Change In Plans

Greetings from Tswalu!  This short post relates a few of the stories/facts that Jason, our guide, has told us during our game drives in the last two days.

Last January, after our holiday in Cape Town, India came to Tswalu with her parents and our kids.  I had gone back to work in San Diego.  They had a guide named Jason, who each member of the family seemed to fall in love with a little bit.  Aside from the game drives, he accompanied India on walks and runs in the desert.  He took Zola to ride horses and do archery, and he talked with him endlessly about snakes.  He carried Tallulah, told her funny stories, and let her be a big girl.  The prospect of having Jason as our guide again was a big draw for our return to Tswalu this year.

Having gotten over my slight prejudicial jealousy (I really wish I were a better person), I have been wildly impressed with Jason.  The depth and breadth of his knowledge is truly phenomenal, and his boyish enthusiasm for being out in nature is infectious.  Mostly, though, the stories that he tells, and the facts that he imparts, have been remarkable.  Most are delivered in an off-hand way, in reference to something we are walking by or driving by.  Here are a few examples:

Pink-billed Ostrich

- this morning we saw a male ostrich with a bright pink bill.  Jason remarked that this was a sign of very high testosterone, and that his shins would be colored pink as well (they were).  When male ostriches are looking to mate, they get these pink markings, and, apparently they get very aggressive.  ”I had to shoot one once in the Kruger Park, you know.” Jason said.  He was leading a group of guests on a walk, and a lust-crazed ostrich attacked them.  He fended off the ostrich, using his rifle as a club, but the ostrich started to kick at him.  An ostrich’s kick as as dangerous as a horse’s.  Jason radioed for a vehicle to come rescue the group, but was told it would be 20 minutes.  ”So, unfortunately, I had to shoot him before he kicked my ribs in.  It was too bad, really.  He just wouldn’t leave us alone”

Tampan Ticks and the Shepherd Bush - A Shepherd Bush is a low, scrubby plant that has high protein and Vitamin A content in its leaves.  As we drove past the zillionth one, Jason remarked “the ground around them is filled with Tampan ticks.  Very dangerous.”  These ticks sense the carbon dioxide that an animal or human emits, and they crawl up out of the ground and bite whatever is resting in the shade of the Shepherd Bush.  The real risk, though, is that “from the anti-coagulant in a few of those bites, you get temporary paralysis.”  If no one hauls your temporarily paralyzed self away from the ticks, they would essentially bite you to death.  Not a pleasant way to go, but very uncommon.  Most people pull off the ticks and walk away before the paralysis sets in.

Radiating gnu

- the wildebeest, or brindled gnu, has alternating stripes of thick/black and thin/brown fur along its sides.  This pattern is the “brindling.”  Jason says that the sun heats the thin and thick fur to slightly different temperatures, and that the heat exchange between them creates a very slight cooling convective effect.  I would want to see the paper describing this, but it makes sense.

Elephant and Ecologist

-A British woman with sixteen years of experience as an ecologist was killed by an elephant in Sabi Sands a few years ago.  She and Jason worked together for eight years, as she studied the habits of an elephant breeding herd.  In one of her thousands of encounters with the elephants, the matriarch started charging toward her.  Her colleague ran for shelter, but she clapped her hands loudly, which had stopped that same she-elephant on many previous occasions.  This time, the elephant knocked her down and trampled her to death.  Jason said, “I arrived a few minutes later, and there was really nothing left of her, just a red spot in the dust.”  After shooting the elephant (standard operating procedure), the rangers boxed the woman’s remains, and held a sad and well attended burial service on a hill in the Sabi Sands.  A few days later, the elephant herd, with a new matriarch, spent the entire day at the grave site, “scratching at the dirt, and paying their respects.”  I asked whether they knew that the ecologist was buried there, and Jason said, “Of course.  Elephants are extremely clever, and they would have done this for one of their own.”

It has been fun riding and walking round in the Kalahari, tracking animals and listening to stories.  I had not gone on safari in Africa for about three years, and I had forgotten how much pure fun it can be.  With a guide like Jason, and a tracker like Samuel (more on him later), this is as good as it gets.

PostScript- to avoid embarrassment (my own), I asked Jason whether these stories were, in fact, true. He said “gospel truth,” after I read each one. He specified that the late ecologist was named Kay Hickox.

In the meantime, Zola managed to poison himself (very slightly) by jabbing holes in a cactus with a porcupine quill. Turns out that the milky sap from the cactus, a tree euphorbia, is highly toxic. The indigenous KhoiSan use the sap to poison their darts. By touching the quill point and his nose and mouth he has had an unpleasant few hours of burning sensation. It is absolutely not dangerous, but he probably won’t do it again. We are off to make a mild alkaloid bush remedy from pulverized lime. Once again, India and I ask ourselves, “is this responsible parenting?”