Africa 2024 Journal Pages:   
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January 18 continued
      We came to Harvey’s Pan, a large waterhole in an open area. A wood sandpiper waded in the edge of the water, petite and exquisite. A flock of sacred ibis flew in for a landing. Several teals floated serenely, and Egyptian geese sat on the shore. Woolly-necked and marabou storks were soaring on the wind high overhead, just for the fun of it.  A magnificent giraffe strolled along the far side of the pan. Shafts of errant sunlight washed over him as he stood silhouetted against the stormy sky. We lingered a while, and then headed back to camp for lunch. 

     We were out again at three o'clock. There were elephants in the channel, a breeding herd, and we spent some time with them. I don’t think I have said enough about how wonderful the elephants are! They possess such great wisdom, along with complex and infinitely interesting personalities. They have strong family bonds and intense emotions.

     When you get to know more about elephants, it is all the more horrifying to realize how many are killed by poachers for their ivory. On the whole Botswana does a good job of controlling the poaching, as their army acts as the anti-poaching patrol and is authorized to shoot to kill if they encounter poachers - but this is not the case in much of Africa.
     Indeed, these amazing trips to Africa have a bittersweet side. It is wonderful that there is such a wilderness ecosystem of parks and game reserves where the animals can live free as nature intended, and we are privileged to get to see them in their natural environment.  But on the other hand you realize that this type of habitat used to stretch across most of the continent, and now there is so very little of it left.

     Presently we left the elephants and drove on up the channel. A bateleur eagle was perched on a low branch; he was magnificent. Mainly black, he was marked with bars of white, chestnut and grey. He had a short tail, an upswept topknot, a bright orange beak and a fierce expression.

     A spotted thick-knee waded in a puddle in the road, very pretty with variegated brown feathers, long yellow legs and very large yellow eyes. Alarmed by the vehicle, he moved down the road ahead of us. He half ran and half flew along in front of the land cruiser in a panic, not realizing all he had to do was turn right or left - it was like something out of a cartoon.     

     We came to the Savuti Marsh again and skirted around the large open plain. We saw a herd of African buffalo, no doubt the ones we had seen tracks from the day before. They were feeling shy and took off running as we approached. As we drove along the edge of the plain an African wildcat suddenly dashed across in front of us; I got a quick glimpse, but those in the back of the land cruiser couldn't see it.

     We saw a female northern black korhaan, very pretty; the female red-crested and southern black korhaans are hard to tell apart. A rufous-naped lark called to us from the top of a termite mound. 

     A tsessebe and her baby were standing in the tall grass. We had not seen very many of these fleet antelopes on this trip, and seeing the baby was special. A lone female wildebeest stood near the road.

     We drove across the marsh, and the carmine bee-eaters came again, dozens of them, flying low and circling the vehicle in search of insects. We were absolutely delighted to watch them. It was amazing how they could hover near the wheels as we drove along, keeping pace, and then suddenly grab a bee and take off like a shot in big swooping circles. We were having a blast watching them and trying to get photos. I think Gee thought we were crazy.  “Do most of your guests get so excited about seeing the bee-eaters?” someone asked him. “No,” he answered. 
    I had adjusted my camera settings from the previous day and had a little better luck this time getting some shots that were in focus, though my keeper rate for the flying bee-eaters was still very low. The barn swallows joined in the buffet, but they were definitely too small for the camera autofocus to get a lock on. But I did manage to get a few good shots of the bee-eaters against the stormcloud-laden sky, including one with a butterfly in his beak.

     We headed back toward the channel, and the clouds were getting darker; it looked like rain was eminent. A pair of red-billed hornbills were standing on a dead tree, looking into the holes in the trunk. Gee said they were checking out the tree cavities to find a good spot for a nest; we figured the female better make sure she liked the place if she was going to be sealed up in it for a month!

     As we went through a wooded area we got a quick look at a red-crested francolin mother with a whole brood of chicks before they disappeared into the underbrush.

     We came back to the Savuti Channel, and the clouds were looking more and more ominous. I wondered if we were close to camp, as I was sitting in the front - the wet seat. A dozen marabou storks were perched in a dead tree on the edge of the channel; shafts of sunlight illuminated both the tree and the storks against the dark sky. More storks were flying around above; they are actually quite graceful in flight (though still ridiculously ugly close up). Even though we knew the rain was coming and we should hurry for camp, we couldn’t help lingering to watch them.  

     After a little while Gee drove on through the channel, hurrying now to try to outrun the rain - we could see it slanting down from the stormclouds, advancing on us quickly. We topped a small rise, and there were two pale giraffes, standing in stark contrast to the black stormcloud sky. Gee stopped because the lighting was so powerful and unique, even though we were about to get drenched.

     And get drenched we did. It turned out that we weren’t that close to camp after all.  We let the plastic sides down as the rain started coming in torrents, but that didn’t prevent it from soaking us in the front. I tucked all my camera gear into its case and stretched my rain poncho over it. The rain was whipping in my face as I hunched over the land cruiser’s console, holding the cover over the radio and hoping the rain gear was keeping my camera dry. We could barely see in front of the vehicle; I don’t know how Gee could see to drive, but he managed masterfully.  And we all agreed it was definitely worth getting wet for the sight of those pale giraffes against the black sky.

    As usual, at dinner we reviewed our favorite sightings of the day. Gee’s was those giraffes in the storm, but I felt I needed to go with the carmine bee-eaters in flight.

      I was awakened in the dark of the night by a loud noise like someone sawing wood.  I realized it was the rasping call of a leopard! I have always read that a leopard’s call sounds like sawing wood, but though I had heard other vocalizations from them, never this one. But this time the sawing wood sound was unmistakable - it was very loud, and it seemed close.

January 19
     Gee told us that the leopard had been right on the porch of our tent in the night! He had watched it stroll through the camp, and then come right under the awning to check out us out. Darn, I wished I had shone my flashlight out the door this time - wouldn’t I have been surprised!

     It was moving day, so we were on the road at six. Since we didn’t have the use of the trailer, Gee had arranged for someone to bring another vehicle to help move all of our camp equipment. While the guys packed up the tents and loaded everything, we went out looking for that leopard. Gee stopped to listen for alarm calls often, but no luck. Leopards were proving particularly elusive on this trip; we were really glad we had gotten to see the two at Moremi.

     There were elephants in the channel again, a family group of two adults, three teenagers, and one baby about four months old. We stopped to watch them. The adults were eating wild cucumbers, twirling the vines around their trunks like spaghetti before popping the cucumber into their mouths, vine and all.  The younger elephants were playing, pushing and shoving each other good-naturedly.

     The remarkable thing about baby elephants is how cuddly they are. I don’t mean that in a cutesy way, but literally. Baby elephants need to be cuddled. They need the tactile contact of their herd-mates. Young elephants are raised not just by their mothers, but by their aunts, siblings and cousins. Elephants have very close-knit societies, and the whole extended family participates in looking after the babies.
     The adolescent elephants rubbed up against each other, and then fondled the young baby. Two of the teenagers lay down on their sides together, and then the baby came and lay down right on top of them. Soon the other teenager joined in. Now there was a pile of young elephants, rubbing against each other, snuggling, and actually hugging the baby. It was an amazing display of their affection for each other. We watched them for a long time.

     It was still only 6:40 a.m. when we left the elephants and continued on. A dead tree with many vultures in it stood in stark contrast to the colorful dawn sky. A black-backed jackal peered at us as we passed. We drove past Leopard Rock, remembering the phenomenal leopardesses we had seen on previous trips. We passed Bushman’s Rock and its iconic Bushman's Baobab, and were a little sad to say goodbye to it, bees and all. Oh, the things that tree would have seen.

     Gee was in radio contact with the camp staff, and once they had everything loaded and were on their way we followed them on the road to Khwai. Amazingly it wasn’t raining!  There were wild dog tracks in the road for miles, along with impala prints, and later those of hyena. Gee, as always, was able to read the tracks and describe the encounters. 
     A big bull elephant was walking up the road toward us; we stopped and watched deferentially as he ambled by. He moved sedately, confident in his supremacy. Then he stopped and turned toward us, watching us astutely; I felt honored to be in the presence of such wisdom and majesty.

     We were on the main road to Khwai, which is still a small sand road with few vehicles - but not as much grass grows between the tire tracks on the main roads. Gee was driving purposefully to cover the distance, but stopped whenever we saw something interesting. For once the sun was shining; it was the brightest day we’d had so far.

     Suddenly on the right we saw a magnificent male lion, lying in the shade of a thicket of mopane trees, not fifteen feet from the road. He was a looking around alertly, perhaps scouting for a zebra for lunch. Then he looked straight at us; it was electrifying, as if he could see right into your soul. His thick mane was fluffy and soft, as if it had just been combed. Who was his hair dresser? 

     As we pulled forward we saw a second male lion on the other side of the trees. We quickly did the math; we were up to 37 lions for the trip so far!

    About twenty minutes further on, we came around a bend and saw something in the road ahead of us. Elands, about six of them! We couldn’t believe our luck - we were seeing elands for the third time. Then we caught a glimpse of animals moving through the brush off to our right, and realized there were a lot more elands coming. 

     This new group came from the right and crossed the road in front of us, leaping and bounding. There were dozens of them. Rafe had a Botswana wildlife app on her phone that said elands could jump eight feet, and indeed, one of them made a mighty leap above the heads of her herd-mates that must have come close. Most of the elands dashed across and disappeared into the brush on our left, but eight or so stood in the road further ahead, watching us warily.

     To our amazement we saw yet more elands moving through the trees off to our right. They were trotting through the dense brush in a long line, and they just kept coming. A solid column of these large antelopes passed by without stopping; we estimated that there were over 200 of them. Oh my god, my father! Once the main herd had gone by, several more elands crossed the road right behind us. This was an unbelievable!

     We continued on the road toward Khwai, still marveling over our incredible eland encounter. A bull elephant crossed the road in front of us, shaking his head and waving his trunk at us as we drove by.  I really think elephants should be considered the king of the beasts rather than lions; they are the ones who challenge us as we drive by.    
     A lovely giraffe stood in the road, blocking our way. Behind her we saw more; there were six of them in all. They gazed at us with curious expressions. What a fabulous morning we were having. We had seen baby elephants cuddle, bull elephants asserting their authority, male lions in all their glory, gentle giraffes watching us, and two hundred elands passing by. And it was only nine-thirty!

      We were driving along the edge of the Mababe Depression again, but on a different road this time than we’d come in on. While we were in Savuti it had continued to rain intermittently every day, and several times it had rained all night; Gee said the main road we arrived on was probably impassable by now. This alternative route had just as many puddles; we sloshed through them with the sound like ocean waves. We didn’t get stuck this time, but we were all a little gun shy each time we went through a particularly deep puddle. Sometimes the land cruiser tilted at such an angle it felt like we would tip over sideways.

     To my delight we saw the ostriches again; presumably they were the same group we had seen on the way to Savuti. They trotted across the plain in a single row file, and then circled around and started dancing, shaking their wings up and down and bobbing their heads. They really are the most ridiculous-looking creatures.

      The Depression was inhabited by quite a few elephants, a number of giraffes, lots of birds and the occasional warthog.  After a while we intersected with the main road, but we were past the wettest part. We stopped for a quick tea break under a shepherd tree near a small waterhole. We could see mud marks on the tree trunk at least eight feet up, where elephants had been rubbing their muddy sides on it.

     We came to the Mababe Gate, where we were able to use the wifi for a few minutes to check on things at home. As we came to the Khwai River, Chobe was on the near side of the river, Moremi on the far side, and Khwai was straight ahead. Gee turned left on a small road and we took a last drive in Chobe Park. We encountered more giraffes, a shy zebra heard with babies, and a big bull elephant by the road.

     A self-driver was following close behind us. This was a little annoying – Gee said the self-drivers follow the guides to find the animals. Later Gee stopped and talked to him; he had a map, but had no idea how to locate where he was on it.
     In the marshy floodplains alongside the Khwai River we saw white-faced ducks, Egyptian and spur-winged geese, egrets and an African darter. An open-billed stork walked through the tall grass; this is a large stocky black bird with a bill that doesn’t quite close all the way. In contrast, the black heron is more petite and refined.

     We had lunch beside the Khwai River at a lovely spot under a leadwood tree. We had been noticing a lot of plants with small pink flowers; Gee told us these were called Pretty Ladies. He also pointed out a knobthorn acacia, with knobby branches with sharp serrated edges. There were many areas where the channels were choked with vegetation; Gee identified the culprit as an invasive weed from South America that is taking over the waterways, called salvinia molesta – I thought that sounded like a spell from Harry Potter. 
     After lunch we rested a while, and were back on the road by 2:30. We came to a large clearing where Chobe, Moremi and Khwai all come together; this was the spot where we had seen an elephant herd meeting place on a previous trip - here had been literally hundreds of elephants there. Not one was in sight today. 

     A big crocodile was lying on the opposite bank of the river. He had just come out of the water, so his black and yellow scales looked fresh and bright; when dry they are rather mud-colored. His curved mouth had a row of jagged teeth set in a sinister smile.  

     Around 3:30 we passed a group of people standing by a vehicle with the hood up; Gee of course went to see if they needed help. There were 14 of them in the group, and they were from Poland. They seemed a bit out of their element, and were not exactly dressed for the bush. They were having vehicle problems, and had to switch their battery from one vehicle to the other every 30 minutes. But their main concern was asking us if we had seen any lions. They had not, and were very eager to find some. Of course, on their own they were much less likely to find animals; I couldn’t resist telling them that our guide had found us 37 lions so far.

     Presently we came to a clearing among some large trees that looked familiar; I recognized it as the campsite from my first safari with Gee in 2015. Just past it we encountered three kudus, a youngish male and two females.       
     Further on was a dead tree forest where zebras, wildebeests and impala were all hanging out together. There were large herds of all three, and quite a few babies. There was a sort of hollow in the ground, and the wildebeest were using it for their day care center; the nook was filled with baby wildebeests, and a few mothers supervising.

     As always it was fun to watch the zebras. Each one has a distinct stripe pattern; no two are the same, like fingerprints. The babies have longer fuzzy coats with a brownish tinge; we watched several young ones as they followed their mothers, and nursed from them. One of the females seemed to be coming into estrus, and the stallion was following her around showing signs of wanting to mate.  

     A Kori bustard strolled by; walking quietly through the tall grass and pink pretty ladies flowers. Some Guinea fowl wandered by and a tree squirrel ran up the trunk of a leadwood.

     We passed a bird we had not seen before; a striped cuckoo. These birds lay their eggs in the nests of other smaller birds, and let that host mother incubate the eggs. Then when the cuckoo chick hatches it pushes any other eggs or babies out of the nest, and the host bird feeds and raises the cuckoo, not realizing it is not her own. A Burchell's starling perched on a stump near the road and posed for photos.

    Gee stopped to speak with a guide from another safari company; their slogan was painted on the door of their vehicle. “More Than Just Creepy Crawlies,” it stated, which seemed to me a very odd motto.
     We came out to a big lagoon; there was an old elephant skeleton in the edge of the water. A jacana waded near the shore; it was amazing how long his toes were. A little egret walked in the shallows, and a green-backed egret picked his way among the elephant vertebrae and hid behind the skull. A fish eagle surveyed all from a branch overhead.

     We came across a small herd of waterbucks, led by a large male with just one horn. It looked very odd to see him with just a single long spiral horn, as if he were a slightly asymmetric unicorn. I asked Gee, ‘Is a male water buck called a waterbuck buck?’ ‘Yes,’ he answered. The buck was following a female and it seemed like he wanted to mate, and she appeared receptive to the idea. This prompted another bad limerick:

I suppose it really must suck
To be a waterbuck buck
Who is only adorned
With one single horn
But it’s enough for him to – try his luck!

     We left the waterbucks to their romance and headed to our new camp.  No rain today! Although it was cloudy at times, the rain never came - this was the first day on the whole trip that we had not gotten rained on at some point. 

     It was a beautiful camp, right on the edge of the water. The main river channel was further out, but the wet marshy expanse reached right to our tents. It was a beautiful spot to watch the sunset, with the trees along the river silhouetted against the fiery sky. The dining tent was right by the water, and the campfire beside that. Yes, the campfire! Since it was not raining, we enjoyed sitting around the campfire with Gee, both before dinner and for a little while after. We enjoyed a glorious sunset, and later we could see the stars for the first time since the very first night of the safari.

     During dinner we started to hear a plinking noise, first occasionally and then more and more constant, like somebody plucking the high-note strings on a banjo. It was the frogs! Gee said they were painted reed frogs. This chorus became louder as the evening went on.

     I went to sleep to the lovely music of the frogs, and the sound of hyenas and lions calling in the night. The weather was cooler now that the rain had stopped, and I actually had to close some of the tents window flaps, and use my blanket. I awoke in the wee hours and the frogs had gone quiet, but in the early morning I heard the whuffing of lions again.     

              ~ Continued on next page ~


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