Ewe Herd We Explored The Kgalagadi?

We shrew did, and Verreaux eagle to meet you! I Gnu we’d have a fabulous time.  I haven’t felt the sun on my skin for days and feel cheetah’d.  That’s the sort of thing I do when I’m cold.  With this thought, I decided to cheer myself up and click through some of my photographs of our recent trip to the Kgalagadi. 

Summer rainfall had been abundant, and the veld was swathed in a kaleidoscope of grasses, a reminder of the importance of preserving this vibrant ecosystem for future generations.

The veld rippled in undulating waves in gentle breezes, crashing and changing direction; larger foliage caused currents and streams—verges carpeted in flowering creepers, their tiny pink flowers soon to become thorny.

Animals were hard to spot, so we took our time at waterholes, enjoying large flocks of birds swooping down to drink, including the striking Bateleurs, known for their bright red beaks and expressive eyes, which made for captivating portraits.

We’d sit for hours trying to catch a Namaqua dove on the wing, and we were surprised to see two Abdim Storks one day while watching a ground squirrel burrow away.

Waterholes and other pans or depressions in the earth filled with water gave animals ample choice and space to drink at many spots across the veld. Soon we began noticing water birds arriving, and we had to laugh out loud at the sight of two Red-Billed Teal paddling for all they were worth. Now it’s hard to believe we saw Grey Herons and the Abdim stork.

When it’s difficult to spot animals on the ground, it’s natural to look up and see what’s in the trees. Birds are in trees. They can also indicate what’s going on on the ground; for example, Lappet-faced and White-backed vultures circling in the thermals or roosting in trees can be an indication of a kill nearby. We saw them on a kill a few times.

Large throngs of ostriches and their adorable chicks created a lively scene, and we appreciated the joy of witnessing nature's family moments together.

Finding the Spotted eagle owls nesting was one thing; photographing them was quite another; positioning yourself to avoid camouflaging branches was quite a feat. We saw them a few times, and the shots I got told a story.  

Thanks to a friend, I learned how to identify the fur ball an owl regurgitates. Unpicking the feathers and fur revealed a treasure trove of the tiniest bones from the rodents and small animals the owls noshed on—one highlight of this trip. I will post a film about that later. Below, I've posted a pic of the contents of one such fur ball. 

On the rare occasions when we did see Lilac-breasted Rollers, we'd try to capture them in flight. My trigger finger would eventually spasm, but alas, I'm too slow. So the best I can do is a portrait of this beauty.

I knew we’d see Wildebeest, but, as with most species, the implausibility of Wildebeest was a surprise! Springbok and Rooihartebeest leisurely migrated from waterhole to waterhole, young animals protected from ever-present predators. 

We made our reservations for this trip during our hard lockdown a year ago. We secured campsites for 14 days at Nossob and three nights at Mata Mata via the SANParks website, which is user-friendly and easy to navigate, helping future travellers plan their trips smoothly.

The staff at both campsites do sterling work, and the camp management is top-notch. The shop was well stocked. We ordered delicious Roosterkoek from the bread lady and, on one occasion, a loaf of bread too. On our daily trips to the bird hide, we’d sit on the bench and try to send WhatsApp messages to family and friends, but that seldom happened without a rise in blood pressure. By day four, we kicked that idea to the kerb and stayed incommunicado; that’s when the holiday started.

One highlight of this trip was meeting Erica again. She’s one of the housekeepers and runs a laundry service on the side. On two occasions, I handed over a bag of laundry, and later that afternoon she’d deliver it clean, ironed, and folded—a real treat.

Guests must line up to report and sign out before leaving camp for game drives or heading to the next destination. At the crack of dawn, there's quite a queue, and that’s where one hears all the latest animal gossip, including where the cats are and what the best sightings were the evening before. I made it a habit to mask most mornings, ears pricked, to catch little titbits. Little did I know about the nocturnal shenanigans and who would be sleeping where until a contingent of game wardens, staff, and the snake catcher pitched up with a long broomstick with a hook and a cardboard box. They were there to catch a gigantic puff adder snoozing on the step, a mere 4 metres from me. Not good. I’m an ophiophobia sufferer. Although it was soon captured, the sight of the fleshy reptile dangling mere metres from me did not bode well. I was petrified, but I faced my fear heroically.

(Some researchers believe phobias related to reptiles (and snakes in particular) may be evolutionary, having developed in our ancestors as a survival mechanism.)

It was not surprising to see so many snakes, given the rodent explosion we encountered. All due to the abundant grass seeds, I suppose. The little mice were the cutest creatures and would forage and dig wherever they could, many in the road.

Shockingly, we found that roadkill had increased dramatically, and we often saw bat-eared foxes knocked down. They’re nocturnal and seldom seen, which made these scenes even more tragic.

We saw raptors galore in this Garden of Eden, and with the abundance of food, it was a shopping day for falcons and eagles. They could pick and choose to their heart's content.

Our Honey Badger, with its height, served us well, and we were sure we could occasionally spot a well-camouflaged buck, lion or jackal when other visitors couldn’t. We weren’t disappointed. We saw a pride of lions with cubs, a lone male marching majestically down the road, and an unexpected couple resting under a bush by the road.

Once again, we met the most interesting like-minded campers, who shared their experiences with us: our neighbours Aloma and Ras; Bakkies and Anne-Lee (who showed me what lurked in a fur ball); and Jack and Chris, a retired couple from France who’ve not let a Covid lockdown deter them. I’ve good reason to believe they’re currently in the Serengeti, having travelled through Namibia, Zambia and Kenya since we last saw them. These passionate retirees live up to the words emblazoned on their vehicle: “Rather be small and shiny than big and dull”. Neville and his wife, Belinda, rekindled our love of Vietnam as we recalled our experiences there.

Everything about the Kgalagadi was different this time; trees were covered in green leaves, probably hiding sights our unaccustomed eyes missed, and roads ribboned through fields of grass. There were many times I almost dared to stick my arm out of the window to feel the velvet veld caress my skin.

Kalahari sunsets never disappoint; we experienced an electric storm with bolts of lightning and thunder flashing all around us. During the full moon, we were rewarded with a golden ball lighting up the evening skies. Only once during our stay did we hear lions roar at night. Strange. We did have barking geckos and the lone jackal calling; after the rains, centipedes came out, their legs moving in syncopation, and they skedaddled across the sands to safety. We did not encounter any scorpions. Ignorance is bliss.

My favourite time was the thirty minutes before I’d drift off to sleep, enjoying the solitude inside our Honey Badger, wrapped in my linens. I’d think or read while sipping hot chocolate, then turn off my light. The African Scops owl’s distinctive, soft, frog-like “prrup" was the only company I needed. I was thoroughly content in my cocoon.

Of course, we had some issues to deal with when our batteries sent out putrid signals that they were giving up the ghost, and our brakes made it clear we would have to stop in Upington for maintenance. There’s always a balance in life. With the good comes the not-so-pleasant—the sandwich of life.

I believe we witnessed a once-in-a-lifetime event this time. If I am so fortunate to visit again, the Kgalagadi will be cloaked in shades of orange, mustard and ochre.

Reservations:

https://www.sanparks.org      

Check out Jack and Chris’s website: http://jackandchris-inthewild.fr/ 

Let's get on a magic carpet and fly away to the Kgalagadi in the Kalahari to escape the destruction, heartache and despair that have ravaged our country. Only in nature can we be yanked back to rest and see things with a new perspective. Let's listen to the twitter of fiery finches and hear the soft winds whispering through the grasses. Just for a moment... until we catch our breath and face reality.