Craig and Millie (13 months) stayed in Lusaka and Christie, Dez (6 yrs), Lilah (4 yrs) and I went on a mom-kid trip. It's taken me days to work up the courage to try to capture the four days we spent in the park in writing because it seems an impossible task.
I think that anecdotes will be the only way to describe the experience because lists of animals we saw and strings of adjectives won't come close to reflecting the hue of the afternoon sun or the trills of the bird calls. Plus, Jeremy took Josie went to the San Francisco Zoo while we were gone and a recap of her trip would surely include a long list of animals also and beg the question of why we had to go to Africa to see lions.
Generally guests at the lodge we stayed at do two drives a day - an early morning drive that you're awoken for at 5:30 and a late afternoon drive that starts at 4:00 with beautiful evening light and continues into the pitch dark under headlights. Before leaving the States I heard about the night drives from Christie and assumed we wouldn't be doing them with two small kids. Once we were there however, the confidence of the guides and a sense of wonder at feeling the air rushing by you and hearing sounds much more sharply from having limited sight was too unique to pass up. (Plus, I failed to make a very basic connection involving math, departure times and the time the sun sets and realized as we watched a beautiful sunset over the river on our first afternoon drive that the afternoon drive becomes the night drive, so I agreed to night drives and put my six year old in an open jeep at night looking for lions and leopards stalking prey essentially on accident...see previous email regarding IQ of a squid.)
The following are moments that stood out from all of the wildlife and beauty we saw on our drives:
- A young elephant wandering over to her mother's enormous pile of freshly laid stool and contentedly starting to scoop it up with her trunk and eat it. Our guide, Nicholas, explained that some other animals do this to populate the youths' gut with the mom's intestinal flora, but that he'd never heard of or seen this with elephants. Sure enough, the mother elephant recognized it as weird as well and ambled back over to gently nudge the youth's trunk to discourage the odd behavior. The young elephant, however, simply ignored her and continued happily eating. The mom stood there for a moment a bit helplessly and then clearly decided that she really just didn't care. She went back to eating leaves and the young one finished the entire pile. Which made me smile, realizing that at times this mamma elephant and I have shared parenting styles. I've said no to things only to then regret it and not want to enforce my own red line because I decide that stopping a child from crossing it isn't worth the effort it would take. This parenting style appears about as effective on young elephants as young humans.
- Seeing a herd of 200-300 buffalo returning from a mini-migration and realizing that buffalo have very poor, uncertain footing on uneven surfaces. We watched with binoculars from the porch of the lodge as the herd tried to climb a distant slope. All eventually made it up, but some outright tumbled backwards or sideways back down the slope in their first efforts. I was embarrassed for them - it was not the cape buffalos' proudest moment as a species.
- Watching the herd of buffalo timidly tiptoeing (especially the older, less sure footed ones) across a dried mud field with a very uneven surface from elephants walking there during wetter weather. After watching them tumble down the hill and timidly walk on mud potholes I suddenly understood why lions make buffalo their primary targets. Lots of meat for relatively little effort.
- Having Nicholas redeem the buffalo by saying that hands down they are the most dangerous animal out there and the most feared by the guides due to their lack of a false ("warning") charge and a tendency to charge first and assess if something was actually a threat later. He claimed that hippos have a friendly disposition and are very deadly if you find yourself in their jaws, but it's quite easy to avoid being in said location. And lions and leopards don't seem interested in leaping into jeeps, and elephants give plenty of warning that they are uncomfortable before attacking. (These assessments seemed a bit dubious when he confirmed that, yes, an elephant had indeed attacked another lodge's jeep a few months prior and nearly flipped it, which we asked about because my friend Kim's sister and her family were in the jeep, and that, yes, Nicholas had once had a leopard dart underneath his jeep and sit there out of sight for 20 minutes to the horror of the passengers, who turned out to be a family with whom Christie is good friends. The fact that both incidents involved children in the jeep was just fantastic and made us feel very comfortable.)
- Sipping wine and sitting on a hilltop watching the sunset with the South African family one evening, only to miss the actual setting of the sun due to three buffalo cresting the hill we were on and ambling extremely close to us before apparently even noticing us. Relaxing and going back to wine sipping once Malemia, the lodge director who was there with us, said the buffalo had seen and accepted us. Becoming inexplicably comfortable with the kids drawing patterns in the dirt with sticks about 30 meters from the three buffalo staring at them and announcing to the buffalo they were not permitted to cross the drawn lines (in our defense Malemia took pictures of this). Learning later that Malemia and Nicholas privately spoke and decided if the buffalo charged they would run for the four children and grab them into the jeep for safety. Apparently the four adults chatting and drinking alcohol and laughing at the children staring down wild buffalo were deemed too dimwitted to be worth saving.
- Waking up to an elephant eating leaves off a tree outside our room.
- Watching a baboon scamper to sweep up a baby baboon who tried to jump in the lodge's little swimming pool.
- Returning from a night drive to have a large male leopard walk across the driveway entrance just in front of the vehicle and watching him stalk with a throaty grumble into the trees while a herd of impala standing on the front lawn froze and called out their distinct call of alarm when in the presence of a predator.
- Understanding after seeing the leopard on the premises why the lodge's practice of escorting guests through the courtyard to their rooms at night and requiring that you stay in your locked room until you are fetched in the morning is important.
- Seeing so many impala that I took them for granted, and then becoming smitten with them when I realized that as a result of seeing so many I'd failed to take pictures of them. Once you focus on them, the black striped markings on their white fur and their beautiful curved and edged horns become mesmerizing.
- Seeing 6-8 kudu and being speechless at how other-wordly these large antelope seem and how incredible their twisted antlers are.
- Watching a pride of four lionesses and five lion cubs feasting on the abdomen of a buffalo in the dark just beside a pond with four enormous crocodiles laying half submerged in the water with their snouts just feet from the kill waiting for their chance. We observed this with five other jeeps (it was the reason we went to the crowded area of the park because the guides had heard about it). The drawback to having other jeeps there (engine noise) was negated by the fact that we were able to see the feed better with several jeep lights on it. The action was still in a surprising amount of shadow even with the increased light, and the only creature that seemed perturbed by the light was the diurnal hippo who was lounging in the water nearby and would occasionally get a light in his eyes and look thoroughly annoyed. (I have to say with great respect for our lodge that their guides and night safari animal scouts/ light operators are very careful to avoid blasting diurnal animals with light.) The hippo and the crocs looked mystical because the pond was covered by an almost iridescent green moss, giving a green hue to the lights.
- Returning the next day and seeing absolutely no trace (not a single bone) of the carcus, which had been dragged into the pond by the crocs after the lions finished with it. There were several very round-bellied crocs laying in shallow water, digesting their feast.
- Passing 4-5 buffalo skulls with horns still attached laying in wait for the rainy season when water and moths soften the bones.
- Spotting an impala over a tree branch and seeing the impala's stomach be knocked out of the tree by a leopard, who descended silently to the ground to eat and then bury the stomach within a stone's throw of our jeep (and I do not have a good arm). Having the leopard be very aware we were there and not care since it was obvious we weren't trying to steal the impala. Watching the leopard jump back up into the tree to check on the carcass. Realizing that I could watch a leopard for hours their coats are so beautiful and that I had an impulse to go pet the leopard because its coat just looked so silky. I refrained....obviously since I'm alive to type this.
- Seeing the same leopard the next day lounging under a tree and being watched by another safari jeep. He seemed completely disinterested in the other jeep, and as they pulled out we took their place beside him under the tree. Dez was sitting in the front passenger seat, and as we pulled forward the leopard's gaze fell on Dez, he glanced at the rest of the vehicle, and then looked sharply and purposefully back at Dez, at which point I started repeating with a firm, low hiss to Killian, the lodge manager (who was driving us not on safari but to the school), "Go, go, go, go," not letting up my chant until we'd put more space between the leopard and the front seat. Killian giggled at me and claimed the leopard had no interest in Dez. His confidence seemed a bit more suspect later when he mistook a female elephant for a male, and later still when Nicholas confided that Killian found his calling in hospitality management (in which he excels) when he failed his guide certification exam.
- Spotting five porcupines on one night drive, which is apparently quite rare as they are very shy and excellent at hiding. They have such long quills that even in the dark you get a sense of how unbelievably beautiful they are. Apparently the babies are even born with quills, meaning breech births would be very unfortunate. As nocturnal animals, they are only spotted in the park on night drives, which means we had a surprising number of floodlit porcupines on this Zambian adventure including strobe-lit porcupines at the zoo.
- Feeling Dez lean into me subtly, but with great trust as we drove through the Park in the dark. He was so quiet and contemplative on those drives, occasionally asking questions, but mostly just taking in the experience while peering curiously into the shadows.
- Parking at a beautiful little gleaming blue water hole in the gold, late afternoon sun and watching three species of beautiful birds (including a crane eating a frog) and a group of zebras come down to the water's edge to drink just opposite us.
- Seeing lion prides resting under trees during the day or flopped on their backs in tall grass without a care in the world. Seriously. They looked so utterly unimpressed with the idea that anything could or would threaten them, and indeed the only thing that could or does would be passing elephants stepping on them, in which case the lions would feel them coming and amble to a different spot.
- Watching sleepy lions stand and step with enormous paws absolutely soundlessly over dried leaves to a new spot to curl up or stretch out.
- Seeing the bright, vibrant primary colored bee eater birds darting in and out of their homes in the sand banks.
- Seeing vultures high on tree limbs looking for prey, marveling at their extreme size and ugliness that is so marked they become beautiful and stately. Finding great irony that this bird so esteemed and reviled for its shrewedness often makes its next in baobab trees, which are a lifeline for the animals, come close to glowing in certain early morning and late afternoon light, and have spiritual significance to the locals.
- Saying that I was hopeful we'd see a giraffe up close eating from a tree, and rounding the next bend to come upon three large giraffe doing just that right in front of us, and the rest of the herd of about 10-15 giraffe being right nearby on the river banks.
- Having a giraffe watching us from the river bank as we drove the jeep through the river to get to the other side and looking at us like we were the weirdest creatures with the strangest decision making they'd ever seen.
- Watching warthogs run. Simply as that. They are the most hysterical creatures to see run because it's like seeing a pig run, only they look super fierce because of the tusks wrapping up from under their jaw up toward their noses. The tough guy look is betrayed by how short their legs are, which really means they're not so much running as scampering, and the fact that their tails stick straight up in the air perpendicular to the ground like a lollipop or pompom so their buddies can see them in tall grass as they book it about the land. Oh, and they have a kneel to eat off the ground from their odd proportions and are easy prey in this position as they cannot untuck their legs and rise quickly. The only reason they're still alive as a species must be because of buffalo (reference early observations on that species and its survival aptitude).
- Coming upon a herd of elephant in rich afternoon sun down by the water...or in the trees, or on an open plain, or moving on a walking path, or just standing idly and looking about for the next tree leaves to munch.
- Seeing the Zambian national bird (eagle) proudly perched on craggly branches and spotting four enormous vultures high on tree tops scounting for kill to scavange.
- Stumbling on three hyenas lazily lounging on the river bank during the daytime (unusual because they're nocturnal and usually tuck away during the day apparently).
- Watching Lilah and Dez holding onto the "oh shit" bar in the passenger seat and giggling as they bounced along side by side in the front seat of the jeep, blond hair gleaming in the African sun.
- Realizing that the rest of the lodge must have assumed we were a lesbian couple with our two adopted children, since neither looks much at all like either of us and there were no husbands in sight.
- Seeing how red and perfectly round the sun appears as it prepares to disappear below the horizon each evening.
- Watching a lead puku (small antelope) stand frozen at attention and sound its distinct whistle to alarm the herd a predator is in the area.
- Dez announcing to Nicholas on our first drive while looking through binoculars, "I see a lion at 60 degrees north." He later clarified, "Well, I know what 60 degrees is, but I don't know what direction north is."
- Looking at the beautiful patterns of baobab tree park and feeling the need to take a deep breath when driving by a particularly large or solitary one, or one with great history from being damaged by elephants and healing itself over many years.
- Feeling the wind rustling fabric of clothes and whipping hair into snaggles while riding in the jeeps.
- Watching rinse water turn brown while bathing after safari rides from the dirt carried in the wind on limbs and face.
- Often feeling like we were alone in another world on night drives, with air changing without seeming reason between pockets of cooler air so that you wanted a wrap and bursts of warm or even hot air. Hearing leaves crunching under the tires and dry branches scratching the sides of the jeep on narrower driving paths winding through the brush. Watching the sweep of the spotlight as it reached back and forth across the land and picked up glinting animal eyes, sometimes dozens of sets together in the distance.
- Marveling at the terrain and angles the jeeps were capable of maneuvering through, particularly with areas of deep sand.
- Capturing and releasing outside a huge beetle that ran over Dez's foot in the shower and thinking that he'd never looked as impressed by me as he did in that moment. Being grateful it wasn't a similarly sized spider as I wouldn't have pulled out the same performance. I must have been a fly in a former life because I have a completely unreasonable fear of spiders and distrust of how they move. (Brief aside: I once watched a program on conquering one's fears that highlighted spiders, hoping to address my own arachnophobia, and the lady they had on the show was such a nut and so over the top she never sat on grass and obsessively inspected the corners, ceiling and floor, of all rooms she entered checking for spiders. This made me feel much better about myself and I turned off the show, deciding I was actually normal.)
- Hearing a low lion grumble/ roar during dinner (which we were eating at tables on the lawn) and being told cheerfully by the lodge manager, "Oh yes, that's a lion. We know he's there and have been watching him. He's about 100 meters away. Just have the children talk loudly and the voices should keep him away."
- Feeling less confident about the lion on the property the second night we heard him during dinner after Malemia described watching a lion hunt a puku in front of the porch at breakfast last year, and a lion chase an impala into the pool the previous month.
- Talking with Nicholas, our guide, about the rigors of the guide exam, which include a written exam, identification stations (animal prints, leaves, feathers, bird calls), and a practicum with five experts in the vehicles (specializing in mammals, plants, birds, service and driving). Of 39 who sat for the exam, 11 advanced to the practicum drive and only six passed it. Nearly all guides are from villages in the area and passing is a source of enormous pride and job security.
- Dez making a band bracely for Killian, the lodge manager, on his birthday and helping him blow out he candles on his cake. Killian was one of the only non-local members of the staff, and he had a son Desmond's age back in Livingstone who he would see in late October. Dez connected with him and the next week as we drove home from the airport in San Francisco Dezi started to describe the safari to Jeremy and then got quiet, said in a low voice, "I just can't believe I won't see Killian ever again," teared up, and then slumped over sound asleep for the next 14 hours.
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