Safari, of course, is about the animals. Forget the luxurious lodge, the adventure in arriving, the dramatic landscapes. A safari's success is determined by the quality, quantity and variety of photos you carry home.
We were armed with unexceptional cameras; basic point-and shoots with a maximum 10x zoom, a Flip video and the still and video features on my iPad. And this, honestly, is all we needed. The Sabi Sand is so rich with wildlife, and the animals are all so used to game trucks settling beside them, that just a single drive will probably bring you within 20 yards of more African animals than you've seen in all of the zoos in your life, combined. Our photographic game bag, after deleting all the average stuff, is more than 600 files.
We saw "the Big 5" in the first hour of our first drive. Elephants loping along in family groups, from the grizzled old matriarch to adorable infants. Buffalo streaming to the water hole in a herd so big it stretched beyond the horizon. A rhino, placidly grazing in a grassy copse, not the least bit disturbed as a sleek leopard strolled by casually. (We, however, were stunned.). Best of all, a pride of lions, the male sitting majestic and aloof while several lionesses kept a close eye on a pack of gambolling cubs. We sat in between them, papa lounging elegantly just six feet to my right, three cubs chasing each other up and down a tree perhaps 20 feet to Piers' left.
I was so entranced I didn't even consider the fact that any of these gorgeous felines could take me down for dinner with a few swipes of their huge and lethal paws. The animals completely ignore the trucks, however. We were under strict instructions to keep hands inside and not stand up; evidently, as long as everyone stays in an even line, the animals just see the truck as another, single animal, too big to bother with.
In
the lethal but beautiful stakes, it's hard to pick a favourite between the lions and the leopards, both of which we saw in multiples every day. The leopards have a lithe elegance that's hard to beat. One night, just before sunset, we watched a male in his prime stroll across a meadow towards our truck and circle it. We then followed him for about 20 minutes as he wandered through the brush and up the road. Even at a slow pace, his power was obvious. Muscles rippled beneath that exquisite skin, everything moved with elegance and a restrained power. It is surprising, actually, that lions are more associated with monarchy and power since, when you get close to those tawny beasts in the wild, it's hard to shake the feeling that they're just oversized house cats you want to scratch behind the ears and curl up with.
We only encountered the pride with the male and the cubs once. The rest of the trip we tracked a group of five lionesses. At rest, they were gorgeous and dozy. These animals have mastered the art of expending only the energy needed for the necessary jobs; otherwise, they lounge. I like their style. But the lounging is deceptive. This was a group of voracious hunters. One morning we encountered them finishing off the remains of the impala they'd taken down over night. The guide doubted they'd move again, as they'd finished off a buffalo the day before. And yet, by 8:30 we found them crouched beneath bushes next to our watering hole, watching as a herd of buffalo came to drink. Still, silent, rigid with concentration, they sat there for hours. After the large herd had drank their fill and left, a smaller bachelor herd arrived.
At 1:30, while we were sitting down to lunch just across the lake, they made their move. One lioness to taunt someone out of the herd. Others to circle around and behind. A dance of death. Because slowly, surely, by a step here and another there, they eventually coaxed one foolish buffalo out of the herd. And once he was separated, our guide told us, the game was over. There was still one hell of a fight ... one of my enduring images is one of those lionesses being head butted up into the air between the horns of the buffalo ... but eventually, the tawny huntresses got their claws and teeth into his neck and head and drew things to a close. It was the spectacle of our trip. It would be two or three days before the lions would have their fill and give up the carcass to the secondary predators like hyena and the vultures who were already gathering, by which point we had moved on.
There's far more than the Big 5 to see, however. Impala are abundant, roaming in small herds and quick to dash off. And why not? They are the McDonald's happy meals of the bush. We saw almost as many water buck, and a fair number of the more majestic kudu with their beautiful spiral horns. Herds of zebra were skittish, but even more attractive as they galloped away. The giraffe are fascinating as they graze their treetops and, when startled, lope off with such an odd gait
due to their shape you have to wonder about the logic of Darwin's theories.
I find it a bit mysterious that buffalo are considered part of the Big 5 but hippo are excluded because, honestly, they're much more fun to watch. Fascinating in shape, adorable in youth and remarkably loud; the haunting bellows of the family in the water just outside our room woke us in the middle of the night. One of my favourite afternoon pastimes was to pour myself a G&T, settle on the deck and watch the hippos slow and stately interaction in the water below. Yet these giants can move at high speed when needed. We saw those voracious lionesses chase a hippo the afternoon after they'd taken down the buffalo and I couldn't believe how fast those stubby legs got the animal back to the lake. But not before she whirled around and faced off with the lions. Maybe this speed was what the Greeks had in mind when they first named them "water horses".
It's not just the big, showy zoo stars that grab your attention. The more drives you go on, and the more you get used to seeing the iconic creatures at your elbow, the more you turn your attention to smaller and more unusual things. Like the elusive honey badgers we tracked in circles around the scrub until they finally made a dash for their dens. Or the side striped jackals, who were far more attractive, and dog-like, than my jackal expectations, which had been entirely set by ancient Egyptian gods. There were monkeys in chattering social groups in big-canopied trees, crocodiles occasionally surfacing in our waterhole and warthogs who epitomised the concept of "so ugly it's kinda cute". Even the bugs were fascinating; a red dragonfly held my attention for ages as it hopped amongst lotus flowers in the lodge's water garden.
But when it comes to the small and unexpected, the guides told us that multiple Safari visitors often end up most intrigued by the birds. And this is no surprise, as the variety, colour and sound of these bush dwellers makes me understand the allure of bird watching. The fish eagles at our watering hole were just as majestic as their bald American cousins, and entertained us regularly by fishing their dinner out of the water as we watched. Burchell's starlings look like your bog standard blackbird until they wander into direct sunlight, where they turn a metallic blue. Vultures are quite a bit more majestic than their cartoon image, and come in many varieties. In fact, we saw one juvenile version ... evidently a highly unusual spotting for that part of Africa ... that looked far more like a hawk. Three Egyptian ducks put on an argumentative show, chasing each other in splashy circles, every time we came upon them at a small neigh
bouring waterhole. Flocks of guinea fowl often ran alongside our truck. But the most miraculous vision of all had to be the lilac breasted roller, which our guide told us has 14 distinct colours in its plumage. We watched it sitting on a branch for nearly 10 minutes, utterly fascinated. When an approaching truck frightened it away our disappointment was mixed with awe, as watching it in flight was like seeing a rainbow condensed and set in motion.
For most of the guests, this was a rare adventure. For a few ... usually those kitted out with the most impressive camera equipment ... safari was a regular holiday destination. And I can see why. The spectacle of the animal world, from the biggest elephant to the tiniest dragonfly, is a show that changes daily, and never ceases to amaze.
I was so entranced I didn't even consider the fact that any of these gorgeous felines could take me down for dinner with a few swipes of their huge and lethal paws. The animals completely ignore the trucks, however. We were under strict instructions to keep hands inside and not stand up; evidently, as long as everyone stays in an even line, the animals just see the truck as another, single animal, too big to bother with.
In
the lethal but beautiful stakes, it's hard to pick a favourite between the lions and the leopards, both of which we saw in multiples every day. The leopards have a lithe elegance that's hard to beat. One night, just before sunset, we watched a male in his prime stroll across a meadow towards our truck and circle it. We then followed him for about 20 minutes as he wandered through the brush and up the road. Even at a slow pace, his power was obvious. Muscles rippled beneath that exquisite skin, everything moved with elegance and a restrained power. It is surprising, actually, that lions are more associated with monarchy and power since, when you get close to those tawny beasts in the wild, it's hard to shake the feeling that they're just oversized house cats you want to scratch behind the ears and curl up with.We only encountered the pride with the male and the cubs once. The rest of the trip we tracked a group of five lionesses. At rest, they were gorgeous and dozy. These animals have mastered the art of expending only the energy needed for the necessary jobs; otherwise, they lounge. I like their style. But the lounging is deceptive. This was a group of voracious hunters. One morning we encountered them finishing off the remains of the impala they'd taken down over night. The guide doubted they'd move again, as they'd finished off a buffalo the day before. And yet, by 8:30 we found them crouched beneath bushes next to our watering hole, watching as a herd of buffalo came to drink. Still, silent, rigid with concentration, they sat there for hours. After the large herd had drank their fill and left, a smaller bachelor herd arrived.
At 1:30, while we were sitting down to lunch just across the lake, they made their move. One lioness to taunt someone out of the herd. Others to circle around and behind. A dance of death. Because slowly, surely, by a step here and another there, they eventually coaxed one foolish buffalo out of the herd. And once he was separated, our guide told us, the game was over. There was still one hell of a fight ... one of my enduring images is one of those lionesses being head butted up into the air between the horns of the buffalo ... but eventually, the tawny huntresses got their claws and teeth into his neck and head and drew things to a close. It was the spectacle of our trip. It would be two or three days before the lions would have their fill and give up the carcass to the secondary predators like hyena and the vultures who were already gathering, by which point we had moved on.
There's far more than the Big 5 to see, however. Impala are abundant, roaming in small herds and quick to dash off. And why not? They are the McDonald's happy meals of the bush. We saw almost as many water buck, and a fair number of the more majestic kudu with their beautiful spiral horns. Herds of zebra were skittish, but even more attractive as they galloped away. The giraffe are fascinating as they graze their treetops and, when startled, lope off with such an odd gait
due to their shape you have to wonder about the logic of Darwin's theories.I find it a bit mysterious that buffalo are considered part of the Big 5 but hippo are excluded because, honestly, they're much more fun to watch. Fascinating in shape, adorable in youth and remarkably loud; the haunting bellows of the family in the water just outside our room woke us in the middle of the night. One of my favourite afternoon pastimes was to pour myself a G&T, settle on the deck and watch the hippos slow and stately interaction in the water below. Yet these giants can move at high speed when needed. We saw those voracious lionesses chase a hippo the afternoon after they'd taken down the buffalo and I couldn't believe how fast those stubby legs got the animal back to the lake. But not before she whirled around and faced off with the lions. Maybe this speed was what the Greeks had in mind when they first named them "water horses".
It's not just the big, showy zoo stars that grab your attention. The more drives you go on, and the more you get used to seeing the iconic creatures at your elbow, the more you turn your attention to smaller and more unusual things. Like the elusive honey badgers we tracked in circles around the scrub until they finally made a dash for their dens. Or the side striped jackals, who were far more attractive, and dog-like, than my jackal expectations, which had been entirely set by ancient Egyptian gods. There were monkeys in chattering social groups in big-canopied trees, crocodiles occasionally surfacing in our waterhole and warthogs who epitomised the concept of "so ugly it's kinda cute". Even the bugs were fascinating; a red dragonfly held my attention for ages as it hopped amongst lotus flowers in the lodge's water garden.
But when it comes to the small and unexpected, the guides told us that multiple Safari visitors often end up most intrigued by the birds. And this is no surprise, as the variety, colour and sound of these bush dwellers makes me understand the allure of bird watching. The fish eagles at our watering hole were just as majestic as their bald American cousins, and entertained us regularly by fishing their dinner out of the water as we watched. Burchell's starlings look like your bog standard blackbird until they wander into direct sunlight, where they turn a metallic blue. Vultures are quite a bit more majestic than their cartoon image, and come in many varieties. In fact, we saw one juvenile version ... evidently a highly unusual spotting for that part of Africa ... that looked far more like a hawk. Three Egyptian ducks put on an argumentative show, chasing each other in splashy circles, every time we came upon them at a small neigh
bouring waterhole. Flocks of guinea fowl often ran alongside our truck. But the most miraculous vision of all had to be the lilac breasted roller, which our guide told us has 14 distinct colours in its plumage. We watched it sitting on a branch for nearly 10 minutes, utterly fascinated. When an approaching truck frightened it away our disappointment was mixed with awe, as watching it in flight was like seeing a rainbow condensed and set in motion.For most of the guests, this was a rare adventure. For a few ... usually those kitted out with the most impressive camera equipment ... safari was a regular holiday destination. And I can see why. The spectacle of the animal world, from the biggest elephant to the tiniest dragonfly, is a show that changes daily, and never ceases to amaze.
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