I had hoped that I would be soon be packing my bags for another camping safari in the wildlife wonderland that is Botswana’s Okavango Delta.

Unfortunately, Covid 19 has put paid to that plan. South Africa and Botswana are both on the UK’s Red list of countries at present and travel is prohibited. Disappointing as this is, it was utterly predictable with the way this horrendous virus has spread around the planet.

On the plus side, I have moved my travel plans, and will keep my fingers crossed that I, along with my great friend and travelling companion Malcolm, will find ourselves camping in the Okavango in May of 2022.

It is worth noting that in countries like Botswana, a large part of the economy is highly dependant on revenue generated by tourism, and in particular eco / conservation / wildlife tourism. Many safari companies have sadly gone to the wall during the Covid pandemic resulting in the loss of income for so many families. As the virus took hold, the safari business simply collapsed.

The absence of tourists travelling through the bush, enjoying the wildlife, has meant that poachers have had an almost free reign targeting species like rhino, elephant and many, many more. The eyes and presence of the safari tourists and their guides are one of the biggest deterrents to poaching. So for the sake of the wildlife, we need the safari industry to get back on its feet as soon as possible, and in doing so, provide desperately needed incomes for the workers involved in the industry.

Having done two camping safaris, there is no chance of doing a safari any other way in the future. It is an experience that once sampled, just has to be repeated. I cannot wait to spend days with the creatures of the delta, and then at night to fall asleep to the sounds of lions roaring, hyenas whooping and howling, hippos grunting and farting and unidentified creatures scurrying around outside the tent.

So, vaccines and reduced risk of Covid permitting, I will be back here blogging at the end of May, regaling new adventures of life under canvas, amongst the amazing wildlife in the heart of the watery wilderness of the Okavango Delta.

Day 8

Well, they say all good things come to an end, and sadly this would be our final day in the Okavango Delta… on this trip. Hopefully there will be other trips to come.

As soon as we were up and washed, Malcolm and I packed our bags and put them outside our tent. The dining tent had already been packed away and only the table and chairs were left. As we sat down for our last breakfast in this incredible wilderness, the camp staff loaded everybody’s bags into the trailer and started to dismantle the camp. The atmosphere was subdued. Everyone on the trip had bonded really well and laughter and good humour had been ever present throughout our safari. So, there was an inevitable sadness that it was all coming to an end.

Fed and watered, and with the luggage trailer hitched to the rear of the Landcruiser, we bid farewell to the amazing camp staff, and drove off to a chorus of whistles, whoops, and cheers.

Ahead of us, lay the long journey back to Maun along the dusty road. However, we knew that we would see lots of wildlife along the way and that made the prospect a little more bearable.

Our first port of call was to see the leopard and her cub. They were both still there, and it was reassuring to know that they had managed to hang on to the impala carcass for three days now.  They were content, well fed, and in wonderful condition, and that was a nice note on which to bid them goodbye.

As we drove along, all the usual suspects were there. Impala, zebra, elephant, red lechwe, giraffe, were all going about their daily routine, oblivious of the impact they had all had on the seven tourists passing by.

It is difficult to put into words how the experience of spending time in the wilderness surrounded by amazing creatures impacts upon you. The wildlife has very basic needs. They need food and water, they need to procreate, and they need to avoid being killed and eaten. The manner in which they go about fulfilling these basic needs is fascinating, emotional, entertaining, shocking, impressive, inspiring, and so much more.

Watching it all unfold in real time, and at close quarters, generates so many differing emotions. The impressive power and dynamism of the hyena clan coupled with the tragedy of the baby elephant they killed is a prime example. The hyenas and their cubs would be well fed, and a mother elephant would be suffering untold grief and distress at the loss of her baby. There are so many conflicting emotions tied up in that one incident that it cannot fail but have a profound effect on the observer.

As I pondered the things I had experienced over the preceding days, the VHF radio crackled into life. Attention was suddenly now focused on Ace, who seemed excited about what he was hearing. Someone had spotted rhinos, but there was a problem. We had a plane to catch and the rhinos were in a place that would take us on a detour and possibly make us late. What is life for if not for taking the occasional risk? The rhino hunt was on.

With the baggage trailer bouncing along behind us, Ace sped up and we held onto our hats. Rhino was one species we had not encountered, and this was a chance not to be missed. Ace kept getting updates over the radio about the movements of the rhino and eventually we found them in a thicket. There were two of them and they were white rhino rather than the black variety. Despite their names, they both are exactly the same colour. The quickest way to tell the two types apart is to look at their lips. The black rhino has a pointed upper lip which is used for browsing on leaves and shrubs. The white rhino has a flat and wide upper lip which is used for grazing on grasses. The term ‘white’ is a mispronunciation of term ‘wide’ mouthed.

Another interesting difference between black and white rhinos is in the behaviour of their offspring. In situations where they feel threatened, a black rhino calf will seek refuge behind its mother and follow her. Conversely, the white rhino calf runs away in front of its mother, and the mother follows the calf. As if to bare this theory out, the youngster in the thicket moved away deeper into the bush and was immediately followed by the adult.

It was the briefest of sightings, but it was another species to tick off on our list. Unfortunately, this brief sighting had resulted in us falling way behind our schedule. A high-speed drive to Maun was now on the cards.

As Ace navigated his way back toward the road to Maun, something in my peripheral vision caught my attention. I spun around and saw yet another new species for our tick list. It was a honey badger. Now as a devotee of all things honey, I was over the moon to have spotted this amazing animal. The honey badger is notorious for its strength, ferocity and toughness. It will savagely and fearlessly attack almost any other species when escape is impossible, even repelling elephants, lions, and hyenas. It will climb trees to steal honey and bee larvae and seems impervious to bee stings. Honey badgers might be small, but they are certainly not to be trifled with.

As we powered along the now infamous dusty road towards civilisation we had to stop at a ‘foot and mouth’ control point. Everyone had to disembark and walk through a disinfectant foot trough. The vehicle wheels and undercarriage were sprayed with disinfectant and then we all clambered back onboard on the other side of the check point.

We had a packed lunch onboard the vehicle, but we could see Ace nervously checking his watch. Shortly after picking up the tarmac road again he pulled into the side and got the food and drink out for us. But our excursion to see the brief glimpse of two rhinos had eaten into our time. So after just a few minutes we piled back into the Landcruiser and sped off again.

Ace was receiving phone messages as he drove, and as we reached to outskirts of Maun it had become apparent that the airport was holding the plane for us. As we pulled up outside the Airport Terminal we all rushed inside with passports and tickets at the ready. The crowds in the building parted as we rushed in. At the check in desk a whole host of airport staff were waiting for us. As they checked our passports and tickets Ace came charging in with a trolly with all of our baggage piled on top. We were instructed not to worry about who owned what case, and they were all stacked onto the weighing scales in one teetering heap. We were then shooed towards the security check point which was staffed by officials who oddly were in no rush whatsoever. Hand luggage was searched. Belts and shoes were removed. Documents were scrutinised and some of us were given a frisk search.

Sweating profusely and feeling stressed, we cleared security and passed through into the small departure lounge, only to find all the other passengers for our flight sitting there. We had expected to be rushed onto the plane to be met with tutting disapproval from those we had delayed. But for reasons best know to the staff of Botswana Air, we were kept waiting in the sweltering heat of the departure lounge for another twenty minutes before being invited to board.

Our chaotic and rushed arrival meant that none of us had had a chance the thank and say a proper goodbye to Ace. Much though I hate long goodbyes, on this occasion I regretted not being able to tell Ace what a massive contribution he had made to making our camping safari in the Okavango Delta so special. He had truly lived up to his well-earned name and had given us memories that will last a lifetime.

As I write this blog, it is February 2021. The world is gripped by the Corona Virus pandemic and international travel is forbidden in all but extreme circumstances. Throughout the prolonged periods of lockdown, I have found escape in recounting my times in the Okavango.

Throughout my life I have been fortunate to have been able to travel the globe extensively, visiting amazing places and seeing many of the wonders of the world.  I have been to many countries in Africa, like Kenya, Tanzania, South Africa, Lesotho, Swaziland, Egypt, Morocco, to name but a few. But the jewel of them all is undoubtedly Botswana’s Okavango Delta.

As the Covid vaccination program is rolled out, I keep my fingers crossed that in October 2021, I will again be able to return to the Delta with my great friend Malcolm. The trip is booked and the fingers are crossed.

A few thank yous.

Naturetrek who organised the trip is a passionate and well organised wildlife tour operator and my experience of dealing with them has been faultless. I have no hesitation in recommending them to you. https://www.naturetrek.co.uk/

Letaka Safaris, based in Maun, provided the safari vehicle, the tents, the wonderful camp staff and our guide. Once again, they were brilliantly organised and found such amazing campsites, fed us on superb food and ensured that we had the best possible time in the Okavango.  https://www.letakasafaris.com/

A huge thankyou to all my safari companions for being so friendly, humorous, interesting and engaging. It was a pleasure to spend time in their company.

Our amazing guide is the best named guide in the Botswana. He was simply ‘Ace’. His knowledge of the flora and fauna was exceptional. His tracking skill and ability to see things that mere mortals would miss was extraordinary. His good nature, his patience, his sixth sense, and his determination to make sure we had the best possible experience in his beloved wilderness is something I shall forever be grateful for. Thank you Ace.

A final thank you goes to my great friend Malcolm Lind. My first trip to the Delta, I made on my own. My wife wanted something more substantial than a sheet of canvas between her and Africa’s ferocious predators and so opted out of joining me. But to do something as special, as this trip truly was, and be able to share the experience with your best friend was a joy. In years to come we will no doubt frequently reminisce over a few drams .

If the two of us are successful in returning, there will be a third series of Sunday Safaris with more of our adventures to tell.

I will leave you now, with a few more images of our camping safari.

 

 

 

 

Day 7

At breakfast, the main topic of conversation was the leopard and her cub. Had she managed to carry the male impala up into a tree, or had her kill been stolen during the hours of darkness by lions and hyenas out on the prowl? The general consensus was that the later was the more likely scenario.

Overnight, our camera batteries had been on charge via an extra car battery on the Landcruiser. There was also the option to re-charge batteries as we drove throughout the day. Having a flat battery in your camera was the last thing anyone wanted should a dramatic wildlife moment occur.

As we drove out of camp at sunrise, everyone was poised, with fully charged batteries to capture whatever excitement we might encounter. The first candidate was an elephant about halfway to where we had left the leopards the previous evening. It was lovely to watch the elephant systematically strip a bush of foliage, but I think I was not alone in wanting to move on and find out if the mother and cub were still around.

Well, the answer to that question was that mum was up in a different tree and the cub was lurking in the long grass a few metres away. As we parked up, the mother stood up on the branch she had been stretched out on and started to make her way down the trunk of the tree. Back on the ground, with her front legs out in front of her, she arched her back into a ‘U’ shape with her rear end up in the air. It was a typical feline stretch after waking up from a lazy sleep.

Now, there is nothing worse than having a really good morning stretch interrupted mid-stretch. But that was of no concern to her cub who came bounding over and promptly jumped on her back. Showing much more restraint than I could muster in such a situation, she rolled over and engaged in mutual nuzzling and face licking with her energetic offspring.

Morning greetings over, mum walked off for a few paces and then flopped down to do a bit of self-grooming. From the base of the tree the cub watched intently. Not at its mothers grooming technique, but at the twitching end of her tail. The inevitable pounce came as the cub attacked the flicking tail. That, in turn produced the inevitable chorus of ‘Ahaaa’s from those of us in the vehicle. It was undoubtedly a cute sight to witness.

Grooming and tail fighting dealt with, it was time for breakfast and the leopard made her way over to the carcass. It had been moved, presumably by the leopard, away from the original kill site and it now lay under some nearby bushes. The impala was lying on its right side and most of the left side was now missing. She must have been feeding on it during the night, but despite it weighing considerably less now, she had not attempted to lift it up into a tree.

It was unlikely that the carcass wouldn’t be scavenged at some point through the day if it were left on the ground. So, we bid farewell to the leopards and headed off to see what else the day would bring us.

Giraffes and baboons were the main entertainers over the next half hour or so, and then Ace spotted some buffalo. He suggested that we go and take a look at the buffalo and promptly drove off in the opposite direction. Puzzling as that was, we had grown to trust Ace, and we felt confident that he knew what he was doing. About a mile later, still driving away from the buffalo, Ace stopped the vehicle.

“The buffalo will come this way.” he said.

Sure enough, far away in the distance, a column of buffalo emerged from woodland made up of tall trees and started to march in single file across a large open plain towards us. As the vanguard bull buffalo marched slowly and methodically across the flat ground, the column continued to emerge from the trees. Like a column of gigantic black army ants, the buffalo could soon be counted in the hundreds. As we watched, the herd just kept coming and the column got longer and longer. It was quite an extraordinary sight.

The big bull leading the way had obviously consulted with Ace about which route he would take. Because he led the column past the front of our vehicle at a distance of about 30 metres giving us a perfect view.

Having exhausted the grazing in one area, the huge herd was now on the move to new feeding grounds, and this single file approach was designed to reduce the risk of predator attack. It occurred to me that these buffalo were much more adept at walking in single file than we had been when out on bush walks.

As the herd continued to emerge from the trees, a haze of dust formed. Through the shimmering heat it gave the whole scene a rather surreal look. Mothers kept their calves at heel as they trudged along in line. The occasional beast looked in our direction as they passed by, but mostly they just ignored us.

It wasn’t just the buffalo who were on the move, white cattle egrets ran alongside the column. They darted in and around the legs of the buffalo, feeding on insects disturbed by the relentless march past.

Eventually, the last of the herd could be seen, and the column became less defined as stragglers got distracted looking for some edible grass. As the rear of the herd approached us, a bull turned around and squared up to the bull behind him. His challenge was more or less ignored, and the other bull just walked past him.

As if in frustration at the lack of a willing opponent, the bull bravely attacked a menacing clump of brown grass. The grass did not react to this display of aggression, so the bull dropped to his knees, and with his horns, bull dozed the grass out of the ground.

Delighted by his victory, he got back to his feet and skipped, kicked, and bucked, in a way that suggested that he may have had a miss-spent youth taking part in rodeos. But his exuberance was short lived as he suddenly found himself eyeball to eyeball with the bull he had initially challenged.

The two bulls locked horns and pushed forward against each other. I got the impression that this was not a fight to the death. It was more like a couple of lads having a friendly wrestle.

The bull that had so decisively defeated the clump of grass, broke away with another rodeo style move before coming in to attack again. There was momentary contact as their horns clashed, before he broke away again, turned and ran excitedly after the tail end of the column, which by now had passed by. Ace’s prediction of the route the buffalo would take was a stroke of genius and had provided us with a most spectacular wildlife display. There was a certain level of smugness in the vehicle as we were the only ones to witness it. The other safari vehicles were no doubt parked up with their guests taking yet more photos of sleeping lions.

The buffalo march was going to be a tough act to follow and for the next half hour or so, we saw little of interest. But then a message on the VHF radio changed that. Someone had found wild dogs. With a noticeable increase in speed, Ace drove off in the direction of the sighting.

Two other vehicles were present when we arrived. In the shade of a tree there were a series of shallow depressions scared out in the sandy soil. Each hollow was occupied by either one or two wild dogs and two thirds of them seemed to be sound asleep. There was a mix of adults and pups and in a way that many will be familiar with, it was the adults trying to catch forty winks but being pestered by the pups for attention. There was nuzzling and licking aplenty and where it was not reciprocated, a pup would get up and flop down in another a hollow in search of a better response.

While all of this was going on, there were always one or two of the pack keeping a watchful eye on the surroundings. If danger, or potential food, should come along it would not go unnoticed.

The line of relaxing dogs was about to run out of shade as the shadow of the trees moved around. One of the adults, possibly the alpha male, decided to move, and a tree about 30 metres away apparently seemed a better option. The dog, in a very relaxed and unhurried way, wandered over to the new tree, pausing to scent a low hanging branch. One by one the rest of the pack responded. They got to their feet, stretched, yawned, engaged in some vigorous scratching, and then slowly followed, pausing to sniff the same branch.

Over at the new tree, some of the adults flopped down in the shaded areas whilst others sat and looked around them, surveying the surrounding area. The pups made a bee line for the trunk of the tree and immediately engaged in a game of hide, seek, pounce and bite ears.

In total, there were seven pups and eight or nine adults. This was undoubtedly a pack that were intent on seeing out the heat of the day in a chilled stress-free fashion, so we moved on.

Taking a leaf out of the wild dog’s book, Ace found us a large tree and parked up in the shade. Coffee time. It was good to get out and stretch the legs, albeit within fifty metres or so of the safety of the vehicle.

Reinvigorated with coffee and cake, we drove off in search of excitement. It came in the form of a relaxing black backed jackal and we stopped to take a closer look. Something told me that this particular jackal was not impressed by the sudden arrival of camera laden tourists, as he slowly stood up, took a couple of steps, defecated, and walked off into the bush.

A short while later we spotted some more buffalo in a lightly wooded area. One stood out from the crowd by virtue of the section of branch he was sporting from his right horn. As it dangled down, from a distance it looked like he was sporting a large pendulous earring.

Suddenly, Ace spotted a large bird of prey flying overhead. It was a Bateleur eagle and it appeared to be carrying a snake in its beak.

I did manage to grab a couple of photographs but discovered on reviewing them that the snake the eagle was carrying was more than likely some nesting material. Even so, it was still exciting to see this colourful eagle flying by.

The heat was now building and the breeze as we drove along was most welcome. Creatures were seeking out what shade they could to escape from the midday sun.

As lunch approached, Ace took us to a beautiful  water hole. We found a spot underneath a tree overlooking the water and got the camping chairs out from a compartment in the rear of the Landcruiser. As well as lunch, we had a well-stocked fridge onboard full of chilled beer, water and soft drinks. This was the life!

As we sat in our camping chairs, eating a variety of salads and pastas, we felt very privileged to be dining alfresco in such a beautiful setting. On the far side of the water, a herd of impala walked along the bank. Several lechwe relaxed as if sunbathing on a beach. Herons, egrets, darters, and lapwings busied themselves in and around the reeds, while overhead a yellow billed kite perched on the branch of a nearby dead tree. We spent a good hour simply chatting, watching the wildlife, and enjoying the moment.

Back on the road, we meandered through the web of dirt tracks passing all the usual suspects of buffalo, elephant, zebra, impala and lots more, but everyone was wandering what had happened during the day to the leopard and her cub. Was she still there? Had something stolen her kill? There was only one way to find out.

We returned to the trees where we had seen them at sunrise, and there she was. The leopardess was stretched out in the long grass, panting in the heat with her eyes closed. She looked well fed and totally unconcerned. The impala carcass was missing, as was the cub. However, the delicate aroma of rotting impala wafting in the warm evening air told us that the carcass was definitely somewhere near.

And then we spotted it. It was in a cavity created by the dislodged roots of a fallen tree. Presumably, the leopardess had dragged it into this small space to hide it from scavengers. A huge cloud of black flies suddenly erupted from the body cavity of the impala as the  leopard cub emerged from the depths of the carcass. I could have sworn that it was grinning.

The cub bounded over to its mother who then proceeded to lick and clean it. Satisfied that junior was once again clean and well fed, she rose to her feet and wandered over to tuck into the remains under the tree roots. Being so much bigger than her cub, she was finding it difficult to reach the meat at the back of the root cavity. So, with a big tug, she dragged the carcass out for easier access to the juicy bits. It was interesting to note that they did not feed together. The cub and the mother very much took it in turns at the dinner table.

Once again, time was beating us. The sun was setting behind us and we had to return to camp before dark in accordance with the rules of the reserve. Ace let us watch the leopards for as long as he could but as the sun sunk below the delta’s skyline, we left these magnificent creatures in peace to enjoy their decomposing, putrid meal.

It had been another wonderful day in the Okavango.