We followed the right bank of the Letaba south-eastwards towards Olifants camp, driving with the flow then hit the left bank of the Olifants, flowing even browner and more strongly. Now we’re driving against the flow, the confluence of these great Lowveld rivers somewhere behind us.
Four ‘Thunderbirds’ crossed the road (Ground Hornbill), three of them flying up into trees; new antelope seen: Kudu and Nyala.
Twenty five eles came down to drink below me as I drank coffee at the Olifants camp restaurant while Jess had a nap in our chalet. Five wandered back into the bush while the big Ma led the others, including smallies, across the wide and swiftly flowing Olifants river. Lovely to watch the crossing. Every now and then a little one would disappear underwater and the rest would wait till they found their footing and emerged again, trunk held high.
Tracking & Signs of the Wild
Signs of carnage on our stoep! A kill? Looks like a big eagle caught an old grey and white goat and plucked out all it’s fur.
Oh, hang on, cancel that. I just remembered Jess gave me a haircut. She cuts the parts I can’t see. Back there. Behind me.
A Red-lipped Herald snake visited this morning. It was enjoying the wet weather I suppose – we had a real downpour last night and this morning. So it was probly out hunting frogs. This was a little one, about 300mm long, I guess.
A couple days later an even smaller one made its way under the door. Played dead when he saw me. He also got shipped out to the garden.
Crotaphopeltis hotamboeia The story goes that its presence was first mentioned in the Eastern Cape Herald Newspaper, hence the name.
– hawk moth ? –
This poor fella fluttered in and died. A Forest Brown, maybe?
And an offshore visitor: A juvenile Brown Booby flying and floating just behind the backline. Seen from the deck off my upstairs bedroom three days in a row. A ‘lifer’ for me!
tiny groundcovermaybe Carissa spinarum?moth eggs -> caterpillars– Suncana ID’d the tiny moth eggs (ca.1mm width) and caterpillars as Saturnidae, probly Wahlberg’s Emperors –
And another of our naturalists, Suncana, was busy as ever, spotting new and fascinating things:
– Suncana Bradley’s latest –
While Roger and Rory shot more birds:
– Roger Hogg caught a Crowned Hornbill catching a Common Wolf Snake –– Roger Hogg and Rory O’Connor here in the Palmiet valley – Athol Marchant in the Drakensberg –
~~~oo0oo~~~
This “emperor moth” from Cowies Hill wasn’t. Turns out iNaturalist says it’s a Giant Silkworm Moth. Genus Lobobunaea. Beauty, but does it belong in our valley?!
Jess is my spotter in the game reserves. ‘Dad What’s That?’ she’ll say time and again. And it’s always something interesting. Once she said ‘Dad What’s That?’ and I peered and peered and eventually saw it after she’d told me exactly where to look – a snake in a tree as we were driving past! That’s amazing.
Walking to breakfast in Tembe Elephant Park, we had Jess bringing up the rear as Aitch, Tom and I strolled ahead. ‘Dad What’s That?’ she said.
– we had to turn back to see the Vine or Twig snake –
Today she called me out to the porch. This time she said ‘Dad There’s a Snake.’
– over there, she points – see red arrow –– with my binocs I could see it – a beautiful spotted bush snake – pic taken with 25X zoom –
I thought the nervous client had spotted Janet also looking at the scorpion and the puff adder in her room.
But it wasn’t like that; Janet wasn’t there.
The lucky, nervous – and ‘happy at the same time’ – client had spotted a scorpion, a puff adder AND a spotted genet like this one: All at once!
She had NOT spotted a Janet like this one:
Janet’s life in Botswana is seldom dull . .
~~~oo0oo~~~
So Janet wasn’t spotted. Some things are not spotted. In fact they’re STRIPED.
Later – Not-Spotted Janet sent a pic of another – or the same – puff adder visiting inside a chalet.
Beautiful, innit? Now, I know what you’re thinking: You’d shit your cotton undertrousers if you spotted a puff adder in your chalet, but think of the poor snake! It would shit its custom-made snake-skin undertrousers, seeing a 60kg murderous mammal towering over it. Poor thing is half a kg of innocence. Hundreds of them get bludgeoned for every human they bite – and only a few of those humans that get bitten actually croak. Give snakes a break.
We were happily sitting on a septic tank in River Drive when progress came rudely knocking. The municipality was putting in water-borne sewerage and the big fat poo pipe was going to go through our garden and across the Mkombaan River at the bottom of it.
There would be some trench digging and some dynamite blasting. Deep blasting where they were going right under the river bed.
Liewe Bliksem! Omploffings in paradise! I was not happy. Our little wilderness was about to be badly shaken up.
Aitch consulted with Geoff Nichols and arranged to meet with the high-ups. Together they extracted some undertakings from these planners and engineers: We hereby undertake to minimise damage; To let you know the exact path so you can move your precious plants; To give you ample warning so you can move your dogs in time – we were still blissfully child-free – etc. They intoned all this solemnly to my stern wife – and she kept them to their word!
– The Aitch Agreement –
When they came onsite, I asked the workers to please not kill any creatures and to bring me anything they found so I could move it away safely. I would reward them. That’s how I came to receive this in a big bucket:
– Natal Black Snake – Macrelaps microlepidotus – thanks Marius Burger
What a beauty! A solid-looking snake about 80cm long. Fascinating. I read up on them: They’re back-fanged, mildly venomous, not life-threatening; very reluctant to bite; slow-moving, placid; Look at the beautiful coloration and scales.
Relatively rare, they spend most of their life underground or hidden – note the small eyes. Found under rotting logs or when doing excavations. Move about slowly on warm, overcast days; good swimmers. Natal Black Snakes feed on frogs, lizards, legless lizards and small rodents; are known to take carrion.
As I promised them, I moved it away to a safe place that same evening – the other end of our garden. I hope microlepidotus was happy with that.
I was so concerned about saving him I didn’t take a picture!
Another twelve-year-old has gone west. Flaky the snaky that TomTom got when he was five has shuffled off this mortal coil. Expired. She was fine and ate her last supper – the usual whole rare mouse – with hungry focus a few days before. Then I saw her uncharacteristically out of her shelter and exposed. A day later I opened up, no movement, prodded her and thought damn! She’s gone!
Cub Scout Tommy goes for his Pets Badge. Flaky endures.
Before he could get her five-year-old Tom had to do his homework, learn about care and feeding and commit to checking her daily and cleaning out her cage weekly. He did for years, but then interest faded, new interests blossomed and Dad took over the feeding and watering chores. Not cleaning, though. Cleaning remained TomTom’s job:
Tom tests for size, and vacuums after cleaningflaky snake tom
‘Flaky’ was a beautiful and gentle American Corn Snake, glowing orange and black above and checkerboard black and white below. As she grew from about 250mm to over 1.1m long we added an extension to her metal-and-glass terrarium – a home-made wood-and-mesh upstairs to treble the size.
I got my only snake bite ever when I inexplicably held my left hand closer to her than the mouse I was offering her in tongs in my right hand. I’d never done that before – for good reason! She got me on my left forefinger knuckle with her tiny sharp teeth and drew pinpricks of blood. I was too big for her to get a good grip on and constrict me and swallow me, so she immediately withdrew.
Twelve-year-old Sambucca the Labrador went this year, now twelve-year-old Flaky the Corn Snake. Is it coincidence that my twelve-year-old Ford Ranger is currently in bakkie hospital with something about the valves and the head and the gearbox needing transplant surgery!? Hope it’s not terminal!
~~~~~ooo000ooo~~~~~
postscript: R25k later the Ford is born again: reborn; rebored? Only the engine, the gearbox and the propshaft needed fixing and off she goes again. 278 000km now.
The recipe: Fifteen glorious people and forty glorious kilometres of wide open sandy beaches of the Zululand or Maputaland coast. Years earlier I had hiked a section of the Wild Coast, far to the south.
Ten of us were walking; two were guiding – Jabulani and DC walking up and down the dunes ahead and behind to keep an eye on us; two drivers for our vehicles to pick us up at the end of the first and third days; and then there was one Shirley Carey: She plotted and arranged, cooked and drove, organised and made it all happen – well done Shirley! It was a great start to what I hope becomes a thriving ‘slackpacking’ enterprise: Introducing people to a magic, less-traveled part of the coast in adventurous, laid-back yet laid-on and comfortable style. Put-Foot-Shirl in her optical blur Toyota sped us around to and from the hike start and end-points, and looked after us in style!
The vistas were spectacular, the weather varied from perfect to overcast and a cool stiff following breeze to a constant ‘irrelentless’ steady headwind on the last day. Thanks to a few overnight showers and spring tide the sand was hard and we didn’t get sand-blasted. We also had no scorching hot Zululand temperatures, for which I was grateful and relieved. Anyway, we pushed on irregardless under interesting skies.
Sodwana to Lala Nek – 40km of beautiful beaches and rocky shoresJabulani scouts our route from up high
The recipe also included great meals, snacks and puddings, enough alcohol and plenty ice. Come to think of it, it was quite saintly of us to leave the kitchen and hit the beach – we could easily have lurked in comfort! Another ingredient was laughter; lots of laughter; loud peals of laughter. Some ribald humour too; you wouldn’t expect that from ladies, would you? Nor snorting with laughter! But it was all there. It would be fascinating to know how many laughs-per-kilometer there were. ‘Many’ would be a conservative estimate.
A whiff of sulphur as the breakfast eggs are unveiled leads to gales of laughter
Now one would think if you went to a remote Maputaland beach, sallied forth in a 4X4 then walked fourteen km without seeing another soul on a deserted beach, that Retail Black Friday would have been escaped and no – zero, none – purchases would have been made. But one would be wrong. These ladies set off after a sweet potato and bought a dress! It’s a mysterious and powerful force, retail.
– Shopping Sodwana, complete with photo-bombing shop assistant, plus prêt-à-porter frocks –Panoramas, some with peopleBeach Walk Small Stuff, plus cows, which are larger
I find beaches fierce and exposed; trudge, trudge; I find forests peaceful and protective; peer here, peer there. On the Zululand Beach Waddle you get both: Wide vistas of sand and water with moving clouds, trudge trudge; balanced by the green peace of the forests and all the little things hiding in them; even a Jan’s Shovel-snout, a seldom-seen nocturnal burrowing snake who lives just below the loose sandy surface, eating gecko eggs; he was dead; we wouldn’t have seen him alive, he’s shy like me; and also polite. Unlike some ladies I could mention; who were not only irrelentless irregardless, but also irreverent, christening me ‘Hef’ for the duration! (Geddit? Nine ladies and me, hence ‘hugh hefner’)
Forest small stuff– Fascinating flies at Mabibi Bromophila caffra – read about ’em –
This expedition was supremely relaxing, but there was one very tough part of the trip: Driving out on the last day with four outspoken, astute, well-read and opinionated ladies as ballast in my non-4X4. I made the mistake of telling them we were going to drive on the Most Beautiful Road in Africa. When we finally got onto it and it was a little bit bumpy, swervy, twisty, sandy and their ballast started shifting, they twisted the story to say I had said “The Best Road in Africa”! So with every spin and rock and roll and wobble it was “Oof! So this is the best road in Africa? I’d hate to see the worst!” and other helpful comments.
That Beautiful Road along Lake Sibaya shoreline – pity the lake was so low
There’s Put-Foot-Lizelle in the bottom pic disappearing into the distance in her Landrover which – amazingly – didn’t get stuck. Oh, hang on, it did once. We had to dispatch Musa to find her.
And here’s that demanding committee in my poor Ford Ranger, discussing tactics:
Usually I’d end with a sunset pic, but we were drinking Cactus Jack, Six Dogs Blue Gin, Bubbly, Red, White and Rose wine, genuine Italian-made Limoncello Ramaccio Pace and other stuff by then, so the sun had to set all by its own self. Here’s a rock pool pic instead: Oh! I’ll follow that with a blurry bird pic by Lou. You’d think with my binocs, telescope and bird book that we would have seen more than a few Sanderlings and a handful of Kittlitz’s plovers! – BTW, the pics are from everyone – thanks!
Di Fabricius, Lizelle Ramaccio Calvino, Mal Bell, Michelle Pace, Shirley Vorster, Joni Kirkland, Lou Kelly, Michelle Graven, Koos Swanepoel, Sheila Swanepoel – pic by Shirley CareyAnother Lou pic with internet-borrowed pics of Sanderling and Kittlitz’s plover
Got caught again this year (2012). TomTom came through early Sunday morning and said “Dad, Flaky died!” Flaky: Original name for his snaky – an American corn snake.
I said “NO! What happened?”
“April fool, Dad!! – and happy birthday”.
OK, I said grabbing him and tickling the blighter.
TomTom keeps a beautiful American corn snake in captivity in a vivarium in his room. He loves her. I say if you love her, set her free. He doesn’t like that. Thinks his Dad is weird. I’m strict with him on cleanliness, feeding and water, temperature, etc, as he would easily forget. She gets a rat a week to swallow, carefully thawed and presented hygienically for consumption. The tank has an air temperature and moisture gauge to monitor that things stay right for Flaky.
Yep, Flaky the snaky.
As she grew we increased her accommodation to this double-story setup:
Once after moving her cage nearer the window so she could catch more sun as the days got colder, Tom came running into my room:
Walking around in a campsite which shall remain nameless (I don’t want anyone to disturb him), I heard a host of birds kicking up a big fuss. I couldn’t see anything, so lay down on my back and searched the whole tree with my binocs. Then a toppie revealed him by flying right at his head and slapping his face with its wings! A big beautiful black mamba, who just quietly took the birds’ abuse. Maybe wrote down her name . . ?
I carefully marked the spot where I’d lain on the dirt road to spot him, so I could find the snake again – I know how snakes can ‘disappear’ – and went back to our chalet nearby and called friends Jon n Dizzi to come and look. I got them to X Marks The Spot . . . and I could not find him! I searched thoroughly, but no go.
We assumed he had moved off, but after my friends left I lay down again and searched the branches again. He was in almost the same position! He’d hardly moved. How the heck had we missed him? The incredible camouflage power of ‘not moving!’
Then while lying on my back on the mowed lawn I spotted a butterfly land on a blade of grass and twist its abdomen, wriggle, then fly off. I went to look and found a neat single spherical egg laid on the under-surface of the green blade of grass. Beautiful. A greenish-yellow colour, I think. I thought I took a photo of the egg but I can’t find it.
– the snake and the butterfly were near here –– Dizzi spotted butterflies against those far-off cliffs! – some will now recognise the place! –Walking along next to “The Approaches”
