Leopards, Lions, Wild Dogs and Elephants all in one night!

Until Friday we’re at MalaMala Game Reserve in the Mpumalanga province of South Africa. We arrived yesterday afternoon on a twelve-seater airplane that picked us up at Phinda, the reserve where we spent the previous three nights. Mpumalanga Province is in the eastern part of the country. According to the brochure, MalaMala “is part of a conservation gene pool that covers 5.5 million acres of land in the heart of the South African Lowveld.” It’s certainly huge, I can’t argue with that!

Since our first day at Phinda I’ve been noticing how different South Africa is from Botswana. The climate and geological/habitat contrasts are hard to ignore, as are the ethnic differences in the lodge and reserve staff. In Botswana, we had a wonderful guide named Martin. He (and all the staff, with the exception of the two managers) was from the community next to Baines’ Camp, where we stayed. He worked alone (without a tracker), but knew how to find and identify animals as well as any tracker-guide pair. He spoke English perfectly (his third language) and knew all kinds of fun facts about the game we saw with him.

At Phinda and here at MalaMala, all the “rangers” (they don’t call them “guides”) work with trackers, most of whom are from the neighboring communities. The vast majority of the rangers are white South Africans, while the trackers are all black. The rangers do all the talking and storytelling while the trackers spot the animals. It’s a strange dynamic—I definitely liked the Baines’ Camp set up better. Botswana has legislation in place that mandates that companies that move onto inhabited rural land must employ the “local people” in every job available, with the exception of those jobs that require qualifications no one in the community possesses. I think it’s safe to say the same laws do not exist in South Africa.

Another difference is fences. I was told that it’s illegal to fence in Botswana, where as in South Africa most reserves are contained and separated by electric fences. The lack of fences in Botswana made the Okavango Delta seem a million times wilder than Phinda, which is completely fenced in. The rangers at Phinda knew all the individual animals—there was never too much of a hunt involved because their habitats and territories were so well known amongst the staff. Here at MalaMala it’s a little different—the reserve is connected to Kruger National Park, so there are several species that move from the park to the reserve (and vice versa) as they please. Still, yesterday on the ride from the airstrip to the lodge, we encountered a breeding herd of elephants with some very young calves. Because of our experience in Botswana, I was worried we were about to get stuck in another elephant confrontation. But our ranger, Wesley, drove right through the herd. They moved off the road for us. I think that matriarch in Botswana would have tried to kill us is had we approached her herd like that! I had more respect for Martin as a guide/tracker and for Botswana’s animals as wildlife because there was no way to know where they were, except for traditional tracking methods and knowledge of their habits.

Another difference between MalaMala and Phinda (that perhaps explains the above elephant situation) is that MalaMala is the oldest game reserve in Southern Africa. For generations and generations, the animals here have grown up with Land Rovers. Though they aren’t friendly and cuddly or accustomed to humans at all (they don’t distinguish humans from cars when the humans are in the cars) they have come to understand the vehicles as completely non-threatening. This means you can pull up next to a leopard while she’s hunting without disturbing her chase; you can drive next to rhinos while they’re grazing without being gored through the middle; and you can drive through herds of elephants without being trampled or impaled, I suppose.

It also means you can follow 12 lions while they’re looking for dinner, watch them hunt, and watch them eat. We had that pleasure last night. When our ranger, Wesley, was speeding towards a pack of wild dogs that had been spotted by another ranger, our tracker, John, spotted a pride of lions. Wesley promised we’d come back to see the pride, but insisted we get to the dogs before they moved on (they’re seen on the reserve about once every five months—we were extremely lucky). We found them within ten minutes. They had chased two leopards up trees and stolen their kill. It was a crazy sight—these dogs aren’t too big and they’re pretty funny looking, but they are vicious in packs. We stayed with them for a while and then moved on so another group could have a look. Then, we headed back to the lions. We got there just as they were mobilizing for the evening. I think there were three lionesses and 9 one year-old cubs in the pride (the male has been wandering for a while, most likely visiting his mistresses).

We stayed with them as they wandered down the road. They were in no big hurry; it was almost annoying because I was so anxious to see them in action. Some things are universal, and I think cat motivation might be one of them. Every fifty yards one of them would plop down for a little rest (and not just the babies, the females, too!). Eventually they spotted a young male nyala (a type of antelope) in the bushes. We stayed back and let them do their thing. The reserves don’t follow lions when they attack because the spotlights they use at night totally give the predators away. So we didn’t actually see the pounce or takedown, but we heard it.

It was actually a fairly silent attack. We had seen one of the females leave the pride and flank the nyala, so we were able to make educated guesses as to what was happening when we heard multi-directional crashing and thrashing in the bushes only a few minutes later. Wesley started driving towards the pride when he was certain the nyala was down, and we arrived while it was still alive and kicking.

Pretty soon it was no longer alive and kicking. Twelve sets of teeth bit into its flesh and tore dripping red chunks from its neck and legs, and that was that. Goodbye, nyala. We watched the lions eat for half an hour or so, from about ten feet away. It was mesmerizing and totally gruesome at the same time. As they ate and ate and ate their growls and screeches became louder. As they ate and ate and ate there was less meat on the nyala, and lions do not share well. The mothers growled and nipped their own cubs when they felt their meal was threatened. Amidst the growling and wet chewing there occasionally arose a terrible tearing noise—the lionesses stripping the skin off the carcass. For the first ten minutes the air smelled of warm, raw meat and fresh blood. As the lions continued feeding the smell became acidic and rotten. “They’ve opened the stomach and entrails now,” said Wesley.

We left after the largest lioness ran off with the nyalas head in her mouth. Its eyes were still open. Wesley said the catch never knew what hit him, but I don’t know if I believe that. I filmed the whole thing and will post it to YouTube as soon as I get to a machine with faster internet.

That's all for now. Tomorrow is our last full day in Africa and I don't know that I'll have time to write again before we leave. I'll post more when I'm home.

-Emily

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