Elephant and rhino tracking

It’s just after 6am and the sun is already high in the sky. We probably won’t need the warm jerseys we’ve brought it looks like. The smiling face of black rhino tracker, Zama, greets us. He has agreed to take us out looking for elephant today. The females wearing the new collars we put on just a couple of weeks ago.

We jump into the clapped out Landie and head south, far south. Grass is the ellies’ favourite food and it is thick and lush in the south. They will spend the summer there.

Zama stops suddenly and reverses the vehicle. Big male lion off to our left a couple of hundred metres away. Sharp eyes!

We push further south, duck off east into an area called Harrowgate and stop on a hill. Antenna out he checks the signal. Somewhere down in the bush there one of the collars sends us the constant beep. They are here. Somewhere.

We move on, and into Sutton now, climbing the steep hills up towards the mountains of Nkonka. The bush is thick and green.

A lone female impala darts across the road. And a fresh, new baby follows nimbly behind her, sticking close to mom. The impala have started to drop their young. So special to see the first youngster before we leave for home.

We stop several times, checking the signal. Zama scans the hillside. And finds them. Straining over the distance we can see maybe two or three. With bino’s trained on them many more emerge out of the bush. They are clearly moving east. We skirt around and onto the Sodwana Bay road, hoping that they will cross on their way to Mpafa Dam.

Looking down the hill the ellies are just 100m away. Some have crossed the road. Some browse lazily in the bushes still to the west of the road. Two youngster trot across.

Further up the road two motorbikes have stopped, the ellies between them and the way out of Phinda. More bikes pile up behind them, part of more than 100 BMW bikers, traveling down Africa, who stayed at Bayete Camp. Pretty soon just less than 100 BMW bikers are waiting, trapped by the elephants.

And then two bikes creep forward. A matriarch stands to the side, just on the road. They edge past her slowly and then speed up the hill towards us. The elephant shakes her head, puts her ears back and trumpeting chases after them. Which means after us too. Zama fires up the engine, slams in reverse and races back up the hill. The ellie keeps coming. And coming. I signal the bikers, now behind, to speed up. Eventually we are at a distance deemed satisfactory by the infuriated matriarch. The bikers are now piling up behind each other on the fart side. No one is willing to take a chance. After waiting for ten minutes or so the ellies eventually move off into the bush, and the biker’s engines growl past us, and inside their helmets they all wear excited smiles. What excitement!

Zama is nervous of harassing the ellies further and so the request from ranger Giles to follow up and track down black rhino in Harrowgate gives us something else to do. On either side of the road we are surrounded by a carpet of green grass, in an area burnt some months back. We spy some rhino on the ridge across the way. Three of them. One black and two white. We move in a bit closer and the bino’s bring them closer still. The black rhino is a youngster, probably only four. They are known for being inquisitive and he cannot help going up to the bigger white rhino to have a look. Eventually they are nose to nose. Touching. So special to see them so close together, both to compare them up close and to witness this very special interaction.

Heading home, the clouds have returned and with them a slight drizzle. Passing by Old Main Gate we see the lioness and one of the males, the two we saw mating just the other day no doubt. And closeby a beautiful waterbuck bull stands alone, not more than 100m from the lions. We move closer, off the road in the hopes that something may happen. But the lions seems little interested, occupied by other activities for the moment.

Zama drops us back off at home. Farewells are said and he trundles off to his home. A very special day indeed.

Last days and final farewells

Musa slips and slides down the muddy black cotton soils in the Cruiser. Me next to him and Umuzi and Nkosi on the back. We are on the other side of the Mzinene River. A place called South Bank. Musa unloads us and slashers in hand the three of us walk the fenceline, slicing away the grass that reaches up to the electric strand just off the ground.

The sun is high in the sky. A little grass road separates us from the shade as we work the fenceline. “Ilanga likipha imkhovu etsheni” Johnny Clegg once sang. Today the sun is doing just that, chasing the evil spirits out of the rocks… It is cooking hot! Umuzi still wears his blue overall jacket. To protect his skin from the sun. “Girls like it more when you’re skin is lighter.” Nkosi jokes, a naughty smile on his face. “Hai….” Umuzi tries to defend himself. “You are lying” he jokes back. I tell them that white people work very hard to make there skin darker, purposefully going into the sun. We all laugh.

“Hau!” Nkosi and I spin around at Umuzi’s reaction. A puff of soft feathers floats down to the ground from the fence. Just metres away from us. A little bird looking for a rest got something of a surprise and a shock, trying to land on the electric fence. A little naked now perhaps, but happily it escaped.

We’re up in the north spraying the fenceline to keep the grass at bay. Lakhize, Dumisani and Jerome are doing the spraying. I am doing the driving. Of the tractor. After a short lesson. Three gears on the one stick and a rabbit and a tortoise on the other. We’re going quickly, well for a tractor, so I slip it in into hare gear. One guy sprays while the other two mix the deadly concoction. By the time we are done and I’m dropped off at home I’ve earned the name “Umnobonobo three” despite the fact that I still have my front teeth. Dumisani is Umnobonobo two, for like Umnobonobo he drives a tractor and also has no front teeth.

The two male lion will soon arrive from Madikwe. Any day now in fact. And we have to prepare the predator boma. Slashing the grass, fixing holes and repairing the electric fence. Jimson, Nkosi and Bakuze (Nkosinathi) work next to me. Soon the work is done and we wait for Umuzi and Fani to return to pick us up. We sit in the shade of the boma. But then Jimson is up and about, combing the grass for wild spinach. I cannot resist. I make space in my lunchbox and after checking the plant with Jimson to make sure Kristal and I won’t be eating weeds later, I move along, hunched over, stooping to pluck the little green plants. Soon all the space is taken up and I’m done – my first wild veld harvest. Two nights later we enjoy the spinach in a delicious macaroni cheese. Yum!

The last the day of work on Phinda. We are dismantling an old buffalo boma close to Imagine Dam. Fani, Umnobonobo and Nkosi are with me. Fani and Umnobonobo removing the bolts and Nkosi and I cutting the wire that binds some of the poles and then removing the poles. It is overcast and chilly as we work, but soon we warm up. Ramming the poles off the loosened bolts is tough work for Nkosi and I as we follow the bolt-loosening team ahead. The grey of the clouds starts to darken and soon it is drizzling. We work on. And then it is raining. We stop working. Thanks to the rain we enjoy a two-hour lunch taken from 11am under a little tin shelter in the boma. We chat about lobola and still they cannot believe that us whiteys don’t pay lobola. It is really not easy to get married if you’re Zulu. About R55,000 for 11 cows and that is before you even get to the wedding costs.

Before we know it it is 3 o’clock. I say another farewell to Bakuze who has joined us, Nkosi and Umnobonobo. I climb up behind Fani who gives me a lift on the tractor home. We give him a box of matches to light his Boxer gwayi. Sucking back on the newspaper rolled cigarette he waves and trundles off home.

We head off to say farewell to the guys in the south, Vusi especially. I had hoped to work with them today, but it was not to be. An after-work farewell will have to do. We arrive with a camera for final photos and a tub of Kristal’s delicious cappuccino muffins as a parting gift. Individual pics first, just me and each of the guys. Some strike a pose and some just smile. And then the group photo with Vusi, Lakhize, Dumisani, Seven and Thembankosi. A few Zulu words of farewell are exchanged and promises to keep in touch are made and we leave them to continue washing or preparing dinner.

What a special day. To end the most remarkable three months. Working side-by-side with some of the best people I have had the privilege of knowing. Warm, kind, patient and many other things that I was not able to share in my farewell speech last Friday. I have learned so much more than just Zulu. Vusi Dlamini, Jimson Mthethwa, Umuzi Mtshali, Thembankosi, Lakhize, Seven Myeni, Nkosi (Sibonga Konke), Patrick Mseleni, Fani, Bakuze (Nkosinathi), Musa Mbatha, Umnobonobo, Jerome Gumede, Anton Ndlovu,  how fondly I will remember the days that I have spent with you, for all the days that lie ahead of me.

In search of turtles…

It is a few minutes after midnight. The moon has just set behind the clouds that run from horizon to horizon. We are on the beach. Ross, Kim, us and four guests piled into the beach Landcruiser. Plus of course Phinda butler Khaya. His first time to try see turtles he tells me in Zulu. Camera in hand he is just as excited as we are.

The Cruiser speeds north over the hard beach sand. Waves lap at the wheels at times and pale white ghost crabs fake left and then fake right trying to outwit the oncoming vehicle. Most succeed and make it away safely.

Tracks! Like the spoor of a large tractor they march up from the water to the dunes. And then back. Ross jumps out to check and GPS the nesting site. Something must have made her nervous, for there is no nest Ross tells us back at the vehicle. The search continues…

More tracks! Just one line this time. Engine off, lights off too, Ross jumps out and his headlamp bounces up the beach after the tracks. And then bounces even higher back to us a minute later. “We’ve got a bus!” he tells us excitedly. We all dismount and follow him up the beach. There she is! In the lee of the dunes she lies. Huge! And beautiful. A leatherback turtle. Her front flippers labour to sweep sand over her nest, disguising the exact location from would-be predators. Looking at her I knew that I would struggle to find words to write down. It is just awe-inspiring.

Completely in a trance she has no idea we are there. And we crowd around taking photos and then measurements. “1.57 metres” Ross reads off the measuring tape that we have just lain across her carapace. She weeps salt from her eyes.

Soon she is done and turns, heading back for the ocean. “No lights, no pictures please” Ross tells us. She will head for the light, or the flash. No doubt exhausted from the nesting she heaves her way down to the beach with her front flippers in the darkness, heading first for a lighthouse and then straightening out towards the breaking waves. Ross follows her into the water a ways, his headlamp held high, shining down on her. Cameras snap away. And then she disappears beneath the waves, to the depths of the ocean. Her babies are left to grow and then fend for themselves. And next year she will return again, to the same place, within 3km of where she was born, to lay again.

Back in the vehicle now we go off in search of more turtles. More tracks! Up and down. Ross rushes off and then back. And then we follow him up the beach. Three ping-pong ball eggs have been left un-buried. They are light and fragile to handle. And then we bury them and walk back to the vehicle. The crabs keep trying to dodge us as we race on.

More tracks! Just a single track heading up the beach. And smaller than last time. Ross rushes up the beach after them again and bounces back to us. A loggerhead this time. Also disguising her nest Ross thinks at first, but then she starts to dig. We move in closer and each find a perch up on the dune right behind her.

One back flipper at a time she scoops sand out from behind her. Slowly. Carefully. The hole grows beneath her. Within ten minutes it is as deep as she can reach. She scoops sand out from the sides making the little sand cavern bigger. And then she is done. “Please count the eggs” Ross asks us. They come out in two and threes. About eighty eggs laid in ten minutes, half filling the hole. She scoops sand into the hole, covering up her eggs. She is still busy disguising the nest when we leave, the four guests keen to get home.

 

I nod off on the drive back, for it is almost 4am now. What a remarkable night. Both species on the beach. In one night. Memories to treasure for life!

Facing lions on foot

“You wanna come for a walk?” specialist ranger, Grant, calls through the window. “Ummm…” It’s only 5:30am and we are still asleep. “We’re walking lion”. No decision to make, we’re up and getting dressed and soon on the Cruiser heading north, with Dale, Grant, Jacque and Sam “Isigqoko”. Rangers are looking for the lioness and three cubs up near Bischoffs.

As we break out onto the marsh Sam spots a cheetah. We drive over to Hennie’s Dam and there they are. The two brothers. They look restless. The lioness and three have been located, the radio tells us. Damn! We leave the cheetah and head south to look for the two big lionesses.

Driving along Mkuze boundary towards Bayete. Sam is in the tracker seat. From the nearby community of Nibela, he began working on Phinda 14 years ago. As a tracker. Tracks are difficult to spot from a moving vehicle, but not much gets past Sam.

“Mana!” The vehicle stops. Lion tracks. Fresh. From last night. We pile off the Cruiser, Grant bringing the rifle with him. The guys spread out, looking for tracks. The sand is hard and the tracking tough. Dale points with his walking stick to where the lion trod on a bit of grass. You can see the grass is bent and there is a bit of sand on the blade. “It’s all about attention to minute detail” he says. Indeed.

Our pace is slow. Fifteen minutes and we can still see the vehicle only a hundred or so metres away. “You must keep looking up too,” Dale says. “You never know what’s ahead of you.”.

Sam gives pointers here and there but Jacque and Grant are leading the walk. We pass a small pan on our left, making some progress. The group is spread out. The bush is quite open, with patches of dense thicket in areas.

“There they are!” In a loud whisper. Grant has spotted them. “Come this side, let’s stick in a group”. We move quickly and quietly over to him. The thicket is not more than 20m in front of us. Straining through the trees you can just make out a tan-coloured shape. Her shoulder. Dale and Jacques pass their binos on to us. Everyone whispers. No sudden movements. We stand watching for two or three minutes. Grant is not happy being so close and we slowly back off. Still facing them. For anything that slightly resembles an animal trying to escape might trigger a charge. At 60m away we stop, for a more relaxed look. Through the gap on the trees I can see her amber eyes glaring straight at us. What an awe-inspiring sight and an exhilarating experience.

All the rangers cannot believe that the lionesses didn’t charge. From that distance? Amazing. Usually lions give a warning growl from a quite a bit further away. At 20m they will always charge. But not today. Sam thinks that us moving so slowly kept them very relaxed. Either way, we are happy. Overjoyed in fact. Seeing lion on foot, another experience we shall never forget!

Smiles, warm company and goodbye's

I join Josh, Jimson, Nkosi, Nkosinathi and Philip to feed the buffalo. This is the first time that I go out with Josh and his team and I truly love it! It’s nice to see the buffalo but I enjoy it even more to see the guys working together, listen to them having fun, making jokes and speaking Zulu. Josh with a big smile on his face!

Philip and I practice our Zulu. Oh it’s so hard. Philip has his dictionary in front of the car and looks up every word he doesn’t know. He is very happy with Josh’s company and Josh is happy to help. “Soon you’ll be fluent”, the Zulu guys say. 

It’s the evening of our farewell. During speech time I say a few words to the guys in Zulu, which I read from my little notebook. It’s still just a bit too hard for me to remember.
I tell them : ‘I haven’t seen you a lot, but I was very happy to greet and wave at you in the mornings and afternoons. I was very happy to see Josh arrive home smiling. Thank you very much!’
I get lots of applause and whistling in return. I think they like it!

Josh and I are so well taken care of. It’s definitely an evening I will always remember. What an honour to be part of it, dancing and laughing with them and just being in their honest warm company. Sizobuya! We will return to visit for sure!

Salanikahle

                  Lakhize, Jimson, Josh, Themankosi, Nkosinathi, Jerome 

Shouts and applause rise up through the darkness and the light evening drizzle as Kristal and I walk across the lawn towards the line of rooms that make up the staff accommodation at Mandatane. About 20 men sit on chairs, crates, boxes, anything. Under the tin verandah and out of the rain. Most of the guys are from Phinda Habitat. Some are from other departments. All have come to say farewell to us.

An extension cord runs past the CD player, pumping out Zulu tunes and across the lawn a short way to a little cooking shelter. Under the shelter and in the light of the coals and a small bedside lamp Umuzi and Mandla tend to the impala, strung out on the spit. Phillip goes across and starts to paint the impala with a specially prepared marinade. No-one is preparing a salad. There is not even mielie pap on the go. Tonight we eat inyama.

Everyone helps themselves to cold beers and cooldrinks. Shouts and whistles break the quiet chatting. Thembankosi and Dumisani are dancing, throwing their legs high into the air and slamming their feet down on the ground. Everyone gets involved. Standing around or sitting, but clapping, in perfect time to the stamping. Each takes a turn, breaking from the clapping, moving into the circle to shaya ingoma, gida, dance.

Leopard researcher, Julian, is one of just 4 white faces. He cannot resist and gives it a go and draws laughter and even greater applause. Nkosi spurs me on. I give in and jump up to move into the circle. My leg lifts are weak and the timing is terrible. But the response is impressive. Laughing, clapping, patting me on the back and shaking my hand. Happy that I’ve at least given it a go.

                     Dumisani, Josh and Themankosi

                      Nkosi, Josh, Nkosinathi, Themankosi, Jerome

Thembankosi grabs me by the shoulder. Jimson is next to him. With his shirt off, car tyre shoes on he is holding a small strip of impala skin. This slit is already cut and Jimson spreads it open. I hold out my right arm. “Yes, the right arm is best” Thembankosi says. Jimson Mthethwa, of the Zulu clan Nyambozi, slips the skin over my hand and onto my wrist. I am now wearing an isiphandla. A war decoration from days gone by, isiphandla’s are now worn to mark important occasions for which an animal has been slaughtered. Thembankosi trims it with a knife, to make it a bit neater. It’s beautiful. Taken from the belly where the white hairs meet the red. What an honour to be given an isiphandla by these two men. Of all of the guys these are the two that I have connected with the most, besides Vusi of course. But he is on leave, sadly. “When you see the isiphandla it will remind you of us” Jimson says. He speaks the truth.

Sitting back down now we are unexpectedly served by Fani. He puts a board full of impala meat down in front of us, and cuts it up for us. It is quite delicious and we help ourselves. A bigger board with more meat goes down just next to us. All the guys crowd around to enjoy the meat given up by the poor, injured impala.

Soon the meat is done. And soon Kristal's freshly baked muffins go the same way. Bellies now full, everyone gathers around. Speech time. Musa says a few words, in Zulu. Nods and grunts of agreement punctuate what he is saying. Then it’s my turn. It is so hard to convey the gratitude I feel towards the men sitting in front of me, and some who are not there. I give it my best though, in Zulu of course. They clap between just about every sentence. It is quite emotional, more than I expected. I finish with a promise to come back and visit. Musa invites the induna’s to say something. Lakhize first, and then Jimson. I follow most of what they say, and that which I miss I gather from their tone and manner. Much of Jimson’s speech is directed towards Kristal. After she goes and thanks him for his words. In Zulu. A big smile lights up on his face in return.

Formalities done, the dancing kicks off again. And part way through the music stops. And the singing begins. One guy leads, and the rest follow him. Beautiful, haunting Zulu voices.

It’s getting late and people start to peel off home. Some have to drive half an hour still back to Izwe. And soon it is just the guys from Mandatane. Sitting with Kristal, Phillip and I. Umuzi will go on leave this weekend and he shares some very kind words before we part. As does Jimson, for he too will go home to his family.

We head home, salt the isiphandla to dry it out and soon are in bed. What a special evening, one we shall remember forever.

Wrapping up reedbuck, wrestling rhino and some roaring

 

The stars fade and the blue brightens in the east. It is 4:30am, again, and Kristal and I are up a tree. At the junction close to home where the game capture team will collect us. Waiting on the sand road we heard the buffalo crashing into the boma through the bushes a few hundred metres away. Then, a few moments later, baboons alarm call from the same direction. It could be a lion passing by. It could just be a leopard. But it could also be a lion! Less than 2m off the ground on a horizontal branch we have only created a tiny illusion of safety. But, it is something at least. And the view is different and interesting.

We break out of the woodland onto the marsh, and from the bouncing back of the bakkie we spy two male cheetah off to our right.  The two brothers. Closeby. They gallop off into the bush in slow motion, covering ground effortlessly. The Robbie 44 is perched up on Hennie’s Dam wall to our left. Danie will follow us to the capture site.

Ten minutes more and we arrive at the same site as last time. How many escapees from then will be wise to our plans? I wonder.

Nets are unloaded from the bakkies. Poles too. We string up a giant 90 degree V. Up against the game fence it makes a U. At the back of the U the nets are 2 and 3 deep. Hung up on poles and thorn trees.

“Chase them against the fence and bring them in to the nets” Marinus advises Danie before he takes off. Danie flies low checking the set up. He banks hard and disappears over the long grass in which we have taken cover. Kristal, Gavin and I.

And then he returns. Flying low. And straight towards us. The female reedbuck bounds in right at us, ahead of the whirring chopper blades. She careers straight into the net. And through it. We are all running. A Bundox guy dives. And misses. And I half trip over him. The reedbuck dodges us all easily and rushes on. A second net lies ahead of her. A net from which she does not escape.

The next four reedbuck come right along the fence. Too far away for us to assist. So I move there, to the hot-spot. And then the next one comes right to where those more patient than I have stayed. Phillip and Kristal have secured her by the time I arrive.

It’s a lottery. Hundreds of metres of nets. Maybe 40 people catching. Reedbuck running scared. I feel lucky to have experienced the thrill of the capture last time. And glad that Kristal also got to experience it. It is not the capture itself that is the thrill. One cannot help but share the distress that the reedbuck feel. It is the intimacy of experiencing these animals, in all their beauty, power and speed. Up close. That is what is so special.

It is just before 7am. Another 12 reedbuck are loaded and Phillip rushes us off to the next adventure. Rhino capture. And we will be joined by 6 or so Hungarian guests.

We arrive with Phillip, at Junction Dam. Still up on the marsh. The green grazing lawns up here are full up with rhino. A quick guest briefing and we are on our way. The chopper lifts Danie, Phillip and Stuart and on the ground we follow. A handful of us on the back of the Landcruiser. The guests follow in another vehicle with ranger Craig.

The dart is in! We move in to the area at speed. Ducking off the road, through the bushes and there she is. A 3 year-old female. Still on her feet. Guided by Phillip and Stuart, and blindfolded, she stomps around drunkenly before she collapses. Measurements are taken. The data sheet is filled up. The trovan chip is drilled and glued into the horn. Guests notch the ears. And we are on our way.

Again. The dart is in! I note down the time. Phillip directs us with a handheld radio from the sky. We race to where he tells us. And wait. Three rhino burst through the bushes. A large male and two youngsters. One has the pink dart flight sticking out of its rump as they bolt past us. And then the darted rhino splits from the other two. The chopper backs off. Still the rhino runs. They move in and let fly a second dart. Still the rhino runs. I look at my watch as we chase after it. Twenty minutes since the first dart went in. Usually they are down in five. From the chopper Danie directs us to where he has dropped Phillip and Stuart.

The four year-old calf is dragging the two of them around. Blindly. We lend a hand. And then she finally goes down. Stuart injects the anti-dote to the M99, to wake her up partially. And she swings her head to try rock onto her feet. Many feeble humans hold her down. I cling to the horn as she tosses me almost off my knees with each swipe.

She settles somewhat. Enough to get the trovan in and take some measurements. “Hold on tight” Tristan warns me just as the guest is about to clamp the notch out of her ear. I do. And, as predicted, she winces and swipes with the sting.

We need to get her over to the other side. To notch the other ear. As we rock her, she rocks straight up onto her feet. I’m still on the horn. Musa and I walk with her. Well, she pushes us along as we push back. We try the notching mid-stride. Not easy. We zig-zag up and down. Someone ties one of her legs to a tree. Then, with the notching done we release her. Only Stuart and I remain. She picks on the pace a little, with only me holding on now. Blindfold off. Anti-dote in and a second rhino is notched!

Back home for breakfast of pancakes with Stuart and Ross. And a nap. Four of the last five days we have been awake by 3:30am!

“You have to meet at Rock Lodge at 4. Cooper is your ranger” I read the sms excitedly to Kristal. We’re going game driving in the south. Where the male lions live. Swiss couple, Eric and Cybil, are luckily also keen to see a male lion. We head to where he was seen earlier this afternoon. Four vehicles move into the area, all checking different roads. “Located this animal”. The good news crackles over the radio. Ranger Richard turns the Cruiser and we shoot off to Izwe gate to view the beast.

There he lies. Upright. Head held high. Behind that dark, lush mane he knows he is beautiful. But he is also lonely. And calling for his brother. His whole body heaves, summoning the energy to let out a roar from deep inside his belly. A roar that will resound for miles. The ground feels as if it shakes. What a special sighting for Kristal’s first male lion in the wild!

We drive home, smiling from ear to ear. What a day!

And then just turning off Corridor Road, towards the sand forest and Forest Lodge, a big male leopard darts off the road. Only metres ahead of us, he disappears into the bush. We reverse and back onto Corridor. Just in time to see him bound into the bushes on the other side. We stare at him in the spotlit bush 10m away. He stares back. And then disappears and quickly and quietly as he arrived.