Kruger Vignettes

Position: 24°23’44.1″S 31°46’29.4″E

Visiting South Africa is a bit like entering a gated community. Once inside, safe behind the security guards and barbed wire, you can leave reality behind. In Kruger National Park, the tourists are almost all white, and predominantly European. While there are some families with kids, for the most part visitors are older – in their 60s and 70s. Most can walk to and from their cars, albeit slowly. Hand them the keys to a golf cart I’m confident most could play 9 holes. At times, things felt a bit more like Pecan Plantation than South Africa. A little self-consciously, we nonetheless leaned into our privilege.

Caspar

Caspar is a white lion. White lions are rare in Kruger National Park. There are only three or four white lions in the reserve and Caspar is the elder statesman for the pride. He and his (LoC¹) buddy were a couple of miles from Satara Rest Camp hanging out by the side of the road. A cold wind out of the northeast cut across the savannah kicking up dust and ruffled the lions’ manes. For 20 minutes our driver for our early morning safari waited while we snapped photos and quietly wished we’d brought a couple more layers. But it was worth it. The rest of the drive proved a bust. The winds had brought low clouds and all the other animals stayed snuggled in bed waiting for things to warm up. As soon as we got back to camp, we did the same.

Letaba Elephant Hall

Elephants are big. Humans are small. That was the first thing I learned at the elephant hall at Letaba Rest Camp. Next I learned elephant hunting is still a thing. For $100,000 a

game hunter can blast a big bull between the eyes and then take a photo to prove their mettle. In defence of this ancient practice, albeit with modern means of dispatch (i.e. guns), there are enough African Elephants crowded into small reserves that some culling is inevitable.

The proceeds from prize hunters helps fund poaching reduction programs. In the best case, deep pocketed Hemingway wannabees are not allowed to run amok in the parks shooting at anything grey and wrinkled that moves. Rather, they are directed to their victims by guides. A little unnatural selection being preferable in the circumstances. And given that most tourists to the parks are grey and wrinkled, it’s an all-round better result for business.

Night Drive

“…the flashlight:…tends to separate a man from the world around him. If I switch it on my eyes adapt to it and I can only see the small pool of light which it makes in front of me; I am isolated.” – Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire

The evening before our hike to see the hippos in Olifants river, Carol had booked us a tour. Leaving the camp around 7:00PM, darkness had truly fallen. It was an opportunity to see shy nocturnal critters from the comfort of a loud, creaky bus. The driver handed out four high-powered LED flashlights and as soon as we left the compound told us to switch them on. Instantly the narrow beams of light lit up the trees and grasses a couple of hundred metres away to the exclusion of everything else. Like night diving, all our attention was focused on the narrow pools in front of us. Our hope was for a flicker of optical reflection from an animal deep in the undergrowth.

There were several early calls of ‘eyes!’ which brought the truck to a halt. Impalas have green eyes and rabbits yellow ones. With direction and purpose our guide struck out for an area not far from the riverbank. There a group of three juvenile lions played in the undergrowth while mom was away looking for food. Like rabbits, lions have yellow eyes too.

Leopard Spots

Three days later and twenty minutes into our twilight safari tour, our driver got a call on his cell phone. He turned around and told us his colleague had spotted a couple of leopards and we’re heading there as fast as we can. Stomping on the accelerator we zoomed off. The truck rattled and banged and skidded along the dirt roads. Ten minutes later, at a dry stream bed, we pulled over with four other vehicles and turned our attention to the branches of a large tree. “See there?” our guide pointed, “That’s the female. The male is on the ground, behind those bushes. They are a mating pair. You are very lucky to see them!”

Another safari bus joined us, and twilight turned to darkness. A half dozen flashlights snapped on and it became even easier to make out the leopard strung across the branch 15 feet up the tree. A few minutes later, tired of all the attention, she stood up and sashayed downwards, towards the ground. She then disappeared into the undergrowth with her lover. We never saw either of them again.

Killer Monkeys

Vervet monkeys are cute. From a distance. Up close they become savages ready to defend their stolen territory with ferocity. Many of the small camp lodges inside Kruger place refrigerators outside the living quarters. To prevent monkey business, the fridges are locked inside a steel mesh cage. Nevertheless, the monkeys come around looking for anything that isn’t stored properly. After our early start and nap, we awoke to a half dozen monkeys of various sizes sitting around our outdoor table and fridge.

Cautiously opening the door, the largest of the monkeys made a lunge for me. I retreated behind Carol and suggested she go first. A couple of feints later we were left pondering what to do. Even though we outweighed the little bastards, I’m not sure it would be a fair fight. They have razor sharp teeth and can swing from rafters.

Making myself large I grabbed the car keys, sidled out the door, past the monkeys and around the corner. Reaching inside the car I pulled out our packet of firewood and tore it open. Choosing a solid, three-inch-thick by two-foot-long log, I raised it in the air and swung it above my head like Moonwatcher in 2001: A Space Odyssey. At this the monkeys on the table retreated. A rooting section remained trapped on top of the fridge. I shifted to my right and opened up a passage for them. They immediately slunk away when I again advanced with stick in hand. With the way cleared, I could get into the fridge and mix a couple of gin and tonics in celebration, hissing at the monkeys occasionally to remind them who was boss.