ON A WALK THROUGH the Kakamega Forest, we discovered that bigger isn't always better when it comes to game viewing. We were looking at the canopy, where blue monkeys bounded along branches set like filigree against the sky, when Amyas pointed out what appeared to be a snake on the path ahead of us. But he was only teasing: Closer inspection revealed it to be a sinuous column of safari ants busily marching across the trail. Small ants carrying bits of food and other loads formed the inside of the column, while larger, more aggressive ones stood guard on the outside, ready to attack by climbing up on our shoes if we approached too closely.

Saskia and Tamzen were most captivated by dangerous predators that scared the pants off them—for example, hippos and crocodiles, both of which we saw in spades during a boat ride on Baringo,

By the time we pulled into Sweetwaters, the girls and I were more than ready for the posh surroundings and such well-deserved niceties as being served glasses of a fresh tamarind drink upon arrival and finding flowers sprinkled on the pillows at turndown.

one of the largest freshwater lakes in the Rift Valley. Things started out benignly enough as we glided past Njemps fishermen wading waist-deep in the shallows. Soon, small monitor lizards and crocs appeared, lazing on beds of water hyacinth. When we passed too near a huge croc, it snapped shut its mouthful of sinister teeth, hissed, and slid into the water with a loud splash.

"Where is it?" asked Tamzen nervously.

She couldn't see below the surface, because the water was an opaque brown. We were careful to keep our distance from a band of cavorting hippos whose heads appeared above the surface. Although they were just playing, opening their mouths wide in displays and mock-biting one another, our guide casually mentioned that they would chase the boat if they felt threatened. Said Saskia, "I'm outta here!"

THE GIRLS GOT A SECOND WIND for animal watching at Lake Nakuru, a gem of a national park where they whipped out their life lists to mark that they'd completed their sightings of the Big Five (Cape buffalo, lion, elephant, leopard, rhino): First, a leopard walked in front of our vehicle and disappeared back into the forest; later, we watched white rhinos graze before a backdrop of bird life on the floodplain. At Sweetwaters, they got to pet a tame black rhino named Morani, encased in an armor of thick skin, and visit its chimpanzee sanctuary, the only one of its kind in Kenya, which was started with the help of the Jane Goodall Institute.

Our accommodations and food proved to be as varied as the animals we encountered along the way. Kenia Tours has its own campsite in the Mara, which, as Ashvin warned us, is basic. Twenty permanent tents (each with two beds and a mosquito net), an open-sided dining shack, and shower and toilet stalls encircle a central area where we sat around a campfire in the evenings. Flashlights and vapor lights provided the only other illumination.

Elsewhere, conditions were similar. Isaac kept us well fed and, like a mother hen clucking about her chicks, was always concerned that we weren't eating enough. Lunch and dinner often began with soup, followed by, say, chicken and rice, pasta, or beef stew, each meal served with potatoes and vegetables, or perhaps samosas and chapatis.

By the time we pulled into Sweetwaters, the girls and I were more than ready for the posh surroundings and such well-deserved niceties as being served glasses of a fresh tamarind drink upon arrival and finding flowers sprinkled on the pillows at turndown.

Throughout the moments of high drama, quiet observation, and questionable behavior—both the girls' and the animals'—Amyas and I could see that Saskia and Tamzen were absorbing our love of Africa. Confirmation of this came on our final day in Nairobi, when we said goodbye to Dixon. Saskia, who had appointed herself his assistant during the safari, said, "I want it to be two weeks ago!" and burst into tears as she hugged him. The upshot? I'm already planning next summer's trip to Botswana.