Rifle (not gun) shooting was also fun - the difference between a gun and a rifle eludes me, however (any ideas Sam?!). After a lecture on weapon handling and then some live practice at the range (field with cardboard box in the middle), we had to complete an exercise where the instructor screamed ‘CHARGE!’ in our ear – we then had to be able to chamber a round in the bolt action rifle, fire three shots at two targets – one to the right and two to the left – make the rifle safe and hand it back to the instructor – all in under 10 seconds - on the basis that any longer and the animal charging would have eaten or trampled you by that stage.
Most of the students were (theoretically) eaten and/or trampled – some more than once...Ellen...
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Walking Safaris – by Ellen
We had the incredible opportunity to approach the animals on foot. In quiet single file we left the Land Rover at the point where the marker branch had been placed across the road: the Cheetahs were sleeping somewhere close by. We walked up to where they were lying in shade of a shrub, looking regal and haughty and powerful and lazy all at the same time, as only cats can.
We were lucky to be able to approach the three cheetah groups on a number of occasions. We were alerted to the presence of one group by camp when the impala the other side of the river started snorting and coughing – their predator alarm call. Jaco quickly abandoned his paperwork, grabbed his rifle, kicked off his shoes and set off into the bush. He called us over a short while later; Savannah and her two teenage boys were just the other side of the river. The next time we saw these two cubs it was without their mother; she had finally tired of hunting for them and had kicked them out. She’d taught them well though – they were lying at the side of the road next to their freshly killed impala, their spotty bellies bulging and fat, paws in the air and blood on their faces.
Another day when walking not far from camp, we saw fresh lion spoor. We set off in the direction that the lion had taken, looking in the sand for more tracks. We followed the road round, thick bush on one side, long grass on the other. “It’ll be near impossible to see them in the bush” said Rob. “And even in the long grass they could be 5 meters away and you’d still not see them”. We looped round, but lost the tracks. “Let’s take a short cut through here” – we started following a narrow path that led straight through the long grass...
We didn’t see the lions that morning, but I have a feeling they saw us.
We were lucky to be able to approach the three cheetah groups on a number of occasions. We were alerted to the presence of one group by camp when the impala the other side of the river started snorting and coughing – their predator alarm call. Jaco quickly abandoned his paperwork, grabbed his rifle, kicked off his shoes and set off into the bush. He called us over a short while later; Savannah and her two teenage boys were just the other side of the river. The next time we saw these two cubs it was without their mother; she had finally tired of hunting for them and had kicked them out. She’d taught them well though – they were lying at the side of the road next to their freshly killed impala, their spotty bellies bulging and fat, paws in the air and blood on their faces.
Another day when walking not far from camp, we saw fresh lion spoor. We set off in the direction that the lion had taken, looking in the sand for more tracks. We followed the road round, thick bush on one side, long grass on the other. “It’ll be near impossible to see them in the bush” said Rob. “And even in the long grass they could be 5 meters away and you’d still not see them”. We looped round, but lost the tracks. “Let’s take a short cut through here” – we started following a narrow path that led straight through the long grass...
We didn’t see the lions that morning, but I have a feeling they saw us.
Up Close and Personal – by Ellen
As well as Evan ‘bonding’ with the Matebele ants, there was plenty of opportunity to get close to the wildlife. Particularly during the walks we were able to take time appreciating the little things that you’d miss as you drove past on the way to the lions. (There were also a number of creatures that we – thankfully – missed when driving: Karongwe was nearly short a few millepedes, a beautiful big chameleon and a giant African land snail to name a few.) We picked up the dung beetles, wrapped our hands around them and felt their incredible strength as they prised out fingers apart and pushed their way out. We poked grass stems down holes to tempt out the occupants – scorpions from the oval holes and big Baboon Spiders from the large round holes. We tasted the sour plums and marula fruits, and licked leaves from base to tip to determine whether or not they were hairy, and if so how hairy.
Much of the time the wildlife came to us. As we crashed through the undergrowth we de-housed ants, praying mantises, grasshoppers, kite spiders, green octopus spiders and the huge (and that’s ‘huge’ coming from someone who’s not scared of spiders, and therefore not prone to spider size exaggeration syndrome!) orb web spiders, which all relocated to the inside of the Landy. The lucky person on the tracker seat bore the brunt of the spider webs, and they were often seen doing the ‘spider dance’ – a highly choreographed series of arm flaps and head shakes, often accompanied by shrieks and squeals - as great long trails of thick sticky web trailed from their hair.
At one point while Evan was driving he became so concerned that there might by a Huge Spider somewhere near him, that suddenly steering wasn’t overly important. I may have screamed at him a little bit has he drove the front on the Land Rover, with me clinging on to the tracker seat on the front of it, off the track and into the Cork Bush. Something tells me that was revenge for the Matabele Ant incident.
Much of the time the wildlife came to us. As we crashed through the undergrowth we de-housed ants, praying mantises, grasshoppers, kite spiders, green octopus spiders and the huge (and that’s ‘huge’ coming from someone who’s not scared of spiders, and therefore not prone to spider size exaggeration syndrome!) orb web spiders, which all relocated to the inside of the Landy. The lucky person on the tracker seat bore the brunt of the spider webs, and they were often seen doing the ‘spider dance’ – a highly choreographed series of arm flaps and head shakes, often accompanied by shrieks and squeals - as great long trails of thick sticky web trailed from their hair.
At one point while Evan was driving he became so concerned that there might by a Huge Spider somewhere near him, that suddenly steering wasn’t overly important. I may have screamed at him a little bit has he drove the front on the Land Rover, with me clinging on to the tracker seat on the front of it, off the track and into the Cork Bush. Something tells me that was revenge for the Matabele Ant incident.
District 9 hands make an appearance – by Evan
After about three weeks of taking the anti-malarial tablets we were given in the UK, I started my own little allergic reaction and developed one of the weirdest rashes I’ve had (and I’ve had a lot of weird rashes) on my hands – it looked a little bit like a red puffy fungus growing on the back of my hands and fingers, and was very disconcerting. It became worse and worse and itched like b*&^%$y - pardon my French. It was finally killed off by some magical bush medicine, after I collected and crushed some leaves, under a full moon, from a Sickle Bush (and a prescription of some cream on a subsequent trip to the doctor in the town nearby when the course finished). Ellen will now eat her food near me again, which she wouldn’t do for a while as I was putting her off her pasta. The Doc was great by the way – if you’re ever near Hoedspruit and feel ill, go and see Dr Blair. Lovely man.
At war with ants... – by Evan
I had an interesting introduction to Matabele ants. These are fierce little things about the size of a grape (I know grapes vary in size – so do Matabele ants). Their diet consists entirely of termites, and they pour through the bush in densely packed columns to termite mounds, entering in every hole, stinging the little termites and taking them to the top of the mound where they collect them, paralysed, and then carry them home to feast on them alive. Gruesome.
On one of our walks through the bush the instructor, this time Jaco, asked for a volunteer – ‘Evan volunteers, Evan volunteers!’ Ellen chirped in gleefully – and so after being instructed to pick up one of the soldier ants, said soldier ant buried its little head into my finger and gave me an extraordinarily strong bite for such a little chap. My finger throbbed for about an hour, and I could still feel where it bit me three days later. Married life is bliss!
Another example of interactive learning was being in the tracker seat of the Landy, and being slowly driven further into the branches of a tree until you correctly identified it – a good way of learning tree types quickly (especially if it has thorns).
Learning the 30 trees we had to be able to identify for the exam, and their various uses and traditional beliefs was in fact one of the toughest parts of the course – I never imagined I would spend 50 hours of my life learning to identify various types of acacia, but it was strangely rewarding when you find you can pick out a Buffalo Thorn, and give a little lecture on its uses and the beliefs associated with it. Did you know, for example, that it’s called a Buffalo Thorn because buffalos are supposed to back into them for protection when attacked by lions? Or that, when you put the spikes on the seat so they prick Ellen she won’t talk to you for two days? Or did you know that the Flaky Bark Thorn tree can also be used to stitch up a wound? Or further, that if you put the spikes of a Flaky Bark Thorn tree on a seat two days later, so they prick Ellen again, then she won’t talk to you for another three days? Interesting, hey?
On one of our walks through the bush the instructor, this time Jaco, asked for a volunteer – ‘Evan volunteers, Evan volunteers!’ Ellen chirped in gleefully – and so after being instructed to pick up one of the soldier ants, said soldier ant buried its little head into my finger and gave me an extraordinarily strong bite for such a little chap. My finger throbbed for about an hour, and I could still feel where it bit me three days later. Married life is bliss!
Another example of interactive learning was being in the tracker seat of the Landy, and being slowly driven further into the branches of a tree until you correctly identified it – a good way of learning tree types quickly (especially if it has thorns).
Learning the 30 trees we had to be able to identify for the exam, and their various uses and traditional beliefs was in fact one of the toughest parts of the course – I never imagined I would spend 50 hours of my life learning to identify various types of acacia, but it was strangely rewarding when you find you can pick out a Buffalo Thorn, and give a little lecture on its uses and the beliefs associated with it. Did you know, for example, that it’s called a Buffalo Thorn because buffalos are supposed to back into them for protection when attacked by lions? Or that, when you put the spikes on the seat so they prick Ellen she won’t talk to you for two days? Or did you know that the Flaky Bark Thorn tree can also be used to stitch up a wound? Or further, that if you put the spikes of a Flaky Bark Thorn tree on a seat two days later, so they prick Ellen again, then she won’t talk to you for another three days? Interesting, hey?
Sleep Out - by Evan
This was another highlight – a night spent sleeping under the stars, with nothing between us and the lions except for two students on duty armed with torches.
After a lecture on bush camping, ending with the advice ‘Never, ever camp in a dry river bed’ – off we trundled with our packs to the nearest dried river bed to set up camp. I would point out that this was an exception as it was controlled by a man-made dam – but we were given an illustration of how quickly these fill up when the volley-ball court (in a previously dried river bed) by the camp disappeared in a matter of minutes after the heavy rains a few days later. My job when we arrived at the site was to dig the toilet – I actually volunteered on the grounds that I needed the exercise. After an hour spent digging a hole to crap in, I have to say that I was left with an unaccustomed feeling of great achievement. This is perhaps best put in context by mentioning (to those that don’t know) that I spent the last four years working for an investment bank, so to actually achieve something practical with a tangible result was, for me, awesome! I would also point out that Lucy helped greatly, when my weak little arms tired.
Who knew that digging toilets could bring such inner peace. Perhaps I should start an executive training company, taking high-flying corporate types on team building days, toilet digging in the countryside. They’d love it. I could sell it to them by using the tagline: “Learn how to bury your crap so others can’t find it!” Shame Enron went bust, they’d have been the first to sign up.
After a lecture on bush camping, ending with the advice ‘Never, ever camp in a dry river bed’ – off we trundled with our packs to the nearest dried river bed to set up camp. I would point out that this was an exception as it was controlled by a man-made dam – but we were given an illustration of how quickly these fill up when the volley-ball court (in a previously dried river bed) by the camp disappeared in a matter of minutes after the heavy rains a few days later. My job when we arrived at the site was to dig the toilet – I actually volunteered on the grounds that I needed the exercise. After an hour spent digging a hole to crap in, I have to say that I was left with an unaccustomed feeling of great achievement. This is perhaps best put in context by mentioning (to those that don’t know) that I spent the last four years working for an investment bank, so to actually achieve something practical with a tangible result was, for me, awesome! I would also point out that Lucy helped greatly, when my weak little arms tired.
Who knew that digging toilets could bring such inner peace. Perhaps I should start an executive training company, taking high-flying corporate types on team building days, toilet digging in the countryside. They’d love it. I could sell it to them by using the tagline: “Learn how to bury your crap so others can’t find it!” Shame Enron went bust, they’d have been the first to sign up.
A new husband gets to know the bush - by Evan
Let me start by saying that the whole experience of living in the bush at Karongwe was simply fantastic, and a better month I have never had. Learning about wildlife, botany, astronomy, ecology and all sorts of ologies in such a natural environment was wonderful: and after initially being indifferent about the whole ‘qualifying as a FGASA Guide thing’, by the end I was desperate to pass and relieved – elated even - when I finally achieved a comfortable pass in the final theory exam – 75.06% for an exam with a pass mark of 75%.
Slightly tragically it has even got me interested in birds, for which I am being continually ribbed by my new wife. Still, she’s probably just upset that I saw an uber-rare Taita Falcon, and she didn’t....
But I digress.
One of the highlights nature-wise for me (apart from the, ahem, disputed Taita Falcon) was on one of my practice drives, when I crashed elegantly round a corner in the Land Rover - sorry, ‘Landy’ - to be confronted by a lovely little baby elephant in the middle of the road, looking at me sheepishly (or more correctly, elephantish-ly). I brought the Landy stylishly to a halt with only the minimum of screeching by E and the brakes, and we all settled in to observe the little fella. After only a few seconds however, mummy elephant appeared, and looked slightly annoyed at our presence, and trumpeted to her other half – who then appeared right behind us. I switched quickly with Jaco as he knew what to do in these situations – drive asap away from the area! Before he could however, a further friend of the ellie appeared out of the bush just to our right, and then in an instant about a dozen other elephants materialised – it is oft remarked upon, but still extraordinary, how such enormous and loud animals, that leave such a trail of destruction, can move almost completely silently when they want to. We were left totally surrounded by these magnificent beasts, and there was nothing to do but sit quietly and let them move on – despite Jaco’s instructions to absolutely, on no occasion, to EVER get this close! Especially as one of the males was clearly in musth (or ‘wanting for some sexy time’ as one guide put it) and thus not a happy camper - and prone to charging at any moment. But move on they finally did after a lot of munching and mooching around us, leaving me with a firmly imprinted impression of their power, having watched them, from a very close distance, uproot very hefty trees with the effort of a child swatting the top off a dandelion with a stick.
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