There is a memorable scene in Out of Africa, Karen Blixen&rsquos account of life in early 20th century Kenya. Having just shot a charging lion, Blixen and her lover Denys Finch Hatton go back to camp to drink wine. We are no less dramatic but a lot less lethal. Having just watched a pride of seven lions and five cubs gnaw away at a young giraffe that they had killed, we lean back and sip red wine, feast on roasted cashews and hot crisp bhajiyas fried over a roaring fire, even as the evening sky flames orange and pink around us. We had been close to the lions close enough to see the flies buzzing around their heads as they muscled each other aside to get at the kill. Four other young lions sat in the grass to one side, looking well fed and content. It was an unforgettable sight. And, within minutes of experiencing nature red in tooth and claw, we are sitting at a crystal-laden table spread out on the vast plain, being offered refreshments under a sausage tree, as the wind whistles and stars wheel about in the African sky.