you ask what they’re seeing and risk making a fool of yourself, look around carefully. People will probably offer to tell you what they see. What works is to drive closer, wind down your window and smile or nod in a friendly way to the people in the other car. You will learn that this is how people in the game reserve behave. Urbanites who normally wouldn’t give each other the time of day, have the time and the inclination to greet others and often stop to talk.
I suspect it has to do with getting away; the pleasure of simply being here. It’s a bit like being in love – you want to share your joy with everyone. You will find people are invariably courteous, yield to let others go ahead, or make room once they’ve seen what there is to see. The point is, chances are good that once you open your window to say “hi”, people will tell you there’s a lion in the long grass. Or just – somewhat bashfully – smile because they’re lost. Or indicate they’ve seen a lovely specimen of sysie...
Another reason to look carefully when stopping beside a stationary car is that the occupants may perhaps see something interesting but believe it’s so obvious it isn’t necessary to point it out.
We once stopped near Satara, alongside a number of other cars and the kids screamed: “There’s a cheetah!” As I habitually do, I let my eyes scan the plains from left to right (experienced old hunter, me). But the cheetah was nowhere to be seen.
It turned out the creature was sitting bolt upright on top of a giant anthill, not five metres from us, exploring the surroundings for prey – its tall, thin silhouette so well camouflaged that to my tired eyes it became the anthill’s sharp summit.
Of course, nothing is better than achieving your own sighting: your “own” leopard or lion. If you can, tell someone coming past – they’ll be just as keen to see it as you are. And if you do the miles, I promise it will happen sooner or later.
It happened to me one year, when I’d escaped on my own for a weekend and entered the park via Malelane...
I was hot, tired and a little dejected – and what’s more, I hadn’t yet secured a bed for the night. But as I rounded the bend there they were in front of me – on both sides of the road: wild dogs playing among the big round rocks.
Some were stretched out in the late afternoon sun, the pups growling at each other, clambering over the adults. Their coats – black and biscuit-brown topped with white tails – blended into the colours of the bush and rocks. I tried to count them but there were just too many…
I sat in wonder for 15 magical minutes – alone, yes, but with a heart as light as the bushveld air.
Other people also see their “own” animals. You’ll be surprised how often – especially on remote roads away from heavy traffic – approaching motorists will gesture to you to stop, and then explain that there was something to be seen further down the road. It’s often worth pursuing. Many people will even give you the precise kilometre reading to where the sighting was. It’s difficult to describe your sense of gratitude when that happens – especially if you haven’t seen anything yet.
Where you can, repay this favour.
You are not alone.
Principle Five: Time will tell
Game watching is about the “when”, as much as the “where”. Actually it’s about when you watch where. Timing is everything.
THE EARLY BIRD
“As I emerge onto the dark stoep, the mild air of the hut makes way for a cool, still morning. In the west the crescent moon disappears behind the branches of the knob thorn. The hyena that has been carrying on all night is quiet.
Inside the hut my younger brother is complaining because he has to wear a jersey.
I don’t know the names of the birds I hear outside the wire fence. There’s one that goes chick-chick-chirrrrr and another one that cries bankrupt…! bankrupt…!
“We’d better get a move on – we must get to Letaba before sunset,” my dad says. Most of the huts are still dark. The boot of the car shuts with a muffled bang in the silence of the camp, boxes and bags filled with our stuff inside.
We drive to the gate. There’s a picture-perfect contrast between the black silhouette of the gateway arch and the red dawn beyond. It looks like one of those pictures in school where you paint black Indian ink over a red and orange wax crayon background and then scratch out something like a thorn tree. Black against the dawn.
The gate guard wears a grey uniform with a Stetson hat, shorts, puttees and boots. We drive through on the dot of six o’clock.”
If there is one cliché about the game reserve that’s true, then it’s this: the early bird really does catch the worm – or in this case, the lion.
The reason is simple: lions and leopards normally hunt at night. When the day dawns, they are on the move – either on their way to water having fed, or on their way to a sunny spot where they can rest for the day. For obvious reasons the same applies to scavengers following in their tracks, in the hope of feeding off their prey – hyenas and jackals.
The gates of the camp open at six o’clock in winter and 5.30 in summer. It’s virtually dark still – a very good time to see lions, leopards, hyenas and jackals. Don’t expect to see wild dogs and cheetahs though – they rely on their ability to see long distances and to run fast and far, and hunt mostly during the day.
There are at least three reasons why you should drive fairly fast at this time of the morning:
»There isn’t much point in driving slowly and searching the bush for game if it’s too dark to see. If you see anything, it will be on or near the road.
»The faster the car moves, the greater your chances of seeing a lion or some other beast “coincidentally” crossing the road. Use your lights and keep to the speed limit.
»If possible, try to get past a particular point in the road before another car has scared off predators nearby.
Because many predators go to drink early in the morning, a river road is a good choice for a morning drive.
If it isn’t too cold, drive with your window open. Lions love calling to each other by roaring – the males and the females to one another, the females to their cubs. You may also hear hyenas. Or elephants. Use your ears and, when you hear something, stop or drive slowly for a minute or so. You never know.
Bear in mind that most antelope and other herbivores sleep at night, and don’t move before the sun rises. Elephants and hippos on the other hand, are fond of moving around and grazing at night. Both species are so big you’d have a hard time missing them anyway.
The moment the sun rises and it starts getting warmer, the other animals start moving towards the water. It’s amazing how one minute you can be convinced there’s nothing on the road and the next it’s teeming with game!
Even if you don’t see a single lion, there will be many other rewards – the sudden realisation that the temperature drops when the sun’s first rays creep over the dry bushveld; driving slowly with an open window and hearing your car wheels crunch on the fine gravel
