March 12, 2013
By Sarah Kechejian (University of Vermont)
It is my duty to report the events of this past week. I must say, the task is diluting my focus on other important activities such as eradicating the ants in my tent and this razorback tan line. Although every animal sighting, meeting, joke and person seems like a highlight, I’ll shave some fluff off the top and give you a fine synopsis.
On March 2, we made the transition to the western side of this concession (NG 34), packing up our colony of tents in the bush to drive an hour and some change to Dibatana research camp. Dibatana means “predators” in Setswana. Dibatana is a far cry from bush camping, allowing us access to running water, showers, a pool, all you can eat bread and a large raised deck overlooking a grassland and watering hole. (Yeah, you all thought we are roughing it out here). The camp is owned by a mysterious Rodney Fuhr who isn’t present, but in South Africa I’ve heard, but we are grateful for his hospitality.
Mornings we all emerge from what slumber we could manage and congregate at the deck to enjoy Nescafé and tea. A typical day will ensue around 6:30am, (trust me, you get right used to it) and end around 8:30pm, (days of sun and animals tucker the nightiest of night owls). Once the escort guides from Sankuyo arrived on Wednesday, 6:00 am transect drives and 5:00pm point counts began to structure our week. Four out of the five escort guides were able to come out: Innocent, Rita, Boxer and Smally. Their vast knowledge of the area and willingness to explore with us has enriched our learning experience and fostered a need to see and feel and understand everything. You can literally (and we do) point to a tree or bring attention to a noise or describe, in the vaguest of terms, an animal and they will provide a detailed, informative answer.
A leopard out for an evening stroll (photo by Susie Dain-Owens)
March 3: Sunday
Olorato (Rio) Dipuo, Dibatana’s camp manager, took all of us out to get acquainted with the habitat in the west side of the concession and, frankly, to catch a glimpse of some wildlife. A glimpse we did not get, but rather a full hour of watching a male leopard stalk a group of over twenty impala. He paid little attention to our two cars pine for a good angle as he slunk through the three foot grass. I was worried that our presence was interfering with the leopard’s tactics but no one else seemed concerned. Excitement turned to questions turned to jokes turned to an anti-climatic shoving off by the leopard. He apparently wasn’t fully committed to his evening meal and disappeared into the tree line.
The leopard scopes out a herd of impala, but decides he’s not hungry (photo by Susie)
March 4: Monday
Our leaders Susie and Matt made the two hour drive along the bumpy and log ridden roads to Maun in a quest to restock our food supply and untangle some logistical snares. Alone with Sixteen, we took an evening drive along the riverine. The area was rather soggy and sandy, (on one occasion we had to push the car), but the sun reflections on the water set everything in a pink haze, allowing the ugliest of browns a soft pillow. We encountered a large elephant bull making his way along the banks, seemingly all the giraffes in Africa and, to my blinding delight, a pair of hippopotamus spouting water and flicking their little ears. The trip concluded with a sunset sighting of a young spotted hyena. It being our first encounter with an “undertaker of the wild”, we were all giggly and wriggling to get a picture. Sixteen stopped the car and we watched as the young hyena approached our 1988 white Toyota land cruiser, sinking his head low in the grass, looking at the massive object unnaturally present in his home. Jack and Phoebe occupied the roof of the car and from the inside, Sam, Susanna and I could hear the satisfying click of Jack’s camera (and Phoebe’s cough that Sixteen attempted to quiet down by knocking on the ceiling). The hyena made his way into the barely detectable road and came so close as to touch his nose to the head lights. He left us just as the sun settled below the trees and we traveled home in the dark.
It’s funny how timing is everything; the animals are here, under every tree branch, touching every blade of grass, but your eyes will only catch a fraction of the life lived out there. We take photos and tell the story, creating a moment of amusement, but the animals’ presence is not stagnant, loaded on our computers, framed in photographs; they are always roaming, moving, the main characters in a world apart from us. We are bemused by the encounters, changed and intrigued–are they?
March 5: Tuesday
The group ventured to Botswana Predator Conservation Trust Wild Dog Camp, a carnivore research camp focused mainly on wild dog monitoring. The couple currently conducting research at the camp, Neil and Krys Jordan, invited us over for a braii (barbecue). During the visit Krys showed us the selection of tracking collars used for lion, leopard, cheetah and wild dog and gave us an introductory lecture on the research methods employed at the camp. Neil then took over to break down the newest technique in controlling dog home ranges: biological boundaries. Having just brought a baby boy into the world, Krys had her parents visiting from England. The dinner conversation consisted of the Americans trying to explain the political divide in the states and the logistics behind American policy. Who knew that an English barbecue conversation in Botswana would lead to national self reflection. My highlight of the night was the banana cake with cream cheese icing. (It was baked on the open fire).
March 7: Thursday
The long awaited visit from Sven Bourquin came to be. His consulting involvement in this pilot project is imperative to the development of an effective management strategy. His hefty background in animal conservation and management afford him an extensive knowledge of seemingly everything.
At dinner he noticed a honey badger off the deck dragging his back legs as if paralyzed. The group scurried up from the crowded table to witness the animal attempt forward movement. It was awfully unsettling observing a wild animal, so close to human constructions, struggle to move about. Rio mentioned killing it, Sven thought he was going to be sick, and Sixteen made a joke. Sixteen later got stung by a small yellow scorpion, possibly a sign that the wild world was in disagreement with his inappropriate response to the strife of a fellow creature.
Lion cubs by a small water hole (photo by Susie)
March 8: Friday
In a display of mild unease, Susie, Rita, Sven and I came upon 12 lions laying round a small pan during our 6am driving survey. Unusually skittish, 11 of them, including 9 cubs, immediately walked out of sight into the acacia woodland. The 12th, who was collared, lay still for a while then followed her pride. Sven suspected recent unlawful activity of creating a breach in the pride’s trust of vehicles. (The roads we drove were off season hunting roads; know one should have been driving on them). Rita commented the unidentified tire tracks on dirt track looked to be made within the week.
There is always that suspicion, pang of fear, that you will come around a bend and see poachers making a kill or harassing an undeserving animal. Knowing we were in an area that may have been witness to such acts, strengths the desire to educate myself and succeed in our endeavors.
The rest of the week unfolded as many days here seem to: early start accompanied by headlamp illuminated teeth brushing, a decline into sleepy afternoons of reading and staring at the slow movements of passing herbivores, continuing onto a spurt of energy funneled into point counts and handstands, then back to the deadening of all sources of energy after a mournfully filling dinner.
Week three is now over, leaving behind just the memories, photographs, journal entries and, of course, this cherubic blog entry.