Kruger - ventilated!

'I've often wondered why people prefer to stay outside the Kruger National Park rather than in it...'

Pestana Kruger Lodge - [Malelane]

I've often wondered why people prefer to stay outside the Kruger National Park rather than in the reserve at one of the many overnight camps. These visitors secure accommodation outside the Park - and enter the reserve each day, either under their own steam or on a scheduled OSV (Open Safari Vehicle) tour; the tour operated by a professional / specialist safari company.

On the 24^th of September, South Africans mark Heritage Day - a day set aside to celebrate the cultural wealth of the country. Dressed in traditional garb, the day is usually brightly-coloured and always festive. To spoil the fun some commercialist proposed that South Africa celebrate its cultural appetites in a way synonymous with the peoples of this country ie: around an open fire @ a braai (barbecue) &, as a consequence, "National Braai-Day" was whelped on the Promotions pages all across South Africa's retail space.

"National Braai-Day" was whelped on the Promotions pages all across South Africa..

The 24^th fell on a Sunday this year - an unfair roll of the dice really but that's the Gregorian for you. Fortunately ours is not a hard-working society & the Monday was set aside in its stead earning the diehards double-time at the tills. For the rest of us this concession to productivity equated to a long-weekend - the perfect excuse for an excursion elsewhere & up here, in the innards of the country, that means to the bushveld ie: the Kruger National Park. The scramble for access & accommodation is an eastward migration of urban aggression - which, some would argue, speaks to our true culture but there you are. It's a fact; the scramble that is. Notwithstanding, we tagged along for the jostle - securing the Saturday night's accommodation in the park [an online fluke] but in the sure knowledge that Sunday night's accommodation lay elsewhere; on the road outside - looking in. Kruger was filled to capacity & then some.

We avoid the southern region of Kruger like vegans at a pig-on-the-spit. I'm not immune to cretins unfortunately or the circus that is the OSV industry - a dust-cloud at odds with common sense and the ethos that is Kruger ie: peace & quiet. As for the cretins, most seem inexplicably drawn to the Park's southern camps - who knows why? Perhaps it's first seen - first bought ie: a bottom-up stare-down at the Park's map - a habit difficult to ignore away from the street-side cafés back home. To be fair the southern region is the most convenient point of access. At a guess it's also why most foreign visitors get posted to Skukuza by tour operators driven by a profit-engineered stratagem rather than on value-add. It's a shame. Skukuza, for those who don't know, is the Kruger's largest camp by volume & din and the Park's administrative hub. It's also located in the southern region. Avoid at all costs but if it's the only available option - go anyway! A day in Kruger is a day well-lived.

Avoid at all costs but if it's the only available option - go anyway! A day in Kruger is a day well-lived.

Malelane Gate - KNP (Saturday 11am)

With Saturday night's Skukuza reservation in hand, we arrived at Malelane Gate at approximately 9am (late by our youthful standards but we're older.. wiser now). When I say 'we arrived at Malelane Gate' I mean 'we could see Malelane Gate from the back of the queue - some 300 meters away'. From when 'we arrived' to when 'we entered' 2 hours had been consigned to our life's journal under 'waited in the queue - incompetence rife'! Gate personnel were seemingly more interested in the confiscation of alcohol, a commodity forbidden day-visitors, than in manning the formalities' desk. Two counters serving 100s, on behalf of 100s more, is a feat I would drink to most days but even the strongest sauce would not have dulled the aggravation of the most patient sot there.

When I say we drove to Skukuza in a convoy of strangers; a convoy no less impressive than rush-hour traffic back home - that is what I mean. Fortunately lions were scarce or we'd still be 'at-the-back-of-the-queue' en route to yesterday - a fact we proved next afternoon, further west, at a mating lions sighting somewhere between Lower Sabie & Crocodile Bridge; two more overnight camps located in the deep South, east of Skukuza. We heard from the broken-telephone info-booth, at the-back-of-the-queue, that 3 (?) lions were entertaining the front-seats with excerpts out of the Kama Sutra. We were obliged to leave some two hours later without laying eyes on the naked truth; a fortunate result given that our son of 3 was all ears on the back-seat. The same front-seats hadn't moved - or taken a breather even as temperatures spiked in spits & spats. Deviant cretins then.

A lion - no argument there

Never call a South African unobservant - test the hypothesis at Malelane Gate on the first day of a long-weekend. We know exactly when you arrived & where you should be in the queue - JUST TRY AND GET AHEAD *BOET [*'my brother' in JHB & in the more contemporary parts of Cape Town] ... "I'm just going to the bathroom" se gat ie: be damned!

Fortunately Alisha's smarter than I am & we spent early Sunday morning birding Skukuza camp. If you ever get the chance forget the leopard-tally for a second and walk the camps. It's Kruger at its best. Birdlife is prolific - the photographic opportunities less hurried - the birds themselves more used to one-eyed-dicks squinting through a lens; long or otherwise.

'If you ever get the chance forget the leopard-tally for a second..'

Close...

Later that morning, whilst watching a buffet of the camp's local specials drink at an unrepentant leak - 'Africa's most precious resource' - we heard some Vervets arguing a point - in no particular order really. If the leopard walking nearby was anything to judge these things by, then at a guess, the monkeys were a little too distracted to notice us as we veered-in on the cat. We didn't want to be rude but the fracas in the trees seemed less intriguing than a tom-in-camp even if the cat was on the other side of the electric-fence. Stellar stuff - memories even. Elephants & a herd of buffalo were also in close attendance. A veritable smorgasbord of the big uglies - all within touching distance & whilst we were on foot.

Hippo disagreement - discussed

I can't argue the merits of the South's potential for unusual / special sightings. Fair enough. We saw the Big 5 more than once but at a cost to all things simple & smart... 'Nuff said. 

Before we ended up at Pestana Kruger Lodge on the Sunday night, a resort located on the banks of the Crocodile river & adjacent Malelane Gate, we exited the Park further east at Crocodile Bridge en route Marloth Park. We'd seen the brochures & succumbed to the media-hype. All the lodges in Marloth were at capacity save a single 'lodge' hitherto rated 9/10 by past attendees. This fine, clinker-brick emporium had a single room for us - at least as far as booking.com was concerned. We filled in our particulars online at circa 120kph en route only to be told, on arrival, well after sundown I might add, that they 'couldn't honour the booking'. Why? 'We're tired - room's dirty'. The empty bottles of alcohol, lolling on the lawn, seemed proof enough. We left - vowing to never set-foot-in-Marloth again.         Don't say I didn't warn ya.            An hour later we arrived at Pestana 60 km or so further west on the Kruger boundary hat-in-hand. I think the gate security will forgive the 'we-have-a-reservation' fib. Truth is we didn't - they probably guessed - we were let in anyway, dishevelled & a little tired to say the least.

Pestana Kruger Lodge - (Malelane)

If I said the reception desk was a peel of angelic music would that be too much? We were offered the very last room on the books; I suspect kept 'in reserve' for vagrants like us whenever the opportunity to score a few points presents & score they did. It has changed my outlook on 'southern' Kruger fairly dramatically. I know it isn't strictly accurate comparing the Kruger's dated accommodation with the facilities of a four-star lodge but I think the comparison is valid in this case.

Forgotten perhaps - Skukuza nevertheless

The 3-bed rondavel at Skukuza set us back approximately R1500pn (per night); the Pestana room circa R1900pn. Skukuza's accommodation is grimy (a consequence of inattentive housekeeping more than anything else); the linen threadbare and the decor mostly beige or spotted in derivatives thereof. The room at Pestana was contemporary, tasteful and bright. Some dust on the balcony & on the back of the bathroom door spoilt the Pestana card but I think the point is fair.

Pestana's rates are full-board [Dinner & breakfast] - Skukuza is self-catered. Leopard Creek, adjacent Pestana on the same Crocodile river but on the other side of the bridge, observes the 'quiet-after-9' ethos I generally encourage. The bushveld demands a quiet neighbour. 

Protea Hotel by Marriott Kruger Gate 

Out front - off the Pestana deck, the night sounds & the ambience were the equal of Skukuza's Sabie river by anybody's measure; certainly in our books & we know Kruger. So I ask you this. Where would you stay? We're not talking about financial semantics btw. - everything is relative. The same applies to Protea Kruger Gate on the eastern boundary nearest the Kruger Gate & closer still to Skukuza. The same contemporary decor, rates / services apply there too.

The New Kruger Safari Lodge

Again, in fairness, I think Sanparks [Kruger's de facto administrators] acknowledge the shortfall & are attempting [at last] to meet the demands of the more discerning visitor &, more importantly, the expectations of our international guests. Eateries / restaurants have been outsourced - so too the retail space mostly. These economies of scale filter down to the user; a nice change from yesteryear when that wasn't always the case. At Skukuza the 'New Skukuza Safari Lodge' is under construction and due for completion this time next year. At face value the construction is impressive. I don't care much for the argument against a hotel in the park. Congestion is what it is. A tasteful day-spa kneads-away the aches & pains of what I would assume is an assortment of cricked necks & wobbly bums. Safari isn't always a song & dance. Elsewhere in the camp the riverside accommodation has been renovated - & on first-hand experience a nice surprise but that too is becoming a victim of inept housekeeping.

The modern traveler is experience-driven. Private lodges acknowledge the fact and are modifying their focus on the overall experience accordingly. It's important, therefore, to make the distinction between a 'boutique hotel in the bush' and a 'bush experience'.

However, when we rate Kruger the safari / game-viewing experience is more generic - sightings are a factor of course but premised on luck & the experience of the tour operator / visitor. The same criteria apply for privately-owned, non-safari lodges catering to the same Kruger visitor but located outside the park. The safari experience, in the park, is equally generic. The difference, however, is in the quality of the stay & on that basis these lodges are more bang-for-back; more comfortable & generally streets ahead.

Where the attraction is the Kruger and well-positioned, privately-managed resorts exploit the opportunity - it's only fair to call it as it is. Then again, in case we forget, the Kruger is the attraction. The potential is limitless. 


Just leave the north alone - it's perfect as it is.  

Please, Sir, I want some more!

Oliver to Tankatara's twist, we went down for more.

Port Elizabeth - Eastern Cape, South Africa

Joined by a twitching doyen we flew on *Mango from Johannesburg [JHB - ORT] to Port Elizabeth (PE) for another crack at the Tankatara Pans where a potential giga lurked ... in plain sight.

[*Alisha's a cracker ...]

Fortunately we were delayed at ORT for 30 minutes; the pilot stalling for discharge papers or his license. I can't be sure but I was smug anyway.

The 3pm return, later that afternoon, was also a back-breaker; but nothing that a few chemicals and a firm rub on things couldn't fix.

Whilst we were enjoying the EC's - (Eastern Cape's) hospitality last week, (read it here), a remote (very bloody remote) chance exists that I missed Southern Africa's first Upcher's Warbler.

There it is - plain as plane can be

Confined to the Tankatara Pan's most conspicuous, exotic willow, this large hippolais warbler has held the birding community in a state of enthralled confusion ever since its incidental discovery, earlier in the week.

It's not exactly a poser but it's neither a skulker nor a denizen. It flicks, bobs & weaves and calls a repeated, (softly spoken), tuc or tac like two stones being clacked in mild-irritation rather than in spite; - audio recognised in our DNA when music was a rolling stone & fire was a spark. Whatever the distraction - I missed it. Had it been a flying biscuit I would have found it easily. Fortunately, & undeniably, it flew in after I'd been sent home - a relief then.

Why the confusion?        

For the answer to that - we need to revisit the scribblings of Aristotle, that senile old goat who couldn't tell his rufous-browns from his olive-browns. He & his mates, Theophrastus & Hesychius, described these long-distant migrants as small, unidentified ground-nesting birds ie: hupolais - a fact contemporary ornithologists tried to disguise (we're a proud community) by calling this four-species genus hippolais but in truth (& betw. us pls.) - hupo or hippo: the confusion still rings true today. Fortunately, molecular analysis cut four (4) species from the original hippolais-eight - the fired-four now treated within a genus of their own ie: iduna. The remaining hippolais-four [please follow!] are the larger species of the original hippolais-eight.

Look @ that flattened-profile. Impressive. 

So where to begin?

The Tankatara bird was originally dismissed as an acro - ie: a Marsh Warbler (Acrocephalus palustris) which it isn't. Why? It's about the same size (13cm) as a medium-sized hippolais; has fairly non-descript facial patterns & in an excited state, can raise its fore-crown feathers to appear imposing ... In our spring, worn-plumaged Marsh are greyer & have pale underparts. Prima facie - the broad-strokes fit but the detail was lacking.

The more generic features of hippolais include a square-ended tail, short-undertail coverts & a flattened profile from mantle to tail.

Hippolais - a more squared-tail

Prima facie the Tankatara mystery-warbler presented with the classic features associated with the species described under hippo; or was that Iduna? Either way, we agreed that Acrocephalus it wasn't. The acros sp. were, therefore, dismissed (without recourse) & forbidden any further play in the debate.

The Iduna genus are similar to Hippolais in structure, behaviour & plumage. The wings are rounded and the tarsi *scutellated as in Hippolais. [*transverse scales on its legs]. 

So the equation was simple - was our bird an Iduna or a Hippolais?

Consensus ruled out Iduna [yes I know - consensus is what consensus does]. Hippolais then - and the slipper best fit an unlikely Cinderella - Upcher's Warbler. [Who-would-have-guessed-it? A Southern Africa first!]  

I am - therefore you aren't

A hush descended on the South African party, however, like an ill-tempered neighbour bearing warrants, when word reached the vine that our Tankatara fantasy-bird was none other than an Olive-tree Warbler; Cinderella's brutish sister. This prognosis carried the weight of international standing too: the scriptor curie Vasconie of the Warbler Manuscripts (revised) - a contemporary Aristotle, albeit Israeli rather than Greek.

The Upchucking of milk & cookies on FB was a crying shame - & nobody should cry over spilt milk. Faced with the imminent horror of a list with one-tick-less, we - 'the damned' - spooned into the foetal position & contemplated a fate worse than death itself.  We'd collectively bumbled the ID of a commonplace, long-distance migrant & a regular visitor to these shores (albeit a national rarity in the 1990s).

We'd bummed - we bunch of bums - a kick to the knacks & niks would rub it better. 

... and then from the ashes a few whispered hallway-rants. 'Nah-ways' - the common thread. [preceding expletives not important here!]

'Nah-ways'?     Why?

Jimmy-the-Gong?

'If it clucks like a chicken; & walks like a chicken - it's probably a chicken.'

Then again, under a coating of crumbs and batter, what is undeniably chicken at face value, might, in fact, be bunny-rabbit, or mini-mouse or Jimmy-the-gong. Food for thought then.

I suppose in the realms of aberration & possibility, there exists the makings of a children's story - a story of courage in adversity, a life-lived with no identity - & a chance that our mystery-bird could be atypically:

• fond of patchy, scattered scrub & stoney ground;
• thin-billed - & otherwise weak in the chops;
• fond of a circular / dip & dunk / fanned or flared let's-tango-tail; Olé!!
• pale from the knees down;
• short in the wing with projection on the runty side of 'maybe'; and
• tanned from its sojourn over African hill & dale. Nobody likes grey or beige especially when on holiday.

The more erudite will have measured tertials, primary-projection & secondary spacing. Others will add to the speak & highlight posture, tail-wear, silvery wing-panels and facial non-descriptity (eh?). These & a plethora of other, well-researched notes & comments, none more valuable than the one written & published [here], promise something new - rather than something borrowed. What's more, this published commentary is written by THE domestic wholesaler of all things brown & yucky AND even better still, by somebody who actually saw the bird going about its business in it's flitty, flighty - pitter / patter way.

Ornithologists - a friendly reminder for you:      Don't dismiss the witness!

His conclusion? Upcher's Warbler [woohoo!] but wait... {eh?} - caveat - ... let's not rock the willow more than we need to... It's rocky ground! (Yes we saw that. Wasn't that the point?)

The note's postscript secured the author an invitation to next year's Bird Fair, the parthenon for avi-luminaries & for members who toe the party line only.    It read - ... You lot, (ie: the great unwashed), must 'decide for yourselves' and worse still (& this is where I get a little teary) -  'Who am I to say?'     What?     Say it isn't so!    He who has led us to the promised land of pipits, larks and all things L. B. & J. - not adamantly stickler or moulded in brass for all prosperity but brittle & fair and open to suggestion? Now there's a thing - I'll be damned.

... and so it comes down to all of us, the nogschleppers of the field. Meditate! Scrutinise the fabric of your conscience & gott im himmel, I'm just going to say it ... make-your-own-call!

Well I say this. It's an Upcher's Warbler and so there! Live with it; but don't do as I say - do as I do. What do I know anyway?    Caveat!

Live with it but don't do as I say - do what I do. What do I know anyway?    Caveat!