Mhudi

by Sol T Plaatje

  The inescapable politics of the area and their effect on the reserve were depressingly apparent. The poaching threat, particularly from the smaller properties across the river, was relentless. In the first month alone, we arrested two men armed with a .303 calibre rifle, poaching warthogs and giraffe on the reserve. Their brazen arrogance was evidenced by the fact that even though one particular warthog they shot ran over 200 metres into our property before dying, they followed it in, cut its throat, and bled it out as they dragged it back to their side of the river. There was absolutely no attempt made to conceal the blood trail, which led right up to the point where the carcass was loaded into a waiting car.

  I take some satisfaction in reporting that they don’t have that rifle any longer and they’re a few thousand rand poorer. Oh yes, and perhaps just a teeny bit less arrogant.

  In a widely publicised case, another of our neighbours, a man of the cloth, purposely and with the intention to hunt, lured five lions across from our side of the river onto his congregation’s worshipping area. He had slaughtered a cow and then, sitting over the bait the carcass provided, systematically shot three of the lions.

  Worse was to come …

  During my familiarisation, I was taken to a high point on the reserve to orientate me in relation to our northern neighbour, the farm Magdalena. Lodge 82, with its elevated position and commanding view, was chosen. I remember mentally comparing the view with that of M’bali camp in the Timbavati, from where Meagan and I had recently moved, and there was no comparison. The Olifants River, with its associated riparian trees and the seemingly unspoilt bush to the north, was spectacular. What also made an impression on me was the lack of power lines, telephone lines and railway tracks. And yet, all was not as pristine as it seemed.

  From this vantage point, I was shown the extent of the river frontage that Magdalena shared with Olifants. Despite the thick riverine vegetation that straddled both banks of the river, I could see giraffe on the narrow flood plain, as well as what I thought was a small herd of waterbuck near the water’s edge. (The floods of 1996 subsequently had a devastating impact on the ecology of this landscape. Most of the huge, magnificent trees that grew on the banks of the Olifants River were washed away. Where they once stood, the river has deposited silt loads up to two metres deep, creating an enormous floodplain habitat.) Returning to the tale at hand, and with Carl Zeiss’s assistance, I was able to bring the small herd ten times closer and determine that the ‘waterbuck’ were in fact donkeys!

  Worse still, as they moved about, bells on their necks made a tinkling sound. It was reminiscent of a Swiss chocolate advertisement and I half expected to hear distant strains of Julie Andrews. Another movement close to them revealed a number of scrawny cattle, which appeared to be of Afrikaner-cross-Brahman strain. I turned to the outgoing manager and asked what these domestic animals were doing in a game reserve area.

  He explained that the owner of Magdalena, a well-known homeopath, ran a combined cattle and game farm, and added that all the wildebeest across the river had been shot because the cattle would be susceptible to ‘snot siekte’ which is carried by them. When I asked about the donkeys, I was told that they were used as bait to lure lions across from Olifants whereupon the lions would be shot. This doctor took the concept of prevention being better than cure to new extremes.

  The more I learned, the more ruthless the ‘Magdalena method’ was revealed to be. Any threat to their sable antelope ‘breeding programme’ was eliminated. Leopard were trapped in cages strategically placed around the 300-hectare sable camp. They were then shot. Hyaenas were also trapped and shot. Wild dog and cheetah were shot on sight without the preamble of trapping. Magdalena’s manager at that time, apparently an ex-Nature Conservation official, had been tasked by the reserve’s owner with implementing a campaign against Olifants. The apparent reason for this feud was that the developers had promised not to build in front of the Magdalena camp, but went back on their word and did just that. War was then declared. However understandable the reasons for his anger may have been, venting his emotions by taking revenge on innocent animals was cowardly and shameful.

  Incidentally, this vendetta was not only aimed at the larger predators. There was apparently no regard for any animals emanating from Olifants. Nyala, which are as beautiful as they’re innocent, were among the known casualties of this campaign. Initially I thought this extremely negative picture was being painted by the outgoing manager as a result of sour grapes. I was about to find out how wrong I was.

  A few weeks later, I was called to a sighting of 13 lion at Wild Dog Pan. Among them were two beautiful full-maned males, the dominant males of our resident pride. Later that evening the pride moved down to the Olifants River and crossed into Magdalena near Fig Tree Grove. That was to be the last time I’d ever see them.

  The following night, seven lions were shot out of this pride, and to add insult to injury, the whole ‘hunt’ was videotaped prior to the actual shooting. This smacks of the same subhuman mentality evidenced by terrorists in the mould of Al Qaeda when they videotape their innocent victims before and during their execution. The lions were filmed drinking at the cattle troughs, with the cattle clearly visible in the background. A further three must have been shot later, because only three lions returned the following day, one young male and two pregnant females.

  The ‘Magdalena method’ impacted not only on the area’s wildlife and its human population, but also on the topography of the land itself. A few months later, not too far from Magdalena’s main camp, an airstrip was bulldozed in an ecologically sensitive area. It was in full view of lodges on Olifants (Environmental Impact Assessments and the Green Scorpions were not an issue in those days). Not only was the airstrip totally useless, due to its limited length and steep slope, but the scar it left on the landscape will take hundreds of years to heal. The stated purpose of this airstrip was to fly hunting clients directly in and out of Magdalena as it was going to be hunted commercially. They knew this would upset the majority of the shareholders on Olifants and the so-called airstrip was an ever-present reminder of the underlying threat.

  One morning a couple of months later, I received a call from one of our guards, who reported that domestic dogs had crossed the river from the north and were chasing waterbuck on our side of the river. Immediately, I jumped into my vehicle and was off to investigate. Upon arrival at the point where the dogs were alleged to have crossed the river, I unexpectedly came face to face with the Magdalena manager for the first time. He was standing on the opposite riverbank, with his hands on his ample hips, and when he saw me, he cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, ‘Goeie môre!’ above the roar of the rapids. I reciprocated. After introducing himself, he went on to say that the two Rottweilers responsible for chasing the waterbuck were his and that should I come across the dogs, I was to shoot them if I wanted to.

  I told him I didn’t think that would be necessary. I felt like telling him who was actually at fault, and who I thought should be shot, but managed to override the surge of my simmering Italian blood and maintained decorum. Thankfully, the dogs returned of their own accord shortly afterwards.

  In the ensuing cordial conversation, on a quieter section on the river, I learnt that his boss had given him a list of things to do that would hurt Olifants. However, he said he could see I was a person with whom he could communicate and that perhaps we should bury the hatchet, at least on a managerial level. The only thing I knew for sure at that stage, was where the hatchet should be buried, but I kept that to myself.

  What glimmer of hope there may have been was soon snuffed out. A few days later I heard that a large nyala bull, one of only 18 individuals on Olifants at the time, had crossed over from our area near lodge 30 and had been shot. Later, its mounted head was to adorn the manager’s house and stay there until he left.

  These few examples I have shared with you represent the tip of a destructive iceberg the real magnitude of which we will never know. Thanks to t
he dedication and commitment of the Olifants shareholders, this untenable situation was eventually resolved. Although Magdalena wasn’t needed as a property acquisition, it was purchased for another reason – peace of mind. The then Magdalena is now known as Olifants North, and it and its wildlife population are now in safe hands. We can all rest easy when we see the odd vehicle movement or spotlight on the other side of the river, knowing there’s no hunter’s rifle behind the light. Best of all, no one is going to miss the domestic stock that used to summon in our beautiful bushveld mornings with moos and heehaws. And, when our lions cross over for a visit, we know there’s a good chance they will soon be back, and if not, it will be of their choosing.

  It goes without saying that, ecologically, the two areas cannot be and should never be separated. An African ecosystem cannot be defined and demarcated completely and utterly.

  There can never be ‘big enough’ in Africa. African mammals need lebensraum. Even the Kruger Park’s two million hectares are proving ‘too small’. The very nature and dynamism of African ecosystems, particularly when tested under drought conditions, demonstrate how precious every hectare is, and to have control over only one bank of a perennial river is in my opinion, no control at all.

  Ecological management is now scientifically based and co-ordinated. Co-operation between north and south, especially where game management is concerned, is excellent. Many species share this combined area, with nyala, waterbuck and hippo being but a few examples of how co-operation is vital for management purposes. At present Olifants North boasts four waterbuck to every one south of the river, and therefore, what may seem to be an over-population in their area when looked at in isolation, is in fact high density due to this species favouring the habitat over there. They simply prefer the North, and the game census records over the years show that this has always been the case. Take the two areas as a whole, however, and combine the waterbuck numbers, and a more realistic picture emerges, upon which management decisions can be made. (This is discussed in a little more detail later under the heading ‘Management of game populations’.)

  This link is just one more in the chain that gives the combined area strength and makes it the paradise it is and the envy of all. It is also no secret that Olifants North comprises habitat that is more suited to black rhino than it is to their white cousins. Considering the excellent holding pens and infrastructure already in place for the introduction of rhino, we will take advantage of this and consider introducing black rhino in the near future. A visit in 2006 by conservationist and author Ron Thompson confirmed the viability of this concept. As controversial as he may be on some conservation management issues, conversely he is an authority on others, and one of these is black rhino.

  Ron studied these animals extensively in Zimbabwe, and after having visited our area on a number of occasions, he is convinced that the Commiphora woodland and hill country of Olifants North, Ukhozi and Olifants West, is very suitable black rhino habitat.

  Unbeknown to Ron was the fact that in the last 16 years on this reserve I have never seen or received any report of a white rhino in the area or habitat he describes as suited to black rhino. With no obstacle whatsoever to limit their access, white rhino have not been recorded in this hilly habitat near the Olifants River flood plain or the river itself on the reserve. Despite the worst of droughts, during which many species under resource stress frequently roamed areas they normally wouldn’t in search of food and water, the white rhinos would not cross the ‘Commiphora curtain’. This line can be identified as the ecotone between the relatively flat bushwillow, marula and knobthorn veld, and the hilly rocky Commiphora woodland which characterises the majority of the topography and vegetation type that the Olifants River meanders through. It is quite incredible to see how the white rhino regard this habitat demarcation zone as if it were a fence-line, a solid barrier, which confirms Ron’s observation regarding suitable habitat for black rhino.

  And so it is in this particular piece of Africa, that over time, natural cycles are played out, no matter the schemes of man. Perhaps we did not know it at the time, but the madness that was Magdalena was to cause the birth of Olifants North as a co-operative and like-thinking neighbour.

  And, as if to confirm this, whilst the scar of Magdalena’s ‘airstrip’ is still visible, it fades faster than we might have expected, as have the memories of the bad old days.

  The Klaserie Fence is History!

  February 2005

  The fence between the Klaserie and Balule Nature Reserves was the only remaining hurdle between our game reserve and the Greater Kruger Park’s open system. The removal of this barrier would effectively allow game to enjoy unrestricted movement between the Hoedspruit/Phalaborwa road and the Mozambique border. Furthermore, South African National Parks, in co-operation with the Mozambican government, had started a phased removal of the Kruger/Mozambique fence as well. To date, nearly 30 kilometres of fences had been removed, thereby creating the Transfrontier National Park. Hypothetically speaking, the future promised that there would be nothing in terms of fences to stop animals moving eastwards until they reached the Indian Ocean, an east--west migration possibility of well over 400 kilometres! The reality, in 2009, given the most optimistic predictions, is that only about half that distance will be used … but that is a huge achievement in itself.

  The key to becoming part of this progressive conservation initiative was to become a full member of the Association of Private Nature Reserves (APNR). To fulfil the criteria for full membership of APNR, it was clear that we needed to get our house in order. This proved to be a huge challenge and while Balule had a lot going for it ecologically, it was on the political front that a tremendous amount of work still needed to be done. Once compliance was achieved, however, we were assured the fence would be dismantled. This process, which took nearly 18 years of goal-driven single-mindedness, successfully ran its course in 2005.

  Understandably, our shareholders and the broader conservation community were waiting with bated breath for any news on our progress with APNR. In an attempt to inform the shareholders of the significance of what had been achieved, I wrote the following article, which appeared in an early 2005 newsletter. I also took the opportunity to throw in a brief history of the initiative’s background.

  March 2005: I am told that good news doesn’t sell newspapers. Disasters, conflicts, scandals and misfortunes are some of the required and essential ingredients needed to cook up the sort of story that sells. When spiced with sensationalism and carefully tuned with well-placed words and a liberal sprinkling of adjectives, the end product is often a dramatic and marketable rendering of the events. Unfortunately, even when the story is far from an accurate reflection of the facts, it can be immensely readable and, for some, a macabre form of entertainment.

  Fortunately I am not in the media business where I would be hard-pressed to earn a crust, as this time I can only report good news. Admittedly, it has taken a while to get to this point, but timing was all-important. I thought it better to wait until I was able to report back to you with facts and finality rather than with maybes and speculation. I think it was Sir Winston Churchill who said, ‘Lies travel the world, while truth is still putting its boots on.’

  ‘Mario, get to the point!’ I can hear you saying … well, OK …

  The fence is down! I repeat. THE FENCE IS DOWN!

  Where and when did this initiative start? Well, of course, it started with the inception of Olifants and the zeal of men with vision who started this reserve back in 1987. The pioneers of Olifants River Game Reserve were not only keen and talented developers, they were also men of ambition with a conservation ethic to match their sales drive. In 1988, the regulations governing developments were less stringent than they are today, so it was fortunate that they were not ecologically naïve, and despite pressing financial priorities, they never lost sight of the bigger picture.

  Ian Green and Tim Ham both realised that this area’s long-term future and ecologica
l well-being lay in becoming part of a larger open system. Tim was even more of a believer than Ian, in fact, and so confident were they that the removal of the Klaserie fence was an eventual fait accompli, that it became a passionate part of their sales ‘spiel’.

  The implication was that Olifants would be associated with the prestigious Klaserie Private Nature Reserve, itself soon to have its boundary with Kruger removed. The Balule area at that point was a loose-knit group of relatively small landowners, many of whom were suffering from that ecologically destructive affliction I call the ‘Myne syndrome’, a personal interpretation of the ‘Mine, all mine!’ attitude for which a cure was later found, thank goodness!

  Prospective buyers were entertained on Olifants, and were an enraptured, captive audience. In terms of sales and marketing, selling Olifants, even back then, could not have been much of a challenge.

  You can picture the scene … flickering leadwood log fires burning on the banks of the Olifants River when a lion roars in the distance interrupting the conversation. It would have been a welcome distraction that set the mood like no presentation could possibly emulate. With a dram or two of Scotland’s finest, this priceless scenario no doubt helped even the most sceptical buyers to shed their urban mindset and put things in perspective. This was no sales gimmick, and they knew it. It is no wonder then, that cheque books seemed to fall out of pockets and the river became a mere trickle compared to the rate at which the ink flowed into contractual signatures. Nowadays, acquiring a piece of the action on Olifants is virtually limited to ‘Dead Man’s Shoes’, so prized is ownership and so limited are the resale opportunities.