NXAI PAN NATIONAL PARK Botswana
Sitting at the one and only waterhole in the entire Park at 6 am, I was finally alone and at one with myself, waiting for the crimson ball of sun to cast it's light on the stage in front of me. I had the front row seats here, awaiting the arrival of the various actors that would play out various acts to me, in various stages.
The lions were already here, lying over on the other side of the water. Three energetic four- month old cubs were harassing two huge males. Three muscular lionesses, one with 2 tiny cubs, lay close to them and eyed the terrain.
In the distant shimmer of a mirage, duplicate figures of springbok make their way towards the pan, perhaps unaware of the danger that awaits them. In this seemingly inhospitable environment, known to me as "the Great Nothingness", creatures of all shapes and sizes have adapted themselves over time.
Squadrons of Burchells' sandgrouse fly in low over the scrub and settle by the waters edge, followed by droves of Cape turtle-doves. All of a sudden there's a flurry of feathers and pandemonium breaks out. A Red-necked falcon has taken advantage of the gathering birds, and dive-bombs them at the water. It misses surprisingly and perches atop an acacia, waiting for round two.
The springbok and some ostrich have moved closer to the pan, warily scanning the surrounding area for the obvious danger.
One lioness lying 50 metres in front of my vehicle gets up and walks straight towards me, giving me super photographic opportunities. The side lighting of the sun casts an aura over her muscular torso, shoulder pistons pumping up and down as she slowly walks. She stops some four metres away and eyes out the springbok at the pan, she shifts her gaze from them up to the vehicle window and our eyes meet. I shiver with a mixture of excitement and fear? and realize just how big and powerful these cats are. Weighing in at around 140 kilograms she walked past and lay down to the right of me, and waited.
I got the camera ready, checked my shutter-speed and aperture and made myself comfortable. As the springbok were bending down to drink the first sip of the day, she edged closer and stopped, crouched in typical feline posture. Cover is in short supply here bar the hundreds of elephant-dung piles that scatter the water perimeter. The lioness actually looked like she was blending into these piles, as funny as it looked, and she inched herself closer and closer.
Then she was off, an explosion of blurred yellow, slowly at first, her speed building up as she targeted one particular springbok. She was too slow and the animal bounded off in a cloud of dust.
As an exercise, I was working out with the different springbok herds, which individual would be the target. Predators including lion target the weak, old or injured animals in a herd and concentrate entirely on that particular individual. Another herd was coming down to drink only moments after the first attempt by the lioness. It seems that the animals are driven entirely by their thirst, and this would eventually be their downfall. The lion had cottoned on to this and spend the whole day in close proximity to the water for obvious reasons.
I lifted my binoculars and scanned the herds, noting that a young springbok ram in one herd had bit of a limp and I concluded that he would be the 'chosen one'. Would I be right I wondered?
The herd closed in and drank their fill. The lioness, already re-positioned, did a repeat of the first attempt and homed in on the same ram I had 'selected'.
A flurry of doves, dust, dung and antelope exploded as the lioness neared, her muscles bulging, and eager to get breakfast. Another miss ?. The springbok trotting off and turning around at the hunter, as if to say.."Is that your best shot".
This went on until 11h30 and I had counted ten unsuccessful attempts. A single lioness has a 10% success rate, as compared to hunting co-operatively in a group that have roughly a 15% success rate. At the rate she was going she would either have to 'team' up with the other lion or try a different strategy.
She and the others got up and moved to the shade of an acacia, as the sun was truly merciless now. The antelope and ostrich took advantage and drank their fill, while the lions contemplated whether they should try once more or sleep the heat off?..they opted for the later.
I was hot myself and I poured water on my kikoi, wringing out the excess water and placing the cool dampness over my head and neck. A strong breeze now blew swirling 'dust-devils' across the cooked and brittle plain.
The hot blizzard hit me with bits of desiccated leaves and stinging sand. Shadows flew over me like dark angels and on looking up, I noticed five Lappet-faced vultures on a thermal. Perhaps they, with their keen eyesight, had noticed the activity at the waterhole, or they were also in need of quenching their parched thirsts.
I was thinking about the lion again, while I waited for Act 2 to commence. later on, once it had cooled down for sure, they would try once more.
A predator with a high energy expenditure was far more successful than one without. A cheetah with its' awesome, blinding speed and radical energy output, had a higher success rate than these lion. In turn, lion had a much higher rate than leopard. Also what puzzled me was why don't the lionesses team up forming an ambush for larger prey like the kudu that have just come down? But who am I, a human, to anthropomorphically decide what is best for them? How dare I think that.
All this incredible energy consumption seemed a waste of time and effort for a paltry reward of a single springbok, who would probably be poached off the lioness by the huge males. I became frustrated for the lioness.
It was eerily quiet now, the mirages shimmering like some phantom sea off in the distance. The heat-waves distorted far-off images of ostrich and wildebeest, as if they were dancing some weird dance.
Most animals were in the scant, scattered shade, but the wildebeest who look really dumb at the best of times, were standing nonchalant in the sun like lone sentinels waiting for the rain. Two ostriches, their sharp eyes watching the now sleeping lions, stood ankle deep in the cool water, scooping long beakfulls of water.
At 15h30, more springbok started arriving in loose herds, and gathered on the outskirts of the pan. The five Lappet-faced vultures descended on huge wings, landing with a bounce, like a squadron of antique bi-planes.
A soft, shuffling sound from behind the vehicle to my right made me turn around. A single, huge and old bull elephant was on his way to water. He sauntered past the sleeping lions, who raised their heads in slumber at his passing. I was amazed that such a beast can survive out here, especially this time of year when browse was in short supply. He looked so much in charge, full of confidence and wisdom as he approached the pan. He slaked his thirst and mixed up a slurry of grey-white calcrete mud, and sprayed his entire body with the mixture. Under his belly and arms, behind his legs, over his head and on his back?..then he just stood there as if in some hypnotized state of trance. Mud dripped off him like melted white chocolate and his eyes were closed. Amazing. This behemoth had probably walked 30 kilometres to the water, the soles of his aged and cracked feet must have been so hot and sore, and all that moved was his tail, swinging like some pendulum in time with the cicadas.
More shuffling off to my right, more elephant. In fact 11 huge bulls of various ages and sizes approached now, desperate to cool off their feet and quench their huge thirsts.
The 'melted-chocolate' bull couldn't have seen them arrive, but as if by some unheard command, perhaps infrasound, he moved off as the others were approaching. He sauntered off, shimmering in his newly acquired coat of wetness.
He did not even greet the others physically but perhaps said "Hello" with a deep grumble, unheard through my ears. The others did likewise and preceded with the ritual of drinking, mud bathing and wallowing, followed by a dust-bath.
They too wandered off into the great nothingness, and I wondered if they would return again tomorrow.
The lion had now woken after some hours and the time was 17h15. I had been sitting here for 11 and a quarter hours, my buttocks somewhat cramped from not being able to get out the vehicle. The next hour saw the same lioness attempt another seven times at drinking springbok, but to no avail?.see and the others would just have to get their act together. I have never seen such hard working felids in action!
The sun was setting and the bulls were standing gossiping to one side, so I decided to start up the Cruiser. The sound broke the peace and I felt somewhat guilty for having caused this disturbance, but I had to get into camp before 18h30. I stopped with the elephants silhouetted against the orange wisps of cirrus cloud, and got out the vehicle. It felt so good to stretch away the long sitting, and I then photographed the huge bulls with a slow shutter speed, with me lying on my belly in the cooling brittleness of sand.
I arrived back in camp elated at my day spent at what I thought was the Great Nothingness?..but I was amazed at what an abundance of life this incredible, inhospitable place contains. Tomorrow is another day.
::::
Vacationtechnician personalized luxury adventure travel transports you to the most exquisite wilderness and chill out retreats on Earth. Conserving rare biodiversity through low volume tourism; our aim is your indulgence -at no one's expense. Plan now to be assured a rejuvenating escape at a restful pace -to an unspoiled gem in the purest sense.