MUDDY HYENA: Predators: sometimes you win, sometimes you lose

Paul has left the tent to brush his teeth when I hear in a whisper, “Wild dogs! Wild dogs!” I rush out to see three wild dogs bounding through camp. They bounce and prance on full alert, clearly on the hunt for their breakfast. We follow them on foot, they pay us no attention. They double back and head out towards the open grassy plains. One perches himself atop a termite mound in hopes of getting a better look.

The area comes alive as the potential prey becomes aware of the potential predator. A herd of zebra stampede off. Then a small group of water buck. Finally, impala take off at full speed, tightly clustered and running for their lives. The wild dog launches himself from his lookout and sprints towards the fleeing impala. “He’ll never catch them,” I think. “The gap between them is too wide,” I say to Paul. But at lightning speed he closes the gap. Two of his pack mates follow behind until one of the impala from the herd makes a life changing decision, he breaks off from the pack and heads towards the woods (NEVER LEAVE THE GROUP PEOPLE!). Now the entire pack rallies and it’s over for the stray.

By the time we get in the vehicle and make our way across the pan all that remains of the impala is a large smudge of blood in the grass where the actual kill must have taken place. All five dogs have their heads down eating. If I didn’t know it was an impala, I would have no idea what it was. There isn’t much left. Two stop their gorging and sit to rest, bellies full and satisfied. One’s head and neck is totally covered with blood, I assume he was the sprinter who made the actual kill.

We watch them for a while until they are all satisfied and one by one they walk off into the woods. One straggler lingers behind making sure that no tasty morsels are left behind. He moves from one spot to another, picks something off the ground, chews a bit, then moves again and finds another nugget. Finally, satisfied, he realizes all his pack mates have left and heads off towards the woods himself.

Sometimes my students and past clients on safari have said they "want to see a kill". I really have no desire to. I saw (heard) a bat-eared fox killed by a leopard in the Central Kalahari Game Reserve once and the recollection of it still brings tears to my eyes. I know, I know…the circle of life and all, but that doesn’t make it any less brutal. I can’t help feeling bad for the impala and his poor choice. Just standing there eating your breakfast, chew, chew, chew, when out of nowhere a predator pounces. And it’s over in a matter of minutes. Geez! If I were an impala, I’d have an anxiety disorder!

We’re in Moremi Game Reserve for one night to give a star show to some clients on a mobile safari. Their enthusiasm for all we have to show them is contagious. Views of Saturn’s rings bring gasps and the bands on Jupiter, applause. It is so special to be part of someone’s safari experience by sharing the sights and stories of the Southern Skies with them. We pack up Paul’s 10-inch telescope and Bushmen tales of the constellations and we’re on our way.

Sunday on our drive back we decide to head out to Dead Tree Island, which is totally transformed since the last time we were there. With low flood waters this year we are able to drive in places we haven’t driven before and Paul turns on his GPS to gather the new road network. At one point in time, the GPS suggests we are under water in the Okavango Delta. Little does it know that things have changed. The area is mostly quiet in terms of animals – a few impala, wildebeest, but tons of baboons. We are coming across a mostly dry floodplain and see some lechwe grazing in the wet area. Lechwe are large antelopes with powerful hindquarters allowing them to push their way through reeds and wet grass. We see two safari vehicles stopped and amble over to see if they’ve spotted something.

They have, in fact, spotted a cheetah on the hunt for a lechwe. We watch for a long time and see nothing but grazing lechwe. Then we spot him, stealthily making his way through the high grass. If you look up from your binoculars, you lose him and must search again to find him. The lechwe are oblivious – chew, chew, chew. The cheetah picks his head up to get a closer look. We don’t know if the lechwe heard him or saw him or smelled him but they cluster tightly together and use their strong hind legs to spring through the water away from the threat. Once a safe distance away they turn to watch him. As long as they have their eyes on him, they're safe. His cover has been blown. He sleeks off to find a shady place to rest under a bush. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose.