Meeting The Wildebeest of Sabiepark
At the office we later heard that a wildebeest had been killed by lions on erf 104 in Rooibos Avenue. One of the hunters left through the fence for the main road. It was later spotted at the gate of the five-star private reserves Mala Mala, Londolozi, Singita and others – a few kilometres northwest of Sabiepark. The rest – nobody knew how many – were still in the park.
Tokkie and I took the car and went looking for the lions. We drove up and down the narrow roads of Sabiepark for a while. In Rooibos Avenue Tokkie shouted: “There’s a lion!’’ It was a female. For a moment the lioness hesitated, then crossed the road casually, finally posing on an antheap on erf 81.
At the office our encounter caused quite a stir. Zeller suggested that people stay away from the lion area – including the Van Deventers, he added pointedly. He promised to inform us if the capture of the intruders succeeded.
I could hardly wait to see my photos. As there was no photo shop in Skukuza, we drove through to Hazyview – just to find that the only developing machine in town had broken down. Nevertheless, I begged the young lady to “do something”. In the end she developed the film on the malfunctioning machine. It worked and I had a couple of reasonable photos to display on the notice board at Sabiepark the very same day.
At 19:00 we heard a vehicle in our driveway. “Come quickly, the lion is at the gate!’’ And there lay “our lion’’, conked out on the back of a bakkie. She was drugged at the wildebeest carcass with a dart shot by a state veterenarian from Skukuza, we heard. Shutters clicked. I also snapped Tokkie next to the dozing lion.
If this lioness had company, the others were nowhere to be found. Perhaps they were still lurking in the undergrowth. For the next couple of days we were particularly vigilant on our walks!
A well-remembered and unusual lion visit took place in the winter of 1999. A stubborn pride hung around for no less than five weeks. During their prolonged stay they feasted among the “soft targets’’ of Sabiepark. Read all about them in the chapter A “Roaring” Braai.
As Zeller had predicted, Sabiepark veterans were green with envy.
Enter the Van Deventers, complete greenhorns, who could already
boast of a lion sighting (with photo), a leopard on their driveway
(no photo though), plus a
chance meeting with an elephant (stunning
photo). Many longtime residents have not had such luck. But I must
admit: it was mostly Tokkie’s eagle eye that did the trick. She’s
the one who first spotted the cheetah, the vagrant lion and the
elephant. She’s also able to identify from afar a lone buffalo among
the riverbank reeds.
These days buffalo are frequently seen at the picnic spot.
Even large herds. From the lookout decks one is able to observe them for hours on end. So-called “dagha boys’’ crash through the fencing from time to time. Why “dagha boys’’? Because of their muddied appearance from hiding in river beds. These small groups of ousted bulls are considered highly dangerous. They have the residents and park staff on edge when they’re around. Even the staunchest hikers stay indoors when the “dagha boys’’ are in the vicinity. Park labourers work with their eyes peeled and their ears cocked.
The Van Deventers first came across these seemingly lethargic animals with their moustache-shaped horns in Sabiepark way back in July 1988, a decade before our later adventures. In the ‘80’s buffalo still had “residential rights” – and we were just visiting, not realising that ten years later we would have our own piece of land there.
On the eve of a holiday in the Kruger Park, we were grateful guests at erf 97 in Maroela Avenue, holiday home of our Bloemfontein friends Fickie and André Visagie. Tokkie found a half-dozen buffalo next to a tennis court where a game was in progress – their massive heads swaying back and forth as they followed the ball, just like spectators at Wimbledon or Roland Garosse! (As it happened, that same afternoon the women’s single finals were taking place at Wimbledon).
One year later an induna at SabiePark, Shibiti Mathebula, encountered two sparring bulls. They disengaged and both turned on the human intruder – a repeat of an incident his father had had many years before in Londolozi. The older Mathebula was badly gored, but miraculously survived. Induna Shibiti wasn’t as lucky. A memorial – a brass tablet mounted on a solid block of Lowveld leadwood – was erected at the office complex to honour his memory. And the buffalo? They were herded back to the Kruger – Sabiepark’s long-suffering personnel could breathe easy again.
In a second attack, two Sabiepark veterans were involved – Piet and Verity Möhr of erf 214 in Maroela Avenue. An irritated cow stormed them, out of the blue, while they were strolling in Ghwarriebos Avenue. Without warning, the 500 kilogram cow (bulls weigh up to 700 kilograms) charged Piet, knocking him down and ripping open his groin with her horns. Verity was bashed by the buffalo’s huge head, ending up in a magic guarri bush. Fortunately she kept her cool, grabbed a handful of sand, and threw it accurately at the cow. Blinded, the animal withdrew. A chopper had to transport the badly injured Piet to hospital. Several operations were performed. Piet nearly lost his life, and walks with a limp to this day.
Poor Verity was again a victim on the same road, when a Kombi
swerved out for her friend. Verity was knocked down and broke her
coccyx in the fall. A vehicle is far more dangerous than an angry
buffalo cow, she found – you can’t stop it with a handful of sand!
Number Five of the Big Five, the rhino (both the white and black
species), took a while longer to spot at Sabiepark. They even eluded
us in the Kruger for quite a time. At one stage I made up a short
rhyme the lack of rhinos:
- Piles of rhino dung is the only mark
- That prove there are rhinos in this park.
The ”‘piles of dung’’ refer to the communal ‘ablutions’’ one finds along the road, mostly in the south – in the Berg-en-Dal region between Pretoriuskop and Skukuza. But, admittedly, my rhyme is a little unfair. In real rhino country we came across a fair number of these moody, shortsighted creatures. We even encountered some alongside the tarred road just past the Kruger Gate, and on the S3 on the other side of the Sabie River – one of my favourite spots for a short drive in the late afternoon.
But rhino at Sabiepark? Even at the picnic spot? Never heard of one. Until the winter holiday of 2002, when a new resident informed us from behind the wheel of his converted Land Rover that he’d seen a rhino drinking there. A likely story, I thought, smiling sceptically. “Must’ve been a hippo,’’ I winked at Tokkie.
It wasn’t long before I had to eat my words! The very next day, to be honest. We spent the morning game-spotting across the river on our famous neighbour’s land, armed with two pairs of binoculars. The only creatures around were a croc sunning itself motionlessly on a sandy river bank, two Egyptian geese and a few impalas on the far side of the river.
Suddenly we heard a commotion. A bulky, grey apparition came crashing through the riverside undergrowth, sniffing for water with its nose, on which perched the unmistakeable trademark of the rhino. Splashing in the water, the pachyderm began drinking copiously. Grunting with pure pleasure, he later had a ball lolling around in his mud bath.
It was a rhino all right. A white rhino to be precise. The size and the characteristic wide lips were a give-away (the rarer black rhino is smaller but more aggressive). The lips of the white rhino, interestingly enough, provided the animal’s name. The original Dutch, ‘wijde lip’ (wide lip), became ‘wide’ in English, and finally ‘wit’ (white) in Afrikaans – even though the rhino is anything but white.
Leopard, lion, elephant, buffalo… and now rhino. The Big Five – all five of them – at our very own Sabiepark. How about a high five? I suggested to Tokkie. We put our wine glasses and binoculars down and, like boisterous cricketers after a splendid feat on the pitch we slapped a celebratory high five.
END
OF the road. Two lions that caused a stir in Sabiepark, shot by Ian
Crabtree near his back door. With him is his daughter, Lizette (7).