Homeward Bound (8/24)

We packed our bags, loaded the Jeep, and bid adieu to our honeymoon cottage. Breakfast was bittersweet as we settled our bill and took one last peak at the beak of a hornbill. Our journey home began with a last goodbye to the cheetahs

at the start of the 3-hour drive back to Windhoek. We stopped at a crafts market and bought a bowl allegedly made by the proprietor's grandfather.

Anne and I spent most of the ride reminiscing about the cornucopia of exciting experiences over the past 3 glorious weeks—dogs, cats, derms, lopes, LBBs, rhinos, simians, seals, dunes, etc..

Our three BA flights were uneventful, the movies hadn’t changed, and the food in-flight was predictably BA (British Awful). However, our 12 hours in BA first class lounges in Jo’burg and London were downright enjoyable, with a wide variety of cuisine to choose from in a pleasant atmosphere with comfortable seating.

And, as I peeked out the window on our descent into O’Hare, I marveled at the site of a whirring jet engine, and reflected on the irony of man-made advanced technology that allows us to witness nature at its very best half-way around the world in a MERE 36 hours. Thanks to Wilbur, Orville, Stanley, and Livingston!

Dog Day Morning (and Afternoon) (8/23)

More pre-dawn reveling, as Jacques loaded Anne, Rick, the Italian Stallion (Mario), his three female escorts, and their “guide” onto the Land Rover in a quest for wild dogs. After two hours in sub-zero (C) conditions, we had traversed almost the entire 22,000 hectares of the reserve,

before we finally located these canine cuties, who, like their feline counterparts, had been orphaned by farmers and nursed by the Africat Foundation.

They played like puppies and lounged like labs,

but their name and Jacques convinced us to ignore our desires to pet them. One even imitated Bo, as he barfed up something he shouldn’t have eaten, then attempted to re-consume the lump before one of his brothers stole the pile. This helped relieve some of my hunger pains.

On our way back to the lodge for breakfast, the thermometer hit 5, as we passed a lone cheetah, moseying up the road, with a full belly and a contented look.

By the time we reached the dining room, the smell of crisp bacon filled the air, and my appetite had returned. A relaxing early afternoon included a late lunch, a quick nap, some blog updating, and bird feeding, as the hornbills perched outside our chalet.

We joined a friendly German family of five for our afternoon hyena hunt with Ruan. We soon learned that Stefan, the 25 year-old son, was a professional photographer, who shared some valuable tips with Rick. For the first 90 minutes of our journey, we only encountered giraffe and lady kudus, until the tracker finally picked up a signal, and we headed out on foot to locate Pooh, not exactly the name most would pick for a hyena.

However, as Ruan informed us, the hyena is a misunderstood animal. In fact, it is NOT a canine and NOT merely a scavenger; mostly killing its own food, despite its relatively slow footspeed. Apparently, it has the endurance of a Kenyan marathoner, and simply wears down its prey. Speaking of praying, we DID notice that Ruan was carrying a club, allegedly because a leopard was in the ‘hood. At long last, we caught up with Pooh,

who looked reasonably harmless while sitting in the high grass, like an oversized german shepherd (with shark teeth). However, as he began walking, his gait was Shenzi creepy, and we were relieved to see him head off into the twilight.

We returned to the vehicle, and picked up a faint signal from one of the leopards and decided to give chase, eventually tracking her down and catching a brief glimpse after the sun had set, and still a good hour’s drive from the camp. I guess they are going to call us late for dinner tonight! Oh well, sometimes it’s a dog’s lifeJ

After another mouthwatering dinner, we headed back to our cottage, where I tested the rule of 600 that Stefan had taught me for photographing night skies.

To my sheer delight, the technique worked, and, after 3 weeks of star gazing with no images to show for it, I was finally able to capture the remarkable Africa sky.

♬Mem’Ry♬ We Know What Happiness Is! (8/22)

Morning Dedicated to John Calipari, Jim Tressel, Bill Bellichek, and Pete Carroll AKA The Four Cheetahs!

Welcome to the Okonjimo Bush Camp, also home to the Africat Foundation, dedicated to the rehabilitation of orphaned cheetahs.

And, yet another morning where we beat the cock-a-doodle-doo to the punch, as a 5:30am telephone reveille preempted the last traces of deep rem reveries. We met Jacques (guide), Sakias (tracker), and our Essen friends, Carsten and Karsten, for a quick shot of warmth and caffeine before we began our excursion to the Betty Ford Center for Feline Orphans. Yes, even cheetahs go to rehab these days. As it turns out, farmers in Namibia are permitted to kill big cats who threaten their livestock. Consequently, a number of cheetah mothers are slaughtered each year, leaving their cubs unlikely to last very long in the wild. The Africat Foundation, which shares the 22,000 hectares on which our the spectacular Okonjimo Lodge rests, collects these bambi-nos from the farmers, nurses them for a year, then releases groups of them into an expansive and natural “rehab” environment. For two years, these adolescent cheetahs, collared with radio transmitters, hunt, survive, and thrive in the wild, learning valuable life lessons (often the hard way) like, “You are built for speed, not strength, so don’t try to defend your kill against a leopard or hyena,” or “Don’t bite the fence that frees you (electrified border to keep out illegal aliens…remember, we are staying in the BUSH camp).

Armed with blankets to protect us from the bitter morning chill in the cruising Land Rover and an antenna to detect nearby cheetah, we cruised the reserve in search of the cats. Within minutes, I excitedly, proudly, and quite inaccurately shouted “Leopard!!!” Jacques stopped the vehicle and very gracefully explained that I had in fact spotted (ouch!) one of the cheetahs in the nursing section of the Africat property. Shortly thereafter, Jacques picked up the first signal, and indicated that we would be lucky enough to escape a long drive and hike this morning as four cheetah appeared to be nearby. Fifteen minutes later, we stopped the car, and set out on foot, with the antenna, walkie-talkies, and cameras in tow.

With bristles piercing our socks and thorns scratching our legs, we turned a corner as Sakias pointed north, where we spotted (sorry!) the four cheetahs.

We quickly headed eastward through the brush to get out ahead of the kitties and capture their images in the glow of the morning sun. Within minutes, we were face to face with them, a mere 5 meters away. At first, they simply rested, posing in the high grass, rolling over, yawning, and wandering over to greet and tussle with one another. The brother and sister were especially cute as they cuddled calmly in the grass.

Two days since their last big meal, they embarked on a journey to find a kill, with six curious homo sapiens in tow.

For the next hour we all traipsed through the brush behind the cats, trying to avoid Rowan Atkinsonian serpents (i.e., black adders), in search of an unsuspecting oryx (mammal, not vacuum cleaner) or steenbok, with a few short-lived and unproductive chases and multiple photo op stops along the way. Eventually, we admitted that the cheetahs needed to eat, and that perhaps, dragging along four middle aged humans was not ideal for hunting. We waved bye-bye and headed for the Land Rover. Of course, within 3 minutes, we again crossed paths with Krazy Katz as they rested on the road for one last pose before we bid them adieu.

Not-So-Deaf Leopards

A relaxing mid-day at our honeymoon suite overlooking the hills, watching the wartzenshwein (vart-sin-shvine) prowl, the oryx prance, and the violet-eared wax bills

nibble on our bird feed, before tea time and our afternoon game drive. We met Jacques and 5 Italian tourists at the Land Rover for a vehicle-based leopard tracking adventure, once again aided by radio collars and antennas. Passing some stubborn giraffe and skittish hartebeests along the way,

this time the Land Rover took quite a beating, as the elusive leopard led us into the bush, scraping and plowing our way through thorny trees, broken limbs, sand holes, and rocks. Just as the antenna indicated that we had closed within 30 meters, a run-over tree limb decided “enough is enough” and launched a thick twig torpedo, puncturing our left front tire.

While Jacques repaired the flat with Indy 500 speed, the sun began to set and our concerns rose that we would miss our chance to spot (there I go again) the most elusive of big cats. Back in the vehicle within 9 minutes, we renewed our pursuit, catching a distant glimpse of Oshiwa, a 2 year-old virgin in heat. Jacques did a quick U-turn and followed the road around a large loop to cut her off at her next pass. However, when she emerged and saw us, she quickly reentered the bush, forcing us to retrace our most recent footprints in hot pursuit.

The antenna signal sent us back into the bush for one last try at a clear line of sight to Oshiwa. We were scanning the ground to no avail as the sun dropped to 10 degrees above the horizon, when Jacques shared, “Up there in the tree.”

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? NO! It’s OSHIWA, princess of the Okonjima leopards, just lithely hanging out, literally, on a branch, a mere 20 meters away. She dangled, she posed, she growled, she slithered, and ultimately she descended, a more elegant cat lady than Halle Berry.

What a magnificent creature. What a wild and worthy adventure! And, thanks to the flat tire that made our branch viewing possible.

Rick's NightQuill (8/21)

Another good night’s rest before a late breakfast and a sad farewell to the comfy Mushara Outpost as the not-so-cute, but friendly, family of warzenschwein snorted “Auf wiedersehen.”

The Fearsome Foursome headed back to the Jeep for our 3 hour drive to Okonjima, passing an occasional baboon or vart-zen-shvine family along the paved and relatively deserted B1 highway.

We stopped at a green and blue-hued mountain lake, with a checkered past as a mine and dumping ground for munitions. Dan and Anne explored the rim, while Rick and Nancy relaxed in the shade.

By early afternoon, after filling up the Jeep one last time, we arrived at the entrance to the Okonjima Bush Camp, home to the Africat Foundation, where David, from our local tour operator, met us at the gate. After a few hugs and obnoxious comments about riding injuries, Dan and Nancy transferred their luggage and headed back to Windhoek for their flight to Botswana and 6 days chasing elephants on horseback AKA Rick’s definition of hell.

Rick and Anne followed the dirt road for another 24km, up into the hills, until they reached the parking lot of the Bush Camp, and entered the quaint open-air dining and lounge areas, noticing the oryx drinking at the nearby water hole as we checked in. Tina provided an overview of the camp and activities before we enjoyed high tea and met Jacques, who would be our guide for the next few days. After tea, Tina escorted us to the “honeymoon suite,” under the somewhat mistaken impression that we were 25 year-old newlyweds.

With its own bird feeder, patio, expansive and very private view of the hillside, two queen-sized beds, double sinks, a small kitchenette, a tree in the shower, and an outdoor shower to boot, we had finally landed in the lap of luxury that we probably shouldn’t get too accustomed to. Acres and acres devoted to two newlyweds (1 day in a biblical sense, I guess) and the local birds, warzenschwein, and kudu.

Following another gourmet meal that helped prune the antelope stock, we joined a few non-honeymoon guests for a late night excursion to a blind for some evening game viewing. We anxiously took our seats as Sakias placed some meat on the other side of the curtain. The sound of maracas filled the blind when he returned, rolled up the curtain, and revealed a small prickle of porcupine pushing, rattling, and shoving their way around a small pile of leftover kudu filets.

They were simply adorable and incredibly noisy

as they bumped and ground their way around their late night snack.

Eventually, we headed back to our villa, gazed at the brilliant starlit sky, and shouted “goodnight honey” across the double-queen beds.

High-Tailing Pumbas and Hide, Spot, Hide (8/20)

We spent a relaxing morning, enjoying the scrumptious breakfast, scarlet-breasted shrike (to watch, not eat), comfortable lodge, antelope-laden watering hole, and entertaining, skittish, and UHG-LEE vart-zen-shvine (German for Pumba) wallowing in the mud. By noon, we were ready to reenter the park and visit a couple of the nearby watering holes and game drives.

After saying g'day to a passing wildebeest...

We drove slowly on a narrow and densely forested path, when our eagle-eyed spotter, Anne, whispered, “Look at the cute little dik-dik.”

To which the tiny antelope responded with his “KMA, Lady” pose.

Back on the main road and the side-road to the Kleine Namutoni, we got up close and personal with more giraffes and pacaderms,

whose massive and thunderous feet intrigued us. One elephant tried to hide in the shade,

apparently forgetting his sunglasses, while a giraffe with bad hips, actually bent down for a sip of water.

Then, as the sun began to set, eagle-eye Annie spotted (sorry, again) a leopard by the side of the road. Lieutenant Dan screeched to a halt and made a three point turn, but by then, the feline beauty had scurried under the culvert, where she remained until 5:15 when we had to quickly exit the park.

However, we did see her biltong dinner hanging from a nearby tree, the remains of a springbok she had stripped, dragged up into the branches, and was drying in the afternoon sun.

Back at the lodge, we met a Parisian contingent around the campfire, who were very impressed with Dan and Nancy’s French, before toasting to an amazing trip, enjoying another gourmet dinner of tender kudu filets, and posing for some goodbye photos.