Another day Impala Dies

Weather - Maximum temperature 44 degrees Celsius

- Weekly rainfall 3 drops

Highlight of the week

We renew our work permits in Chipata. We grasp the opportunity to fill a supermarket trolley.

Lowlight of the week

Our second venture into veterinary medicine ends in the sad death of a baby wildebeest.

Last year BBC film makers spent 6 weeks trying to film allegedly characteristic leopard behaviour. Picture this: Impala blissfully ignorant. Sausage tree blossom scattered on the ground to bait the impala. A leopard waiting patiently in its favourite tree. The perfect combination of shady leaves and thick, almost horizontal, branches. Even the sausage fruit stems mimic leopard tails. The leopard leaps. The impala has no time to react. The deadly embrace snuffs out the young bachelor’s existence. Another day impala dies.

Characteristic leopard behaviour? Likely story! After 6 weeks the BBC had failed to can that essential scene. They are back this year.

One of the highlights of our time here in South Luangwa has been our trips into the park to see game. We have previously talked about this in our game drive blog. To be honest, it is one of the key reasons we chose to come to work here. Many of you at home have suggested that we have come here on holiday. Well, every weekend, we are on holiday. Lush lodges. World class game. The only fly in the ointment is our 24/7 responsibilities. Every weekend here, bar one, has been disturbed by emergencies. These are all proper emergencies. We are surrounded by resilient and resourceful people. We only get called when the soup hits the fan. Sick children, medical evacuations, falls, malaria, allergies and a cardiac arrest. So, it has not been a walk in the park out here. For that matter on the rare occasions when we have gone for a walk in the park, we’ve always taken a gun with us.

We’ve had a bit of a bee in our bonnet about wild dogs ever since we signed up for this job five years ago. Rare as hens’ teeth, in many quarters. We’ve only ever seen wild dogs once before. Back in 2000, in Botswana. Keith’s mother, Freda assumed that they were commonplace. She just ordered them at breakfast time one day. Her one and only safari delivered every breakfast request. Wild dogs with pups and a kill. Outstanding. We’ve been itching to get reacquainted ever since.

South Luangwa is known for its healthy population of African wild dogs, also known as painted wolves. They are endangered and are found in only a few countries. The numbers have been declining in Africa for some time. There has been a major conservation effort here. Happily, numbers are increasing in South Luangwa against a worrying trend. Snares and poisoning take a toll outside the park. Canine distemper and other infections can wipe out whole communities of these social animals. Pack size can range from 9 to 30. There are as many as 15 packs of these dogs in the park. Everyone seems to see wild dogs when they visit South Luangwa. How hard could it be for us to get reacquainted? We are here for six months.

We’ve been to South Luangwa twice before. Two trips no dogs. Could we be cursed? The simple phrase: The dogs are denning, seemed to have become a personal mantra. It was delivered to us for the third occasion, four months ago. Almost as soon as we decanted from our small turboprop Proflight plane. Doctor Caroline informed us that the dogs were denning, as she ferried us to our new abode. Denning dogs are well hidden in deep thickets, far from prying eyes. Cursed.

It might help if I explain some basic wild dog behaviour at this point. An alpha male and his floozy girlfriend mate. Their special relationship results in adorable pups. The pups are delivered in an obscure den to keep them safe from lions, hyaenas and humans. All the pack then hunt to provide for the pups. The valley residents are understandably very secretive about the dens’ locations. This is the time that the pups are most vulnerable. The attrition rate is high. They are kept in burrows underground. The adults bring meat to them and regurgitate it. Then the pups eat. Dens are not the cleanest of places. Dogs are dogs. Their food hygiene practices are shocking. Parasites love a wild dog den. So sooner or later the dogs are obliged to move on. Chased out by ticks, fleas and parasites of various ilks. Often disturbed by nearby predators or humans. The dogs move dens every few days. Dens are normally deep in the bush. But this year, a pack was denning around where we live. Just before our arrival, and for the next 6 to 8 weeks, dogs were seen all around our neighbourhood. But never by us. Ubiquitous but elusive. We were beginning to take it personally. Paranoia was developing fast. We were the only people in the valley who hadn’t seen them. The only people in the Valley.

We recommend Edward Selfe’s photo blog to you if you want to learn more about wild dogs or about the wildlife of South Luangwa: https://www.edwardselfephotosafaris.com/news101449.html

Our drought of dogs came to a yappy end at the start of September. It started to rain dogs. (More about the cats later.) We were invited on a complementary game drive, by the Flatdogs team on a Saturday morning. Our guide was quick to discover that we were the only people in the Valley who hadn’t seen wild dogs. The search was on, despite us being well down the pecking order in the land cruiser that we shared with three fee paying guests. Two hours later, our guide had sniffed out a big pack of dogs. Fifteen adults and seven pups. The pups were now out of the den and had started to accompany the adults on hunts. It was so exciting. There was mayhem all around us. Pups yapping over bits of meat. Some playing tug of war with an impala bone. Adults watching them closely. The pups were allowed to feed until sated. And then the adults started. Keith and I were in seventh heaven. Our cameras were going like the clappers. We were grinning from ear to ear. However, the clients on our game drive had already seen the wild dogs. This was their third sighting within 3 game drives. And they had yet to see lions. After a mere 10 minutes, the guide suggested that we move off. All the other clients nodded enthusiastically. Yes please, they said. Let’s go and find lions.

As non-paying guests, we had no say in the matter. We nodded meekly and grinned and smiled. But on the inside, we were crying. We had spent 8 weeks waiting for this moment. A pack of dogs doing things. Activity. Playing. Eating. Fighting. Yapping. Greeting. To add insult to injury, we did not find any lions that morning. The Disney lion enclosure was empty.

I mentioned a moment ago that it had started to rain dogs. Word had gotten out that the Valley doctors rather liked dogs, so we got a couple of tip offs. Dogs resting in the heat of the day tend not to go too far. Our tracking skills were up to the job of following a pin on google earth. Bingo. Twenty-two dogs under a shady tree. Not mad dogs. Not Englishmen. We watched them until our memory cards were full. Then, eventually, we decided to let sleeping dogs lie.

Film crews understand what it takes to capture wildlife living. Doing. Not sleeping. It is not by accident that film makers can captivate you for a whole hour with spectacular wildlife action. You just need to be in the right place at the right time. Ingredients one and two: time and patience. But the most important ingredient is an expert guide. We need no persuasion to use the services of an expert guide. Let me share our experiences of being in the right place at the right time. It was about to start raining dogs and cats.

Jacob Shawa is an extraordinary guide. He is so good that he has had a camp named after him. Jacob boasts that he can turn any of his guests into a guide with 7 days training. We now have five days of his spellbinding company under our belts. More than half trained. But still our self-drives in the park yield much fewer dashboard gripping encounters than Jacob can deliver. The sort of skill that goes into locating elusive carnivores exudes from his pores. He will freely admit that his camp is in the right place and that he will get you to the wildlife at the right time.

Shawa camp is a very different type of camp. It is owned by Green Safaris. Green by name, green by nature (no pun intended). Shawa camp opened this year. Named after Jacob Shawa, the chief guide. The camp is solar powered. So are the vehicles. No shortage of sun here. So much of tracking wildlife depends on hearing the sounds of the bush. Jacob and his guests can hear the alarm calls that herald a predator’s presence. There is no engine noise. No intrusive rattle or clank to scare away timid creatures in the bush. Occasionally we give elephants a fright as we tip toe up behind them. The whole experience is mindful and natural. Green. Play back the video clips. Nature unadulterated. Silent running. http://greensafaris.com/shawa-luangwa/

Jacob’s knowledge and instincts are amazing. He has some choice phrases. Another day in paradise he bellows at the beginning of many morning drives. Keith misheard: What’s that Jacob? Another day, impala dies?

Turgay, Shawa camp’s number one guest, shares the front row seats with Jacob. Turgay has a dream of photographing a leopard as it launches itself from a sausage tree. The BBC are not alone. Another day, impala dies? If only.

I was a little intimidated when I first met Turgay. He is a photographer. Both of his cameras are bigger and better than my apparently puny one. Of course, it’s not all about size. But Turgay also really knows what he is doing. He was really good fun and he taught me a few tricks with the camera. Lesson one: Animal portraits must contain the following: the animal must be looking straight at you; eyes locked on your lens; ears both forward; no collar; no sign of human involvement; no roads; no people; no vehicles; and the eyes must be in perfect focus. Lesson two: Delete 99% of my pictures. His website says it all. http://www.turgayuzer.com/

You may recall that in our previous blog about game drives, we described a drive as being 90% anticipation and 10% action. Well, we were about to reverse that statistic. We set off from camp at 0545 on Saturday morning. We crossed the river by boat and entered the park at 0600. At 0610, Jacob commented on how quiet everything appeared. Where are all the impala and puku? He followed his instinct and took us to a large area devoid of grazing animals. There, lying sleepily under the trees, with full bellies, was a pack of 9 wild dogs. 7 adults and 2 pups. The area has been terrorised. He commented. Just what the doctors had ordered: wildlife, wild dogs. We were the only vehicle around. We had them to ourselves. They were chasing the shadows - trying to keep out of the sun. Plenty of activity. Jacob positioned us in a perfect spot for photographs. I mentally ran through Turgay’s camera tricks. This was more like it! Quality time, watching animal behaviour. We stayed for over an hour. At about 0730, another car arrived. The spell had been broken. We tolerated sharing for a while. The dogs shifted one last time and then fell asleep in the shade. They would stay like this for the rest of the day. We were now an action seeking film crew. So, we left them to it.

We continued to follow Jacob’s instincts. At 0900, he was looking for somewhere for us to stop for our morning coffee. In Jacob’s office the action film crew get breaks. Unlike in our normal day job. We grumbled briefly: Another car has pinched our perfect coffee spot. But our negativity quickly evaporated: Have you seen the wild dogs? The rival tourists asked us. Yes, we said. All 9 of them. No. They retorted. The pack of 21. They are just around the corner. As I mentioned: we are used to coffee breaks being notional. The break was over. We had work to do: hunting painted wolves. Game on. The pack of 21 - sadly one of the pups had died - were the same ones we had found with the Flatdogs team. This was beyond our wildest dreams. 2 separate packs. In one day. On one drive. We certainly utilised the situation. And again, filled our memory cards. The dogs were hanging about by the river. Drinking and playing on the sand. Once again, Jacob’s instinct led him to park the EV in the perfect position. The dogs left the beach area and headed back in our direction. Right to where we were parked. 21 wild dogs milling around our car. In the thick of it. Heaven.

Over the next 2 days we had 3 further wild dog encounters. We followed them as they set out on two hunts. We arrived at a fresh kill, at the Park watershed of 0600 one morning. A young waterbuck had met his maker. Torn apart more quickly than you can say Jack Robinson. The dogs had drawn and quartered their prey. They then allowed the pups first refusal. The pups chattered with delight and then unceremoniously tucked in. The adults were at the back of the queue. All appetites were completely sated. They even left a tiny morsel for a valiant hyaena. A chancer rewarded by a banquet’s leftovers. Jacob graciously conceded that this was his best encounter with wild dogs. Again, our silent vehicle was without competition. We had the prime view. Uninterrupted by petrol heads for a full hour.

Jacob Shawa had cemented his status as legend.

Day three in the Jacob Shawa EV: Immediately after the dogs had wolfed down their breakfast: Jacob took another throw of the dice. Never one to follow the crowd: as other vehicles arrived to admire our sated dogs, we headed to the far North. The EV was fully charged. Full of vim and vigour. Cats were on Jacob’s mind, but as we neared Kaingo camp we assumed that leopards were on the menu. Kaingo is Nyanja for leopard. The ebony groves around Kaingo camp have a reputation for delivering what is written on the camp sign. Cats broad sided us before we could reach the ebony grove. Big cats and small cats. Little cats with spots on. But these cats were not leopards. These were lion cubs. Just what I had ordered at breakfast time.

Two rival prides of lion had feasted on buffalo. It was as if several of the lions had ordered take away meals without talking to each other first. Five buffalo stranded in mud. Sixteen lions. Twelve adults and four cubs. Three of the buffalo were thankfully dead. Carnage. The other two remained on ice so to speak. Incarcerated. The lions were thankfully stuffed to the gills.

I say thankfully. As Jacob manoeuvred to a suitable vantage point, yards from one of the prides, our rear driver side tyre exploded. Impaled on a mopani stump, the tyre shredded. We were immobilised next to lions for the second time. My greatest fear was becoming a recurrent nightmare. Stuck in an open vehicle surrounded by huge apex predators. Their eyes looked through my eyes into my soul. Transfixed. My goosebumps rose and sweat ran into my eyes. We were history.

Thankfully all of the lions were full. Jacob limped barely another 40 yards under the shade of a nearby tree. Keith and Jacob wrestled with the jack and the spare tyre whilst the lions eyed us all up. My job was to provide early warning. A scream would suffice. Turgay provided moral support and took photos of the lions as they contemplated dessert.

The pit stop team were hampered by the lack of a screwdriver to lever the hub cap off. The team made no mention of the lack of hydraulic equipment. They worked with determination. The tyre change might have taken 20 minutes. It felt like an hour. Even standing on the “safe” side of the vehicle: time had stood still. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. My shirt was drenched with sweat. My nerves were pulled so tight that I could barely feel my fingers and toes. Somehow my limbs automatically lifted me back into the relative safety of the vehicle. Jacob immediately took us back to the lions.

I had been eager to see lion cubs. Hence my breakfast time order. Perhaps I was anxious to know that the lion population is sustainable in South Luangwa. In all honesty: baby animals are so much cuter than adults. I was sure that photos of cubs would look good in the blog. We had already seen mating lions since becoming locals. Surely mating must occasionally result in cubs? How could we possibly have spent almost 4 months in the Valley without seeing lion cubs? I would like to see lion cubs playing: I teased Jacob over breakfast. Not expecting anything of the sort. Playing lion cubs is what we got. But as we admired their exuberant games: sliding over mum’s back and biting each others’ bums, a shiver ran down my spine. Four of the adults nonchalantly sauntered over to the very spot that we had been using to change our tyre until two minutes ago. The shade had tempted them more than the lure of fresh human meat. Gulp.

In amongst all of this canine and feline action, Keith and I are constantly in action back in the real world. The bat phone rang twice as we tried to rest at Shawa camp between game drives. Two emergencies. Another emergency evacuation. Sometimes we feel that we are on holiday. And then the bat phone rings. And the illusion is shattered. Holiday schmoliday.

Post script:

I recommend against using the shade of a sausage tree. Although no impala has yet been caught on film, in its death throes, by Jacob’s band of acolytes, Keith and I have witnessed 9 sausages falling from a single sausage tree in the course of 30 minutes. We sat just 20 yards from this tree as we consumed a very special bush breakfast once. Each sausage weighs roughly ten kilos. Enough to pole axe an unwary impala. Perhaps this is the leopard’s real modus operandi? The leopard then lazily scoops up the unconscious impala. Another day impala dies.

Best shower in the world at Shawa camp

Jacob and Turgay. Mine is bigger than yours.

Breakfast

Time for drinks

Another day impala dies

I am coming to get you