A zebra in my head.

A zebra in my head.


THE STORY OF THE SANWILD LOGO ZEBRA

I will never forget the day she arrived in the back of a game capture truck still covered in the dried blood of her mother. The young foal lay dead still, her little head hanging down. When I got up inside the game capture truck she did not even bother to look up, but when I gently lifted her to her feet to check for any visible injuries she turned around in a split second and bit me on the side of my hip. The seemingly dead foal had turned into a kicking and biting “little demon” and she did not intend to allow me close to her. She stood in the one corner of the truck shivering with exhaustion and I had to fight back my tears.

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