Mhudi

by Sol T Plaatje

  What we have also learned is that there is more chance of protecting a larger diameter tree than a smaller one. Logically, if a tree is more difficult for an elephant bull to push over, it will further benefit from mesh protection. It is abundantly clear, though, that this entire experiment will not be of any long-term ecological significance, due to the gap that will be created by the absence of younger trees that are necessary for recruitment and succession in an ecosystem, which incidentally is a huge concern among conservationists today, and is the subject of an on-going PhD study by Georgette Lagendijk.

  This radical measure will not provide long-term protection of trees against elephant damage, nor is it in any way intended to be a solution to the problem. All we are doing is buying ourselves and our trees a little time until elephant population management encompasses the protection of the reserve’s biodiversity.

  That, in turn, will keep the tree huggers happy.

  The Dynamism of Lions on Olifants

  July 2006

  The Greater Olifants Reserve covers roughly 180 square kilometres. This is the area in which our lions move relatively unrestricted and makes up approximately 70 per cent of an average pride’s territory for this habitat/veld type. Although we cannot single out one factor above all others that determines how large a territory will be, I’m sure that of numerous options, the availability, number and density of prey must be at or near the top of the list. These requirements are prevalent on Olifants, largely due to the man-made clearings and the evenly distributed permanent water points on the reserve. Within this spread are ‘hot spots’, usually relatively small patches where plains game tend to congregate, and the lions are quick to capitalise on them. If one were to ask where on Olifants lion are most likely to be seen or have been reported most often, the unhesitating answer would be the Warthog Pan/Palm Loop area. The reasons for this are, among others, large open areas, concentrated prey species and three permanent water points within two kilometres of each other.

  Airstrips in particular have been found to be favoured by lion for hunting. These long, narrow open stretches, fringed by an apron of grass and surrounded by thick bush, allow excellent approach cover. This, in turn, may contribute to more kills than would otherwise have been possible. In the Klaserie Private Nature Reserve, landing strips are thought to be a major contributing factor to the heavy predation on wildebeest. It is not so much that lion show a preference for wildebeest, it’s more a question of knowing that they are likely to find this prey with predictable regularity on these open areas. Airstrips are invariably built on high ground. Therefore thermal inversion makes these areas warmer in the evenings – and open areas that are warm at night are popular resting areas for prey species.

  When two or three groups of lions are seen in different parts of the reserve, they are often thought of as being different prides or belonging to different prides. The term ‘different prides’ is too strong a definition, as I believe they are sub-groups of a major core pride that has split into more effective hunting units. Although not closely knit, the sub-groups appear to tolerate each other’s presence, drawing the line at kills, which they don’t appear to share. This was evident when the previous pride, known as ‘the Klaserie Gang’ was eliminated by so-called cattle farmers. The fragmented Rusermi sub-groups seized the opportunity, the smaller units combined, and together formed a cohesive pride. They then moved into the vacant territory and claimed it for themselves.

  At present, the total known lion population on Olifants is 23, made up of 13 in the ‘Rusermi pride’, seven in the ‘Venice pride’ and two males and one female seen in the Madrid/Venice area. It would take a more serious population study to include nomadic lion movement, so these are ‘resident’ figures.

  A recent visit to a reserve in the Jejane Conservancy, immediately to the south of us, revealed that there is now a known population of seven lions in that area, three of which are pregnant. Olifants West, the old Balule, now boasts lion sightings on a regular basis, which was not the case before the fence between our railway gate and the old carports was removed; even hyaena were scarce in that region at the time.

  The gap created by the removal of this small section of fence actually funnelled game movement as well as being uncomfortably close to a neighbouring reserve’s lion breeding enclosure. These captive-bred lions, whose calls attracted ‘our wild lions’ through this narrow opening in the fence, were also a major problem. Members of the old Olifants pride moved through this bottleneck, probably nudged by a territorial shift and the resultant pressure from the Klaserie Gang which was moving ever closer to the southern cut line.

  We know that roughly 70 per cent of our lion territory consists of a formal nature reserve at its core surrounded by a zone that is a relatively well-protected conservancy area, tapering off rapidly the further one goes outward. The boundary lines of a lion pride do not necessarily follow reserve perimeter cut lines or other man-made demarcation.

  This means that the periphery of these areas will include some territorial overlapping consisting of either totally hostile territory and/or areas where we have no control over what happens to them. This is not unique to Olifants, and this scenario is commonplace on the boundaries of even the most pristine and remote game reserves in Africa. Losses due to hunting, poaching, farmers protecting livestock, diseases from domestic dogs and cats and other man-induced mortalities appear to be on the rise. These are just some of the hurdles that lions in Africa are faced with today, on top of many others with which they have had to deal since man and lion first began using the same turf.

  When lions leave an area of relative safety, they usually do so under pressure from other lions. In fact, if they were not able to get away, they would more than likely be killed by those ‘enemy’ lions. Under normal conditions, these losses to neighbouring areas are hurdles that natural self-sustaining lion populations overcome and adjust to very quickly.

  In our reserve, young lions, particularly young males, are pushed out by the larger dominant pride males, or by new challenging males who enter our region from the surrounding reserves. Young lionesses also move onto the reserve from time to time in search of mates, or accompanying their young brothers who are fleeing from territorial males. More often than not, it is as young male lions approach two years of age that they meet resistance from the resident pride males. In response, they move to the extreme edges of the territory that they’re familiar with, although this stay is usually short-lived.

  With hostile lions close on their heels, and driven by hunger, they invariably continue onwards into new territory and enter farmland, where they meet another kind of hostility, which is often just as deadly. On the other hand, females, especially those in oestrus, tend to find it relatively easy to ‘melt’ into an area, and they appear to be more easily absorbed. There is also the constant reality that our resident lions will one day be pushed out by younger, fitter interlopers who are always patrolling the periphery waiting for the right time to move in.

  This has happened in the past and will happen again. Although we actively try to limit man’s negative effects on the lions in our reserve whenever and wherever we are able, we do not make a habit of interfering with the intra-specific interaction or conflict that occurs naturally between lions. The following illustrates the folly of man’s interference in these matters.

  One evening we were sitting around the boma fire at a shareholder’s lodge discussing the meal we were about to enjoy. Our host was adamant that he knew less than I did about flame-grilling and said that it would be my fault if he ruined the meat. His psychological ploy – to get me to grill the meat while he supervised proceedings over the rim of his glass of Chivas Regal – was never put to the test. All conversation was suspended when I received a call from one of the regional rangers. A call at this time of the day usually meant some urgent matter had cropped up, and indeed it had.

  He had immobilised a three-year-old male lion that was under pressure from the two dominant males in
that area, as in his efforts to get away from them, he had been desperately trying to break out of the reserve onto the main road. The question was, could we try to relocate him by releasing him in a known low-lion-density area in the extreme north-east of the reserve?

  ‘What have we got to lose?’ I answered. ‘It’s better than having him breaking out where he has been wanting to for the last week, and then getting run over on the road, or getting shot by a hostile farmer.’

  I saw our host toss back the remnants of his whisky in a wasteful gulp, then move across from the fireplace to ask me if he could come along. I pretended not to have noticed the disappearance of the Chivas Regal as though his accompanying me was a foregone conclusion, as I was always glad of his company. Three uncomfortable, cold and bumpy hours later, about 25 kilometres from where the lion was darted, we arrived at his new ‘safe house’ and, without ceremony, laid him down in some soft grass and released him.

  The following afternoon, less than 18 hours later, he was back, attempting to break out along the same fence line where he had been darted the previous evening! Back-tracking this lion, we found that he swam across the Olifants River and walked straight back. As if heading on a built-in compass bearing and without deviation, he didn’t stop until reaching familiar territory again.

  Expecting to see the same lions and basic pride structure remain intact, year in and year out, is unrealistic and could lead to disappointment. Lions are dynamic creatures, and although pride stability is a key to survival, changes in pride composition and the number of individuals is a natural progression. These mechanisms of change are sometimes dramatic, often violent and apparently cruel, but are necessary for the long-term survival of the species. Even when these changes are initiated by the hand of man, the ability of a pride to bounce back is no less efficient, as indeed the lions on Olifants continually demonstrate. This resilience is a demonstration of their degree of adaptability as a species, but also relies to some degree on the specific character traits of individuals.

  Simply put, I believe that like people, lions have personalities that can influence their survival potential. Within any given lion population you will find it comprises individuals with specific traits and temperaments; there will be good mothers and not-so-good mothers, good hunters and poor hunters, and so on.

  The question is, then, how do our lion come through these gauntlets and still remain strong enough in numbers to be effective survival units? I think the answer may lie in the cub survival rate. In numerous other relatively wild and unmanaged areas, cub mortality is very high. In Savuti, for example, on average one in seven cubs will make it to adulthood. If we compare these figures with the last eight years’ statistics in the Olifants area, where the cub survival rate has been nearly 100 per cent, it is clear that this factor becomes more significant, deserving more focus. Even in captive breeding situations, a 100 per cent cub survival rate is the exception rather than the rule.

  I suspect our exceptional cub survival rate has a lot to do with the excellent hunting opportunities that the Warthog Pan/Palm Loop area facilitates. It comes as no surprise, then, that many of the lions born on Olifants are born in the shade of the beautiful Phoenix reclinata palms that form thickets and give rise to the name ‘Palm Loop’. The most favoured section appears to be the section from Ian’s Pan to the Palm Loop sub-station.

  As explained in ‘Observations during drought’ the proximity of the lions’ den in relation to where the lionesses hunt means they don’t have to leave the cubs for too long while procuring food and water. The rocky crevices and thick vegetation, particularly the palm fronds that curve in arches over the sandy river bed, offer excellent concealment, shade and protection. Low hyaena numbers in the area mean that predation is a relatively minor risk. Based on records prior to train speed reduction, it appears the train was a limiting factor on lion numbers. Both adults and cubs were vulnerable, as the track runs right through this prime breeding and nursing area. This is less of a hazard now, due to the speed restriction on all trains moving through the reserve.

  Two of our shareholders had just returned from an overland safari to Botswana and mentioned the legendary Kalahari lions they had seen on their trip. They revealed an interesting fact about these desert-dwelling felines. The cub survival rate in the Kalahari Gemsbok Park is apparently lowest of all in that only one in ten reaches twelve months of age. Talk about a tough childhood!

  The ripple effect of being part of an open, free-range system means that young lions from the neighbouring Klaserie Reserve will continue to enter our area to test the water, a natural process in lion ecology and essential in ensuring only the fittest pass on their genes. If young male lions meet strong resistance from resident lions, they tend to continue through, into areas outside the reserve. Although relatively safe from the ruthless pride males, the young lions now find themselves in direct conflict with farmers, and sadly, the outcome is usually a foregone conclusion.

  In larger natural systems, some of the ousted lions form a coalition and later return, stronger and with the advantage of youth, often turning the tables in their favour. The largest coalition I’ve known is seven males, but apparently there is one in the Timbavati of eleven or twelve males – formidable but unsustainable.

  In the worst case scenario of losing all our lions simultaneously it would not be long before the vacuum would be filled by lions from the Klaserie/Kruger area. I suspect there are lions lurking on our periphery, ready to colonise vacant territory at the first opportunity.

  Kudu and Bushpig Country

  An unforgettable trip in 2006

  We had just finished supper and were busy deciding what to watch on TV. My son Dino had the advantage. Firstly, the remote was in his hand; secondly, as he was home only on weekends from boarding school, he had the emotional edge … and Meagan and I gave in too easily. As it turned out, it didn’t matter, because moments later I received a call from my colleague Ron, saying he didn’t think I would believe it, but outside his house he had a full-grown bushpig eating out of his hand; it was so tame, it was allowing him to scratch it behind the ears, and … wait for it … the pig was wearing a plaster cast on its right back leg! I immediately suspected that this was a plot to get me around to his house for a couple of celebratory ales, as not long had passed since the Springboks beat the Wallabies and Ron was in a justifiably prolonged mood of celebration. There’s no victory that brings us more pleasure than one against the Aussies, and this is not confined to rugby and cricket; it is every bit as sweet for me when Casey Stoner kneels before the Two Wheel King, Valentino Rossi.

  Giving him credit for an original ploy, and that he had chosen an animal very few people get to see in their lives, let alone scratch behind the ears, I decided to go down and have a look-see anyway. Dino agreed this was worth giving up the remote for and went along with me. This would be the first bushpig he had ever seen and probably the last one he’d ever be photographed hugging.

  We arrived to find that Ron had not concocted the tale at all. There was a real, live bushpig complete with a plaster cast on a hind leg and it was being fed a sweet potato by his wife Cindy whilst being stroked lovingly. A few phone calls later and we’d established that the pig belonged to one of the neighbouring plot owners across the river, who had recently had the local vet set its broken leg. Why the animal had decided to burrow out of its enclosure and walk some three kilometres with a broken leg is still a mystery. The ever-grateful owners came across the following morning and retrieved their beloved pig.

  Bushpigs are not common in this neck of the woods; our game census figures over the last 16 years indicate that they’re only just able to hold their own in this semi-arid environment. Our best estimates put their numbers at between eight and twelve, so they are a rare sight on the reserve. This is in total contrast to areas where higher rainfall, agriculture and the lack of large predators combine to act as magnets for these pigs, where they have become a major problem. A farm manager who was responsible f
or about 600 hectares of maize in the Pilgrims Rest area shot 53 crop-raiding bushpigs in a year. Although this sounds like a lot of bacon, apparently this was no more than an average-to-good year: he maintained it was a relatively small measure of success in his relentless war against these wily animals. In the context of the numbers estimated to live in that area, 53 pigs was probably less than ten per cent of the population.

  As we are talking about bushpigs, I can now introduce you to a relatively unknown piece of country where they thrive. It’s an area many of us drive right through on the way down to the reserve, without too much thought, which is exactly what I did until recently.

  Not too long ago, I had the pleasure of spending some quality time with a good friend of mine, Mark Jevon, who was then the manager of a sizeable stretch of land belonging to one of the largest companies in the country, situated in a triangle roughly between Pilgrims Rest, Bourke’s Luck Potholes and Ohrigstad. It is a magnificent piece of country that includes a 28 kilometre stretch of the stunningly beautiful Blyde River, which cuts through the rich alluvial floodplain surrounded by mountains on either side. The lower slopes, which are covered in bushveld, soon give way to montane grassland and isolated shrubs as the altitude reaches 1 500 metres. The transition is quite dramatic and these highlands feature Drakensberg vegetation that we normally associate with the Natal Midlands. Mark promised to take me backpacking into an area so remote that it is only accessible on foot. It is real pioneer country where Sir Percy Fitzpatrick, of legendary ‘Jock of the Bushveld’ fame, rode and hunted over 100 years ago, and where gold prospectors and pilgrims made a fortune or lost everything. We would be heading into places where we’d see wildlife that had probably never seen man before.