Return to South Africa

I've been pondering the effects of returning to the same places over and over again. I recall my first trip to Africa; the dizzying excitement of seeing something as common as an impala, the disbelief at observing an animal as endangered as a rhino, the admiration of the colorful bee-eaters, the heart-stopping sense of wonder at it all. That was, indeed, something very special, and my memory of that feeling is something I will always treasure, but there is something special in this new familiarity as well. I now notice the variables of the land and the animals. I notice when I haven't seen a lilac-breasted roller in a while. I know to pay attention to the behavior of the vultures when looking for predators. I've learned not to worry when an enormous elephant charges my car, if his ears are flapped out and his trunk isn't rolled. I'm better at anticipating animal behavior, and positioning my car in the right place to both respect the animal's space and get the shot. I've developed an eye for spotting birds, and take as much pleasure in seeing an unfamiliar avian as I would a lion or a cheetah. I've learned so much from my time in the bush, and replacing that blind marvel of my early visits with this comfort and familiarity is, too, a wonderful thing.

Before heading off to self-drive through the southern half of Kruger National Park, I booked a few nights at a lodge on a private game reserve that specially caters to photographers. Indlovu River Lodge, in the Karongwe Game Reserve. The lodge has two photography hides, dug into the ground in front of waterholes and positioned perfectly for lighting, one for the morning sunrise, and one for sunset. The hide is open to the water and fitted with gimbal heads for camera stability. The animals do not know of your presence as it is dark in the hide, so you can watch them from a very close distance without their knowledge. Sitting in a hide is one of my favorite things. It requires endless patience and a true appreciation for wildlife. This is not for people who want the practically guaranteed sightings of guided game drives, but for those who want to see what nature offers them. You may get lucky and have a leopard come to visit the waterhole, or you may see only mourning doves and have the time to observe and appreciate their own unique beauty. The anticipation of waiting in perfect stillness and silence to see what appears next is thrilling.

The conditions on my first evening sitting in the hide were far from ideal. It was a chilly, windy day and the rain had soaked the earth just the day before, so animals had no need of traveling to the waterhole. I enjoyed the peace and solitude of the hide and watched a variety of birds visit.

I enjoyed the cool breeze and wondered what could be lurking about out of sight, to my great delight, a group of funny birds I had never seen before fluttered down from the sky. They looked like a strange combination of a dove and a parrot, with a beautiful green color and yellow legs, which looked like they were wearing flamboyant pants.

That night, we enjoyed a brai dinner in the boma, sipping wine and enjoying the sounds of the bush at night. In the morning, we woke to the vervet monkeys playing around the lodge and snacking on the trees surrounding our chalet. One monkey had a little baby clinging to her baby as she whizzed about the grounds. We left for an early game drive at 5am. I’ve come to not like game drives, preferring the freedom of sighting wildlife on my own, but we had an enjoyable morning nonetheless. We stopped for coffee and rusks by a waterhole and watched the hippos, crocodiles, and variety of shorebirds milling about. The Egyptian Geese came in for their landings like kamikazes, squawking the whole way down.

Mid-day, I took a walk around Indlovu with my camera, hoping to get a close up glimpse of the mother monkey while I ducked behind trees but she proved far too wise to fall for my sneaking. Enjoying my solitude, I continued my walk over to a raised hide above a dried up waterhole. On the way, I had to navigate around a massive colony–no, empire–of ants, and did my very best not to step on any. While no animals were drawn to this dusty, dried up hide, I found it to be a peaceful place to observe the birds in the trees from eye-level. Perched all alone up there, I felt all of the stress and worry I brought overseas with me disappear as I focused on their calls and appreciated the otherwise stillness of a sunny afternoon in the bush.

In the evening, we headed back to the hide, hoping for better luck on this beautiful, sunny day. Lady luck was smiling upon us, and the waterhole was abuzz with all sorts of creatures. Bees were flying all around, bothering the birds and, thankfully, staying out of the hide. Many poor, unfortunate souls struggled for life in the water, and we did our best to save ones that floated near enough to our hide to lend a helping stick.

The green pigeons returned, awkward and wonderful. They land quickly and clumsily, and when aground they use hopping as a means to get around, their shockingly yellow legs leading the motion. A Malachi kingfisher, an almost unrealistically purple bird, swooped in repeatedly but, alas, was too quick and unpredictable in his aerial gymnastics for me to capture his beauty.

At last–a mammal made an appearance! A shy impala cautiously stepped to the waterhole, every footstep carefully placed, on the alert for any stray sound. The chairs in the hide were maddeningly squeaky, and I did my best not to move a muscle or breathe too loud. The flight instinct is so very strong with these animals, who are like a walking buffet for the predatory set. As the impala walked away, I noticed oxpeckers landing on them. The impala shake about and even glare at the oxpeckers, hoping they will leave, but the oxpeckers seem to take pride in being pests, like a little kid annoying his parents for the sheer joy of it.

I continued to scan the bush in between photographing birds, and at last, I spotted a wildebeest in the distant scrub, making his way toward the waterhole. Behind him, a line of these majestic creatures, all kindly coming up to reflect perfectly in the water in front of me.

The oxpeckers are a joy to watch. Their quizzical expression and ever-tilting heads evaluate their surroundings, like mad artists who see something interesting the rest of us don’t.

A southern red-billed hornbill, who had been observing the action from a nearby tree, swooped down with a flair for the dramatic. He proceeded his funny little march around the waterhole, a sentinel out on a patrol he takes too seriously, while others giggle at his demeanor.

The waxbills and firefinches also visited, vibrant little birds which I love and which will feature heavily in tomorrow’s fun. Peeking around the corner, came the chicken with his head cut off: the helmeted guinea fowl. This poor bird appears to live in a state of perpetual terror, so I was extra-careful to remain silent as it hesitantly bobbed its way to the water.

In the morning, we elected to go on a guided game drive to break up the hide sessions. Just my luck–that morning the lions made a trip to the waterhole, spotted by another vehicle, but no lucky photographers were there to capture their reflections. We did, however, come across this beautiful pride of lions, consisting of four young males around one year old and one female. The lions crossed the road in front of us, and one of the males paused to give himself a bath. He bent his neck awkwardly, showing off a tubby belly which looked temptingly rubbable.

In the evening, we returned to the hide, but had to share it with two Canadian wildlife photographers. They were amused to find the chairs just as obnoxiously squeaky as we had described over lunch at the lodge and we all had to contend with this issue as we scared one especially jumpy dove away repeatedly. We were visited by one nyala, but otherwise it was another quiet evening at the hide, with an abundance of birds but few mammals. A pied kingfisher broke the silence of the bush with a splash, diving into the water mere inches away, making all of us jump as though leopard had leapt into the hide. We discovered later that there was a male lion lurking nearby, and all of us were glad we hadn’t left the safety of the hide for a bathroom break in the bush.

Glossy starlings are common as can be, but they are so beautiful. Spending time in the hide allows you to be present in the moment. There is no, “what’s next?” There is just time and quiet. These birds actually shine in the light with an iridescent turquoise that changes as they move. And did you know that birds are funny? Well, of all the animals in the animal kingdom, I find myself most often laughing at members of this class, with their curiosity and expressions.

Speaking of funny, the oxpeckers landed like a vaudeville comedy troupe: exaggerated motions, silliness, and plenty of pomp. I adore these guys. Even if it weren’t for their open-mouthed goofiness and eccentric behaviors, just look at them– they are flying clowns!

That night, the silence was shattered by the roar of lions. The chilling sounds echoed through the night air and reverberated within me. I fell asleep feeling within and a part of Africa.

At dawn, I woke to birdsong and playing monkeys. This would be my last morning at Indlovu, before heading out on a self-drive adventure through Kruger National Park. But first, we headed to the photography hide positioned to take in the morning light. We set up our cameras on the gimbal heads, poured ourselves coffee from the thermos, and snacked on rusks as the little birds zipped about. I looked into the water in front of me, and was pleased to see many little fish. I put my fingertip to the water, and a school swam up to me and nibbled on my finger, to my intense delight. I realized I shouldn’t get too attached, in case the kingfishers return.

A tiny little duiker came to visit, approaching with great caution. I stilled myself on the squeaky chair as best I could, and was able to snap a couple of shots before the nervous little antelope went back to the relative safety of the woods.

The waxbills are wondrous little birds–common as can be, but oh so bright in color! They come in like little tornadoes, all in a bustling group. I picture minions, bumping into each other to get the best spot in line. They startle easily, although seemingly more from each other and the shoving, rather than from my squeaky chair inside the hide, so it is a constant flurry of adorable activity when they are around.

A brave visitor appeared, and my face lit up with delight. I lunged for my camera excitedly and almost squeaked the chair and ruined the moment. A single zebra approached with confidence, and proceeded to drink at the waterhole, his glorious stripes reflected in the still water. I took about a hundred too many photographs before he moved on. However, to my astonishment he returned thirty minutes later with all of his friends. The herd loped toward the waterhole and their rocking gate brought back memories of halcyon days horse-back riding. They lined up like perfect models right in front of me and drank from the waterhole. One zebra felt left out and tried to squeeze himself right in the middle of the line, like the youngest sibling,wedging his way through the big zebra bellies. As they finished guzzling the water, their spunky natures inevitably emerged, and a particularly feisty one kicked at the zebra next to him, with a donkey-like squeal that made me giggle.

At last, it was time to say goodbye to Indlovu River Lodge. While our stay was enjoyable and the hides offered an unmatched photographic opportunity, I was excited to get into our car and head out on our own to explore the bush. Self-driving is incomparable. It is a joy to be your own spotter and train your eyes to notice discrepancies in the wild, like spots expertly camouflaged in the tall grasses or a lump of a raptor silhouetted in the trees. The ability to stop near you discovery with your windows down, turn off your engine, and just quietly observe and photograph an animal for as long as you like is like no other experience.

Having entered Kruger from Phalaborwa gate before when traveling through the northern parts of the park, I knew just which waterhole I wanted to return to. A right turn down a windy dirt road leads you to an active waterhole and, sure enough, a herd of elephants was enjoying mud baths when we arrived. I sat for a long while just observing these brilliant creatures. A mother elephant tenderly cared for her young, while other elephants rolled in the mud and sprayed themselves with water in, what looks like, a most enjoyable bathing ritual. Eventually, the herd moved on, marching right in front of me. The baby elephants waved their trunks at us in farewell as they passed by, and I politely waved back. It was time to move on.

I continued driving along the dirt road, making my way slowly toward our next camp while on the (photographic) hunt for wildlife. Sitting under a tree was a small group of baboons. I pulled up the SUV and, after a few adjustments to achieve an optimal angle, switched off the engine, pulled out my beanbag for lens stability, and observed. There were many more than just the few baboons I initially noticed, and a group of youngsters roughhoused merrily in the branches of the trees, making a great racket. One youngster fell from the tree in the scuffle, brushed himself off and scrambled back up into the action. Looking around, I saw a mother baboon sitting beneath a tree and nursing an absolutely precious infant with startling pink ears. The youthful baboons’ play games moved to the ground, and the infant baboon snuck away from his mom to try to play with the big kids. Mom walked calmly over to the chaos, picked up her little one, and brought him back to their original location. She picked through his hair for insects, and two other adult baboons came over to assist in the cleaning. The baby snuck away to play several more times, in a repeat of this adorable scene.

We pressed on, needing to hurry a bit to make it to the Satara camp before sunset after spending such a long part of our day with the elephants. I stopped the vehicle briefly to watch another herd of elephants in a riverbed, one with particularly impressive tusks, and we spent too little time with the many zebra and waterbuck and monkeys we passed as we turned south into the park and crossed the Olifants river..

Up ahead, I saw several cars gathering, always a sign of an exciting sighting. I slowed down to a crawl, and quickly spotted several young male cheetahs sleeping under a tree. I maneuvered the car until I had a decent view of one of the sleeping cheetah and then switched off my engine so as not to disturb the animals (*Pro tip: if you have two photographers self-driving, one drives while the other sits in the back seat. The one driving maximizes views for their own side and the back-seat photographer can slide around for shooting). He was laying with his face in my direction, so I anticipated that he would at least face me for a moment when he woke up. My luck was far better than that.

The handsome young male yawned and stretched, and stood up lazily, looking in my direction. Soon, all of the cheetahs began waking up from their nap. It was nearing dusk, and that meant it was time to hunt. The closet cheetah fixed his eyes on something in the distance, and I followed his line of sight to a little steenbok in the tall grasses. The steenbok quickly sensed the danger, and darted off into the savannah. The cheetah did not elect to chase, to my disappointment and relief for the sake of the adorable little antelope. The five cheetahs were on the move, and right in my direction. They walk with incredible grace, with long strides that show off their lean muscles. Their eyes glowed golden in the low sun of the hour and I was completely in awe of their beauty. Several giraffe were walking toward the cheetah, and I was curious to see how the interaction would play out. Cheetah should not attempt to hunt giraffe as they are not strong enough to take one down and would likely die in the attempt. The giraffe continued to pick leaves from the treetops but kept a wary eye on the cheetahs, who had lined up on a termite mound and were eyeing the giraffes with wistful hunger.

The cheetahs vanished into the tall grasses, and it was time to continue on to Satara, our first rest camp. On the way, we saw a leopard tortoise (one of the “Little Five”) and kudu backlit by the setting sun.

Our first day of self-driving had been wonderful, and I was eager to wake up early to explore this area, famed for its population of big cats. After a good night’s rest, I stepped out of our bungalow and saw movement on the ground nearby. A honey badger, the ferocious, voracious, fascinating little animal was rummaging around camp for scraps of food, going bungalow to bungalow with a limp. I followed him from a distance, delighted by this animal–so tough that he has few natural predators and will stand up to a full grown lion with great bravery. This sighting was a real treat.

We began our drive, heading toward the S100, a road known for excellent sightings, and were not disappointed. A ground hornbill crossed the road in the beautiful golden hour light, tossing sticks aside in a woodpile looking for breakfast. I found that his red wattle gives him a very distinguished appearance, and I pictured his personality to be that of Sam the Eagle from The Muppets.

A herd of elephants enjoyed a morning meal on the left side of the road. I stopped the car when I noticed that the tiniest, brand new baby elephant was part of their herd. She zoomed back and forth, like a dog fresh out of a bath, while her mother calmly watched over her. I wondered if the mom was thinking about how cute she was, like I was.

Not much farther up the road, a pride of lions lounged lazily near the side of the road. There were three females and one young male, his mane not fully developed. They were very sleepy, as though they had recently enjoyed a large meal, and one of the females even went belly up, rolling about on her back like a house cat. The oldest female was covered in scars, proudly displaying a life of battle and might. When the male woke from his nap, he walked over to the old female and nuzzled her sweetly, rubbing his handsome face against hers.

As the sun quickly rose higher in the sky, encroaching on their shade, the lions moved one by one into the wood. It was time to move on. I pulled off onto a dirt road near a small river, to find an idyllic African scene. There were zebra and giraffe and wildebeest and impala, all come to drink. The wildebeest approached dramatically, kicking up dust as though in practice for the Great Migration. A giraffe also took off at a sprint, in a far less majestic but far most amusing display.

We took a break from driving mid-day, back at the camp. During lunch, I watched hornbills and starlings scavenging for food around the diners. Not having any luck with begging, a hornbill made a sudden dive under a tree and came up with a salamander, which the other hornbills attempted to steal. I heard that an African wild cat had a den with kittens somewhere on the rest camp’s property, so I went for a walk with my camera in search of this wild kitty. While I did not find this adorable scene, I did come across two African hoopoes participating in a mating ritual.

It began to rain, a gentle, peaceful rain which I hoped would only enhance the mood of any sightings. I unloaded my memory card and packed my camera gear back in the car. Vervet monkeys sat on the porches of many bungalows, staying out of the rain. It was a perfectly lovely day. The roads had that special sheen of fresh rain, and the doves were out in abundance drinking from the little pools that had formed. Driving was a bit like an obstacle course from the sheer number of doves and fowl on the roads.

Just over the crest of a hill, a nile monitor was drinking from the road. He blended in beautifully to the cool colors of the drizzly day, and his tongue flicked out to lap up the droplets on the road. I stopped the car and switched off the engine, to protect the lizard from any cars coming over the blind hill. Another car approached and I motioned them to slow down, pointing at the road. They too parked to watch the lizard, but this made the monitor start to walk quickly toward our car and away from the new one, whose engine was still on. By the time I had switched my engine back on, the monitor’s head had disappeared beneath the car, and I looked straight down out of my open window to see a long tail trailing out from under the car. I wondered what on earth we would do next. We would have to wait until it came out the other side and hope it didnt choose to explore the under parts of the car. Luckily, a South African visiting the park pulled up soon, and stopped to laugh at this less than ideal conundrum. Pulling up nearby our car, so he was somewhat shielded from any big cat attacks, he got out of his truck, grabbed the monitor firmly but tenderly by the tail, and extricated him from our car. The monitor was safely off the road, and we were able to move on.

I stopped the car upon seeing a few cars gathered. One of my favorite animals, a spotted hyena, was under a bush right next to the road ripping apart a carcass. He had found a leopard’s stashed prey, and was enjoying his good luck immensely. I sat there for a long while just listening to the gruesome sounds of bones being crunched beneath his powerful jaws, and hoped that I had once again chosen the right location should he decide to move. After sitting for a long while, another hyena appeared in the distance, attracted by the smell. He, too, ran into the bush and proceeded to ravenously divide up the prey. Before I knew it, the hyenas were dragging the carcass out from under the bush and right by the side of my car.

The rain only served to enhance the mood of this macabre spectacle. Vultures appeared by the hordes in treetops above, and more and more rapacious hyenas arrived on set to collect their due of the prize. One submissive hyena kept trying to claim his portion, but was continually rejected by the other hyenas. I felt bad for the poor guy, as he ended up with a tiny scrap of hoof as other hyenas ran about with enormous antelope legs. The vultures were wildly entertaining to watch, and I realized that this scene involved not one, but two of my favorite animals. The vultures tried to stealthily steal their own portions of the meat, but were continuously chased off by the hyenas. They did not give up, but hung back at a distance until a hyena would turn his or her back, then sprint in–yes, sprint–to snatch a fallen piece from behind the hyena’s back. Vultures running must be one of the funniest, most adorable bird behaviors. They reminded me of the exaggeration of cartoon villains; skinny, hunched over, and pacing with their hands behind their backs as they run about. Hours must have passed as we watched this incredible scene, and we eventually had the hyenas and vultures all to ourselves. The screeching laughter of the hyenas hung in the dense air and I thought to myself that this was the most classic African scene I had witnessed.

The rain picked up, the hyenas vanished into the bush, and we continued on our way. The animals took shelter; spurfowl and quail could be seen under many bushes, feathers fluffed up and cozy. A group of Cape Buffalo stood mournfully under a tree, letting the rain fall down upon them.

It was morning, and time to leave Satara Rest Camp and make our way to Lower Sabie. We spotted a lioness far away on a riverbank. She was either pregnant or had a belly full of meat. It was round and tubby and adorable. She kept looking up into the tree above, and I wondered what she was looking at. We then stopped on a bridge that had drawn a crowd of vehicles. I squinted into the grasses, struggling to see anything. After a long time searching, we finally found the faint, camouflaged spots in the reeds in the riverbed below. I’ll include a zoomed out photograph so you can see how well hidden she was. A herd of impala approached, and I waited with baited breath as they stepped closer and closer to the leopard, who appeared to be napping. Mere feet away from the predator, the impala took notice of the danger, sounded a piercing alarm call, and the whole herd sprinted away. The leopard must have had a full belly, because she stretched lazily, and ignored the easy meal. We watched the leopard for a long while, but she seemed content to laze the day away, her only movements to stretch, scratch herself, or move a couple of feet only to plop down in a new position of comfort. Now–spot the spots!

Driving on, I spotted a picture-perfect mature male lion lazing about a dry riverbed. His mane blew majestically in the wind, like Mufasa, only he wasn’t just regal. At one point he rolled over onto his side, stretching like a house cat, and I thought he looked downright cuddle-able.

We passed by a vervet monkey nursing her baby, and also a troop of baboons with several babies riding their moms like little cowboys. It was absolutely adorable, but stay tuned for even more of this cuteness.

We drove to Skukuza rest camp to pick up some to-go egg salad sandwiches. The area was teeming with wildlife but far too many tourists, and I could not wait to get away into the more remote parts of the park. However, not far from this area, a female lioness had a fresh kudu kill near the road. She ate greedily until she was full, then collapsed on her side like me after Thanksgiving dinner. She watched over her prey, although she clearly wanted to close her eyes to sleep. Vultures gathered, this time the beautiful and critically endangered hooded vultures with their elegant pink heads, and moved in slowly toward the carcass. I upped my shutter speed, anticipating the lion’s charge, but having to balance the low light of the cloudy afternoon and shade of the trees. The lioness’ eyes widened, her focus fixated on the pesky intruders, and she lunged, chasing after the buzzards as they scattered. That was clearly more effort than the full female wished to expend, and she immediately returned to her prone position.

A large troop of baboons blocked the road ahead, and I was excited to find more brand new pink babies. I stopped for a long while, enjoying the babies’ rambunctious play, mouths open in an adorable fashion, as they chased one another. Another baby monkey played with what I imagined was his uncle’s tail, batting and biting at it until the uncle had enough and had to scold the young one with feigned anger. An infant nursed on his mother, while other adult visited the youngster and helped clean him. The tenderness they show for one another is touching; the love evident all around.

I pulled into dreamy Sunset Dam, right next to our next rest camp, Lower Sable. Hippos were present in abundance, bellowing and blowing water into the air in a mighty display. In the distance, a stork rode a swimming hippo like a paddle board. I did not think I would ever be able to tear myself away from this magical scene, but the sun was setting and it was time to go.

In the morning, I could not help but revisit the dam again, and was delighted to find an adorable little Malachite Kingfisher hunting by the shore. I then started to drive on a northern loop. The dirt road was remote and wonderful and we barely saw another vehicle. On the right side of the road, to my great shock, we found a pack of African Wild Dogs napping. This was a new sighting for us, and they were not a disappointment. This beautiful pack of animals was tired and had no desire to put on a show for us. We sat for over an hour watching the dogs, and they did little more than stretch cutely, yawn, and move from one napping location to the next. I was still delighted, and left them to their lazy day. As I drove, the landscape changed from forest to savannah again. A herd of giraffe walked majestically in the distance and, a few kilometers away, a line of zebra and wildebeest marched together in partnership. High on a hilltop, we found a beautiful view. A monkey and lizard perched on a rock together, enjoying the view. The curious monkey tried to pull the lizards tail, but the reptile snapped at him and scared the monkey half to death.

Heading back to camp, we drove over a bridge upon which a Pied Kingfisher sat. I parked nearby, thrilled at how close I was to one of these birds that I love so dearly. I kept waiting, camera aimed and ready, shutter speed set to as fast as possible, waiting for the moment of the dive, but the little bird seemed content to sit there and I wondered if something was wrong with it. After much time passed, the little bird disappeared and the moment I had been patiently anticipating passed anticlimactically. Rather than flying into the dive, the kingfisher dropped off the bridge like a rock, disappearing from view to hunt without a show. I returned to camp for lunch and, upon stepping out of the car, picked up my phone to take notes on the day in preparation for this blog and began walking. I looked up from my phone only to see a huge male baboon sauntering toward me, only steps away from me. He seemed startled to notice me as well, as though he too had been distracted, and we both jumped in surprise before giving each other a wider girth. I could not stop laughing.

After a short break and a simple lunch of cheese and tomato sandwiches, we then we proceeded to drive toward Crocodile Bridge to look for wildlife in the far south of Kruger. A charming warthog pair bathed happily in a mud pool on the side of the road. They rolled about with smiling faces until they were well coated, and then trotted off together. A leopard tortoise was walking along the road, and was in a great hurry. I marveled at how (relatively) fast he was running. Up ahead, we discovered another leopard tortoise, and realized he was running toward his friend. Nature can be so heartwarming! A monitor lizard also crossed the road, and a snake which thankfully turned out to be a night adder and not of the spitting sort, as my window was down and he was not happy about seeing me.

After a long afternoon of driving, I returned to Sunset Dam to enjoy one of my favorite places in Kruger Park. The hippos once again filled the air with their baying. Crocodiles lurked just below the water’s surface, their eyes breaching to look for prey. Black-winged stilts with their stick-like legs picked about in the reeds like feathered ballerinas. Yellow-billed storks caught fish and bugs, throwing them into the air and catching them again, in a most impressive game. I was convinced that this place was magical.

It was time to say goodbye to beautiful Lower Sabie and make our way to the final stop of our journey, Berg en Dal. It must have been egg laying time for the turtles, because serrated hinged terrapins were crossing the roads in droves. Every few kilometers, we stopped our car to wait as one of these sweet, slow-moving reptiles made their way back toward the river running parallel to the road. It was an otherwise quiet morning in the bush, as though nature had paused to allow these gentle creatures their moment. Our path eventually veered away from the river, and after traveling for about an hour and nearing one of the entrance gates, a large bull elephant was blocking the road. There was a line of traffic watching and waiting for him to move on. I was extremely irritated with the tourists, who had lined their vehicles up in such a way that more intelligent drivers couldn’t just drive around the elephant, and also in such a way that the big bull felt blocked in and was unable to move. Eventually, a worker’s truck, irritated with the wait, barreled around the traffic and the elephant walked on.

I stopped at a bird hide, a wooden structure with an open front overlooking a pond, and my decision was immediately rewarded as a bounty of birdlife appeared before me. There were pied kingfishers and brown hooded kingfishers, a squacco heron and a striated heron; hippos and giraffes and female bushbuck with oxpeckers astride; a grey heron and an African fish eagle. I found myself tiptoeing excitedly from one side of the hide to the other over and over again, having trouble deciding what to shoot with such a plethora of avian activity.

I was completely shocked and delighted to sight a paradise flycatcher, truly the most beautiful bird I have ever seen, with its aqua face and luxurious burnt-orange tail trailing beautifully as he flew. He dove down into the water catching minnows, and I unfortunately did not get a photograph which did him any justice. The grey heron speared a huge fish and attempted to swallow it, which seemed an impossible task. The fish fell back into the water and the heron bent to snatch it back up; out of nowhere, the fish eagle swooped down from above and stole the heron’s hard-earned catch. Black-headed orioles worked diligently, collecting grasses for their hanging nests. They flew from the nest to the tall grasses and, using their beaks, split the green grass into just the right width for their careful calculations, before returning to the nest with their construction materials. I could have easily sat here for days watching it all, but there was still a long way to go and it was time to see what adventure lay ahead.

I saw vultures gathering, and slowed to see what predators might be lurking with a kill. A pack of hyenas picked apart a carcass under a tree. It looked like there were two cubs, a bit cuter and softer looking than the others. They crossed back and forth across the road, giving the watchers a good show. One hyena stole an enormous leg from another and ran off proudly to feast on his prize. Emerging from the shadows of the woods, a white rhino approached, interrupting the scene. You should pause and take notice in life when something is wonderful., and at the moment thought how wonderful Africa is. The gentle giant had oxpeckers riding merrily on his back and he crossed the road, mere inches from the watching vehicles.

The landscape changed gradually to woodland and then gentle mountains. The winding road held more beauty around every corner. Another white rhino grazed by the road, and I hoped he would be allowed to live in safety, unmolested by poachers lusting after his beautiful horn. An enormous herd of what seemed like nearly a hundred buffalo crossed the road. They took off at a run as they crossed, as though it were a highway of danger and not a quiet road in the bush.

On the road to Berg en Dal, two elephants stood by a little muddy pool, throwing mud and water on themselves and having a jolly good time. They had a lovely rhythm going between the two of them, and I wished I could safely jump into the puddle with them and join in. It was a hot day, after all, and this sure looked refreshing!

We checked in at the rest camp, Berg en Dal, and quickly headed back out. There was a nearby waterhole I was eager to visit during the golden hour. The road was rocky, hilly, and such fun to drive on. I enjoyed the back and forth rolling motion as we drove over rounded boulders and ruts in the road. A fine looking pair of rhinos grazed on the side of the road before crossing, and I was amazed at how many white rhino we had seen in just one day after days of seeing none.

The waterhole was a marvel, set in a lush green valley with plenty of mud to tempt the elephants, which elephants came by the herd, in all ages and sizes. The little ones thundered down the hill toward the mud pit with enthusiasm. An adult trumpeted repeatedly for the sheer joy of it. A pair of adults rolled in the mud until covered from head to toe in their spa treatment. A pair of young looking elephants rough-housed, twisting their trunks around each other and playing chase. At one point, one elephant “snuck” around a small group of trees and leapt out from the other side in an attempt to surprise the other elephant. How this enormous creature thought he could sneak up on anyone is beyond me, but it sure was hilarious.

As the sun was setting and the light at its most glorious, I moved to watch the bee-eaters on a nearby tree. True to their names, they zipped about and caught the buzzing insects with expert skill. I could not get enough of how beautiful these colorful little birds looked in the lighting, and I knew that some of my favorite photographs would come from this moment.

Driving back to the rest camp for our last night in the bush, we passed a most noble warthog family. They kneel on their front legs to reach the low grasses, and it is the most endearing thing you’ll ever see. I was already feeling the ache of having to leave Africa, and wished with all my heart I could be around these animals every day, especially the warthogs.

I woke to my final morning in South Africa and, while I knew I would return, I had the heavy feeling that goodbyes bring. I had one more morning of driving around Kruger before we needed to make our way to Johannesburg, and what a beautiful morning it was. A herd of buffalo rested peacefully on a hillside. A pair of rhino grazed right by the road and I admired their crinkly skin and sweet, gentle eyes. In the distance, a mother and baby rhino walked, the baby running ahead with enthusiasm as mom took her time.

A male lion hid beneath a tree, munching daintily on his kill. I noted that he eats much like my senior basset hound, very delicately and politely, unlike the hyenas. Again, I had to stake my bets on a location with my car, as this stunning male was attracting quite a few onlookers and I was sure to be boxed in shortly. Once again, I chose the right spot, and the big male emerged, walking towards me. He strode casually over to a small pool of water from the recent rains, and plopped down upon his full belly, drinking lazily without even lifting his head. The vultures gathered, and I saw a hyena in the distance assessing the situation. The hyena withdrew from this mighty lion, and the vultures only watched wistfully. The male guarded his prey and laid down to digest. When the hot mid-day sun began to intrude on his shade, he walked toward me again, and laid in a fresh patch of darkness. He rolled onto his back, giant paws stretching up in the air before curling, like a great big cuddly kitty. What a marvelous end to the perfect adventure.

And so, once again, I said farewell to the cheetah and the hornbill and the kudu and the dung beetle; to the thrill of the search and the essential freedom of the bush; to the primordial heartbeat that inhabits this land. I memorized the fair blue sky and the feel of the propitious air. I took one last look at the lion in all his resplendent glory before switching my camera to the off position, and resigning myself to the familiar state of missing Africa once again.

If my work has inspired you even a little, please consider making a donation to the African Wildlife Foundation, a wonderful organization working to protect these animals and their lands.