The sun is just beginning to burn through the morning clouds as our old safari jeep wheezes up yet another hill. We ve been combing the countryside for over an hour now, and all our fellow passengers are perched at the edge of their seats, cameras and binoculars at the ready. The truck rounds a corner, and suddenly, it s as if we ve stumbled into a scene from a wildlife documentary.

Less than 100 yards from us, a herd of impala antelope dot the hillside, looking impossibly elegant as they graze next to their larger wildebeest cousins. Nearby, a group of enormous and deadly Cape buffalo mosey lazily through the grass, one stopping to fix us with an intimidating stare. Now, that s not something you see every day, says guide Heather Wacker.

True especially not in California wine country. And yet here we are at Santa Rosa s Safari West game preserve and tent camp, spending the day tracking giraffes, rhinos, zebras and the rest of our wildlife wish list. A safari drive in the San Francisco suburbs? Just another day in the wild world of recessionary travel.

With the still-shaky economy keeping a lot of tourists closer to home, a resourceful bunch of American travelers have decided to get their Gorillas in the Mist moments on their own continent. From Texas Hill Country to the back country of Yellowstone National Park, companies are lining up to help travelers get their critter fix with safari-style game drives and overnights in $260-a-night luxury tents imported straight from Africa.

Animal offerings range from the so-called North American Big Five (grizzly and black bear, gray wolf, bison and bighorn sheep) to more exotic stock like cheetahs, warthogs and (our favorite) the Chihuahua-size blue duiker antelope. And each outfit touts its own special creature-centric perks; the Vision Quest Safari Bed & Breakfast in Salinas, Calif., for instance, promises breakfast in bed delivered by one of the property s four elephants.

Until recently, vacationers could either settle for an animal theme park or zoo, or pack their bags for the 7,000-plus-mile trek to Africa. Of course, a traditional safari isn t exactly wallet-friendly. With even the most basic trips starting at around $3,000, it s no surprise African tourism is projected to drop around 15 percent this year. But even as the economy has hobbled the safari market, it has also opened a new niche for companies that claim to be able to serve up all the excitement of the bush for $200 to $300 a day no passport required.

What s more, these small-town safaris have some perks all their own: chances of contracting malaria or getting trampled by an elephant stampede are practically nil, and good luck finding an African outing where you can pet the rhinos or snap a photo with Thula the cheetah.

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Still, it can be hard to escape the fact that the U.S. is, in every sense, a long way from the African plains. Even the largest domestic reserves are dwarfed by Africa s game parks (Safari West covers a little over 400 acres, compared with Kruger National Park s 5 million), making game drives more reliable but also more predictable, since finding a zebra in the zebra pen isn t quite as pulse-quickening.

Animal enthusiasts may also be disappointed to see how creatures react to captivity; the cheetahs at Safari West, for instance, would be the laughing stock of the savannah since, says our guide, they re too well-fed to bother clocking the 70-mile-an-hour speeds of their wild counterparts. (The cheetah handler wholeheartedly disagrees.) The absence of some big predators, typically avoided for fear of turning visitors into critter snacks, can also be a letdown. Still, as safari virgins, we were more than willing to see for ourselves just how much of an African-style adventure we could find in our own backyard.

It s 5:30 in the morning when our eyes snap open. We sit frozen in the pitch darkness, heart pounding as we wonder who or what is being viciously murdered next door. We re about to call 911 when we remember where we are our Safari West tent camp and that the unholy racket we re hearing isn t bloodshed, just the preserve s animals starting their day only a few feet from where we sit. Collapsing back into bed, we can t help but recall the description of the tents we found on the Safari West Web site: The sounds of Africa will echo in your dreams. No kidding.

Immersion in the African experience starts the moment you set foot on Safari West s 400-plus acres. No private cars are allowed; instead, a customized Land Rover shepherds guests over the bumpy dirt road to the property s 31 tent cabins, where they ll find no TV, Internet or cell phone service. But it s the view that s truly transporting; outside, Gumby-neck giraffes amble across the grass, somehow managing to avoid squashing the antelope grazing at their feet. Nearby, a pair of SUV-size white rhinos soak in the afternoon sun, and a cluster of rainbow-color macaws deck the branches of a manzanita like the world s gaudiest Christmas tree. All told, the property holds nearly 100 species, many of which are endangered or no longer exist in the wild.

For Sandy Moniz, who has traveled to Africa four times, Safari West gets it right. The tent cabins and free-roaming animals remind her of her safari trips, she says, and help fill the void when she can t make the intercontinental trek. In fact, says the Hayward, Calif. based Web designer, in some ways it even improves on the African experience. She certainly doesn t mind the in-tent bathroom (her tent in South Africa had an alfresco loo), and even the animal viewing is a little more relaxing: Here, I can sit out and watch the animals without worrying about them getting eaten up.

Indeed, unlike their wild brethren, Safari West s charges don t have to worry about finding or being the next meal. None of the animals are self-sustaining, and in peak season the property employs a 150-person staff, says owner Peter Lang, a former cattleman with a George Hamilton tan whose first step into the safari business was a trio of eland antelope he bought to nibble brush at his Beverly Hills ranch.

But while feeding the animals costs money, it can also bring it in. As the number of guests has grown Safari West says its tally of annual visitors jumped 20 percent this year, to about 50,000 the property has continued adding new twists to its tours, like the popular $225 Behind the Scenes option, which allows people to see the animals sleeping quarters and the kitchens where their meals are prepared. Highlights include a chance to dole out carrots in the giraffe barn (watch those 18-inch tongues) and pet the spiky Indian crested porcupines (do we even need to warn you here?).

Naturally, it s hard to wander through the maze of stalls and cages without noticing the ways Safari West differs from an African adventure. In the wild, part of the thrill is watching species interact. Here some animals are thrown together in sprawling enclosures, but others, like the cheetahs and rhinos, are in smaller, individual pens.

With the predators, the reason is clear, but others are less obvious. Rocky the ostrich, for instance, was relegated to his own quarters after a campaign of harassment, including blocking the safari jeeps, stealing cell phones, even kicking a guide. Animals in these smaller pens aren t included in the game drive; instead, tour groups peer in from the outside, as in a zoo. Safari West is actually a member of the Association of Zoos and Aquariums, though Lang says he doesn t consider it one, pointing to the property s guided tours and lack of signage.

Another clue to what s missing at Safari West hangs on the dashboard of our game-drive jeep. In Africa, I hear they get rifles, says guide Heather Wacker. Here, we have squirt bottles. When a group is waylaid by a pesky creature, guides try to squirt it out of the way.

Obviously, this technique would leave something to be desired if guides were dealing with, say, tigers or elephants. But the reserve doesn t have these animals and has no plans to add them. The property s minimalist enclosures wouldn t be sufficient to safely house such potentially dangerous beasts. I know my limitations, says Lang. Nonetheless, it s hard to feel like a safari veteran without a run-in with the king of the jungle.

Still, some visitors don t seem to miss them at all. Marianna Alva-Wies had a great time celebrating her third birthday at Safari West, says her mother, Sarah Alvarez. She liked sleeping in the tent, riding in the safari truck and, of course, seeing the animals. Her favorite? The Safari West house cat, Buzz.