Saturday, September 25, 2010

Wild honey and rhino capture

We are still up in the north, still working the fences. The lanky figure of Fana strides off along the fenceline, in the direction we have just come from. Looking for wild honey I’m told. Soon he returns, with five pieces of honeycomb, offered to us on a spade. We greedily suck the sweet, golden liquid from the waxy comb….mmmm! I ask Fana if he was stung. Everyone laughs. I assume it was a silly question. They patiently try explain how the honey is collected, but soon I am lost. I ask Fana if he will take me with next time. Yes.

A game drive vehicle is parked where Ross’ broken bakkie usually lives. A perfect opportunity for a night-time adventure. We search for the lions, who have passed close to the house in the day. Circling the block, no fresh tracks. We decide to go in search of easier prey, hyena, at their den.

Perched on the tracker seat on the bonnet, the spotlight in my hand seeks out animals hiding in the darkness. Two eyes shine back at me, blinking, from a tree as we trundle along. A little bushbaby clings to a high-up branch. After some backwards and fowardsing we find the den. One of the pups is out and playing with Mom. A noise off in the bush catches Mom’s attention and she heads off with the two other adults for a closer look. The pup is caught between fear and curiosity. He wants to go see, but doesn’t want to leave the safety of the den. Curiosity gives way to fear and he heads indoors for now. A piercing whoop from one of the adults, just metres away. Chilling to hear so close, so loud. But so beautiful. An archetypal sound of the African bush.

“Do you want to come with to catch rhino this afternoon?” The question comes from Nico. There is only one correct answer to such a question. We assemble at the turn-off to Zuka, in the south. Chap, the vet arrives and we head off. Tracker, Zama, has been with the injured bull on Zuka the whole afternoon. Rhino are used to game drive vehicles so Chap, Musa a couple of others head off to where the rhino is. We stay behind, with a keen ear to the radio. The call comes to move in. The rhino has gone down. Our vehicle comes to a halt. The rhino is down, just 30m from the road. Chap grabs a blindfold and sets off. Nico and Musa follow. But a second rhino sticks close to his fallen brother. Shouting, clapping and beating a knob-kierie against a tree chase him off. Not far. Together with some schoolkid volunteers I move in, camera in hand. The blind-folded rhino lies on his side, his legs shaking, breathing heavily. He has been gored in the genitals by a female. I hope that rhino are not as sensitive to pain as us humans are! Chap injects the patient with penicillin and a multi-vitamin. He also sprays something on the wound. The kids inject the antidote to the tranquilizer, we heave him upright, onto his chest. His skin is rough under our hands. Chap treats the injection wound and we move out, to the vehicles. Not more than 10 or 15 minutes since he went down. A minute and half on Chap’s watch and the rhino is on his feet. Groggy, but on his feet at least. Chap hopes he will link up with his brother by tomorrow.

Sitting having dinner, outside. No wind, clear skies, the sun has just gone down. A roar travels through the cool evening air. Lions. Seconds later an elephant trumpets, clearly not happy. We can only imagine the scene playing out at dam, just a kilometer or two away from us. Ross arrives back after a drive and we set off to go see the lions. Along the way we see the elephants, moving off from the dam, towards our home. We skirt around them and pull up to Imagine Dam. In the gentle red of the spotlight we watch the cubs tearing away at an nyala carcass, just metres away. Granny lion looks on and Mom is more interested in sleep. We head back home. The ellies are everywhere, right around our house. Ross calls us outside. A young bull passes the open area out front, silhouetted against a nearly-full moon.  The cracking of branches all around us is broken only the whooping of the same hyenas and the whistling call of the fiery-necked nightjar.

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