Africa 2024 Journal Pages:   
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  January 9
    Our wake-up call came at five; normally I detest getting up that early, but in Africa I am always ready to be out before the crack of dawn. We had breakfast at 5.30, and were on the road by six. We’d barely left the camp when we met up with a large male giraffe. We were able to get quite close to him, and sat quietly in the vehicle watching him browse the tree branches.  

     There were a number of birds and animals we saw on pretty much every gave drive, such as the inevitable impalas, francolin and starlings. There were many others that we saw on most drives as well; among them were zebras, elephants, wildebeests, warthogs, steenboks, doves, and Guinea fowl. In the interest of avoiding redundancy, for the purpose of this journal I am not going to mention every time we sighted the various more common birds and animals; rather I will record first sightings, and any particularly notable encounters.    

     I had told Gee that one thing I wanted to see on this trip was a dung beetle, rolling a ball of dung. I had seen these in TV documentaries, but never in real life.  Sure enough, Gee spotted one in the road, and we all got out for a closer look. It was fascinating! The male beetle was rolling a ball of dung about the size of a tennis ball, while the female clung to its side, sort of embedded into the ball and not moving as it rolled over and over her. She must have laid her eggs in the ball, or was getting ready to.   

       The poor father dung beetle was trying to push the ball up a small slope on the side of the tire track, but it was very difficult, and every time he got it almost to the top he lost control of it and it rolled back down. We were all routing for him to succeed – come on, go boy, go! Finally he was able to maneuver the dung ball to what he considered a satisfactory spot, and then he started to bury it by digging the sand out from under it.  The female beetle seemed to wake up at this point, and Gee said she was checking the dung ball to see if it was satisfactory. I thought she should have done that before her mate went to all that trouble pushing it up the slope. Fortunately it seemed to pass inspection, and we watched the ball slowly sink down into the sand as the beetle excavated underneath it, until it was barely visible.

     We drove along a broad open area fringed with forest. A pair of African hawk eagles sat in a tall tree, scanning the plains.  A bit further on we spotted a handsome Senegal coucal perched on a branch; these striking crow-sized birds are vivid black and white with chestnut wings and red eyes. We spotted a jackal, running purposefully through the grass.

      We were driving across an open plain when ahead of us we saw a lone male lion, stalking imperiously across the veldt. He was magnificent! He exuded raw power and confidence - there was no question that he was the king of the beasts. Watching him, I was absolutely spellbound by his beauty.  

     The lion’s flowing mane looked as if it had just been brushed and styled. This was one of the most stunning lions I have ever seen; he looked like a cross between Mufasa from the Lion King and the model Fabio. He stopped to pose for photos several times, and then continued on regally. ‘Oh my god, my father,’ Gee murmured softly. Natalie told Janell “That is the phrase you want to hear from Gee; it means we have spotted something wonderful.” The phrase sort of became our mantra for the trip after that.     

     We followed the two lions as they moved across the clearing, and then into a more forested area. Gee would drive ahead of them and stop, and we would watch in awe as they strode past us. They took no notice of us; Gee had explained that as long as we are in the vehicle, the animals don’t really see us as people, but just as part of the land cruiser. After a while the two lions lay down for a nap; the hunt could wait until evening. We left them to their slumbers and continued on.  

     We drove across another dead tree forest; I am not sure if that is a common term or just Gee’s name for it, but this wide expanse of dead trunks had virtually no living trees among them. It looked sort of depressing, but on the other hand the elephants’ wasteful feeding habits may be part of nature’s plan; they help prevent the whole area from growing up in trees, providing some areas of open plains.
      Two tawny eagles, named for their color, stood like sentinels near the top of one of the dead trees; I find them to be one of the most beautiful of the birds of prey. We watched as they took flight. We saw two pairs of European bee-eaters; Gee explained that they migrate all the way from Europe, and return to the same particular tree each year.

     After about an hour we checked back in on our two lions, but they were pretty quiet, slumbering under the bushes. Fabio of the big mane got up again and walked a ways, but by now he seemed to have had enough of the paparazzi (us), so we left him in peace.

    Gee showed us a number of tracks in the road; aside from the spoor (what they call animal footprints in southern Africa) of our lions, there were also cheetah and aardvark tracks. We would have loved to see either of these elusive animals, but we knew that was unlikely. Nonetheless, we scanned the savannah for cheetahs as we drove along – they love the open plains where they can sit on a termite mound and see a long way – but regrettably we saw none.
     A brown and white bird perched on a bush; Gee told us it was a honey guide. These industrious birds will locate a bee’s hive, and being unable to open the hive themselves, they will lead either honey badgers or people to the tree to do so. After the hive is opened they can feast on the honey or the bee larvae. Legend has it that if a honey guide leads you to a hive, when you open it you must leave some for the bird, or next time he will lead you to lions.

    We stopped for tea by the same waterhole as yesterday, but on the other side. We stood in the shade of a tree, listening to the cape turtle doves chanting Bots-wa-na, Bots-wa-na. Gee showed us a lovely flower that looked like a pink morning glory; he said it was called devil’s claw, and has many medicinal uses.

     We watched the elephants come down to drink. Several big males stood in the edge of the waterhole; after quenching their thirst they sucked up great trunkfulls of mud and water and sprayed it over their backs, liberally coating themselves in dark muck. This would be both nature’s sunscreen and insect repellent.

      We noticed we were seeing all male elephants again; it is interesting how many of the African animals separate into bachelor herds and breeding herds, with the members of the sexes living apart. We saw this same behavior in impala, and wildebeests, among others.

      We stopped just before noon and parked under a spreading tree. We set up the camp chairs in a semi-circle and enjoyed an excellent lunch that Mosa and Kilos had packed for us.  Zebras lounged nearby, and a red-billed hornbill flitted among the branches above us. After lunch we sat in the shade and told stories and jokes. It was a pleasant break; we rested there for nearly two hours. The weather was warm, and we had to keep moving our chairs to follow the shade as it moved around the tree.   

     Around two o'clock we left our lunch spot and moved on. We soon came upon a herd of zebras with several small babies. They were hanging out in the shade companionably, and some went down to a waterhole to drink. They were not too shy, and let us get quite close - we enjoyed watching the herd interact. The zebras seemed as interested in watching us as we were in watching them. They vocalized their feelings a bit; their call does not sound at all like the noise you would expect a zebra to make - it is sort of a high-pitched cross between a bray and a whoop.

      As we drove on the clouds rolled in, and we could see storms gathering all around us. There were some very black clouds in the distance, and god’s rays slanting down when a break in the cloudy skies let slanting shafts of sunlight through. A black-backed jackal crossed the road in front of us, and vultures soared overhead, searching. Four ostriches danced across the plain in the distance.

     Ahead of us there was a line of trees, and on the far side of it we could see several large antelopes. ‘Elands!’ Gee told us excitedly. ‘Oh my god, my father,’ he added, and Janell went wild on hearing that phrase, surely an indicator of amazing wildlife encounters. After that, the phrase became sort of our mantra for the trip.
     Elands are the largest of the antelopes, and they remind me slightly of Brahma cattle. They are not all that common and very shy, so it is difficult to find them. I had never seen an eland on any of my trips with Gee, so I was really excited. We could make out the large antelopes through our binoculars; there were at least four of them. Could we get closer? Gee drove slowly toward them, trying to approach without alarming them.

        We noticed a whitish haze underneath the trees ahead, spreading over the ground around the elands. Was it smoke, someone said? Dust from some animals stampeding, someone else suggested? Mist, I thought. Gee said, ‘It’s rain,’ but we quickly dismissed that idea; it didn’t look like rain at all.
      We were just getting a little closer to the elands when all at once a huge storm was over us, complete with lightning and thunder, and the rain was pouring down, blowing sideways in the sudden wind. We were drenched in moments. We (and by we I mean mostly Gee) struggled to roll the plastic sides of the land cruiser down. ‘My god, my father,’ Gee said again, and this time it seemed to be prompted by a combination of wonder at the force of nature’s power, and amazement at our stupidity in disregarding his knowledge of the weather. Smoke indeed. 
     Later we reflected on our folly. Gee, who grew up here and knows the area like the back of his hand, had told us the white haze was rain - but instead of listening, we disputed it in favor of our own theories about smoke or stampede dust. How could we have been so clueless?  Throughout the rest of the trip every time it rained, which was pretty much every day, we would ask one another, ‘Is that dust from a stampede?  Or smoke?’

     Gee told us that after the rain, everything would be fresh and the animals would be very active. Sure enough, as we drove on we saw zebras and wildebeests running back and forth, and the impala were playing. Amur falcons sailed along beside our vehicle, hundreds of them, flying circles around us - Gee said they were migrating to the Kalahari Desert. 

     Africa is great to visit both in the dry season and in the rainy season; each time of year has its pros and cons. In the dry winter season, such as June, July, or August, animals have to come to the water holes or the Delta to drink, so it is easier to find them. The sky is nearly always clear and the weather is lovely, chilly at night and usually in the seventies or low eighties in the day. The stars at night are amazing. This is the high season, generally considered the best time to visit southern Africa. But during the rainy season Africa is transformed into a green paradise. The animals are sleek and glossy, the landscape is green and lush, and best of all, that is when many of the animals have babies. Also, being the low season, one often hardly sees another vehicle. I love going both times, and prefer to alternate between seasons on different trips.

      As we headed back toward camp, a pair of Burchell’s sand grouse pecked through the grass beside the road, dainty and exquisite. A juvenile tawny eagle perched in the top of a tree.  We passed an elephant in the fading light. There were storms all around us. Or was that smoke?
     It had been a wonderful day, and a long one. We sat around the table (in lieu of the campfire, since it was rainy), most of us with a glass of wine or a gin and tonic, and discussed the day’s best sightings. We were all in agreement that our two male lions were the highlight of the day. Or the elands. Oh, and don’t forget the dung beetle . . .
     When we left Maun I had told Gee that two things I really wanted to see were a dung beetle rolling a dung ball, and elands. And here it was just the second full day, and he had already shown us both!

     After dinner we told some stories and jokes and played some murder-mystery guessing games until it was time to go to our tents.  I slept on top of the blankets; I didn’t need them for warmth, and it made the bed a little softer. The temperature was still quite warm so I used a trick I had learned while reading about Africa; I doused my sleeping shirt with water and lay on the camp bed wet. I was pleasantly cool through the night, and when I awoke in the morning my shirt was dry.
     I went to sleep listening to the distant whuffing calls of lions.

January 10
     We were woken at five again to a beautiful morning. The coffee was excellent, brewed in a pot sitting in the embers of the campfire. We woofed down some jungle oats and toast, and we were in the land cruiser and heading out into the bush at six as the sun rose.

     The impalas were running; a group of young adults were racing in circles, chasing each other for fun and exercise. A trio of yearling warthogs gazed at us curiously, then wheeled and ran off with their tails straight up in the air. We lingered in a forest of dead trees with a small herd of zebras, admiring their stunning stripes in the golden morning light.

     Gee showed us honey badger tracks along the side of the roadway. A tree squirrel dashed across in front of us and scurried nimbly up a tree; he was very much like our squirrels at home, but smaller. A white-browed sparrow weaver perched on the top of an impressive nest; there were several empty decoy nests in the same tree. We heard the ringing song of a brubru, also known as the telephone bird, because its call sounds like a ringing phone.

     A red-footed falcon perched on a branch; Gee said these birds are very rare and this was only the second time he had ever seen one. A group of banded mongoose moved smoothly among the bushes. A tawny eagle stood sentinel in a treetop.

      We passed a waterhole near the road, and there was a hyena lying in the muddy water at its edge. She got up out of the water and strolled right past our vehicle with her casual slouchy gait, pausing to gaze at us as she passed, and then ambled on across the road and disappeared into the bushes. 

     A little before nine o'clock we were travelling up a winding green valley with mopane woodlands on the left and a tree-dotted plain on the right; Gee called it the meeting of two habitats. I was just thinking it was surprising that there were no animals in sight when suddenly all hell broke loose. A large herd of impala came bolting across in front of us, running for their lives, and a pack of half a dozen wild dogs were streaking after them! These were African wild dogs, some of nature’s most efficient predators. They were running fast, hard on the heels of the panicked antelopes. The impala leaped high, kicking their hind legs up over their backs in a desperate effort to escape the pack.

     We followed them on the hunt, hanging on to the land cruiser for dear life as Gee sped across the bumpy plain. Following wild dogs as they hunt is about the most exhilarating experience you can have on safari. The pack split; two went the other way, but we followed four dogs speeding across the plain in pursuit of their quarry. We were close behind them. Oh my god, my father! This was incredible.      
     The dogs got a little ahead of us and disappeared into the trees. We caught up with them just minutes later; by that time they had not only killed an impala, but had eaten most of it. Gee told us the dogs were a family; mom and dad, and two youngsters, probably about two years old. As they were finishing their meal another dog arrived; no doubt one of the two who had split off from the pack. He escorted them (and we followed) to another kill, where the sixth dog in the group waited.

     I love watching the African wild dogs; they remind me a bit of my lurchers (greyhound crosses) at home. They have lean bodies and long legs like a greyhound, and mottled black, chestnut and white patchwork coats. They have a strong muzzle and jaw like a German shepherd, with an impressive set of teeth, topped by large round ears. They have tremendous speed and endurance, and they can run their quarry until it drops. They have the highest successful kill rate of any predator in Africa.

      By now all six dogs had eaten their fill; their bellies bulged as they lay down in the shade, quietly picking at the last morsels. It was absolutely amazing to see how quickly the dogs had consumed their kill. Several yellow-billed kites and a white-backed vulture sat in the trees, waiting for their turn at the remains. We watched the dogs a while longer, but when they settled down to sleep we moved on. 

                   ~ Continued on next page ~


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