A Personal Relationship With A Dangerous Animal Makes For Regular Excitement In The Kruger Park

A name for “our” hyena was the object of discussion one evening at Tarlehoet. We (that includes the hyena) had already come a long way together. Mariza suggested Helena. She likes rhymes and had once written in our book: “Helena the hyena visited our home; I had a fright, she had a fright. Since then I never walked alone.” I though Howla would be a better name – because of the energetic howling. In a democratic vote Mariza’s proposal won hands down. I still feel my proposal was not without merit. However, Helena the hyena it became. It did not matter that it might have been a male. Since the baptism “it” was a “she” – end of argument.

WHAT’s for dinner? Helena the hyena inspecting the fire at Tarlehoet.

Helena must have realised that her status had risen. She made herself more at home. Barely two evenings after receiving her name, she rushed into the lapa just after the “boerewors” was removed from the embers. She must have hidden in the dark. Quite cheeky. She brazenly walked around, sniffing longingly. If there was any meat left on the grill, I’m sure she would have grabbed a chop. (In my mind’s eye I saw a opportunistic seagull displaying great courage, by diving down on a warm kebab, plucking it from the grid and swallowing it whole. This was at Buffels Bay. The skewer of the kebab stuck in her throat. But not to worry. She gave a few gulps, then regurgitated it – skewer and all – and flew away with it to enjoy her prize in peace.)

Friday, 22 August 2003, was the birthday of Marten Grond of Melkbosstrand. We had a braai at Tarlehoet with two fully-fledged campfires. Star of the evening was Helena. At one stage during the meal she was on the front stoep when Thys Slabber went out for a breath of fresh air. This brave Swartland stalwart did not cry “wolf, wolf”. He held the fort, armed with a spade. Helena was on an extended social visit that evening. She remained in the light of the torches, long enough for everyone who wanted to take photos. At one stage she lay down on her front legs, like a little dog seeking warmth. Just like “One-eye” of old.

A personal relationship with a dangerous animal makes for regular excitement, true. But a “too” personal relationship is not recommended. The danger exists that one becomes too “tame”. You begin to ignore the dark. You allow your children to go for walks after sunset. On a warm night, you sleep under the stars, where a leopard might mistake you for a take-away dinner. You lure a hyena with a piece of meat. One Sabieparker reputedly had “his” hyena eating from his hand. Hopefully, this was only a bush legend.

A friend who could never resist the temptation of leaving a few meaty scraps lying around after a braai, was finally cured of this habit. His children came on holiday. One morning when they were getting ready to go to the Kruger Park, a grandchild of his, only a tiny tot, stepped out via the sliding door. It was still dusk. She saw an animal which looked like a dog and excitedly moved in its direction. The “woofie” also came closer. Just in time her dad realised the danger. He rushed out and grabbed the child away from the deadly fangs.

A hyena is a deadly, bloodthirsty hunter

Maybe the daredevils are not aware of how strong a hyena’s jaws are. The thickest bones of a giraffe are child’s play to it, say those in the know. And don’t believe that it feeds only on dead carrion. A hyena is a deadly, bloodthirsty hunter. Frik and Marie Nel of Trosvy still go cold when they recall the blood-curdling death yells of a bushbuck near their house in Jakkalsbessie Avenue, when it was torn to shreds by five hyenas. And one night in a Botswana game camp an American child was plucked out of his tent…

On the last evening of one holiday it was Tarlehoet’s turn to experience a hyena commotion. According to our reports and the theory of the office, a hyena and a leopard (probably with babies) were in a fight. When those ear splitting, drawn-out grunts and growls erupt, you just lie very still, watching the sliding door. Then you promise yourself never to become too placid.

During the first 30 years of Sabiepark’s existence, to my knowledge, wild dogs never came closer than the river opposite the picnic spot, where a troop of 20 decimated a waterbuck in June 2004. However, on Thursday morning, 15 May 2001, David Zeller received a dramatic message: a lone member of that threatened species was trotting around outside the gate in the main road. Everyone was surprised and excited, and Zeller’s reaction was immediate. He contacted Skukuza. The chief of the park and a team of field wardens quickly boarded their vehicles to ensure that no harm should befall the stray wild dog, and to regulate traffic on the Kruger Gate road.

The team soon discovered that this “dog” had a one-track mind. Its only aim was to enter Sabiepark. What would the reason be? It was then discovered that two of its kind were already inside. It wanted to join its pals at all costs. By 12:00 it was exhausted from running. It was then darted and loaded into a cage on a bakkie. The cage was lowered near its mates to entice them to come in. An impala was placed as a lure next to the crate. At sunset the captive awoke. Its urgent “hoo, hoo, hoo” and the equally urgent reply by its mates blended with the other night sounds – the first time those cries were heard within the borders of Sabiepark.

The two free mates had already learnt not be in a hurry. They remained alert and trotted in wide circles through the park. Early the next morning, number 2 was darted. It received a radio collar around its neck. When it woke up, it joined its friend in its song of woe.

They “hoo-hoo-hoo-ed” with all their might, calling number 3. But this fellow was enjoying its freedom, and making the most of it. That evening it was decided that if number 3 could not be darted the next day, numbers 1 and 2 had to be returned to the Kruger alone. The team members felt guilty. They reasoned that it was unsporting to separate the animals after the adventure they had together. But in the end, all their efforts of keeping them together were unsuccessful. The free wild dog remained free. The captured two were taken back to the Kruger. They were released in the vicinity of N’watsitshaka.

Meanwhile number 3 searched east and west, north and south. Several people saw it during the day. That evening Zeller set another trap. After 24 hours the news came: it was caught. Still in a cage, but wide awake, it was loaded on a vehicle bound for the KNP (Kruger National Park). It was quite calm, like a person who was reconciled with its fate. Then began a wide search for the two friends already running around free in the Park.

Fortunately, a helicopter was available that had been used to chase elephants back from the Hazyview area. The vet commandeered the chopper. An attempt was made to locate the wild dogs by radio transmitter. For a long time nothing happened. The team almost gave up hope. Then, suddenly, more than 30 kilometres south of where the two were released, the radio transmitter started bleeping faintly. On the ground it was still 11 kilometres from the nearest road into the bush. It took up all morning of travelling through the veld, over shrubs, through bogs, around trees, over rocks and streams before the signal became clear. Then the number 3 was released, in the hope that it would find its friends on its own. Two weeks later, the vet reported excitedly: the three wild dogs were seen together, north of Skukuza. Mission accomplished! Another exciting chapter was written in the history of Sabiepark.

Small pets, great friends

It applies to all kinds of padded-footers that frequent Tarlehoet. By day it is the banded mongoose – (plural: mongooses, not “mongeese”). These striped little animals advance as a full regiment; then scatter energetically from point to point, stressed and active like hardworking ants. After dark come the genets. They approach sliding through the grass.

The banded mongooses are cute socialites that do their thing in groups of 40 or more. They are about half the size of the well-known white-tailed mongoose, but larger than the dwarf-mongoose that often cross the road in a rush just ahead of your car. A feature is the stripes or bands from shoulder to the top of the tail. Insects are their staple diet. They perpetually up-end the dung-beetle’s pantry, looking for something tasty. They also love bird eggs, which they break by rolling them between their hind legs against a stone. But I have also seen them storming a lapa where food had been prepared on the ground the previous evening. Crumbs, toast, porridge, bits of fat or shreds of meat disappeared quickly.

It’s fun watching these very inquisitive and energetic creatures, and to guess why and about what they chatter so much. A spectator of the human kind must be well camouflaged, and a photographer must possess a quick trigger-finger to catch them in the right pose. Some do a back-flip when they see humans. They talk while they flip, outraged by the appearance of such a huge animal. The whole group then disintegrates, but after a few seconds they regroup on the command of their leader. They continue their activities as if nothing had occurred.

One can easily misjudge these timid creatures. They seem delicate and fragile, but they quickly settle accounts with enemies, including venomous snakes. In Sabiepark they have tackled a python and killed it. Their numbers were too large for the powerful snake to escape. When a bird of prey attacks, they defend valiantly.

Genets, on the other hands, are loners. They are very shy. One gets the impression sometimes that humans and their ways fascinate them. They think nothing of joining a group of humans around a fire in a lapa, by laying head-on-paws like a domestic cat, watching proceedings with intense interest. They “hunt” moths and other insects on the stoep. They seem more interested in hunting as a hobby than in killing for the larder. It can become an interesting game of outwitting the prey by stalking or waiting in ambush with the patience of Job. After hard work and play, it’s time for an enjoyable beauty treatment. One even expects “kitty” to start purring with content.

PROPER DOMESTIC KITTEN. “Kitty” the genet on a wall at Fickie Visagie’s bush cottage.

Tarlehoet is fortunate in hosting a resident genet. The little fellow came waltzing along on the wall of our lapa one evening. It went to and fro past my wine glass after I had a final sip of Leeuwenjagt Cabernet. I was surprised how careful it was not to up-end my glass. Even its fancy tail was well controlled. Perhaps the genet wasn’t thirsty.

A brief absence of bushbabies unmasked the genet as a real opportunist. It was the culprit that came during the darkness to snatch the bits of banana from Colin’s table. It betrayed itself by the new type of ablution, which was cleaned up daily with toilet paper. Tokkie knew “our” manure very well.

We found that genets are not full of nonsense

They eat almost anything: insects, birds, frogs and fruit. Don’t leave any food outside when a genet is around.

It might seem that a banded mongoose or a genet could be a cute domestic pet. Beware! Be very careful! These little predators have potent secret weapons. Like its larger brothers and sisters of the mongoose family, the banded mongoose has some glands under its tail which emit a disgusting stench. The genet glands emit a substance which is used in manufacturing perfume. But undiluted and unprocessed, it could be an unhappy surprise for sensitive noses. It’s not Chanel, No. 5. Take care!