Photo by Benjamin Ackerman WILDLIFE JOURNAL Singita Kruger National Park For the month of April, Two Thousand and Twenty Temperature Rainfall Recorded Sunrise & Sunset Average minimum: 16 ˚C (60 ˚F) For the month: 18 mm Sunrise: 06h16 Minimum recorded: 13˚C (55˚F) For the year to date: 70 mm Sunset: 17h21 Average maximum: 28 ˚C (82˚F) Maximum recorded: 36˚C (97˚F) Autumn is slowly starting to creep in and the bushwillow leaves are gradually starting to turn a golden yellow. Late rains ensured that there is still sufficient grass cover, and in some areas, the grass is still green. This is attracting large herds of elephants into the area. The impala rutting season has also started, and the roar of the rams are filling the skies as they proclaim their presence to would-be competitors and potential suitors alike. It’s always comical to watch the rams as they corral the females - they chase after them with their white fluffy tails flared out, whilst they emit a loud guttural roar. (To a bush novice it will be easy to assume it’s lions that have been vocalising, as the sound is rather loud and deep.) With COVID-19 affecting tourism and travel no guests will unfortunately be able to witness the sounds and smells of the bush. With that being said, the Singita Kruger National Park guiding team has decided to share in some of their thoughts and feelings that we are experiencing at this point. Some felt like sharing stories of previous sightings experienced with guests prior to this outbreak, others would like to share about the cultural aspects of the local Shangaan tribe that lives in this part of South Africa, and others have composed poems to share their feelings. May these words and photos transport you back to Africa, albeit for a short while, until our paths cross again at the Place of Miracles. Battle of the heavyweights Article by Mike Kirby and photos by Margaux le Roux The wet season is from October to April here, and the beginning of it is an extremely difficult time for some. The ever-rising daily temperatures, the diminishing water and growing distances between water and good grazing means largely nomadic species like buffalo are constantly on the move. The guests and I stood sipping coffee, watching the sunrise together, as it crept slowly over Granophyre Ridge of the Lebombo mountains. The early morning rays kissed our cheeks and the day promised to warm up quickly, as it does at this time of the year in the Lowveld. We were discussing the target species for the morning’s drive with anticipation. A species we hadn’t seen and something that hadn’t frequented the concession for a few days was buffalo, large herds of Cape Buffalo. We set out along the Nwanetsi River, knowing the buffalo would need to come in to drink, they had to, it had been too long now. We sat watching a pair of fish eagles, breaking up the quiet of the African dawn with their cries. Bingo! One of the guides radioed to say he had found buffalo, lots of buffalo, heading in our direction. We moved further along the river, where this herd had been drinking regularly, and there we saw an enormous cloud of dust to the west. We watched this huge herd as they approached us in their almost trance-like state, and while doing so noticed a few giraffes curiously looking in the direction the herd had just come from... lions! The Shishangaan Pride numbered around 17 lions at this time, and they were in hot pursuit. One of the older females darted around the herd and we decided to follow her. She ended up at the Nwantesi River, sneaking through the croton thickets, flanking the arrowhead of the herd. She patiently waited for some to start drinking and then she rushed the buffalo. She headed towards the middle of the column, splitting them in two and causing pandemonium in the process. She started to run, causing the buffalo to splinter further and she quickly deciding to pursue a small group of cows that were heading straight towards the rest of the pride. As we managed to catch up behind the dust of the buffalo and the charging lioness, we found two young male lions awkwardly climbing onto the cow’s back, sinking their front claws into her flanks and jumping with their back legs to try get further up towards her face and neck, all the while dodging her furious swinging head and sharp horns. Two of the other lionesses hit her at full pace, causing the cow to fall to her knees and then to the side. I could not believe what I was witnessing, my entire guiding career I had dreamed of witnessing the battle of the heavyweights, and now here it had happened. The cow was now engulfed with lions, snarling and trying to restrain this 600 kg bovine. What my inexperience swiftly taught me, is that it’s not like watching a documentary at all. You are a part of it, you can feel it. Your body is pulsing with excitement and adrenaline, the noise is overwhelming, the smell; like hot iron and stomach content. Then the feeling of sympathy, as one lion gets jealous of his feeding siblings and releases his grip on her throat to join the feeding. The cow bellowing almost louder than the lions were growling before another lioness took over the throttling. We repositioned and got closer as the buffalo emitted her last cry and the lions settled down encircling the carcass and started to feed. This, to me, is when the “bigger picture” sinks in, once the emotion of the buffalo has passed, and the realisation of the necessity to complete the natural circle of life. Through the emotional eye this seems a barbaric act. You are witnessing the utmost ferocity of Mother Nature. We sat watching each lion feed and once satisfied, waddling into the shade one by one. As the morning heat started to increase and we thought the action had subsided, we saw dust… Lots of dust! The herd that had splintered and run from the lions initially had banded up and returned… They were heading in full force straight towards us and the feeding lions. The lions, realising what was about to happen stood behind the carcass and growled. It was sensational, like a Harley Davidson Bike Rally all revving their engines at once, and even above the deafening noise each buffalo still trotted in a menacing black line towards us. My heart was in my throat, it felt like we were part of the pride. A few large bulls approached the snarling lions and stood in a line, shaking their heads and massive horns while snorting and taunting the lion. The huge tawny cats that had taken down the buffalo almost effortlessly now stood cowering and dodging the enraged, charging buffalo. Lions ran in every direction possible to escape the surprisingly nimble giant grazers, one even taking refuge under another Singita safari vehicle to escape the horns from all angles. All the while the majority of the young buffalo and their mothers had taken a wide berth around this encounter, to get away from the danger. When the buffalo were satisfied with the lions distance from the dead member of their herd, they horned, smelled and touched the dead female, and while not trying to put too many human emotions onto animals, there was clear distress among these animals. Fearing the lions and being as uncomfortable as they were, yet they still nervously moved forward to smell the dead cow. Eventually the buffalo moved off and the lions resumed feeding, and so did we after being in the same spot for well over 3 hours. This was a once in a lifetime encounter that I shared with the guests and colleagues who were there, and we were so privileged to have witnessed it. Video Link ——> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TndOlCN6zZk Natural healing Article by Wessel Booysen When I was asked to share a story, or add an experience of mine from my guiding career, a flurry of spine- chilling and goosebump moments rushed from deep within my memory banks. A detailed array of mixed emotions from seeing my first successful hunt where 21 lions took down three Cape buffalo within 50 feet from each other; being the first to see and spend an hour with brand new leopard cubs as the mother carried them one by one to a new and better den-site; watching a buffalo cow give birth; finding an eight-week-old cheetah cub lying motionless in some short grass after it had been killed by a zebra stallion… these are only a few moments that came rushing to the forefront of my many experiences as a professional nature guide in the beautiful South African wilderness. The story I would like to share with you in more detail however has a much deeper meaning and spiritual significance not just in my guiding career, but rather on my life thus far on this big blue planet. For as long as I live, I will never forget this morning and the experience I had along with my tracker and guests. I had just joined Singita in May 2017 and found myself in the centre of the Kruger National Park on 15 000 ha of pristine and untouched wilderness and working alongside the best in the business. Excitement was an understatement! I was like a kid in a candy store and there was no limit on how much of the candy I was allowed to devour or take home! Within this incredible opportunity and to no fault of where and with whom I was, I have to admit that doubt crept in regarding my decision a few weeks later.