November 12, 2021

 

Olifants, 0930

 

Breakfast on a grey, overcast, muggy morning, sitting on the deck of the restaurant at Olifants. Birds that I cannot identify flitting that in the trees. Usual birds at the tables, pestering diners. Lady in the next table gives a red-wing starling a scrap of bread and then waves him away, irritated. I’m sure the birds find people impossible to understand. But it’s just a job to them and they have no attachment to understanding or connecting to people. They are just working the angles. Trying to get paid.

 

It’s of course strictly against the rules to feed the birds (or any wildlife) in the Park. Each bird species has its own approach. Cape glossy starlings are just kind of bold and in your face. Dark-capped bulbuls are beautiful, but kind of wimpy. My favorites are the red-wing starlings.  They’ll sit near you and this beautiful soft melody bubbles forth. They make this sound without opening their beaks, sort of like ventriloquism, and it’s sweet and seductive, trying to coax you into something you wouldn’t otherwise do. If you seem receptive, they’ll inch closer, flashing their beautiful black eyes and singing quietly. Yesterday I had scrambled eggs and bacon and asked for an order of fries (chips here) so that it approximates an American breakfast. My red-wing starling (let’s call him Valentino) lit up at the sight of a bowl of fries. Fries obviously have a special meaning to him (as they do to many of us). I understand the reasons for not feeding wildlife, and I don’t feed the wildlife. I do, however, notice that I’m a messier eater when Valentino is around. Crumbs everywhere when I leave.

 

I’m missing him here this morning. I heard him somewhere but haven’t seen him.

 

And now he’s here! Must have been delayed getting ready for the day.  We have an understanding. I speak nicely to him but don’t allow him on the table.  Seems to work.

 

Someone way smarter than me once said that management would be great if it wasn’t for the people. So, people stories from yesterday -

 

Yesterday was a blah day for shooting. Not great light, nothing moving around too much.  Hot. Yesterday morning, I found a brown-hooded kingfisher on a branch at the side of the road.  He was clearly hunting, scanning the ground for movement, then hopping down to eat some unfortunate insect who never saw it coming. Nothing spectacular about the sighting, but maybe a chance to get this bird swallowing something interesting. I angled the car across the unpaved road to do some shooting. It’s not unusual to do that.  You might not see another vehicle for a half-hour or more and then you just reposition and let them by.  The kingfisher was very accommodating and seemed to not mind my presence.  Eventually however, this small vehicle came puttering up from the other direction, driven by an older man with I assume his spouse in the back seat with a camera.  I pulled forward, out of the way to make space for them to pass but of course they wanted to see what I was looking at and when they pulled even to the bird, they spotted it and stopped, and she starts shooting. Totally took my place. An act of courtesy gone bad. I’d shot enough so resigned myself to saying goodbye to the BHKF and moved along, shaking my head.

 

Yesterday evening, I returned from my drive and set to making some dinner in the outdoor kitchenette on the patio of my bungalow. There were two young dudes who’d moved into the bungalow next door, and I could see one of them attempting to start a fire in the braii stand. It’s actually not that easy to get a fire going if you’re out of practice and, as I was prepping my own dinner, I could see he was having trouble. But eventually it looked like he got the fire going. At that point in the evening, the wind suddenly picked up a lot. I was working in my kitchenette and thought I saw something flash by but didn’t think a lot about it. Then I heard, “Excuse me….” This young German dude proceeded to tell me that the wind had picked up sparks and that some had landed on my thatched roof.  He told me that it looked like it was out now, but that maybe I should keep an eye on it. Now, this is a common problem when the wind picks up at night.  You’ll see people trying to start wood fires sending showers of sparks into the dry bush. It’s really unnerving because the potential for a significant fire is obvious, and Gina and I have had to shut down our braii fire in the past when exactly this thing happened. So, in my best dad-like and boomer way, I suggested to the dude that maybe it’s not a good idea to try and cook over an open fire when the wind is up. He looked at me blankly and said, “But my friend and I want to barbeque.” That was the end of the discussion. So, these dudes’ realizing their dream of cooking meat over an open fire in the African bush outweighed the obvious risk to the bush and to Park property. And the wind ultimately died down and nothing bad happened and that just proves how dumb boomers are, I guess.

 

Where I go with these stories is to say that when you’re in the bush, with nothing but time to be in one’s head, it’s hard not to categorize and stereotype people. It’s sort of what social scientists do, right? And I have to say, with all the caveats associated with this sort of generalization, that I think, in spite of their reputation to the contrary, Americans hold up pretty well when it comes to having some morsel of self-awareness. I’m not necessarily proud of that because it seems like a pretty freaking low bar. But there you have it. This is one area where Americans don’t suck (unlike healthcare or compliance with simple public health measures, for example).

 

Yesterday, for the first time since arriving, I took a long nap in the afternoon. I dreamed like a mofo. I’m on an anti-malarial drug because malaria is endemic here. I’m not sure it’s the right decision. No one who lives here takes any anti-malarial prophylaxis and I think the risk is very low. But I seem to tolerate the med well, so I go along with my PCP’s recommendation. There’s a significant side-effect profile with this med, including reporting vivid dreams and I’m certainly having those. But they’re not disturbing or scary and it’s kind of like Netflix for the bush. Yesterday afternoon I had a dream where I was walking around with a tiny black mamba in my hand for some reason. Someone pointed to my hand and there was no mamba. But there were two tiny pin pricks on my finger with a bit of blood leaking out. A nurse who I’d worked with in the OR said, “Dan, that’s an emergency. What are you doing hanging around here? We need to get you to Tucson right away.” Seemed reasonable, so we got in her truck, my heart full of gratitude for her care and then she started plowing through fences and crops in some farmer’s field and drove up to a farmhouse to attend a birthday party, leaving me in the truck. Wondering, what the hell?

 

I don’t know how that story ended because I woke up. A cliff hanger, I guess. In addition to vivid dreams, psychosis is also on the side effect profile for this drug, by the way.

 

I should stop here. I’m checked out of my “perimeter view” bungalow and will check into my “river view” bungalow for the next two nights. But I can’t check in for another 4 hours or so and will probably drive around aimlessly. Who knows? Maybe I’ll find a leopard.

 

I’m very introverted and like time to myself, but I do feel disconnected being out here so long. At the same time, I’m grateful to be here. I know how fortunate I am. I am trying to hang on to every moment.

 

And I want to talk about elephants and the never-ending quest to become more confident in their presence.