Enchanted

I have just started reading a real classic to Tim. I remember reading Durrell’s ‘My family and other animals’ as a child and being completely hypnotized by tales of his freewheeling naturalist adventures on the (then) relatively pristine Greek island of Corfu.

I had forgotten how well he writes and how he brings the natural world alive. Squeezing generous blobs of language onto a palette, he uses exquisitely bold brush strokes to create vibrant and poetic images.

My mouth waters when I read his prose.

I just want to crawl into the page and join him in those tantalizing, shaded olive groves, to lie on my belly surrounded by velvet crocuses and marigolds, use grassy stalks to tickle moss-encrusted trapdoor spider homes….. and to meet all the fabulous winged, four-legged and two-legged creatures he comes across on his daily wanderings.

In his first few months on the island, the 10-year-old Gerald becomes completely fixated with all the small stuff – the lady-birds, the ants, egg-laying earwigs and rose-beetles.

One gets such a real sense of the intoxicating, deafening, buzzing, cicada-drenched Corfu air.

I couldn’t resist sharing some of these beautiful lines with you…

‘Among the thick, silky petals of each rose bloom lived tiny, crab-like spiders that scuttled sideways when disturbed. Their small, translucent bodies were coloured to match the flowers they inhabited…on the rose-stems, encrusted with green flies, lady-birds moved like newly painted toys; lady-birds pale red with large black spots; lady-birds apple red with brown spots; lady-birds orange with grey and black freckles. Rotund and amiable, they prowled and fed among the anaemic flocks of greenfly. Carpenter bees, like furry electric-blue bears zigzagged among the flowers, growling flatly and busily. Humming bird hawk-moths, sleek and neat, whipped up and down the paths with a fussy efficiency, pausing occasionally on speed-misty wings to lower long, slender proboscis into a bloom. . ..there came from the olive-groves outside the fuscia hedge the incessant shimmering cries of the cicadas…’

And then he writes of the coming of Spring…

‘Waxy yellow crocuses appeared in great clusters, bubbling out among the tree-roots and tumbling down the banks. Under the myrtles, the grape-hyacinths lifted buds like magenta sugar drops and the gloom of the oak thickets was filled with the dim smoke of a thousand blue day-irises. Anemones, delicate and easily wind-bruised, lifted ivory flowers the petals of which seemed to have been dipped in wine….It was no half-hearted spring this: the whole island vibrated with it as though a great, ringing chord had been struck. It was apparent in the gleam of flower petals, the flash of bird wings and the sparkle in the dark, liquid eyes of the peasant girls…’

What a perfectly magical, rich childhood.

How sad it is that so many of the children (spawned by my generation) will never have the chance to roam freely, safely and alone all day exploring hidden valleys, mountains and beaches, collecting beetles, grubs and grasshoppers and striking up unlikely and lasting friendships with quirky, eccentric (but harmless) two-legged strangers…

Gerald Durrell passed away in 1995.
What a man…and what a life.

I am inspired to share these images of three spectacular little creatures we came across on our last adventure out of town – all three of them as beautifully crafted as Durrell’s words.

On the backs of giants

On our recent holiday we made a spontaneous decision to try an African elephant back safari. It is something I have never considered doing, the purist in me always dismissing the idea. Surely training such a sentient being for this form of tourism would be wrong? I know I am not alone in feeling this way. Many people balk at the concept of taming these glorious wild animals – holding onto the (perhaps outdated?) image of them roaming free across an endless African grassland.

My mindset shifted and my interest was piqued when chatting to a highly respected conservationist recently who firmly believes in the concept in Africa and is convinced that it has enormous conservation value. And as I have come to realise in recent decades…if wildlife has any hope of survival on this volatile continent of ours, it has to pay its way…

So with such an educated thumbs-up, I decided that it would be something well worth trying. More than anything, I really wanted to expose my son to what promised to be a life-changing experience.

And that it was.

The short 40-minute ride itself was remarkable enough. Tim sat astride one of the young massive males Mukwa (with his handler, Prince) and my husband and I rode on Duma together with our superb, gentle and informative guide and handler Elliot. There are no bridle-like contraptions, saddles or blankets to cushion the ride or upset the animals. The handlers use reward, voice commands, trust and respect. No breaking of spirits here.

For the three of us though, the most exceptional part of the experience was after the ride when we were given the opportunity to walk through the bush alongside the three beautiful beasts.

We were quite literally rubbing shoulders with them while they wrapped their trunks around thorn-encrusted branches, closed their Bette Davis eyelashes in slow soporific delight as they munched on bark, flicked large clumps of grass against the upper part of their trunk to get rid of the soil before shovelling it into their mouths, defecated at our feet and ambled along softly (yet with astounding efficiency and speed).

I held my breath through it all standing right next to Duma…when touching the moist hairy tips of his huffing, sniffing prehensile trunk, when smelling and feeling his warm explorative breath on my cheek, feeling his coarse tail hair, running my fingers over his toenails and the soft spongy looking skin under his massive feet, tucking my hand under his wrinkled armpit and feeling the baby-bottom soft, warm skin.

Then to stand right infront of him and look into his eyes and have him look right into mine…. knowing what I know about what we are doing to his relatives (and their habitat) elsewhere on this continent – and wondering what this great beast could see and read in my mind.

It was nothing short of mind-blowing.

We also had a chance to feed them, which gave my son yet another unique opportunity to gaze right into an elephant’s mouth, to see his tongue, his massive mincing molars and awesome gaping throat. What a rare privilege – particularly for a young child!

All these pictures speak for themselves (thanks Warren).

Though the one at the very bottom of this post is particularly poignant, I think…

George Monbiot recently reflected and wrote about a very real environmental crisis (and one which I alluded to in my previous blog). That is the removal of children from the natural world. Despite the research that shows the great majority of people do wish to see our ailing planet protected – very few, claims Monbiot, are really prepared to take action. The young people we all hope will stand up and fight to protect the natural world – are sadly having less and less to do with it.

Monbiot’s words resonate for me – particularly after an experience such as this.

I strongly believe that a rare and deeply moving opportunity such as this should be taken where possible/affordable. Exposure at this level cannot fail to move a person – young or old.

And we really NEED young people to be moved enough to effect change or to dedicate their lives to the protection of our very precious wild creatures – and their habitat. Now more than ever.

‘There is no substitute for what takes place outdoors; not least because the greatest joys of nature are unscripted. The thought that most of our children will never swim among phosphorescent plankton at night, will never be startled by a salmon leaping, a dolphin breaching, the stoop of a peregrine, or the rustle of a grass snake is almost as sad as the thought that their children might not have the opportunity.

Most of those I know who fight for nature are people who spent their childhoods immersed in it. Without a feel for the texture and function of the natural world, without an intensity of engagement almost impossible in the absence of early experience, people will not devote their lives to its protection.’ [Monbiot, 2012]

(For more on this truly excellent outfit based in the Zuurberg mountains, visit Addo Elephant Back Safaris: (http://www.addoelephantbacksafaris.co.za/).

Wild creations

Happy 2013 to you all!

We have just returned from a wonderful time away exploring a few hidden (and relatively untouched) corners of this amazingly beautiful, diverse and surprising country.

I am going to kick-start this blogging year with some reflections on how some of these forays into these wild and woolly places brought on a remarkable change in our nine-year-old. His creative juices seemed to flow uncensored; he relaxed, seemed happier and made the most beautiful things.

We spent time swimming and canoeing in rivers, hiking on beaches, splashing in the warm Indian Ocean, sloshing about in thick river mud, watching clicking crabs and slurping prawns out of their murky depths, exploring the leafy, damp depths of thick coastal and riverine forests and swinging high within and between the vast creaking arms of ancient trees.

We rode horses (without conventional bridles and bits). We also rode and walked alongside African elephants. We met some amazing people who have a deep love and respect for these animals and who work with them in a way that uses the power of intention and a deep understanding of their instinctive/natural ways as opposed to cruel force and domination.

We stayed in some remote and rustic places – one or two of them fairly basic and without electricity. Our nights were lit by paraffin lamps, our showers either cold or heated up only by first lighting a fire and revving up a donkey boiler.

The first of Tim’s creations emerged after one of our forest walks in the Wilderness area. Before we knew it, he had fashioned a little forest elf hat out of ferns, stems and twine. This he wore for the rest of the day – much to the gentle amusement of those we passed.

The second came out of a walk along one of those endless windswept Transkei beaches. This time, Tim quietly gathered up a random selection of driftwood sticks. He refused to tell us what he wanted to do with them. A surprise, he said.

That afternoon he sat with his knife and some fishing twine and within about half an hour had created a beautiful bow and arrow – the arrow perfectly whittled at the tip, with a neatly crafted slit at the end to fit the bow.

This was used on our first forest walk in Hogsback…when we were out searching for Hobbits!

At our next destination, and after another long drive, he hauled out his knife and fishing twine and started whittling away at the various bits of the bow and arrow and again – with zero intervention from us, he had fashioned a fascinating musical instrument. A kind of African guitar, which emits two tuneful notes when plucked along its two taut strings.

Our final evening was spent in a glorious Karoo farm, the ancient farm house overlooking the Gamka River with its craggy steep echoing sides. While we sipped our wine and marveled at the warmth of the stoep soaking into our bare feet, the fading sunlight touching the aloes, and the vastness of the sky, Tim vanished into the scrubby Karoo veld.

He returned armed with scraps of iron, rusty wire, a bone, a stone and various other gnarled fingers of farm detritus. He then proceeded to create the most beautiful mobile/wind chime – his bare hands twisting and bending, cheeks puffed out with concentration.

The end result is completely beautiful. It hung on the stoep, the warm Karoo wind making music with it throughout the night. It now hangs on ours at home – a wonderful momento of a beautiful evening.

Later that evening, Tim and I went around the house lighting the paraffin lamps before the darkness seeped under the doors. He then went off to help his father light the fire under the donkey boiler.  No electric switches, no television, no ipad, no cell phone. None of these hideous modern imagination slayers. These sensory thieves.

That night we all sat together and soaked it all in….the crackle of twigs, the smell of wood smoke, the fading distant chirrup of the kingfishers in the valley below, the hadedas cackling as they winged their way to bed, the crickets humming and the jackals calling to one another.

All of them telling stories – the subplots of which we humans could never fathom.

This degree of creativity, independence and contentment is a fairly rare commodity at home with this little boy. I am not sure what it points to. But I imagine it has a lot to do with a “tuning out” – a shutting out the noise that is “civilised”, modern fast-paced and pressurised life.

There really is much to be said for spending more time in remote places. Especially for children. To be in places where one is forced to really fine tune all five senses; to become aware of what it takes to generate light and warmth; to invent, create and to really look and be in awe of the natural world.

In blogs to follow, I will share more on the extraordinary rivers and indigenous forests and the creatures we heard and saw. I also want to share the mind blowing interaction with three truly magnificent elephants…

Gecko TV

The African bush comes alive at night time. The heat seeps away, the crickets crank up their violins and those further down in the food pyramid stare wide-eyed into the blackness and ready themselves for their endless night vigil. Nostrils flare, ears pivot constantly and big cats with rumbling bellies begin to stir.

The Kgalagadi is no exception. Early evenings are beautiful. It is my favourite time of day by a long shot. I love the light that makes the sand blush and profiles everything with a tangerine tint.

The Zulus have a saying for this time of day: ‘Abantu bahle…The people are beautiful’.

I love the bush smells that seem to intensify as the sun takes a bow to the moon. The barking geckos start to click and bark and a little later into the evening, the jackals and hyenas will have a little ‘Kalahari’s Got Talent’ sing-song…

Oh to have night vision and a special protective bubble (like The Incredibles) and to wander about quietly and watch it all play out. It would be extraordinary!

Back in our camp, we set up our own entertainment fest, with what Tim has always called ‘Gecko TV’. It keeps us all riveted for hours and involves watching the flying ants, Christmas beetles and all manner of invertebrates fall prey to the ever vigilant little gang of geckos. These guys lurk in the tent flap and make the most of the feast that comes right to their doorstep – the solar powered light. Beetles, moths and flies – they’re just lambs to the slaughter.

The entertainment factor is huge! We have ‘races’ – “My gecko got more than your gecko!”….

Sometimes we (Tim) have been known to cheat a bit. If one (Tim) stands with a torch up against the tent to encourage bugs to settle at the light stream, you can get ‘your’ gecko to guzzle more. A winning formula. They snap and crunch and munch, crispy wings protruding from their mouths, and you can just see their little bellies sag as the body count hits the 20’s.

Tim got so excited watching it all one night he decided to sample one of the bugs himself. Well, why the hell not? Good for a gecko, good for me! His conclusion?

“Hmm…..quite nice, actually!”

(Though it has to be said, he grabbed my gin and tonic and took a loud slurp to wash it all down….)

This little guy is a Cape gecko or Cape thick-toed gecko approaching his umpteenth hapless bug!

Imagination

So what’s happening in this picture Tim?

‘There’s a Fish Eagle chick in a nest in the tree and the Mum Fish Eagle has spotted a whole bunch of catfish in the water below, there’s a teenager Fish Eagle already on its way down…there is an elephant with her baby and just behind the baby, there is a lion (with its legs all ready to pounce on the baby elephant) and then the giraffe is just browsing and the leopard is up top watching everything below….’

Phew. Just click on the picture to get a better sense of the level of detail. It’s awesome :)….

Poo

I was at Exclusive Books yesterday to pick up a book I had ordered.

The assistant battled to find it and spent a frustrating 5 minutes hunting around for it at the back. I had given her the title “Scatalog”…so you’d think she’d be right on it!? Not a chance…

Imagine the faces behind me when I had to explain clearly and slowly to the by now cross-eyed woman that it was “a-book-about-poo!”

It is a little book – only 40 pages long and fits neatly into a backpack pocket.

The intro says it all…it is a ‘whodunit guide’ to make animal droppings, dung or scat easier to ID and it does this for about 100 species of mammals, birds, reptiles, insects and frogs. It’s the most marvelous collection of photos of poo you’ll ever get your hands on…

This booklet is going to make walks with Tim and his mates much more fun and a little more entertaining. Now we have no excuses when we come across a pile of twig or shell encrusted turds and glibly say “probably mongoose….maybe otter….?”. Now we have to look it up, measure it and dissect away merrily. We even have a full blown chart and key with avge width, length, and whether it contains bones, hair, millipedes, crabs, scales, sand, grass, seeds etc!

We have to consider whether the turds have been dispatched onto an elevated area, buried or broken…..all important bits of the poo puzzle, it seems.
The guide is full of wonderful little factoids. I bet you didn’t know that carnivore poo is generally cylindrical and pointy at one end? No, neither did I…
And that Steenbok (bless them) usually bury the evidence? Or try to anyway…

The author’s end note is brilliant and so very true.
‘Our lives nowadays are sadly disconnected from the natural environment upon which we depend so intimately. Anything that helps us connect adds depth and meaning, broadening our awareness and understanding of the natural world around us. Identifying the scat of an animal immediately connects us with that animal, whether in our cities, our villages, our farms or in the wild. Animal scats reveal which fellow travelers have been our way, and when.’

Sunbird spectacular

Went for the most beautiful walk down at Sunbird earlier this morning – a mere 5 minute drive from where we live. So many fabulous little nooks and crannies to explore and things to discover. A real paradise for two young boys, with a gnarley tree to climb, port jackson seedlings to wrestle out, pine nuts to hunt for, crack open and nibble, a magic ‘secret’ pond to bundu bash through thick fynbos to find, pooh sticks to play at Otter bridge and special craggy views to enjoy…what a gem of a spot. Dogs loved it too!