In the sun-scorched heart of the Sahara desert, where the sands stretch infinitely like an ocean of gold, I find refuge in the shifting dunes of Morocco. I'm a fennec fox, and the oversized ears bestowed on me by Mother Nature are perpetually tuned to the whispers of the desert, picking up the faintest rustle of a scurrying insect or the distant howl of a solitary fellow wanderer. My fur, a soft mix of caramel and ivory, mirrors the sands I call home, allowing me to blend stealthily into the landscape. The night is when my world awakens. As the stars above become visible when the sun sinks, I emerge from my burrow to embark on the hunt for sustenance in a land where water is more precious than gold.

My keen eyesight, a trait honed by the need to spot both predators and prey at a distance, pierces the gloom with uncanny precision. Each dune and rocky outcrop reveals its hidden treasures as I pass, and I can't help but feel a sense of wonder at the resilience of life in this unforgiving landscape. The desert plays out its nightly dance of survival, where every creature plays a part, from the nimble, long-legged jerboas that dance across the sands to the elusive desert snails that are active only for a few days after rainfall, leaving their silvery trails like ghosts in the moonlight, and lying dormant for the rest of the year. I have my role in this performance of keeping the ecosystem in balance.

The night brings cooler breezes and a symphony of nocturnal calls, a respite from the relentless sun. With the scene lit entirely by moonlight, I dart from shadow to shadow, my tiny paws leaving only the briefest imprints on the scorched earth. This is my domain, my home and playground. Is that an approaching sandstorm I sense? I retreat into my cosy, many-tunnelled burrow. Or perhaps it's the scent of delicious rainfall? A brief spell of rain creates a new canvas in the sand where my ultra-sensitive hearing and night-adapted vision come into play!