When The Shoe Fits – A Tiny Bush-Baby Finds Shelter In A Dilapidated Sandal

At the next holiday Tokkie – if possible – became even more involved in the lives of the bushbabies. She was no longer simply a nurse on nightshift; she took on the responsibility of a caring babysitter/daymother as well. This was triggered when, the moment we arrived, we found a bushbaby fast asleep on the stoep. He had evidently tumbled from the highest rafter, about 10 metres high. We at first thought the fall was fatal. Poor Tokkie was in a state. However, she did not give up so soon. She kept fussing around the presumably dead little body, made a comfortable bed on the table and even provided shade with a cool bag. This treatment did the trick.

The eyes fluttered. And when the traditional banana slices were dished up, the bushbaby showed sudden interest. The father and mother waited for hours until darkness fell before they came for inspection. They first grabbed a few slices of banana before grabbing the youngster and disappearing in the branches. You have to get your priorities right to survive in the bush!

Every few days Tokkie had to rescue a baby

A season of bushbaby falls now ensued. One made himself comfortable in one of my tattered Green Cross sandals. My resourceful Bloemfontein friend Jan Scholtz baptised it “Journeys’ End”. The little creature fitted perfectly into the hollow for my toe. Tokkie’s pampering is really something to behold. Firstly the little ones are lovingly wrapped in blankets. Then a bed is made on my lounge chair. When dusk falls, they are carefully carried outside and placed strategically on the “banana” table. Convenient for ascent. At one stage I started wondering whether the descent – diving? – was not performed on purpose, on account of all the treats on the ground. What strengthened my doubts, was the fact that many fell exactly on the soft pillow below.

WHEN THE the shoe fits – a tiny bushbaby finds shelter in a dilapidated sandal.

One afternoon was particularly active on the bushbaby front. Shortly after the first one fell, a second and third followed. They fell like ripe figs. Tokkie hustled and bustled as she produced bedding from towels and all kinds of cloth. We ran short of extra chairs for all the unexpected guests. The little bodies were cuddled and warmly wrapped. Only the eyes and ears remained visible. The curtains were drawn to keep out the bright light.

The operation was mostly successful. After a quick snack – each had her own preference – the moms grabbed their babies and took them away. One looked very much the worse for wear when my wife found him on a pillow. Would he last till evening? At dusk and there was still life in the little body. This time, however, everything did not work out as planned. Three adults came out of their nest in the rafters and sated themselves, but they ignored the baby completely. It was only late at night, past our normal bed-time, when the mother (or something else) came to fetch it. Alive or dead. We didn’t know.

Deep into the night we heard a heartrending cry. Was it the sad mother? The following morning things would not calm down in the nest. One bushbaby, especially, kept watching us. For a long time. Was it only inquisitive? Perhaps reproachful? Perhaps mournful? I wished we knew – we could have pacified it, if necessary. This episode had such an effect on Tokkie, however, that she wondered out loudly whether I should not return to Cape Town on my own. What was to become of the poor little angels?

LITTLE ANGELS! A juvenile bushbaby cosy on a cushion after a fall from the roof, and another one peering from a specially erected nest

I don’t know at what stage Tokkie decided that the bushbabies had to have better accommodation. Johan and Mariza regarded this wish as a command. They searched Cape Town thoroughly for a suitable house. At first, they phoned the Tygerberg Zoo. The Zoo was not helpful. Then they approached in succession a pet shop, an ape breeder in Loevenstein, a nursery specialising in cycads, the World of Birds in Hout Bay and the SPCA, which is probably still searching for Mariza, “because research has proved that one should not even touch bushbabies”. Goodbye!

Eventually a lady called Mariaan, who breeds black Australian swans, found a nest, the real thing, at a friend’s place. Mariaan did not want to be paid, she and her birds survived on donations. Oh, please come and visit us again! The hollowed-out American aloe was among our baggage when we travelled north again.

On 15 March 2000, Tokkie’s birthday, her day started off with a hard fall when she slipped on a thick pad of moss at the kitchen door. But it was part of her programme for her birthday to mount the nest, and not even that fall could deter her. Soon she mounted a small stepladder which was made to stand on the high Colin’s table. With copper wire, which she begged for at the office, she installed a neat home, fixed to the rafters – the first of three special nests at different heights.

I stood below, admiring my wife for her diligence and agility. I admired the way she handled a pair of pliers and copper wire. From the rafters above, two pairs of eyes watched her every move. Would they realise that all this was solely for their comfort? I silently doubted it. But then, how would they know that we had a painting on the wall of Tarlehoet – one by Johan Coetzer of the Bottega studios at Oudtshoorn – of a round-eyed bushbaby in a tree at full moon?

THE SHOW is about to begin. Armed with cameras, the audience sits in a semi-circle on the stoep at Tarlehoet, waiting for the bushbabies to appear. From left are Marian and Theuns Otto, Tokkie and Herman and Rina le Roux.

How The Ewe Got Involved In a Serious Fight With The Python Snake