I have tossed and turned all night worrying at the question: how to intervene in the guiding of our safari without antagonising and/our hurting the feelings of Rogers, our guide, but achieve the aim of slowing down his haring around in pursuit of “big “ sightings so we can actually enjoy the lovely park. Aussies Dale and Lisa are with me on this, the Rev. Stuart is non-committal in a sort of I-know -Africa-better and bless-everyone sort of way which I take as an abstention.So rather than a direct approach, I have a chat with the lodge manager just before we set out on the second morning. I think I get through to him and he has a few words with Rogers. It works. The morning drive is a whole new ball game as they say. We go slowly and stop for everything, taking our time. We watch a Giraffe drinking at a lagoon and look on as Antelopes, Zebras and Warthogs graze the green pans and Baboons go about their morning business. We stop for every Kingfisher, Hornbill and Spur-winged Goose. And so on. The magic is there as we drink in this wonderful world of animals, birds, grass, water and trees. I am really not good enough with words to explain but every one is smiling; even surly old Rogers is transformed, his love of the bush peeking out from behind the jaded conveyor of tourists we have seen so far.
And of course we have success where we failed yesterday. The Antelopes are in rut and we are hanging out on a large grassy pan watching them gambolling about, listening to their extraordinary sounds – the Pukku’s whistles and the Impalas low grunting. The Males are busy chasing off rivals and seducing females. Youngsters catch the mood and engage in little mock fights or just scamper around for fun.
Then suddenly the mood changes. Rogers as well stiffens and calls our attention to a Pukku alarm call. We drive a short way to where it seems to come from and search along a deep gully. Nothing there but then some squirrels in the nearby thicket sound their alarm. We circle the thicket, find nothing but, returning to the pan, Rogers points out a group of Impala all staring rather fixedly at one spot. We follow their gaze and there it is: a gorgeous Leopard, crouching in the grass at the edge of the scrub, looking right at us. He (probably a male – thick neck and stocky body) watches us and we watch him for a few minutes and then he gets up, cool as a cucumber, and walks out into the open, down onto the pan where he takes a long drink from a puddle, licks his lips, gives us another look and makes his way back up in to the bush in that lovely flowing feline gait. It doesn’t get much better than this.
We are all thrilled to bits. I resist the temptation to gloat a bit over the success of my “less is more”, slow and steady wins the race strategy. We have a coffee break , then go on and hang out with water birds of all shapes and sizes until a passing car informs Rogers of a Wild Dog sighting. We all groan, reluctant to abandon our peaceful communing with nature. However, Dogs are rare and hard to see and this sounds like a solid lead, not just another wild dog chase. We can’t really pass it up, and its not so far away. I have yet to see them and they are high on my wish list. So off we go.
About half an hour later I ask Rogers if we are near – “should be close by” he says and just then I spot them: in a wide sandy river bed, in the shade of a high bluff area cluster of lumpy shapes – a pack of Wild Dogs at rest! Then I notice 3 cars on the bluff above them, 2 more on the other side of the river bed and several others approaching from various directions. Oh well, it’s not quite the same as tracking down a Leopard, but still these are the African Wild Dogs I wanted so much to see. And dogs they are, as doggy as can be. We get quite close to them and watch them lazing in the sand, wagging tails, relaxed to a degree that only dogs can achieve. I am reminded of Dingo, my mongrel yellow dog with whom I had many adventures in the desert of Southern Israel. He loved lying in the Sand in the shade just like these guys. These ones are just bigger, have funny shaped ears and lovely white marbled coats.Nice.
That’s it for the morning, and after such a morning I am really happy to go home, I have what I came for, I have been in “the zone”, connected with the spirit of this place. Still we have another Game drive in the evening so OK, brunch, rest, pool, watch the river, chat with Stuart and at 4 PM we set out again.
Rogers, buoyed by the morning’s triumph (and possibly a beer or two) is in a garrulous mood and starts off with some long monologues (Stuart: ”I liked him better surly”). It has also started to rain, a steady light shower, pattering on the canvas awning of the car. We pass the gate and head to where the other car from our lodge saw a pride of Lions this morning. As we drive through the woods along the river bank, the rain fizzles out and is replaced by a delicious warm smell of wet earth. It is Sunday afternoon and the park is rather busy, many self drivers as well as packed safari vehicles; many of them seem to be heading the same way as us.
We soon come to where the Lions are resting a little way off the road. We can see them, but it’s not a great view. We wait until most of the other cars have cleared off. Then, followed by two other cars, Rogers leads the way on a little off-roading sortie to get closer. I expect him to position us somewhere near the pride with a good view, but he has other ideas. To my surprise (and the Lion’s) after a very bumpy circuitous approach he barrels right into the middle of the pride. Most of them get up and move a few metres away and sit down again facing us. Except for a low growl from one of them they don’t seem too bothered. They are a very healthy-looking lot, 4 females and a very handsome young male (the dominant male is away honeymooning with the in-heat female – we met them last night) Thankfully we don’t stay long, get a few photos and leave them in peace and bump away over the deeply rutted black earth (heavy Hippo traffic evident). The Aussies are thrilled to have been this close to Lions, but we are all a bit shaken by the cavalier manner in which it was done. I reckon no real harm done in this case, but sure, that’s not the way your supposed to view wildlife.
Anyway we have ticked a box and can now enjoy the late evening light in the Riverine woodland. Baboons scamper around the big trees. Yellow-billed Storks march along a bank, their gait curiously synchronised. We admire a handsome male Waterbuck and then stop on the bank of a large lagoon for “Sundowners”.
The bright colours of the sunset reflect in the lagoon and even Rogers’ long-winded speechifying does little to spoil the magic of the moment. It has been a splendid day.
On the drive back our spotlight picks out grazing Hippos, a Genet Cat and a wonderful Verraux’s Eagle Owl perching on a dead tree. But for me the best is looking up into the clear, moonless sky and seeing the Southern Cross high in the sky – the stars of the Southern Hemisphere.
After a good night’s sleep we drive back to Malawi the next day, enjoying the scenery along the way and an amazing market stall selling toys made from rubbish and dried seed-pods – (I buy presents for my friends at LWC at such ridiculously low prices that instead of bargaining I actually leave a tip!)
