Mhudi

by Sol T Plaatje

  Footnote

  I never did see a leopard in the Klipriviersberg area, but not too far away in the outlying smallholdings near Krugersdorp, reliable sightings of these big cats were confirmed. Within sight of the smoky haze of Johannesburg, the Magaliesberg still boasts healthy leopard numbers. In the village of Kosmos near Hartbeespoort Dam, residents reliably report sightings of leopards in the surrounding hills and, yes, on occasion in their back gardens!

  Overseeing the recent helicopter-led game capture operation and actually living that cover illustration I had seen in the classroom all those years ago, I was suddenly aware that the images and emotions evoked by it were still as sharp and poignant as ever. I realise now how little things have changed, except my taste in 4x4 vehicles. Apologies to the Land Rover 90 SWB ‘Rag Top’.

  Elephants … Their Future and Our Future

  October 2008 … ongoing!

  The problem with the elephant problem is that we have not yet come up with the elephant question, never mind the elephant answer. At best, we can offer some constructive suggestions, at worst we can confuse ourselves with a multiplicity of answers to an array of questions to which we are not totally committed.

  The question closest to the core of the problem, and the one most often asked among scientists and laymen alike is: ‘What motivates elephant to completely destroy so many mature productive trees, some of which are hundreds of years old?’

  For example, in our area elephant appear to focus on, or show a preference for, two species in particular. Marula Sclerocarya birrea and knobthorn Acacia nigrescens are prime targets, though the damage and destruction are not strictly limited to a select number of tree species. But what on earth drives elephant to destroy vegetation that could potentially provide them with food in the future, if less wastefully utilised? Another factor is that there appears to be a seasonal influence on their choice. In fact, the drier it gets the less discerning their taste; they will eat almost anything green. Anything green, that is, except the shepherd’s tree Boscia albitrunca, arguably one of the most palatable browse trees in our semi-arid bushveld, which appears to be relatively under-utilised or damaged by elephant. When you next get a chance, pick a leaf or two, chew them and you will see what I’m getting at. The taste is not unlike spinach and there’s no trace of bitterness so it is acceptable even to our fussy palates. Yet the pachyderm palate is not pleased by it, for elephant don’t appear to utilise this excellent fodder tree.

  This fastidious display of selective feeding is not confined to our reserve. The virtually identical lack of interest in the shepherd’s tree is found among the elephant in the Tuli Block of Botswana, which bears physical testimony to this phenomenon.

  Elephant have inhabited an enormous tract of land known as the Tuli Circle for many years. Detailed and accurate reports of their presence there go as far back as the 1870s when FC Selous hunted them for their ivory in that area. His meticulous records, to which I have referred elsewhere, indicate that the number of elephant there in those days was far lower than we find today. Anyway, back to the trees … having spent four years in that area and based on my observations in that time and place, I feel I can compare the elephant situation there to what is happening here. Who knows, there may be something significant to learn from this comparative exercise.

  When I left Tuli in 1983 there were only two decent-sized knobthorns left standing in a shallow depression at the bottom of the Tuli Lodge airstrip, and I doubt very much that they are still there today. It would be safe to assume, then, that elephant were responsible for the eradication of knobthorn and marula trees in the Tuli Block. I am also prepared to wager that not a single baobab tree with a trunk of less than one metre in diameter survives there today. Conversely, the area is recognised for its ubiquitous shepherd’s trees, with both the albitrunca and foetida species being common, the former more so.

  In total contrast, there isn’t a single mopane tree or shrub in Tuli that doesn’t bear scars as evidence of elephant utilisation, and the same applies to the cluster leaf Terminalia prunioides. Yet both species appear to be extremely resilient and coppice well in response to persistent elephant feeding pressure. In fact, were it not for the predominance of this woody component making up the bulk of the vegetation type, the elephant would have either migrated or starved to death by now. The same cannot be said for the red bushwillow Combretum apiculatum, marula and Commiphora species which make up a large percentage of the woody vegetation component here on Olifants; they’re just not as hardy. I have a great deal of faith in the nutritional and resilient properties of mopane Colophospermum mopane, and I have no doubt that this single species is the arboreal lifeline in the vegetation that allows Tuli to support its relatively high population of elephant.

  We will not be able to mirror this ability here on Olifants, given our predominant vegetation type.

  Having now focused on mopane and its beneficial contribution, let me expand by sharing a further observation with you. It also takes me back to the Tuli area and I believe it will also help to create a better understanding of the value of mopane as a source of winter browse, which has significant relevance to this discussion and the hypothesis I am presenting.

  It was nearing the end of the dry season and I was tasked with supervising the building of rock gabions for anti-soil erosion work near the Pitsani Valley. Just to illustrate that it’s not only in the corporate world that bosses want results yesterday, I was under instruction to ensure the work was completed before the onset of the rainy season. So we were all under pressure and my guys were working hard. They say an army marches on its stomach; believe me, so do men labouring in temperatures hovering around 40º C.

  To supplement their maize ration with meat, the men asked me to shoot an impala for them, which I did. About 40 minutes later they were skinning and butchering the animal in the shade of a nearby croton tree. As always, I am interested in the physical condition of any animal shot, in particular those shot for human consumption. Looking at the carcass of this impala ram, I was absolutely amazed at the quantity of fat around the kidneys, and also the criss-cross weave of fat on the rumen, shaped much like the protective foam mesh you find on papaya packaging to prevent bruising. I asked the chap doing the butchering to please open its rumen, as this amount of fat was an unusual find on game at this time of year. It was already late into the dry season, and with apparently so little vegetation on the veld, I was curious to see what this animal had been eating to maintain this level of condition. The rumen was duly slit open and its contents revealed. I’m guessing you guessed right already. The rumen was stuffed full of masticated mopane leaves. Scratching around revealed an insignificant amount of grass material and other unidentifiable vegetation. Mopane leaves constituted approximately 90 per cent of the impala’s rumen content.

  As an aside to this revelation, as midday approached so did lunchtime, and I became peckish. With the nearest Wimpy about 300 kilometres away, I had to think of something else. A shovel was selected and scrubbed spotlessly clean using river sand and water, thus providing me with a frying pan. Some of the impala fat taken from the kidneys was placed onto the shovel which was then laid on top of a bed of hot coals that had been taken from the main fire. Soon the fat had melted and began to sizzle. The liver was cut into thin strips, lightly salted and fried in the hot fat. Once done, it was eaten with maize meal which had already been cooked in an enormous communal cast iron pot on the main fire. In Afrikaans, they say ‘honger is die beste kos’, well, hunger may be the best food, but this was better than the best and to this day I prepare impala liver no other way.

  But, I digress.

  Based on observation and what I hope is rational conjecture, my hypothesis is simple. The predominant tree species that characterise the Balule area, particularly our own Olifants game reserve, cannot and will not withstand the unrelenting feeding pressure from the present number of elephant, let alone the potential growth of this population.

  I also believe
our predominant soil type, which is the foundation that characterises an ecosystem, will not succeed to or support a grassland ecosystem. So, when the trees go, scrubland and not grassland (à la Tsavo) will replace the landscape we know today. Areas that have high numbers of elephant, and which are mainly composed of mopane woodland, or have deeper soils, higher rainfall and a slightly milder climate, could very well climax into grassland savannah. The biodiversity of our reserve, however, will continue to be adversely affected, until only a few hardy species are able to eke out an existence.

  We live a lifespan that ecologically, relative to time as we understand it, is the blinking of an eye. We understand that succession cycles in an ecosystem may take hundreds or even thousands of years to go full circle. Further, we have no right to interfere with natural processes, even though out of necessity, and cognisant of the consequences, we do. Enough of us watch National Geographic to have had this well and truly drummed into us, but, and here is the big BUT, the underlying geology of an area is pretty much cast in stone, so to speak.

  It is primarily the characteristics of the soil which ultimately dictate what ecosystem it will support. Nothing the elephant do to the habitat now, or ever, will change the substrate to support a beneficially alternative ecosystem on Olifants. The potential is in the soil and ignoring this fundamental fact will result in irreversible damage to this reserve.

  Maybe the resultant ‘rockscape’ type ecosystem won’t take that much getting used to. Maybe we could modify those ‘palm tree’ suburban cell phone masts to resemble the beautiful trees that characterise the lowveld as we know it. Maybe we just have to interfere with nature one way or the other, as while elephants may have positive effects on some aspects of the African ecosystem over time, if we leave the elephants to their own devices in our Olifants ‘postage stamp’, the shaping of the ecosystem will not be positive. Our substrate just won’t allow it.

  So here we are, interfering as little as possible and documenting the downward spiral. But we ARE doing what we can to protect our future. For example, for three years we have been ‘wire mesh wrapping’ 1 000 marula and knobthorn trees as an initial experiment to protect them against ring-barking by elephant. Not one tree so treated has been ring-barked to date.

  But, just as you think you have one answer to one question, another emerges from the paradoxical pachyderm. None of our 1 000 experimental ‘wired and wrapped’ trees have been ring-barked. BUT a dozen or so of the medium-to-small trees have been pushed over by testosterone-loaded elephant bulls. None of these trees were fed on at all.

  Why?

  Next question, please …

  Gerrit Scheepers

  june 2009

  Let me introduce veterinarian Dr Gerrit Scheepers. He features regularly in this book. He and I go back a long way. It must be around a quarter of a century or so and not only is he one of the finest wildlife vets I have ever worked with, but he is also a close friend and fishing buddy. In the latter context, I have noticed he has a remarkably wide arm span when describing his achievements, whilst in his areas of specialisation, his modesty is legend.

  When my wife Meagan and I moved down to the Lowveld from Botswana, we were obliged by veterinary law to vaccinate any dogs being brought into South Africa. This was particularly important, as we were arriving to take up a post in the Timbavati Private Nature Reserve. Even Meagan’s utterly beloved and remarkably diminutive lapdog Squealer, who was no bigger than a lion’s furball but had an infinite capacity for unconditional love, would need to be jabbed. My best buddy, Shilo, spent his life with me in the bush, so it was critical that apart from the routine jabs, he be vaccinated against rabies. This horrible disease raises its ugly head from time to time in this area, and any dog which may come into contact with wild animals is at high risk.

  I contacted the nearest vet we could find and it happened to be Gerrit, in Phalaborwa. He had recently qualified and had established a small clinic in partnership with another veterinarian, Dr Sampie Ras. After some small talk, we chatted a little about relevant matters and, well, then maybe more than a little about the common interest we discovered, namely fishing. It turned out that Gerrit spent as much time as possible in his rubber duck in pursuit of big fish, preferably beyond the breakers off the Mozambique coast near Vilanculos.

  In between exaggerations of how big the fish were that he’d caught on his last trip (using that remarkable fisherman’s arm span of his) and while avoiding poking our eyes out with his brandished syringe, he attended to the dogs with the necessary vaccinations and soon, we were on our way back to the reserve.

  Squealer was in the dog box, as he had tried to bite Gerrit. In this little mutt’s case, this meant muzzling, a far from easy job. The back end was remarkably similar to the front end, unless the tail was wagging, which it most certainly wasn’t at that time. The other longitudinal identification was teeth, which we waited to emerge from somewhere deep within the tangle of fur and which we used to locate the head and the target for the muzzle. It’s strange; while we related to Gerrit from our very first meeting, Squealer never did.

  Meagan and I became so absorbed in our work at Timbavati that time just flew by unnoticed. Almost two years elapsed since our dogs were vaccinated and their jabs were now overdue. I phoned Phalaborwa Animal Clinic to make an appointment, hoping but not expecting that Gerrit was still there. We hadn’t heard from him for a couple of years, so I was a little surprised when he answered the phone. When we had met initially, he struck me as a dynamic and ambitious veterinarian, someone who may have found small town life inhibiting, and I didn’t expect him to still be in Phalaborwa. I cordially asked how he was, and before I could get the subject onto things piscatorial, his answer gave things an entirely different and unexpected perspective.

  ‘I’m fine now,’ he said. ‘I’m in remission, there’s no sign of any more cancer.’

  ‘I had no idea,’ I truthfully mumbled in reply.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Now tell me, how is Shilo?’

  So, there we had a man, 25 years old, who had just been through two years of hell with cancer, but he didn’t want to know how I was, he wanted to know about my dog, and remembered him by name. That knocked my socks off. If anyone had any idea then how much Shilo meant to me, it was Gerrit. If anyone can understand now what an impression that made on me then, they’d understand why there remains a very special bond between him and me. This is the same Gerrit who will feature in my tales of a porcupine-quilled lion, a buffaloes’ gentleman’s club, snare removal from elephant and zebra and so many unsung songs of this magic land.

  Gerrit, I salute you.

  There’s No Substitute for Enthusiasm

  November 2004 – about six months before the Klaserie fence came down

  One of the most significant conservation initiatives undertaken by Olifants River Game Reserve was the successful introduction and subsequent establishment of white rhino in Balule. Originally, Olifants shareholders had no plans of expanding this project beyond our own boundaries, but from an initial group of five rhino we now have well over 30 individuals on the reserve. This number has been boosted on occasion when a few freeloaders come in from the surrounding area to Olifants’ winter ‘soup kitchen’. The supplementary feed, in the form of lucerne, was supplied when we were still fenced off from the greater system, and in those days, it would take less than a week from the day the first bales were distributed to the rhino all arriving to feed. As the fence hadn’t been removed, their foraging area was limited.

  The numbers of rhino grew to the point where they were unable to sustain themselves on the natural vegetation in the dry months, and were therefore totally reliant on this feeding programme. It soon became necessary to capture and translocate some of them to outside game reserves and other regions within Balule, in order to reduce the costs of feeding and minimise the pressure that their increasing numbers were placing on the veld. The latter would be of little concern later when the system opened, but at that t
ime, we took advantage of being able to select by ground-level observation which rhino to move for translocation within Balule. In a larger, open system, the process of having to select from free-roaming rhino would have involved extensive aerial observation and equally extensive financial considerations!

  Once the removal of the Klaserie fence was imminent, we knew we had limited time left in which to capture and move a group of rhino before they dispersed into the greater system. The total rhino population in Balule at the time was confined to the Olifants region. A suggestion was tabled to do an internal translocation to speed up natural distribution and spread them around within Balule, in areas identified as being suitable.

  Of course, every region wanted to have rhino, but not all applicants boasted enough of the specific habitat type that we felt would accommodate white rhino, and as there was no time to employ consultants to do specialist studies, we went ahead on gut feel and experience.

  We looked at a number of options and visited the regions that were keen to adopt rhino. Unfortunately, most of the Balule reserve consists of arid bushveld, with shallow orthic soils characterising the substrate. Only about 60 per cent of the Balule area is able to produce the quantity and quality of grass suitable for white rhino, and much of this is marginal. What we really needed was an area as close as possible to the right habitat, this being established by comparing the area on Olifants, where they were at the time, to where they would be released. That was all we had to go on. It was going to be interesting to monitor this aspect once the rhino were released as they would either show us just how far off the mark we were, or how well we had understood their needs and habitat preference. Most importantly at this stage, though, we needed to pen the rhino for a while prior to releasing them. There were no bomas or pens in the areas suitable for rhino, and we didn’t have the time to build one, so we had to come up with an alternative workable solution.