A Python in Big Crisis and Duiker Killed in Sabie Park

We did not often see White-neck’s ewe. Sometimes he brought her with him. At other times he visited on his own. We know that she sleeps in a cluster of young tamboti trees along the driveway. Tokkie, who can be rather sentimental at times, often scratches in the little piles of fresh duiker dung in the vicinity of the sleeping spot. Then she announces that the tiny black “berries” are “too beautiful”.

We know of at least two babies born to our couple. The first we discovered on a Sunday morning, when Tokkie went to the kitchen to make the first cups of coffee. Through the kitchen window she saw an ewe and her lamb approaching. The lamb was obviously only a few hours old. The little legs were still unwilling to co-operate. My wife called me, and together we watched them. The mother walked a few paces ahead, stood still and looked around. From the movement of her neck we assumed that she made some kind of sound. Then she walked back to where the little one stood, before turning around to continue on her way. The little one shuffled through the tall grass behind its mother, to rest again after a few steps. The mother displayed endless patience. Eventually they disappeared behind a tree. The ewe was probably on her way to “hide” her baby, according to duiker culture.

This compassionate scene reminded me of a brave duiker that made me smile the previous afternoon. A blue wildebeest was retreating frantically when the tiny fellow “spooked” him. It wasn’t difficult to put two and two together. That blue wildebeest had trespassed when entering a “maternity ward”.

A Snake in Sabie Park

With the second encounter, Johan and Mariza were in Sabiepark. About a week before Christmas, they left early in the morning to have a game of golf in Skukuza. In the driveway they saw a long, wide trail. They suspected that it could be a python. They were not wrong. Later on they heard from Handa Zeller that a python was in the process of devouring a duiker, then a leopard attacked it. The python was in a crisis. All it could do, was to regurgitate its prey in order to escape, or to fight back. But it was too late. Soon it became a leopard delicacy. The carcass of the duiker was left alongside the road.

Leopards are opportunists, Handa told Johan and Mariza. When that one came upon the python that was eating and could not move, it was too much of a good opportunity to miss. Our children immediately went searching for the dead duiker. They found the carcass on the spot of the attack, and took a photograph – also of the trail of the python.

On 3 January 2003, my birthday, Tokkie and I arrived at a lush green Sabiepark. On the second or third evening we made a “potjie” (stew on an open fire). A duiker ewe fearlessly approached us at dusk. She came up to four steps from the chairs on which we were seated – frozen in amazement. She looked directly at Tokkie. Thus she stood for a few minutes while the muscles of her face and body trembled and twitched with tension. Then she turned around and walked away. We immediately thought of Bok-Bok. Tokkie was convinced that it was the mother who had come to notify us of her loss. That “fact” was not negotiable, my wife insisted.

One morning Tokkie called me to see how Witnek, like a bloodhound, was trotting and sniffing on a spoor. He criss-crossed the yard. Then he took to the driveway. All his pips were still at the bird-bath, just as Tokkie had left it. We had never seen anything like it. We could only guess at the reason for his strange behaviour. Tokkie had a theory that he could have been upset about a great loss. His ewe could have been caught by a leopard. I, on the other hand, wondered whether Witnek was not on a punitive expedition. A few days before, there was a strange duiker ram on our (and Witnek’s) erf. The uninvited guest rubbed his face against some of our trees, probably marking territory. Maybe he wanted to infiltrate Witnek’s jealously-guarded kingdom.

Later on we were told that it was probably love that had got hold of Witnek. Urgent desire often leads to lack of appetite. Witnek must have been very deeply in love, as his pips used to be an absolute priority.

Periodically, skirmishes take place on Tarlehoet’s domain. It is Witnek versus the guinea-fowl, with Tokkie firmly in Witnek’s corner. In some way or another, the guinea-fowl sense when my wife is going to provide pips. Then they approach from nowhere in a long black row, which reminds one of a church council of days gone by, marching solemnly into church from the vestry.

“Come now, dinner’s ready,” she would urge Witnek on if he seems nervous. “Shoo-shoo,” she would chase away the guinea-fowl. “Now go away. You’ve had your turn.” But, alas, before Tokkie knew, the pips have gone. Guinea-fowl are not stupid. Suspicion that favouritism could cause the duiker to receive more than his share, keep them glued to the scene. They wait at strategic spots under the trees. When Tokkie moves, it seems to cause a thrill of anticipation. They scramble and moved closer.

Later, Witnek does his usual rounds. At the bird-bath he meets with disappointment – no pips. He appears hurt and indignant. He will look around angrily and then stare closely in the direction of the front stoep. It is undeniably a reproachful stare. Tokkie tries to explain: “I can’t do anything, darling. You must chase them yourself.” Witnek only keeps staring. All systems are now focused on vigilance. The moment when the guinea-fowl, tired of waiting, moves away, my wife take the gaps. She quickly descends the steps with a bucketful of pips in her hand. These are strewn on the usual spot, perhaps a few extras, to make up for past sins. Witnek is then enticed with a few clucking sounds to come to dinner, quickly. If he manages to out-manoeuvre the guinea-fowl, it is hailed as an Olympic triumph. From the stoep he is cheered on like a champion.

When we lock up after a holiday, it is always with an enormous feeling of guilt. Just imagine what a rude awakening awaits Witnek when, suddenly, the supply of pips dry up. We try to leave unnoticed. At the end of our last holiday, however, Witnek surprised us. When we were ready to leave, he stood silently waiting at the bird-bath. Tokkie’s eyes met his and she could not endure the reproach.

“Give me our provisions for the road,” she ordered. Witnek received my favourite egg-sandwiches!