Thursday, July 30, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Meg in the Mara
It’s marvellously magic here in the land of gnu-mania! I’ve been irrevocably seduced by this ecosystem, its endless vistas and mild (totally non-humid) climate. Game is everywhere and although 2 million odd wildebeest and tons of zebra are aggregating in this relatively small patch of preserved grassland (when compared to Serengeti from whence they’ve come), there is soooo much to see aside from the icons and their excessively abundant predators (I’ve seen hyena and lion daily for a week!). Grey-crowned cranes abound and ground hornbills show a fair abundance. Thompson’s and Grant’s gazelles are a treat not having these in RSA and even the things we do have exist as different races or sub-species up here. Instead of the Southern giraffe, they have the Masai giraffe (different patterning). The zebra is missing its typical RSA “shadow stripe” and is called a Plains zebra rather than a Burchell’s. Coke’s hartebeest, Kirk’s dikdik, Bohor reedbuck, Topi and Olive (in place of Chacma) baboons are some of the other new ones. The good ole wildebeest is called a white-bearded wildebeest and the whole place is alive with their loud gnuuu-ing and bouncy territorial antics.
On closer look…wildebeest are pure grazers and selective at that. They do not select for species or specific parts of the plant like other selective feeders but rather wildebeest are ‘site selectors’ and will only take forage 15 cm long or less. In this regard they trample and maintain their own pastures and their wide muzzles are perfectly adapted to crop the lawn. When resources are depleted, individual herds form massive aggregations and migrate to ‘greener pastures’ (in this case from the Serengeti which has dried up completely now North to the Masai Mara and across the croc-ridden Mara River in the process)
Where adequate food and water is available wildebeest are more sedentary and exhibit a harem system where the male selects and protects a demarcated territory containing the resources that female’s desire. When the females roam into his area in search of fresh grass or water, the male will herd them and attempt to keep them in his territory (especially during the rut when they are in oestrus). Breeding herds move in homeranges that expand in drought conditions (up to three times) and become fairly stable during favourable times.
A typical wildebeest territory is usually positioned in the direct vicinity of water and somewhere nearby a sandy area that can be used as a stomping ground. Wildebeest have pedal glands (glands between their hooves) and they rake the ground with their feet to release the scent into the sand. They also release this smell wherever they walk. They make large dung middens on their stomping patches. Wildebeest bulls will engage in horn rubbing against bushes or on the ground often becoming covered in mud, in order to transmit preorbital (below the eyes) glandular secretions. Sometimes prominent rubbing posts develop within their territories. Bulls that have territories spend much time as solitary animals (until females pass through and can be herded) and in this regard they are vulnerable to predators but since only territorial bulls will sire offspring, this is a risk they are willing to take. Bulls will chase intruders out of their territory and will wrestle on their knees with any offender that does not comply.
Wildebeest are very water dependent and they will drink daily even satisfying their thirst on muddied waters (unlike zebra). They will always be within a 15km radius of a water supply. Wildebeest have bodies that are modified to accommodate their migratory habits. The slanted back is a result of shoulders that are positioned high on the body and long front legs. This structure allows wildebeest to canter for long distances. The canter is an energy-efficient mode of locomotion that allows wildebeest to follow the signs of distant storms (thunder and lightning) at a pace faster than a walk but less tiring than a full out run or trot. The calf of the wildebeest is one of the most precocial (developed at birth) of all antelope species and can stand within a few minutes and can run within a mere five minutes. It is able to keep up with the herd within the day.
On closer look…wildebeest are pure grazers and selective at that. They do not select for species or specific parts of the plant like other selective feeders but rather wildebeest are ‘site selectors’ and will only take forage 15 cm long or less. In this regard they trample and maintain their own pastures and their wide muzzles are perfectly adapted to crop the lawn. When resources are depleted, individual herds form massive aggregations and migrate to ‘greener pastures’ (in this case from the Serengeti which has dried up completely now North to the Masai Mara and across the croc-ridden Mara River in the process)
Where adequate food and water is available wildebeest are more sedentary and exhibit a harem system where the male selects and protects a demarcated territory containing the resources that female’s desire. When the females roam into his area in search of fresh grass or water, the male will herd them and attempt to keep them in his territory (especially during the rut when they are in oestrus). Breeding herds move in homeranges that expand in drought conditions (up to three times) and become fairly stable during favourable times.
A typical wildebeest territory is usually positioned in the direct vicinity of water and somewhere nearby a sandy area that can be used as a stomping ground. Wildebeest have pedal glands (glands between their hooves) and they rake the ground with their feet to release the scent into the sand. They also release this smell wherever they walk. They make large dung middens on their stomping patches. Wildebeest bulls will engage in horn rubbing against bushes or on the ground often becoming covered in mud, in order to transmit preorbital (below the eyes) glandular secretions. Sometimes prominent rubbing posts develop within their territories. Bulls that have territories spend much time as solitary animals (until females pass through and can be herded) and in this regard they are vulnerable to predators but since only territorial bulls will sire offspring, this is a risk they are willing to take. Bulls will chase intruders out of their territory and will wrestle on their knees with any offender that does not comply.
Wildebeest are very water dependent and they will drink daily even satisfying their thirst on muddied waters (unlike zebra). They will always be within a 15km radius of a water supply. Wildebeest have bodies that are modified to accommodate their migratory habits. The slanted back is a result of shoulders that are positioned high on the body and long front legs. This structure allows wildebeest to canter for long distances. The canter is an energy-efficient mode of locomotion that allows wildebeest to follow the signs of distant storms (thunder and lightning) at a pace faster than a walk but less tiring than a full out run or trot. The calf of the wildebeest is one of the most precocial (developed at birth) of all antelope species and can stand within a few minutes and can run within a mere five minutes. It is able to keep up with the herd within the day.
"I'm a ga-nu...how do you do? I'm the ga-nicest ga-natured animal in the zoo...yes I'm a ga-nu!!!"
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Memories of "becoming a game ranger"...
Its 1 am. The icy chill of the July night air has penetrated right through my naked shins. My legs tremble uncontrollably where I sit perched on the spare tyre on the back of the Land Cruiser. We have been waiting for hours for the drugged lion to wake. I silently chastise myself for leaving my jacket behind. It’s so hot during the day and I didn’t realise that it would take so long to dart and collar a lion and now we are obliged to wait for it to recover. Its only four hours before the next official work day begins. I have to join a team of bush-clearers and help to chop out a stand of invasive and decidedly spiny sicklebush that has grown up along the main game viewing route of the reserve.
Another tremble rattles me. This time it’s the reverberating roars of two more lions so close to the vehicle that the puffs of hot air from their nostrils almost warm me. They have been attracted to the holding boma where the sleeping captive recovers. They bellow out their hostile intent towards the doped animal that they somehow sense is vulnerable. The experience is exhilarating. But not as much as the earlier part where I had to secure the impala bait to a tree with a hungry lion already in attendance!
The sleeping lion is not the only individual feeling vulnerable right now. It’s barely two months since I turned eighteen and my initial encounter with game ranging is turning out to be full of surprises. Had I known my first task on the job would be to sort through a large barrel of frozen butchery off-cuts (to remove any bits of incident plastic) before it could emptied out at the vulture restaurant, I’m not sure I would ever have embarked on a career in wildlife. Although not totally ignorant after six months of theoretical training, I’m still enchanted by my childhood illusion that game rangers are immediately issued roofless Land Rovers and sent off in search of big, impressive animals with the wind blowing their sun-stained hair across Ray Ban clad eyes. Although caught somewhat off-guard by this initial and decidedly unpleasant task, I was determined to prove my mother wrong of her all too frequently chided opinion that ‘game ranging is just not for girls’ so I rolled up my sleeves…
Unexpected is the name of the game ranger’s game. A few weeks later I discover that it is apparently completely normal for the undercarriage of the Toyota pick-up we are driving overland through a remote stretch of Kalahari grassland to intermittently burst into flames. This is thanks to an accumulation of tangled grass in the hot chassis. A few flaps, blows and handfuls of sand to dowse the flames and we’re back on the trail.
A trail that is quickly teaching me that there are bigger things at stake than ice-cold legs, blistered hands, spontaneously combusting vehicles and the obnoxious smell of decay. The reality of modern day conservation is that as soon as a fence encloses a wild area (no matter how large it is) it essentially becomes an artificial system. Wild animals can no longer follow traditional migration routes or adjust their home ranges to compensate for drought or predation. Typically agriculture and human settlements creep right up to the boundaries of the reserves and once the vegetation within the protected area becomes overgrazed, the natural recolonisation by seeds blowing in from refugia outside its perimeter, can no longer take place effectively. The area has to be managed by humans – game rangers - to simulate the appropriate ecological conditions for the ecosystem to continue to function. Predators, particularly, need to be closely monitored to minimise interbreeding. The radio collar we gave the lion will facilitate this process and help prevent any unwarranted interaction with the communities living right on the reserve’s doorstep. The dispatched intestines will provide a poison-free feeding site to vulnerable vulture species and prove an attraction to guests visiting the reserve (and thereby supporting its ongoing management)...
Another tremble rattles me. This time it’s the reverberating roars of two more lions so close to the vehicle that the puffs of hot air from their nostrils almost warm me. They have been attracted to the holding boma where the sleeping captive recovers. They bellow out their hostile intent towards the doped animal that they somehow sense is vulnerable. The experience is exhilarating. But not as much as the earlier part where I had to secure the impala bait to a tree with a hungry lion already in attendance!
The sleeping lion is not the only individual feeling vulnerable right now. It’s barely two months since I turned eighteen and my initial encounter with game ranging is turning out to be full of surprises. Had I known my first task on the job would be to sort through a large barrel of frozen butchery off-cuts (to remove any bits of incident plastic) before it could emptied out at the vulture restaurant, I’m not sure I would ever have embarked on a career in wildlife. Although not totally ignorant after six months of theoretical training, I’m still enchanted by my childhood illusion that game rangers are immediately issued roofless Land Rovers and sent off in search of big, impressive animals with the wind blowing their sun-stained hair across Ray Ban clad eyes. Although caught somewhat off-guard by this initial and decidedly unpleasant task, I was determined to prove my mother wrong of her all too frequently chided opinion that ‘game ranging is just not for girls’ so I rolled up my sleeves…
Unexpected is the name of the game ranger’s game. A few weeks later I discover that it is apparently completely normal for the undercarriage of the Toyota pick-up we are driving overland through a remote stretch of Kalahari grassland to intermittently burst into flames. This is thanks to an accumulation of tangled grass in the hot chassis. A few flaps, blows and handfuls of sand to dowse the flames and we’re back on the trail.
A trail that is quickly teaching me that there are bigger things at stake than ice-cold legs, blistered hands, spontaneously combusting vehicles and the obnoxious smell of decay. The reality of modern day conservation is that as soon as a fence encloses a wild area (no matter how large it is) it essentially becomes an artificial system. Wild animals can no longer follow traditional migration routes or adjust their home ranges to compensate for drought or predation. Typically agriculture and human settlements creep right up to the boundaries of the reserves and once the vegetation within the protected area becomes overgrazed, the natural recolonisation by seeds blowing in from refugia outside its perimeter, can no longer take place effectively. The area has to be managed by humans – game rangers - to simulate the appropriate ecological conditions for the ecosystem to continue to function. Predators, particularly, need to be closely monitored to minimise interbreeding. The radio collar we gave the lion will facilitate this process and help prevent any unwarranted interaction with the communities living right on the reserve’s doorstep. The dispatched intestines will provide a poison-free feeding site to vulnerable vulture species and prove an attraction to guests visiting the reserve (and thereby supporting its ongoing management)...
(a real-life extract from an article written for Africa Geographic Dec-Jan edition 2008/9 www.africageographic.com)
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Plums for the Chiefs
The great thing about the bush is that there is always something happening in spite of the weather or season. On a recent visit to the Pilanesberg Game Reserve in the North West Province (its a cool place, a natural system inside an ancient weathered volcano!) we stopped to stretch our legs at one of the picnic sites and to my suprise (and delight!) I spotted a Jacketplum in full fruit. Yes, this is me getting excited about a tree but its a really awesome tree that one seldom finds in fruit and when one does, one has to compete with baboons, monkeys and fruigivorous birds of every description to get a look in - especially this deep into winter! The fruit in the picture was sampled by myself immediately on taking the snapshot...and they were delicious!
Whats cool about this tree? The jacket plum (Pappea capensis) is often called the Indaba Tree. ‘Indaba’ is the Zulu word for 'meeting' and the tree was traditionally used as a meeting place. The boughs of a fully mature tree droop down towards the ground but do not become dense around the trunk. Tribal chiefs would hold meetings under the boughs of the jacket plum as they could be screened from view but could still see out through the branches to keep an eye on their village. The tree does not have a dense canopy generally and the hot air easily rises up from below, sucking in cooler air from the sides and providing a well air-conditioned conference facility.
The tree gets its name from the fruit which has a hard but velvety green skin. When it ripens, the fruit splits open along a clean seam revealing the juicy red flesh which makes the fruit look as if it were wearing a dinner jacket. The yummy fruit can be eaten as is or stewed up into a jelly preserve. Vinegar and an alcoholic beverage are also made from the fruit. Inside is a hard seed. This contains a great deal of viscous oil which may be extracted from the roasted seeds and traditionally this oil was used for curing baldness and ringworm. It has been used more recently by farmers to oil their rifles. The oil is edible but may have a purgative effect if consumed. It is also used for soap making and as a lubricant.
When not in fruit, the Jacketplum is one of the easiest bushveld trees to identify as it has especially distinctive bark - the bark is mostly smooth and looks as though it’s been sponged down with two tones of grey paint but older sections form rougher, blacker blocks that resemble small bricks on a peeling plastered wall. The bark has been used in the past to cure venereal diseases.
Whats cool about this tree? The jacket plum (Pappea capensis) is often called the Indaba Tree. ‘Indaba’ is the Zulu word for 'meeting' and the tree was traditionally used as a meeting place. The boughs of a fully mature tree droop down towards the ground but do not become dense around the trunk. Tribal chiefs would hold meetings under the boughs of the jacket plum as they could be screened from view but could still see out through the branches to keep an eye on their village. The tree does not have a dense canopy generally and the hot air easily rises up from below, sucking in cooler air from the sides and providing a well air-conditioned conference facility.
The tree gets its name from the fruit which has a hard but velvety green skin. When it ripens, the fruit splits open along a clean seam revealing the juicy red flesh which makes the fruit look as if it were wearing a dinner jacket. The yummy fruit can be eaten as is or stewed up into a jelly preserve. Vinegar and an alcoholic beverage are also made from the fruit. Inside is a hard seed. This contains a great deal of viscous oil which may be extracted from the roasted seeds and traditionally this oil was used for curing baldness and ringworm. It has been used more recently by farmers to oil their rifles. The oil is edible but may have a purgative effect if consumed. It is also used for soap making and as a lubricant.
When not in fruit, the Jacketplum is one of the easiest bushveld trees to identify as it has especially distinctive bark - the bark is mostly smooth and looks as though it’s been sponged down with two tones of grey paint but older sections form rougher, blacker blocks that resemble small bricks on a peeling plastered wall. The bark has been used in the past to cure venereal diseases.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
A Caravan of Caterpillars
Some animals take team work to the extreme! While climbing on a boulder the other evening (to get a good sunset view and have a wee sundowner), we spotted this chain of hairy larvae making their way to...well...who-knows-where but they were certainly all going there together!!! These are the caterpillars of the processionary moth, a very gregarious species that occurs together on larval food plants and then whenever it is necessary to transfer to a new tree, the worms will move in a procession, head to rear, following a leader and leaving a silk trail as they move. They move imperceptibly slowly and the resultant effect is that the procession resembles a snake or a stick and is ignored by their usual predators (like cuckoos, birds which specialise in eating hairy caterpillars). The caterpillars also pupate collectively (up to 600 together) in a purse-like ‘bagnet’ and emerge as rather small and nondescript cream and brown moths.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Up a hill with some old pots
Not too long ago I climbed a rather steep hill in the Waterberg with the somewhat charismatic Mark Tennant. We went up there to look at some enormous and rather ancient pots. History is not usually my thing but then again it’s not what we usually associate Mark Tennant with either. Mark is by usual connotation, crawling though the long grass to sneak up on feeding lions or browsing elephants with video camera at the ready but unbeknown to me until then, Mark has been a student of human-prehistory and is passionate about it (and generally anything Africa-related!). His latest escapade is the Animals, Arts and Ancestors experience…same funky hat, different adventure. (See http://www.animalsartsandancestors.com/ for details)
Although the climb required some exertion, it was worth it - the smell of brown hyena pastings and fresh leopard spoor from the night before made it exhilarating. Porcupines left their distinctive cocktail sausage-shaped calling cards and the view was spectacular with tracts of thorny bush stretching for miles and concealing a healthy population of white rhino.
A big snaking river breaks the slightly undulating landscape and its apparent why the late Iron Age people selected this particular mountain to build their grain silos. The area is fertile. Access to water and safety in the form of a mountain for vantage and shelter are the exact ingredients any community requires to settle down and grow crops and raise cattle. Rock overhangs provide the perfect sites for the construction of the most enormous clay pots I have ever seen and their construction 600-700 years before must have been exceptionally skilful since many of them are still mostly intact. In this particular site Mark has apparently tallied 130 of these giant storage ports and he explained to me how the system worked: An opening at the top of the pot would have been an access port to top-up the grain supply. This could have been sealed off later to keep rodents out. As the supply was depleted, a lower opening was chipped into the clay for easier access. This could then be closed up again for the next cycle.
Remarkably, while standing in the shelter of this ancient bastion-like grain depot I turned to look over the landscape one last time before we headed down in time to see a pair of Verreaux’s Eagles land on the boulder-strewn koppie a stone’s throw from where we were standing. What a sight! And an irony to me that they would choose to visually patrol their territory from a similar vantage to the Late Iron-Agers.
Although the climb required some exertion, it was worth it - the smell of brown hyena pastings and fresh leopard spoor from the night before made it exhilarating. Porcupines left their distinctive cocktail sausage-shaped calling cards and the view was spectacular with tracts of thorny bush stretching for miles and concealing a healthy population of white rhino.
A big snaking river breaks the slightly undulating landscape and its apparent why the late Iron Age people selected this particular mountain to build their grain silos. The area is fertile. Access to water and safety in the form of a mountain for vantage and shelter are the exact ingredients any community requires to settle down and grow crops and raise cattle. Rock overhangs provide the perfect sites for the construction of the most enormous clay pots I have ever seen and their construction 600-700 years before must have been exceptionally skilful since many of them are still mostly intact. In this particular site Mark has apparently tallied 130 of these giant storage ports and he explained to me how the system worked: An opening at the top of the pot would have been an access port to top-up the grain supply. This could have been sealed off later to keep rodents out. As the supply was depleted, a lower opening was chipped into the clay for easier access. This could then be closed up again for the next cycle.
Remarkably, while standing in the shelter of this ancient bastion-like grain depot I turned to look over the landscape one last time before we headed down in time to see a pair of Verreaux’s Eagles land on the boulder-strewn koppie a stone’s throw from where we were standing. What a sight! And an irony to me that they would choose to visually patrol their territory from a similar vantage to the Late Iron-Agers.
(pics were taken by another babe Megan Alves)
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