Mhudi

by Sol T Plaatje

  As in the aftermath of a guerrilla war when the removal of mines becomes an urgent priority, so we also need to sweep the area for snares after the culprits have been caught. On occasion, when caught, poachers may indicate the location of their snares, but more often than not they’re reluctant to admit to anything that proves their guilt or involvement. It is vital that the area be thoroughly swept, as even inactive snares can be effective. Most of the snares removed from the lower legs of animals are often old and could have been lying in the bush for years, waiting for the right shift or bump to set them just proud enough of the ground to ensnare the foot or hoof or trunk of some unfortunate animal.

  At the time of making these notes, I wrote: ‘The wounded suspect is recovering well in the Phalaborwa hospital … we’re all praying for his speedy recovery and sincerely hope he is not in too much pain … the other is in police custody awaiting trial … our anti-poaching team is back on the beat …’

  Disregarding the cynicism evident in those notes, the reality of the ever-present threat to our wildlife from human lowlife in the form of poachers is something that keeps us forever vigilant.

  The captured poachers on that occasion did eventually admit that there were other poaching groups active in our area. We were fairly sure that the captured group would spread the tale that not only had they been shot at by our reserve’s guards but one of their number had actually been shot. The fact that he lived to tell the tale was a huge bonus, in a way.

  We had showed our intent with our shooters’ response. It proved that we were determined to protect our animals, and if anyone was caught harming them, they would be shot. I can be certain that this was the message the gunshot survivor spread, because since the shooting over eight years ago, there has been no serious poaching activity south of the Olifants River on our reserve.

  Our response was ‘bang on’.

  The 2000 Floods … 46 Years Early!

  Based on newsletters written in 1996 and 2000

  We learned a lot from the 1996 floods. If nothing else we learned that the strength of the floodwater was ‘awesome’.

  The word ‘awesome’ seems to be used a lot these days, especially amongst the younger crowd, but I guess I shouldn’t complain as it’s a lot better than the old Rhodesian habit of describing everything as ‘super’. Now, I learn that ‘these are awesome shades’ and ‘we had an awesome time at the mall.’ The word ‘awesome’, applied correctly should, I believe, be left to describe phenomena of some considerable awe. I mean things of the magnitude of colossal, uncontrollable and overwhelming. This would include the eruption of Krakatoa or, closer to home, the Olifants River in full flood. ‘Super’ doesn’t quite cut it.

  Awesome floods are categorised as ‘one in 50 year’ or ‘one in 100 year’ floods, which describes the proportions in relative terms to normal spate flow, rain-swollen river or summer flooding. This is also supposed to allow you to make plans, by knowing when the water will put pay to them. Four years after a ‘one in 50 year’ flood, you think, what the hell, we’re too old to be still alive when the next flood happens, so let’s enjoy the river and build right on the edge. The minute you finish building, another ‘one in 50 year’ flood whacks you, 46 years early!

  Life’s just not fair, is it? The only vaguely beneficial aspect of the second flood was that because it came around again so soon, you were better prepared, as the procedures learned in coping with the previous flood were still fresh in your mind.

  If Meagan and I we were ever to start our own business, it would be in competition with Stuttafords Van Lines or Elliot’s. Our 1996 and 2000 experience of unpacking and re-packing furniture has got to have surpassed, or at least to have equalled theirs by now.

  What we found the second time around though, was that our staff knew what was expected of them, which was half the battle won. Systematically and in half the time, the most vulnerable lodges were identified and cleared in preparation for flooding. There is no teacher like experience, and we were fast becoming professionals!

  As expected and as usual, one of the very first lodges built on the reserve took the brunt of the 2000 floodwater, but its solid foundation stood up well to the aquatic attack and it did not fare as badly as it did in the 1996 flood. One of the owners was visiting the area at the time and decided to come and inspect the damage for himself.

  Seeing there was not much anybody could do, he opted for the ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’ approach and without fuss removed a flimsy kayak from his vehicle and unceremoniously slid off the deck into the raging Olifants River. Off he paddled, downstream to Dinidza. He did have the courtesy to ask me if I would like to join him.

  ‘I have a spare canoe,’ he said.

  ‘I have to be on standby, er, and I have to watch for hippos …’ I reluctantly declined.

  Truth be told, I was plain scared of competing for space on the water in an elongated aluminium coffin in which I had never sat before, never mind paddled. Huge trees came barrelling down the river like a flotilla of invading Vikings and I had visions of getting caught up in those massive tangles of twisted roots. These living anchors had once held enormous trees secure until that first, insidious finger of water broke through, slowly eroding the soil and washing it away. Then would come the time the roots could no longer support the tree’s weight, or resist the battering-ram effect of other drifting logs, and the entire tree would join the maelstrom.

  It was only when I was disconnecting a gas bottle at one of the lodges, standing waist deep in water, that I realised there was no ‘safe’ area in or around this raging river. Suddenly a two metre crocodile thrashed past me, bringing it home that not only was the floodwater itself dangerous, but so was the calmer water on the edge.

  Hippos and crocs congregated there to avoid the turbulence and chaos of mid-river. Snakes and insects piled on top of the flotsam in the calmer eddies in an effort to keep from being swept away.

  Many of the lodges damaged by the floodwater in 1996 were rebuilt after the flood. However, once the water had receded, it seemed that the fear of it happening again and conservatism in planning also receded. Only a few lodges were re-built above the 50-year flood line, with many just being repositioned slightly and with minor compromises being made to allow for the possibility of further floods. No one, it seemed, ever expected to have to do it all again in a few years’ time. But we are not the only ones in the world with short memories. The same phenomenon occurred in the flood-ravaged southern states of the USA, where residents of towns which were completely wiped out by tornadoes just went and built the same plywood shacks with the same shingle roofs on the same foundations! The same happens time and again on the floodplains and in the river deltas of Mozambique.

  One of the first radio calls we received on that fateful 13 February 2000, when the river was at its highest, was from one of the shareholders upstream to say that he had just seen a deck go past his lodge on the river. He asked if we thought it could be one of ours. We advised him that it was indeed one of ours, being the ill-fated small lookout deck from another lodge about two kilometres upstream. Shortly after that, the Civil Defence Unit from Hoedspruit called to say that the Olifants River was expected to flow through at up to 2 000 cubic metres per second. It’s difficult to imagine that … it’s the equivalent of about 25 average-sized swimming pools going past you every second!

  Although the damage was minimal in comparison to the floods of 1996, the raging river and the volume of water was, nevertheless, an equally frightening experience. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming when confronted with the phenomenal power of flood water. Truly ‘awesome’. And it was not just humans who felt the effect one way or the other

  A troop of terrified baboon whose ‘alarm clocks’ didn’t go off was marooned by the rising flood water. The troop found itself stranded on a new island in the middle of a new river. They must have gone to roost the previous evening only to wake and find a raging flood all around them. It was a pitiful sigh
t; beyond any help, they were forced to sit the ordeal out. Fortunately, the trees on the small island were covered in ripe figs so the troop managed to survive until the water level subsided a couple of days later, allowing them to wade across to the main bank.

  A python of some three-and-a-half metres in length was seen fleeing the flood water. One of the shareholders saw a hippo carcass floating downstream. No incidents involving crocodiles were reported this time around. A couple of smaller wooden decks, fridges and dead domestic livestock from way upstream were also spotted in the river en route to the Indian Ocean.

  Rummaging through some old maps and photos the other day, I came across an aerial photo taken of the Olifants River area in 1944. The scale of the photo is identical to a more recent one of the reserve taken in 1990. It wasn’t until I put the two together for comparison that I noticed how relatively depleted the riverine vegetation of the earlier photo was some 46 years earlier. This clearly indicates that the Olifants River is subject to regular flooding, and its riparian vegetation is subjected to periodic ‘thinning out’.

  Re-reading this in 2009 makes me realise just how extraordinary having two floods in four years must be in the scheme of things. It was an exceptional occurrence that is definitely not sustainable in ecological terms.

  But please don’t push your luck and plan riverside deck extensions.

  Mother Nature’s watching!

  Today’s Special … Free Leopards!

  Excerpt from a newsletter of April 2002

  It is all very well to capture problem animals. This prevents them from being destroyed by the farmers or the communities that have suffered stock losses or threats to the safety of their people; however, besides the physical problems associated with the capture and subsequent care of these predators, the procedure is fraught with logistical and administrative hurdles. The biggest problem, according to Rob Harrison White, who champions an effective Problem Predator Relocation effort, is finding suitable alternative homes for them. For example, there are only a few areas available which are suitable for leopard rehabilitation and Rob will not release an animal, particularly these large predators, unless he is convinced that they have at the very least a 50/50 chance of surviving.

  In response to an appeal from Rob, Olifants River Game Reserve offered to take two ‘free’ leopards. The first, a particularly large male weighing 78 kg, was released near Sable Dam in October 2001. The second, a slightly smaller leopard, was released at Double Dam in December of the same year. During this process, an Italian biologist doing research on a small population of leopard in the mountains of the Middle East got to hear of our efforts and contacted me. Included in his list of queries was verification of the size of leopards in our area and he was fascinated to hear that exceptional male leopards in South Africa’s lowveld can exceed 80 kg, with the average male around 65 kg. The average weight of male leopards in his study area was 35 kg, with the largest weighing in at just 40 kg.

  The second leopard released was fitted with a radio collar in an effort to monitor his movements. This was a pioneer project, and as no data were available on what happens to relocated problem predators, specifically those released in areas where other leopards occurred naturally, we were able to obtain a permit for this release without too much difficulty.

  Releasing a previously wild but currently captive leopard is not quite as straightforward as you would imagine. There follows a classic example of what can happen when the release is undertaken by someone who doesn’t understand the ways of leopard, in particular a wild leopard being released from captivity. Incidentally, this was all caught on camera a few years ago and stars a couple of Kenyan wildlife officials, who clearly lacked the necessary respect for these extremely dangerous animals.

  The two officials thought they would simplify the release protocol by taking a short-cut and doing without the established routine. They drove to a designated point of release with a caged leopard on the back of their vehicle. The cage was not covered and was then opened by the manual expediency of releasing the latch of the rearward-facing door, allowing it to swing open. This would allow the leopard to simply jump out, straight onto the ground and into the bush. I have to assume that’s what these chaps thought would happen.

  In reality, once the cage door was opened, the rather large official then climbed back into the vehicle with a surprising turn of speed and shut the door. Then … nothing, nothing happened at all. The leopard did not immediately bolt out to freedom as they expected; it did absolutely nothing. As the seconds ticked by there was still no response from the terrified animal which was now cowering at the back of the cage. This was taking far too long for the large man, who appeared anxious to get the job done. Wait for it. He got out of the vehicle, took a stout stick and proceeded to prod the leopard through the bars of the cage. Although obviously impatient, he remained cautious, I’ll give him that, because he did keep one hand on the door of the cab while doing his leopard-prodding act, didn’t he?

  Now snarling and thoroughly angered by this abuse, the leopard burst out of the 1.8 metre cage in a yellow blur, and then, to the envy of every scrum half in the world, twisted in mid-air before it landed on the ground, almost facing the way it had come. Now it only had another three metres or so to cover before reaching the cab door. All in all, the leopard had moved nearly six metres before the large man had made the one metre slide into the cab, and then he only just managed to pull the door shut in the animal’s face. But it wasn’t over yet, far from it.

  The large man obviously had no respect for game handling and release protocol, so had left the window open. This was all the space the leopard needed to dive in and viciously attack the screaming man inside the cab, and it was able to do this with most of its body still hanging outside the vehicle. Had the leopard’s back feet managed to find a point of purchase, instead of the slippery smooth surface of the outside of the door, I would not be able to begin to describe the carnage that would have ensued.

  So, now we know what not to do. Rob Harrison White, who has a deep empathy for these enigmatic big cats and also knows what they’re capable of when stressed, did things a little differently when he released the two leopard on Olifants.

  These captured and confined predators go through intense trauma, and often become extremely vicious, damaging themselves in fits of rage. Their muzzles, teeth and claws are particularly susceptible to injury while in captivity. More often than not, they cannot be released until they’re fit again and this can take up to six weeks, which is a long time to keep a wild animal in a captive situation. In order to minimise stress, three sides of the cage are kept covered almost all the time, only the one side facing away from any activity being left uncovered to ensure air movement.

  At the release site, the covered cage is carefully lowered to the ground from the vehicle transporting it. The cage, still completely covered, is placed with the door facing a remote-controlled camera. The camera, which has already been positioned prior to the arrival of the leopard to be released, is mounted on a tripod about five metres away. The door portion of the cover is then removed from the side so that the door is exposed but the leopard has not seen any human activity at any stage. That doesn’t mean the leopard doesn’t know you’re there; the guttural growls leave you in no doubt of that, but the lack of eye contact helps to minimise stress levels.

  A nylon rope is then attached to the side-release mechanism of the door, after which the vehicle is driven approximately 50 metres away, paying out the rope in the process.

  The release is made by pulling on the rope from inside the cab, with windows wound up three-quarters of the way, while monitoring the leopard’s progress on the camera.

  Eish! … It is much better this way.

  Prior to releasing the first leopard, the larger male, we were shown some fascinating infra-red footage that Rob had taken of his first night in captivity, which revealed again what incredibly intelligent and crafty animals they are. The holding enclosure into which
he was placed is approximately three metres wide, by two metres high, by five metres long, and the sides are completely closed off from any inquisitive spectators. Monitoring takes place through a couple of very small apertures during the day, and at night canvas blinds are lowered to give the animal total seclusion, which helps to minimise stress. When night falls, it is pitch dark in the enclosure, the only intrusion being the infra-red camera. This is the time when the leopard comes into his own. Completely ignoring the haunch of wildebeest put there for him earlier, he begins to test the enclosure.

  What I found fascinating was how thorough he was, how methodically he checked the whole perimeter at the base, where the sides meet the floor, a common point of weakness in any enclosure. He then stood up on his back legs with his front paws against the mesh and started walking on tippy-toes around the entire enclosure, testing every centimetre.

  Once this was done I thought he would settle down, but no way was he giving up, he was about to test the strength of the structure with his own, by using his strongest point of leverage. By curling his body into the foetal position then lying on his back and pushing up against the mesh with his hind legs, he tested each corner. It was unbelievably efficient and any weakness would have shown up under that strength of pressure. Only after this entire process did he appear to resign himself to his captivity. What an absolute privilege to be able to view footage like that!

  Once the collared male was released in December, Mark Wolter and Jonty Aitken, two Olifants shareholders, enthusiastically took the receiver and monitored the leopard’s movements for a number of days. When he moved through the fence into the Klaserie Nature Reserve, and we couldn’t follow any longer, I gave the transmitter frequency to Colin Rowles, the warden of that reserve, who said he would take it from there, which he did.