Kruger 300 - Day 12 [Cheetah - a view to a kill]

A common - & a keep

We’ve arrived in the very-far north & with it completed our pursuit for 300 species; that’s 300 bird species, seen - done & dusted. Not bad for 12 days; the next fortnight will record how many more. We’re currently on 304 sp. & will spend the next 2 nights flogging the remnant sand forests & the Pafuri region before we return to the central regions for some R&R i.e.: the big cats. The highlight off a list of many was the Egyptian Vulture – an unlikely, timely – fortuitous twitch if ever ‘lucky’ meant more than fluke. In the 300 our nominated candidate for ‘dip-to-date’ i.e.: not seen – is the ubiquitous Spotted Eagle Owl… a commoner on the keep.

The little bits & pieces make Kruger special

Some days the blog writes itself. This is one of those days. We’d left a little later than usual - & on that point I have a theory. In the silly season the race-to-be 1^st – out the gate / at a sighting often leads to gear-grinding & a leaden foot – neither activity conducive to ‘game-viewing’. The game-to-be-viewed are equally contemptuous & allow the race to pass before taking to the field themselves. Go out ½ hour later & voila – you get to play with the big boys. Yesterday a leopard at 12 paces from the gate – today, 2 hunting cheetahs; further afield [most of the early-birds flew past].

Soon - gone

Here’s how the saga wrote itself in the sands: … on the left of the road a small family of wildebeest – one small calf. On the road & just off the road, on the right, a coalition of cheetah. We held the middle ground. Behind us – our trailer [forgotten at the time]. Two other vehicles were on-site – one before us / one after. At the time, drizzle – the pre-cursor for what turned out to be a jackets & jersey day; hot chocolate too. Yesterday the thermometer touched 42° C [only in Africa…].

For the 1^st few minutes we looked at them / they looked at us – the wildebeest frolicked in the clean & fresh. Few paid the antelope much attention – the cheetah holding the table.

The odds? - a calculation

… and then, raised ears; a quick sum of the odds & a hasty crossing over to the other side. Both groups of fated prey & predator held similar ground; a debate & a reckoning was on the cards. Fate had sealed the dice - & the die was cast.

The 1^st cat held low – the 2^nd [two or three paces behind] gained traction in the cloying mud – stretched a long limb & covered the 100 paces to the wildebeest calf in less time than it took to write this sentence. Dust broiled – death bellowed - & the adults set about the two cats; snorting, biting- kicking even. Horns flashed in the mist. One cheetah grabbed the hapless waif – swung it off its feet like so many bags of beans & applied a toothy-tourniquet to the youngster’s throat.

On your marks...

The other baited the rest of the herd – loud chirpee, chirupee cheaps – like an emergent duckling / comical really given the gravity of the situation - bloody frightening as it turned out… the wildebeest adults gave ground; milling & snorting. In the interim the dust had settled & the waif was gone. From start to food – 5 or 6 minutes. From the starter’s gun to the take-down – 4 seconds. The cats fed at length & we left them to their breakfast some time later. Whilst they ate – almost farcically – the living herd grazed / relaxed & lay down perhaps 40 meters away from the feeding cats – they might even have been closer. Fearless or an inherent & necessary survival characteristic? Shrinks are few & far between in the African bush…

Never fun to watch - I said 'RUN!' - don't know for whom

Between the start of the chase & the strike on the gnu, my alter idiot, unaccustomed to more than a day or two of quiet, slammed the car into reverse – gunned the engine & let fly / all eyes on the chase. The ensuing jack-knife came as a complete surprise to me – the crunch & broken glass equally uninvited / unexpected. 

The damage is, as my broker will say; – shocking, extensive / expensive & damn stupid!

Even so – we numpties laugh in the face of pecuniary normalcy! Was the post-crunch angst worth the reward? Every cent & hard-earned penny!  

Kruger 300 - Day 9 [Thunderstorm]

The genet & I are keeping the 3am-clock company. He’s at the insects crowding the dance-floor, under the night-light, nearest that end of the veranda. I’m this end drying off from the drip-drip in the bedroom writing this. Further out & on the other side of the fence, Pioneer Dam draws in the night crew; slayers of anything that comes up for air. Night-herons criss-cross from one shoreline to another – chasing greener grass. On the stove, some water bubbles – headed the way of the thermos for warmth later. The wind blows fair – clear-headed. Inside, it’s hot, stifling – air-conditioned. We’re at MOPANI… It’s Day 9.

Green-backed Heron

Supposedly a holiday it’s been a push, as the Kruger can be, in the middle of summer – early-morning / late-nights & the sapping heat eventually taking their toll. We needed a recharge. The family asked for & received the day-off. I said, ‘early Christmas?’ but, between us, I was thrilled. It’s been +40°C in the shade, most days. The concession was we’d visit Stapelkop Dam; a hitherto, unknown body of water, deep into pioneer country so’ west of Mopani Camp. The only other driving would be in transit from the south to this night’s venue. We arrived here at 10am – just as the mercury began to get hot & bothered. Sebastian & I went swimming; Alisha dunked her feet - the theory being 'when my feet are cool, so am I'. Personally I find when 'all of me is cool, so am I' but each to their own dip I suppose. Sebastian agrees with me, I think - but he's Daddy's boy until he's Mommy's boy - until he isn't.  

Tsessebe - only in 'the north'

I must admit Mopani was a camp I’d never spent the night at – stopped-at in transit, yes, but not much longer than for a refuel or a visit to the ice-cream box. Game-viewing in the area is an oxymoron – i.e.: mostly for morons [at least that’s what I thought; the egg’s on me]. In fact, Mopani has always bothered me as the contemporary intrusion on the ancient route between Letaba & Shingwedzi Camps; and the death-knell of the ‘Mooiplaas stop’ – a traditional breakfast nook en route. Far better to have built Mopani nearer Tshokwane, midway between Satara & Skukuza, on the interchange so’ east & west – call in Acacia, if you like, but then I’d hate it for being the death-knell of Tshokwane – the traditional [current] breakfast stop-over between Skukuza & Satara. There’s no winning for them when my mind’s made up…

Spend a night here though & it gets under your skin. We’ve vowed to come back [yes, I know... don't say a word]. The accommodation is a VAST step-up from anywhere else; the amenities tip-top. We made use of the launderette & although we didn’t know it then – the industrial-grade tumble driers saved our skins.

Martial on, sir

…but 1^st, Stapelkop! Getting there is a drudge through stunted mopani & less-stunted mopani. It’s monotonous but for the Grey Penduline Tits. It’s also a cul-de-sac – the drudgery, homewards, takes on a seen-this exponent & if you know your maths, that’s worse! In betwixt ‘drudgery’ & ‘worse’ is the dam itself & it’s a unique body in the western hinterland. No other public access to the area is permissible. It’s Kruger’s best-kept-birding secret & I like secrets. They’re more fun to tell. Elephants & every other resident, hairy or smooth, sips from this well. It’s alive! … but for the birder it’s a mecca & a MUST-visit. We clocked 100 sp. in 45 mins.

After our swim & the laundry-visit we sat down for an early supper. I lit the fire-@-5… Out back the storm gathered; then gathered some more until the thunder-gods roared defiance, at 5-01, I think. We sat out, under the thatched eaves – some might say smugly but with one eye on the venison in the 1^st-throws of open-flame glory.

…and then the heavens opened & we wept. The meat sizzled, frizzled, congealed & sucked in the soak. It bucketed down; the roar drowning out our misgivings – truly an awesome display of light & noise.

…and then the wind began to blow - sideways; the sting of it hastening us indoors without so much as a sideways glance.

Sideways I say...

…and then the roof began to leak – washing us outside again. Cold & hungry we faced an uncertain future & begged relief. We had the option of moving – an option we chose to exercise – in torrential rain. The rivulets running down my back & through-my-shorts kept me straight-backed honest; on the move – an energy we should harness – clean energy; except, of course, for the residue down south – nearest your toes which take on a hue of mud that’s difficult to describe except that its thick, gets hard & clings to life – soap be damned.

It was a simple pick & move routine - slosh out of the old cottage – slosh out to the car –swim in the car – slosh out of the car – slosh into the new cottage – slosh out the new cottage – slosh back to the car – swim in the car - slosh back to the old cottage – slosh out to the car & repeat; for an hour. The rest of the troop watched from inside – proud I think; dry to the bone… 

On the 2nd-to-last pick & move I hitched [old cottage] & unhitched the trailer [new cottage] - on an unnoticed, forward-sloping slope. These things are difficult to fathom with a river flowing through both eyes. In fact the slope was forward-sideways... Safely unhitched I returned to swim in the car & noticed the trailer moving rapidly forward - sideways towards the neighbour's 4x4. What he thought, from the sanctity of his front stoep, when I was braced doing the backward shag against the trailer, near his vehicle's front door, must have confused him... Mad dogs - Englishmen & all that. 

Meanwhile, I’d recovered the slop off the braai – dabbed it dry & handed the job to the oven. That worked; the ‘hot-water’ shower did not. Rain or shower all the same I thought but nobody likes the luminescence of a desk-jockey on summer hols – it was also cold & I’m a proud indiv. - I kept my clothes on outside & showered inside; away from gagging eyes. 

Still; the genet & I have agreed. Mopani is okay with us. It’s under-rated; is the park’s ‘best’ camp BY FAR – just bring along an umbrella & a bird book – lions are scarce & storms have a way of getting under the skin. [& the thatch too]

Score to date – 289 species. Will 300 ring-the-bell, soon? We shall see!