November 19, 2021

 

Letaba Restaurant, 0915

 

Yesterday was, again, very hot, hovering at around 43 C in the afternoon. Took a long, unproductive drive on the paved road east. Clouds were building to the east and the wind picked up and it got dark and small patches of spitting rain came. But it didn’t amount to much and I returned empty handed. I fixed one of the saddest dinners in the history of the Park - a chewy, microwave “Cornish Pie” and a can of beans and of course a South African red. As soon as food was prepared, power shut down. The wind began to wail and there was nothing to do but go to bed. About two hours later, power returned, and all lights came on and so get up to shut everything down. Then at 0400 someone’s car alarm went off and at that point I was up. The wind had died and there was the sound of gentle rain, exactly the rain needed at this season in the bush.

 

Very little was stirring in camp, so I was out before most, and headed first south on an unpaved road, then changed my mind, backtracked, and headed north on the main paved road, heading for the S47. When you leave in the morning heading north, it’s like a post-apocalyptic landscape. Or, like waking up after having all your worst friends over for a party. The wide paved road is strewn with debris - large branches, smaller branches packed with thorns and huge piles of dung. As soon as the camp gates close, the elephants go onto the roadway for a party and I’m certain take delight in making the biggest possible mess. It’s not like you can’t drive through it, but you must pick your way through carefully. Not a guilty elephant in sight.

 

Turned onto the S47, the beautiful gravel road that meanders alongside the Letaba River. That road is such a pleasure. Like a natural park, without the pretension of human design. Just crawled along, no other vehicles in sight, stopping every few hundred meters or so to shut off and listen. The rain stopped, leaving a cool, dark morning. At one point, I saw an African harrier hawk up in a dead tree, being harassed by fork-tailed drongos and lilac-breasted rollers. Useless to shoot against this bright white sky but I tried, hoping that the hawk would move someplace else where I’d have a different background. Drongos, by the way, are badasses of the bird world. Sort of mockingbird sized birds but absolutely fearless. I’ve seen them mercilessly attack birds of prey and snakes, without caution. The hawk tried to escape the bombardment by crossing the road, forcing me to make my 814^th three-point turn of the trip on a narrow unpaved. I spotted the hawk, high up in another tree and began to crawl in that direction and noticed something large and dark standing in the road. A hippo. A damned hippo standing in the middle of the road. Makes sense - we weren’t far from the river. They spend the days in the water and come out at night to feed, often traveling great distances to find the grass that suits them. Usually, they’re back in the water at sunrise, but with it being cool and overcast like this, they often extend their stay. This is when they’re very dangerous to humans on foot. They feel vulnerable on land (though they’re actually very fast) and have a hair trigger temperament. Bumping into one in the morning in the bush can lead to tears.

 

Did a hail Mary shot (camera set up to shoot a bird against a bright sky) and by the time I could adjust my settings, it had calmly walked off into the bush and was instantly invisible in the thick mopane. No hawk, no hippo. This is the actual reality of wildlife photography. It’s all a one-in-a-thousand shot.

 

So, continued slow drive up the S47, stopping to listen along the way. Squirrels were alarming everywhere, feeding my firm conviction (certainty, actually) that there was a leopard around. Squirrels of course alarm for lots of things. It’s more that they’re shouting than alarming, I think. They shout at predators of course - hawks, owls, snakes and obviously leopards. They shout at each other due to who knows what sort of neighborhood dispute. They undoubtedly shout at people and maybe even because they hate Volkswagens. But squirrels were shouting everywhere. I try to get a fix on where they’re looking but come up with nothing and they stop shouting as suddenly as they start. Either the leopard sat down or it’s time for their mandatory break.

 

While stopping to listen to squirrel shouts, I heard a jackal call, very nearby. I wasn’t expecting that. That could also mean different things - presence of lions for example.  Or just a scolding for a young one or who knows what else. And I heard baboons off in the distance. But none of it was visible.

 

I’m back in camp now. Still cool and overcast and breezy today. Today is moving day. Vehicle is packed and I’m going to take a long route to Mopani. Days winding down.