BARRY O’BRIEN, a newspaper photographer for 46 years and now a travel writer/photographer, tells how he was soundly scooped by his 14-year-old grandson
I AM on safari with my family in South Africa.
“On safari” is a glamorous term for bouncing around in an open top, nine-seat Toyota Landcruiser with tiered seating, a vehicle specially made for African wildlife viewing.
It is cold at 5.30 in the morning and hot in the afternoon. There is no cover when it rains (but ponchos are issued) and no shelter from the soaring temperatures. But the excitement of what might be behind the next bush or just around the next bend far exceeds any hardship.
Animals do have their regular haunts, but are free to roam wherever they please around the 9000-hectare property at Karongwe Portfolio, a collection of lodges on a private game reserve near Hoedspruit 450km north of Johannesburg.
I am travelling with my family – wife Pat, son David and wife Joanne and their children Trent, 14, and Zoe, 13; and Lisa Ryan and her son Link, 14. We are travelling over rough bush tracks in the quest to find a mature male lion – an endeavour that has so far eluded us.
Rangers with other tour groups are constantly in contact with each other, reporting sightings whether it be giraffe, rhino, elephant or one of the big cats.
Presumably so as to not excite passengers when a sighting is reported, they communicate with each other in the local language. When our guide, head ranger Keenan Houareau, suddenly changes gear and puts the foot down, we know it must be a good sighting. “A pride of lions has just stolen a leopard’s kill (an impala), chased the leopard up a tree and is waiting for it to come down,” he announces in excited tones.
“Lions will kill leopards if they get the chance to eliminate competition for food. And,” he paused, “there’s a big male with them.” The rough drive seems an eternity, but when we arrive, the pride is still there and a “King of the Jungle” is jealously guarding the impala carcass, severely chastising any young upstart that dares venture within his vicinity. Thick bush surrounds him but Keenan manoeuvres the vehicle so we can all get a, somewhat restricted, view. I grab a couple of pictures of the big fella and ask Keenan to move on a bit so the others can get their pictures.
As the vehicle settles, Keenan notices one of the younger lions playing with something. After a close look he announces incredulously “It’s a pangolin.”
“A what?” we reply as one. Keenan explains: “It’s a rarely seen termite-eating nocturnal creature with large, tough, protective keratin scales covering its skin, the same material of which human fingernails are made.
“I know guides that have been doing this job for years, as long as 14 years out in the field morning and evening seven days a week, and have never seen one of these remarkable and rare animals.” The young lion soon loses interest in the pangolin, which had rolled itself into a ball for protection. Eventually it pokes its head out to see if it is clear and slowly moves off. But as it approaches the big lion, the animal suddenly leaps up and attacks it. Frustratingly for me, the bushes obscure my view. “I got it,” grandson Trent cries triumphantly. The pangolin had once again gone into protective mode shielded by its armour plate exterior. After a moment the lion, unable to penetrate the sharp, tough exterior, loses interest and the pangolin waddles to safety.
“Pangolins are the most trafficked animal on the planet at the moment,” Keenan explains. “They are highly sought after on the black market due to the value of their scales.” This, he said was because of their so-called medicinal purposes. “To see one being attacked by a lion is absolutely remarkable, probably a once in a lifetime experience,” Keenan says. And I was scooped by my jubilant grandson!
Footnote: The pride of lions kept the leopard in the tree for a day while they finished eating the impala. When rangers returned to the location, both lions and leopard had moved on.