Game September to October

Newsletter - September

September at Mombo sees the flood receding as the water evaporates and yet another change in the scenery takes place as the new grasses shoot up and start to cover the dry floodplains in their wake. The large herds take advantage of the situation, feeding on the new sweet grasses.

The colours at Mombo are always fascinating but when the floodplains recede the new grass left behind is a vibrant green contrasting with the areas that have not had the luxury of water and are a light brown, yellowish colour; Mombo is a staggeringly beautiful place to be on safari at this time.

The migratory birds flock back in their thousands signalling the beginning of summer and the end of spring, many of the Okavango's plants and trees start to flower and huge herds of elephants start to gather in the area.

As October comes to a close temperatures reach their peak and much of the flood water has dried up completely around the Mombo concession. As the waters recede the game follows the withdrawing waters seeking out the new shoots that continue to be exposed. In the remaining pools large concentrations of catfish and other fish such as the bream remain cut off and easy prey to the large flocks of fish eating birds. This is one of the best time of the year for birders.

Temperatures are starting to get to their highest, reaching the 40's and nights are no longer so cold. The heat however is dry and guests often remark that the weather is surprisingly comfortable.

Newsletter - October

Summer has roared in like a lion at Mombo this year. The heat is stalking the dry and dusty plains and only the spectral promise of rain borne on the mild winds whirling through the still air offers any chance of relief. We have yet to have our first summer rains here, but with the thunder rolling across the parched savannah and the gasping floodplains each afternoon, it can only be a matter of time. There is an incredible air of expectancy everywhere, in the hopeful glances we all cast at the clouds to the resolve of the zebras trudging towards the few channels which still have water. These last emerald jewels in the dust have a magnetic draw on all the animals here, a pull which they must obey, or perish.

But the Okavango has a way of defying death in the sheer exuberance of life here. Even as the last grasses of winter wither and curl up under the acacia trees, the promise of rebirth is everywhere, from the swelling curves of the bellies of the female impalas, who will begin to give birth in just a few weeks, to the exploding green leaf buds on Baobab Bob. As he prepares to come into leaf and to stand guardian over another of the countless hundreds of summers he has lived through, Bob is providing shelter to a brood of young Meyer's Parrots, who themselves will go on to propagate other trees as they drop seeds during feeding.

The concentrations of game around the major channels, particularly in the Simbira and Moporota areas, are quite outstanding, with the stripes of hundreds, even thousands of zebra shimmering in the heat waves, and the massive shapes of elephant herds appearing like mirages of lost cities as they follow the ancient paths that only they know to the water.

As channels dry up into disconnected pools, like a diamond necklace snapped and spilled on the ground, the hapless barbel and other fish that did not manage to escape are pursued mercilessly by many birds, which systematically clear each fish trap of its besieged residents. Most spectacular among the birds are the giant, unwieldy pelicans, which retire to roost each evening in the Mokolwane Palm trees, lending a prehistoric aspect to the timeless Delta sunsets with their hunched pterodactyl-like silhouettes.

October is hot, and there's no denying it. However there are many ways of coping with and enjoying the summer heat - many of which we have learnt from observing nature around us. While we haven't yet tried wallowing in mud, hippo-style, we know how refreshing a dip in the cool plunge pool can be, and we have taught many guests the trick with the wet kikoi, which makes for a very relaxing mid-afternoon siesta.

As November's temperatures are often reduced by the eventual onset of the rains, October is perhaps our hottest month. Daytime temperatures reached from 35°C to 39°C (100°F to 108°F) while nights were warm, from 13°C to 22°C (56°F to 74°F). Despite the recent timpani sounds of thunder - answered by echoing applause from us - we did not experience any rainfall at Mombo in October. Watch this space, though.

In every sense Mombo is an oasis away from the cares and worries of the worlds, and the lush green grasses on the floodplains surrounding Little Mombo in particular have played host to several breeding herds of elephant; it is easy to be lulled into a state of extreme relaxation watching the gentle swishing of their trunks as they pluck bunches of grass and then slap it against their legs to shake off any sand (so that it doesn't cause wear on their teeth). Some of the herds have tiny calves - on a game drive at the very beginning of the month we just missed seeing the miracle of birth but got to see a calf's first teetering steps into the world outside the womb.

Mombo is of course a fantastic place to be born an elephant, but even here there are serpents in the grass, hidden dangers about which a young elephant knows nothing. One evening the air was rent by the distressed trumpeting of a female elephant, and then shattered by the diabolical giggling of hyaena - a noise usually heard when they are excited at a kill or in danger. We only learned the true, terrible story the next day: a cow elephant had left the herd to give birth, and had then become separated from them. Her newborn calf was seized by several hyaena and she was unable to chase them all away.

Thankfully the merciful cloak of night hid this event from us - it would have been a very harrowing scene to witness. Elephants are one of the few animals thought to grieve in a similar way to us, so we could see the sadness of the mother who had lost her calf for days afterwards.

The elephants have shared the Mombo floodplains with a great many zebra, lechwe, and occasionally, huge herds of buffalo. Sometimes in the evenings a stately parade of giraffes will leave the shade of an island treeline, and make their graceful progress down to the water to drink. As the sun sets, our resident porcupine emerges from his palm island to gorge on palm fruits, and perhaps a nervous herd of impala too, spooked by the real or imagined shape of a hyaena. And over their heads, the rhythmic swoosh as Spur-winged Geese flap their way to their roosts, and the occasional soft whistle when one of them is missing a feather.

We are watching every development with our new pack of wild dogs with bated breath, as it seems they may be on the verge of establishing themselves in this area again. Perhaps this may be the start of a return to the dog days of the late 1990s when wild dogs were one of the most visible predators at Mombo. The three adults we have been seeing all year had three puppies which began accompanying them on their hunts, although during this month one of the half-grown puppies has disappeared.

Despite this tragedy, and their reduction in strength, these champion survivors have clung onto their foothold at Mombo undaunted, and we have had some fantastic sightings of the pack this month. One of the best was actually from the deck of Camp, late one afternoon when they came trotting across the floodplain, their multi-coloured coats striking fear into the hearts of the antelope, and their brilliant white tail tips streaming out behind them in the rosy evening light. One of those African moments that remains with you always.

The wild dogs too have had to dispute with leopards over kills on at least one occasion, and even our fearless young Far Eastern Pan Male, was obliged to jump into a tree to escape the snapping jaws of the indignant dogs. Nearby, a much larger leopard in a Jackalberry watched the incident with perhaps a measure of interest - this was the young male's father, the wily old Burnt Ebony Male.

As their roars echo through the Camp, the Mombo lions are very difficult to ignore. Whether it is the young cubs, growing up fast and getting into new mischief each day, or the old male who has formed a coalition with two younger, nomadic males, the lions here are a constant source of awe and excitement.

The evening meal is always a highlight of the safari day: great food and excellent wines to accompany reliving the day's adventures, but sometimes even highlights have to be postponed. As we were collecting the guests from their tents for dinner one evening, the sharp ears of one of our guides, Francis, picked up the distinctive sounds of lions arguing over a kill, and we soon realised that one of the guest tents offered the best vantage point, so we all trooped onto the deck to watch an impala kill change hands, from the six young lions who had killed it, to the coalition of three males.

The strongest of the three took, well, the lion's share and refused to let his companions join him as he crunched through the ribs just a few metres below us. No honour among thieves! We watched the whole drama, spellbound, and when it was all over, and the disappointed hyaenas had slipped away into the darkness, we finally returned to the dining room. I think a lot of our guests ordered the vegetarian option that night!

October is in many ways a month of waiting: waiting for new leaves to sprout, for new impala lambs to take their first ungainly steps, for the first scarlet flash of a Carmine Bee-eater swooping alongside the vehicle to snap up an unfortunate grasshopper. Some animals just can't seem to wait, however, and with a gestation period of sixteen months, you can understand a white rhino female getting impatient to give birth.

And so it was this month that we found yet another new white rhino calf - our seventh since we started our joint rhino reintroduction project with the Botswana government just four years ago. This was the smallest calf we have yet found on our monitoring patrols - only three or four days old and still too small for us to know if it is a male or a female. The mother is Kabelo, one of the first rhinos to be released at Mombo in November 2001. In fact, by a happy coincidence, we discovered this latest calf on October 19th, the fourth anniversary of rhino returning to Mombo after an absence of perhaps two decades: a perfect way to celebrate this conservation milestone.

In addition to cool, wet kikois, we've been helping our guests cool off with iced drinks around the pool, and to make the most of sunny days in the bush with picnics under shady umbrella trees - featuring Craig's infamous chocolate Amarula sauce pancakes. We've been sampling the dishes on the new summer menu with delight - everything from Jerusalem artichoke soup with extra virgin olive oil, through yellow fin tuna tartare with avocado and tomato salsa and fresh lime and ginger dressing, to mango-yogurt ice cream with wild berry syrup. A glass of homemade lemonade to wash it all down and waiting for the first rain shower of summer really isn't too arduous at all!