a better look. Yet the calf’s confidence is anchored in the perceived safety provided by its mother. If the mother detects us shifting the vehicle or encroaching on their space, that safety dissolves into necessary awareness.

Similarly, when a lioness lifts her head and begins walking directly toward the vehicle, it feels like the bush is holding its breath. Her pace is unhurried, eyes fixed not on us but on the route she has chosen, and we happen to be in it. Our responsibility is to create the least possible disturbance, let her pass, let her ignore us, and allow her to continue her behaviour unaltered by our presence.

Curiosity Is Not an Invitation

I am often asked,

“What would happen if I stood up?”

The answer is fairly simple. The animal’s behaviour will change immediately. Depending on the animal and the situation, it might react defensively or aggressively, setting off a chain of behaviour that endangers itself or others. The encounter itself would lose its integrity. The purest wildlife experience is one in which the animal approaches by choice and leaves by choice, with minimal human influence.

Stillness preserves the integrity of the encounter.

A journey of a giraffe moves quietly and elegantly through a clearing. A moment well worth being quiet for.

Maintaining Calm Energy

Animals are highly attuned to energy and tension. A leopard can sense tension like a sudden change in wind direction; an elephant can sense impatience the way we sense someone staring at us.

So, next time you are lucky to have an experience where an animal approaches the vehicle you are on, try to remember our ultimate goal when out in the bush is to have as little impact on everything around as possible. Conversation is encouraged; ask questions with a lowered, gentle voice. And as much as stillness is valuable, sometimes movement is necessary, and so if done in a slow, fluid manner, it can go by unnoticed. And most importantly, allow the moment to unfold rather than anticipating its end.

It’s astonishing how often the animal responds to this. A previously hesitant elephant may take a few steps closer. A hyena may sit beside the vehicle, ears tilting independently like satellite dishes decoding our calm.

In these exchanges, the bush becomes a classroom, one where the curriculum includes patience, humility, and the understanding that wildness thrives best when left unpressured.

A curious hyena cub sits patiently outside the den site. Having sat at the den for more than 15 minutes in complete silence, we earned the trust of the young cub before returning to play time with his litter-mates.

Why These Moments Matter

When animals approach, they are expressing a level of trust—a trust built on decades of consistent, respectful behaviour around vehicles. Every still moment reinforces that trust. Every patient encounter ensures that future generations of guests and animals can meet each other in the same honest way.

The ethics of stillness are not simply about safety. They are about maintaining a long-term, low-impact presence in the wilderness. When animals choose to approach, we honour that privilege: we let the wild remain wild, and we remain still enough to witness it without disturbing its course.