Botswana

When I was a young boy growing up in Michigan, my father owned a large tract of land in the town of Wixom, outside of the Detroit area where we lived. At the rear of this property was a large wetland area, where I spent countless hours getting to know the resident population of frogs, snakes, turtles, crayfish and fish. Today I look back on those hours in “the swamp” with great satisfaction.

Undoubtedly, my hours in the swamp were the origin of my later interest in the ocean, marine life and wildlife in general. And perhaps those hours also have contributed to my fascination with the unique wetland environment of the Okavango Delta, in Botswana, which has become my favorite place to observe and photograph African wildlife.

Armed with my cameras and an ample supply of SPF 48 sunscreen, I returned to Botswana in December to experience the Okavango Delta and the Savuti Channel during the hot, dry, summer season.

Formerly the British protectorate of Bechuanaland, Botswana achieved independence in 1966 and has since enjoyed nearly four decades of democratic government, enlightened social policies and economic growth. Diamond mining has been responsible for much of the country’s economic success.

Most of Botswana’s 1.6 million residents live in the eastern part of the country, while the rest of the country is a wilderness of deserts, savannahs, wetlands and salt pans. The government has promoted a policy of high-cost, low-impact tourism to ensure the protection of the country’s natural resources.

The Okavango Delta is the largest inland delta in the world. The Okavango River commences in the Angolan highlands where it is fed by rains from October through April. The water flows southeast into the Kalahari where it eventually evaporates, after first spreading out into 15,000 square miles of papyrus swamps, reed-beds and floodplains, punctuated by low-lying, palm covered islands and traversed by a network of channels.

My previous trips to the Okavango have been during the winter flood season, during which the temperatures are coldest, the water levels the highest and the wildlife concentrations the greatest. This trip was my first during the hot, Kalahari summer, during which rains are most plentiful, but water levels in the delta are at their lowest.

Once again, however, the opportunity to observe game was outstanding. But what stands out in my mind from this visit was the diversity of the region’s smaller residents. In addition to the crocodiles that I had seen on previous excursions into the delta, during this visit I saw six different species of frogs and toads, two varieties of snakes, lizards ranging from the small geckos and skinks to mid-sized rock and large river monitors, leopard tortoises and countless insects, which I had not previously seen since all hibernate during the cool winter.

One night the path at the camp was literally covered with small creatures of the delta following a late afternoon rain shower. On my way to dinner, I gingerly stepped over a three-inch scorpion, while stopping to admire the subtly marked rain frogs that emerged from their burrows and a poison dart frog gaudily colored in red and black. The following evening, I was mesmerized by literally hundreds of thousands of flying termites as they emerged from their mounds, their wings glistening in the backlight of the setting sun. I found the same flying termites considerably less enchanting when they joined us later that night at dinner, making eating a challenge. While the local population gathers the termites following the rains and considers them a great delicacy, I found them to be quite bothersome. The locals sauté and salt the termites before eating them, a luxury that was not afforded to me as they swarmed around my face and dived into my meal.

Not all of my encounters with the insects, amphibians and reptiles of the Okavango were this benign. One morning, my guide, Vasco, stopped our Range Rover to peer into the brush to his left to search for the two dominant male lions, known as the “Duba Boys”, that were reportedly in the area. But when Vasco looked to the ground immediately to his right, he was startled to see a six foot long, snouted cobra in the strike position, its head raised off the ground, hood flared and focused on Vasco’s leg in the doorless opening to the Range Rover not more than two feet away. Shaken, Vasco moved the vehicle forward and the cobra stood down and continued on its way into the thick brush.

Of course, my primary reason for traveling to Botswana was to observe and photograph the big game and predators of Africa. I wasn’t disappointed. Early one morning in the Okavango, I awoke and in the pre-dawn light noticed that the delta was covered by a thick ground fog; an unusual condition in the arid Kalahari. Seeing this as a rare opportunity, I asked my guide, Vasco, to get our vehicle so we could depart immediately to search for an appropriate subject to photograph amidst the fog. Fortune soon smiled on us as we spotted a lone bull African elephant, and then a breeding herd of elephants, as the sun was about to rise. I photographed the elephants as they went about their morning duties along the bank of a papyrus lined channel, surrounded by the mysterious fog and backlit by the rising sun. In the changing light, the cotton candy like mist changed in color from white, to pink, and then to gold. The light show, the elephants, and the surroundings combined for a truly magical hour in the Okavango Delta.

During my previous visits to Botswana, I had enjoyed excellent sightings of some predators, such as lions, and they were abundant during this trip too. Others, such as cheetahs and hyenas, had been more elusive. I had infrequently seen cheetahs, but not in conditions suitable for quality photographs. My luck was much improved this time around. In the delta, I saw a mother cheetah and her three young cubs, but the mother cheetah was very skittish and would not allow a close approach. Nearby, I saw a lone male cheetah, the father of the three cubs, which was more accommodating. But in the Savuti Channel, I experienced a tremendous opportunity to observe and photograph cheetahs.

The Savuti Channel has historically linked the waters of the Linyanti River, which runs along the border between Botswana and Namibia, to the Savuti Marsh in Chobe National Park. Since 1981, however, due to tectonic activity, the channel has been dry; leaving behind a large, open grassland dotted with the skeletons of drowned trees. This wide expanse of open space provides excellent habitat for cheetahs, which require this type of environment for hunting.

My guide, Brian, and I attempted to follow some cheetah tracks for a day and a half without success, when finally; we spotted one of the elusive spotted cats in the brush. We attempted to follow the cheetah through the brush in our Range Rover; but believe me, an off road vehicle is no competition for a quickly moving cheetah in the thick African brush and we soon lost the track of the cheetah. We drove back into the channel, hopeful that the cheetah would emerge the brush, and in the distance immediately spotted two more cheetahs resting in the shade of the trees at the edge of the channel. Then, the cheetah we had been following also emerged from the brush and ran in the direction of the two other cheetahs. The first cheetah ran past the resting cheetah and at full cheetah speed of over sixty miles an hour rushed past our Range Rover. The two resting cheetah bolted to their feet and followed in hot pursuit, also galloping past our vehicle at full speed, raising a cloud of dust as their feet loudly thumped the ground.

For the remainder of the day and through the following morning, we followed the three cheetahs as they went about their everyday life activities; slowly walking through the channel, climbing fallen trees and termite mounds, searching and calling for each other, marking their territory, drinking from a watering hole in the channel, or merely resting in the shade. All three cheetah are males and have formed a coalition, but we observed that two of the cheetahs were constantly in the presence of one another, while the third cheetah was often alone, but calling out with a loud, high pitched, chirp-like bark in search of the other two coalition members, who more often then not seemed to be disinclined to return the call.

Late in the afternoon, as the cheetahs continued their slow journey through the channel, an impala with a week-old baby appeared. At the same instant that the impalas spotted the cheetahs, one of the cheetahs saw the impalas. The impalas panicked, and began to run to the far side of the channel where the remainder of the herd stood. The cheetah chased after the impalas at full speed, remaining only a blur to my eyes. The impala and cheetah raced to the edge of the brush alongside the channel, as we too raced from behind in our Range Rover. A cloud of dust rose from behind a small rise at the edge of the brush. Seconds later, we arrived to find the cheetah with the baby impala, its jaws clenched tightly around the impala’s neck and its legs and body holding the impala to the ground. In the distance, we could hear the wail of the mother impala, crying for its calf.

The cheetah remained in this position for a few minutes as it ended the brief life of the impala. The cheetah arose, dragging the limp impala from its mouth to a more open spot near the edge of the channel where it could better keep watch for predators. There, the cheetah lied down, and in minutes devoured the impala. Only the hoofs and head were left for the vultures that appeared within seconds of the kill.

Also in the Savuti Channel, Brian and I spotted a black-backed jackal running toward the edge of the channel. As our eyes followed the jackal to see where it was running, we noticed a small jackal pup, then another, and another all playing together near some brush near the edge of the channel. In total, there were five pups in addition to the mother jackal. We watched as the mother regurgitated a meal for a couple of the pups, and as the pups continued to play under the watchful eyes of the mother. As the sun began to set, we decided to drive away back toward the camp and marked the location of the den so that we could return another day.

After traveling only a short distance, we saw two spotted hyena heading in the direction of the jackal den. We slowly turned around the Range Rover and followed the hyenas wondering if they had noticed the small, helpless jackal pups. It soon became apparent that they had and that they were headed straight for the den.

Suddenly, the mother jackal came running at the hyenas. Outnumbered, it seemed that the jackal would be no match for the much larger hyenas. But she ran at the hyenas, biting their legs and sides, first one and then the other, until the hyenas rushed past the den. The mother jackal pursued the hyenas well beyond the den, until the threat was clearly past, before returning to the pups. In the wild, as with people, it is often not the most powerful that prevail, but rather the most determined.

Early the next morning, I photographed one of the hyenas with its consolation prize, a large, dried out piece of elephant hide. The hyena was gnawing on the hide, frothing at the mouth, trying to soften and ingest the giant piece of “elephant jerky”. Finally, without apparent success, the hyena wandered off, leaving the elephant hide in the middle of the channel to further dry in the hot summer sun.