The ups and downs of the Kalahari dunes

Arista Botha

The Kalahari is an exceptionally beautiful place and one of my favourite places in South Africa. The rolling dunes go on and on forever. The soft sand is scattered with thorn trees, thick bushes, shrubs and stretches of golden grass that ripple in the wind like the mane of a giant lion. The air has a dry taste that leaves your lips chapped and your throat parched. The sun pelts down on the earth with a raging heat. The night, in stark contrast, is unforgivingly cold. Life here is a struggle. Food is scarce. Water even scarcer. The animals that live here face extreme fluctuations in air temperature on a daily basis. I find it incredible that this place, with its harsh terrain and extreme climate, is full of life! That, of course, makes the Kalahari the perfect place to study wildlife physiology.

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Giraffes across the dunes. Photo by Arista Botha

Gemsbok

Gemsbok. Photo by Arista Botha

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Aardwolf. Photo by Arista Botha

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Meerkat. Photo by Arista Botha

Recently, I was invited to assist on a research trip to the Kalahari River Reserve (or KRR). KRR is a research site just outside Van Zyl’s Rus, where researchers study meerkats, mole rats, ground squirrels, bat-eared foxes, various bird species and, now, also wildebeest.

On our first day we went out to capture wildebeest. We drove around for quite a while with no sign of any wildebeest. We had some nice game viewing: springbok, steenbok, gemsbok, red hartebeest, eland, but no wildebeest.

Gemsbok herd

Gemsbok herd. Photo by Arista Botha

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Red hartebeest. Photo by Arista Botha

Finally, we found a large herd of wildebeest. We approached them slowly with the vehicle so that Leith Meyer, our head veterinarian for the trip, could get a good shot. Once darted, the wildebeest sped off. Now the real chase began: The tranquilisers take about three to five minutes to take effect and it is difficult to keep an eye on one while the whole herd is running.

Wildebeest herd

Wildebeest herd. Photo by Arista Botha

The chase

The chase. Photo by Arista Botha

The wildebeest gave in to the effect of the drugs, decided to lie down on the soft sand and was soon fully sedated. Everyone jumped off the vehicle carrying boxes of surgical equipment to the anaesthetised animal. Field surgery has its challenges, but our veterinarians and support team are experienced and the surgery went smoothly.

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Everyone hard at work. Photo by Arista Botha

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The end of a successful day. Photo by Andrea Fuller

The wildebeest was implanted with temperature, heart rate and activity loggers and fitted with ear tags and a collar. After the surgery was completed, the wildebeest was given the antidote to the tranquiliser and he soon got up and ran off to join the rest of his herd.

We drove back to the road through the Kalahari bush, optimistic after our first success and ready to catch our next wildebeest. Suddenly a gushing of air stopped us in our tracks. We all got out to see a huge splinter in our right front tyre.

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The culprit. Photo by Arista Botha

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How many vets does it take to change a tyre? Photo by Arista Botha

After changing the tyre we drove to the workshop to get the punctured tyre patched up. While we were there we took the chance see the mole rat laboratory, which contained multiple Damaraland mole rat colonies living in see-through tunnels. It was fascinating to watch them working, cleaning out their tunnels and digging through saw dust “obstacles” to get to food. What happens when two mole rats meet each other head on in a tunnel? Easy – they simply climb over each other. Or, if they are too big to pass each other, the biggest one simply pushes the smaller one backwards. Unfortunately, the hiccup with the tyre meant that we could not capture another wildebeest that day, so we went back to our camp and ended the day with a pleasant braai. Tomorrow is another day.

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The sunrise over my rondawel. Photo by Arista Botha

The next day was indeed successful: we got two more wildebeest, and the day after that, three more! We were overjoyed with our increasing success. However, the wildebeest soon caught on to what we were up to. By the fourth day, the wildebeest recognised our vehicle and we could not get close to them. We spent the last day driving around, following wildebeest along the road, off road and over dunes: All in vain.  We had a few short moments of hope, but each time the wildebeest would speed away just as Leith got within darting range. As the sun reached the horizon we decided that our luck was out and that six wildebeest for the week could still be considered a success.

Since it was our last night we had some sundowners on the Big Dune. As we watched the sunset, we talked and laughed about our week’s successes, disappointments and surprises. From our view on top of the dune we looked out over the Kalahari with its soft sand and its thorns. The rolling dunes went up and down, and up and down…. The Kalahari sky seemed to stretch on forever. We watched the blazing sun go down. The horizon was all aflame. We felt the cold of night slowly creeping in.  As the last rays of sunlight disappeared, the first star appeared in the sky.

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First star. Photo by Arista Botha

The harsh beauty of the Kalahari reminds us why we love wildlife research, despite all the ups and downs.

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Thorny sunset. Photo by Arista Botha

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WALKING WITH PANGOLINS

Wendy Panaino

The original article was published on http://anywhereinafrica.com/blog/2017/02

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A Pangolin caught in the spotlight. Photo Wendy Panaino

Field research was not something I ever imagined myself doing (partly because I didn’t even know it existed as a kid), but boy did it grow on me. The best part of my research at Tswalu Kalahari Reserve is tracking pangolins every day, and then sharing my experiences with as many people as possible. Not only do I wish to tell people my stories, but I would like all to experience them with me, with the same passion and enthusiasm that I feel when I am out doing what I love. So walk with me, as I walk with pangolins…

Here, I will not describe my typical night out, as I did here. Instead, I’d like to share one extraordinary occasion with you; an adventure where the most unexpected events happened. Having followed pangolins for well over a year now, one might think that I should know just about all there is to know about their behaviour, yet they continue to surprise me. One starry night, while waiting for a pangolin to emerge from its burrow, Dr Alexander Sliwa told me “I only started to really get to know my species (the black-footed cat) after about a year of studying them”. “Bizarre”, I thought, not realising at the time how true those words would prove for my own work.

To put the appropriate picture in mind, I want you to close your eyes for a second. Place yourself in the Kalahari semi-desert, under a dark sky illuminated by billions of stars, smudged by the Milky Way. Feel the warm breeze brushing your cheeks, hear the buzzing of the immeasurable insect life, smell the purity of raw, red earth. This is my reality every night. In what starts out as a typical night, I begin an hour-long journey to reach the home range of a female pangolin that I have been tracking for little over a year now. I stop my vehicle and scan for the elusive creature using my telemetry set, which allows me to find the pangolins tagged with tracking transmitters.

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Tracking pangolins in the kalahari. Photo by Wendy Panaino

As it is only 8pm in the middle of summer, I expect to find this female cooped up in her burrow, where I can sit and wait for her to emerge. To my surprise, the tracking equipment tells me that she is already active. I hop back into my vehicle and follow the signal in a northerly direction. I triangulate the signal, park the vehicle, grab my backpack (stashed with essentials– a flashlight, water bottle, notebook, jumper, and little bags for pangolin poop), and set off on foot into the darkness.

My heart racing and my hands gripping the telemetry gear, I listen as the signal gets stronger and stronger as I get closer to the pangolin. What a thrill – knowing that very soon I will lay eyes on one of the world’s rarest animals.

I am close now. I slow down, remind myself to breathe (I have stop breathing while straining my ears to catch the smallest noise), and then stop. GOTCHA! A sound like no other! I turn off the telemetry equipment and listen to the distinctive rustling of the scaly creature moving through the bushes. Following my ears, my eyes eventually focus on a little figure moving under the moonlight. I grin with satisfaction, my heart racing (yes, even after a year, I still get overly-excited when I see the little critter).

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A Pangonlin walking through the bushes on its nightly business of foraging on ants and termites. Photo credit Wendy Panaino

As if that was not enough, the pangolin took the opportunity to feast on a species of ant that I had not previously recorded. I frantically scribble some notes. In all my excitement, I think “what a night!”. It can’t possibly get any better than this. The night starts to settle, as does my heart rate. The pangolin starts heading in the direction of her burrow, pausing every now and then and sniffing around more than usual. As she gets closer to the burrow, she hesitates slightly, and then enters. I stand quietly for a moment, wondering why she might be acting so strangely. My gut tells me to wait and see if she decides to come out again. Half an hour later, I hear that distinct sound of scales brushing against each other as she comes back out. I give her some time so as not to scare her back into the burrow. The moon glows against her perfectly sculpted scales. I grab my notebook and start scribbling down some notes on the pangolin’s behaviour. Walk, eat, walk, eat, walk, eat – the life of a pangolin. As she becomes more comfortable with my presence, I move closer to see exactly what it is that she is eating. Ants – she LOVES ants! Could you imagine all your energy coming from tiny ants and termites? As I walk alongside this peculiar creature, with pen to paper, I shake my head in disbelief. How did I get so lucky? I get to WALK WITH PANGOLINS every day. I breathe a sigh of appreciation and continue. Suddenly I am stopped in my tracks by a sound unfamiliar to my ears. “Is that a jackal lapping water?” I ask myself, confused. But the sound is coming from the pangolin, so I edge closer to investigate. To my utter surprise, it is indeed the pangolin drinking water. The recent rains had deposited water into pockets at the bases of some black thorn bushes, and this pangolin took the opportunity to lap some of it up, something I had NEVER seen before.

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A rare sighting of a pangolin drinking water. Photo credit Wendy Panaino

I did not anticipate what happened next. In the moonlight, a tiny figure rises from behind mom, who has decided it is time to move house. I bounce up and down like a child that is about to open a Christmas gift, holding my hand over my mouth to stop myself from letting out a squeak. Is this REALLY happening? Am I REALLY watching mom bring baby out of the burrow? I am disappointed that there is nobody around to share this experience with me (I do sometimes have human company at nighy). I pull myself together and scribble more notes. Mom is as gentle as any other; she waits for baby to climb on board (yip, pangolin mothers carry their baby on their back!), and walks off. Nothing could wipe the smile off my face now. Walking side by side with TWO pangolins. Mom is perfectly comfortable having me around, and does not pause for a single moment to investigate my presence. For the next hour-and-a-half, I follow the two as they head due west. Mom does not stop to forage on this journey. She occasionally stops to allow her fallen passenger to climb back on board, but other than that, she has her mind set on a new home and nothing can distract her.

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Baby pangolin climbing onto his mother’s back. Photo credit Wendy Panaino

Eventually I decide that I should let the two carry on peacefully, without me stomping around after them. I take a step back, inhale deeply, and watch this enigmatic duo disappear into the darkness. I look up to the sky, relax my shoulders as I exhale, and release a tiny giggle. “THAT WAS AWESOME!” I exclaim. Walking back to my vehicle, I find a renewed passion burning in my heart. This experience just magnified my excitement for my work ten-fold. I look forward to spending the next year continuing with my research, being endlessly surprised, and doing what I love most… walking with pangolins.

The African Buffalo

Arista Botha

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A large buffalo bull can weigh close to a tonne. Photo by Arista Botha

 

The African buffalo is notorious for being one of the most dangerous animals of the African bush. A large bull can weigh close to a tonne and their horns can grow more than a metre wide. Not only are they big and strong, but also fearless. Many online videos, such as this one, show buffalo attacking lions to defend their calves or fellow herd members:

 

Buffalo are also known for being one of the deadliest large mammals for humans to come across in the African bush. In recent news a SANParks ranger was attacked and seriously injured by an African buffalo.

 

I had my first encounter with buffalo during my Masters’ research. Dr Hilary Lease was the postdoc who was involved in the project and she was also my supervisor and friend. We did fieldwork together at Mokala National Park. Even though my study was focussed on black and blue wildebeest, Hilary and I would often encounter buffalo when out on foot, tracking our study animals. While other large ungulates, such as gemsbok or eland, would run away at the sight of a human on foot, a buffalo would move in for a closer look…

 

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Not only are they very dangerous animals, buffalo are also very inquisitive. Photo by Piet Rossouw.

 

They have this intimidating glare that, even when you are seated in a vehicle, makes you wonder how safe you really are. During our fieldwork, we would often climb a hill, just to find a buffalo looking at us inquisitively from the other side. The buffalo would take a few steps towards us, and we would retreat back to our car.

 

One day, we were struggling to locate a particularly elusive wildebeest bull in a very hilly area. Due to the uneven terrain around us, the tracking transmitter signal was bouncing around. We followed a signal in one direction, convinced that the wildebeest must be just on the other side of the next hill, only to find that when we got there, the signal was suddenly coming from the opposite direction.

 

Staring intently at the tracking receiver, we walked along the crest of a hill. In our frustration with the bouncing signal, we let our usual vigilance slack. Suddenly, there was a loud rustling behind us. We turned around to face an enormous and very surprised buffalo bull only a few meters away from us. For several frozen seconds humans and bull just stared at each other. Then the realisation dawned on us that WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE. Slowly, we backed away down the slope, too scared to turn our backs on this large beast. The minute we were out of the buffalo’s sight we ran for it!

 

With great speed and pumping adrenaline, we made our way down the hill and all the way around to the other side. In our haste, we flushed an African wildcat out of a bush! That was my first sighting of this elusive cat species. Although not much more than a blur, with a ringed tail that sped away in front of us, it left me in breathless amazement.

 

We arrived at the safety of our vehicle with a fresh respect for buffalo and a new cat species to tick off our sightings list. Laughing in nervous relief and still trying to catch our breath, we drove off and decided to go and look for our wildebeest elsewhere.

 

Nowadays I am privileged enough to study the impressive buffalo for my PhD – fortunately from a safe distance and with support from SANParks’ very experienced wildlife staff. Yet even from the other side of a fence, every time I am scrutinised by that intimidating glare, I can’t help but feel the need to slowly back away.

Combating the ills of opioids (and saving rhinos)

Anna Haw

 

A field of brightly-coloured, flowering poppies is as spectacular to the brain as it is to the eye. Opioids, drugs derived from the opium poppy, act on receptors in the brain to bring about sensations such as euphoria and pain relief. Just as the wind through a field of poppies can capture your gaze and keep you mesmerized for hours, so too can opioids hook your brain; a phenomenon well understood by heroin addicts. Sadly, euphoria and pain relief are not the only opioid-induced effects. Another side-effect blocks the drive to breathe, resulting in the death of an estimated 69,000 people worldwide each year.

 

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Opioids were first isolated from poppy seeds and are famous for their effect on the brain. Photo by Anna Haw.

 

Opioids block pathways in the brain that regulate breathing and dampen the feedback loops that tell the brain to take deeper breaths or more breaths when oxygen levels are low. Without enough oxygen in our blood, cells die and ultimately the heart will stop beating.

 

While opioid use in humans, with the subsequent consequences, is well recognized, opioid use in wildlife is perhaps not so widely understood. Have you ever wondered how wildlife veterinarians capture, treat and transport enormous wild animals such as rhinoceros and elephant? How do vets make these two-ton (or more) animals sleep by firing a measly dart into them? The secret lies in those fields of brightly-coloured poppies. Potent opioids, such as a drug commonly referred to as M99, are an essential component of a wildlife vet’s armory and the only class of drug capable of bringing about a deep sleep (or immobilisation) in large herbivores like the rhino and elephant. A major advantage of opioids is that their effect can be reversed with an antidote. When a vet has finished working with an animal, she injects the antidote and within seconds to minutes, the sleeping beast is awake and wandering back into the African bush.

 

However, the picture is not always so rosy. Sometimes the animals don’t get up, or sometimes they get up, only to suffer consequences of the event in days, weeks or months to come. It so happens that the white rhinoceros, currently needing the most hands-on interventions in the face of escalating poaching levels, is one of the species that is most severely affected by M99’s ill-effects. Just as opioids can kill humans, so too can they kill wildlife, with the white rhino being particularly susceptible to this fate.

 

White rhino are so severely affected by M99 that vets have been experimenting with different treatment options in an attempt to improve the oxygen levels in the immobilised rhino’s blood and reduce the risk of death. However, with many different vets trying variations on a similar theme, one standard approach, scientifically proven to improve oxygen levels, has been lacking. Therefore, with a team of researchers from the University of the Witwatersrand (Wits), University of Pretoria and SANParks, I systematically tested different available treatment options, firstly in boma-housed rhino and then in free-ranging rhino within the Kruger National Park. In the bomas, we were surprised to find that giving a high volume of oxygen through the rhino’s nostril made the physiological imbalances caused by M99 even worse and did not improve breathing. Another treatment option, currently used by many veterinarians, is a drug called butorphanol. Butorphanol partially reverses the effects of M99, and it is believed that the negative side-effects are reversed more than the positive effects, such as immobilisation. However, the advantages of butorphanol are not clear-cut and, invariably, some arousal occurs together with improved breathing. In a two-ton, confused wild rhino, unwanted arousal can be problematic. We also found that butorphanol did not fully correct the oxygen levels in the rhino. So we combined the administration of oxygen through the nostril with an injection of butorphanol. To our delight, this treatment option completely corrected the dangerously low oxygen levels, thus significantly improving the safety of rhino immobilisation.

 

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Immobilised white rhino receiving oxygen through its nostrils. Photo by Andrea Fuller.

 

As the fight against poaching intensifies, more rhino need to be immobilised for procedures such as translocation and the fitting of tracking devices. Moreover, vets are increasingly faced with severely injured rhino that have survived a poaching incident. These compromised animals require repeated immobilisations for intensive veterinary care and often cannot survive any additional physiological stress. Thankfully, as a result of our research, rhino capture need no longer be such a risky procedure and wildlife vets across South Africa have already adopted the approach of administering oxygen and butorphanol to immobilised rhino.

 

References:

Haw AJ, Meyer LCR, Fuller A. 2016. Nalbuphine and butorphanol reverse opioid-induced respiratory depression but increase arousal in etorphine-immobilized goats (Capra hircus). Veterinary Anaesthesia and Analgesia.

Haw AJ, Hofmeyr M, Fuller A, Buss P, Miller M, Fleming G, Meyer LCR. 2015. Butorphanol with oxygen insufflation improves cardiorespiratory function in field-immobilised white rhinoceros (Ceratotherium simum). Journal of the South African Veterinary Association, 86: Art #1276.

Haw AJ, Hofmeyr M, Fuller A, Buss P, Miller M, Fleming G, Meyer LCR. 2014. Butorphanol with oxygen insufflation corrects etorphine-induced hypoxaemia in chemically immobilized white rhinoceros (Ceratotherium simum). BMC Veterinary Research, 10:253.

Born to be a Kalahari kid

Wendy Panaino

 

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A pangolin looks up from its ant meal. Photo by Wendy Panaino

It’s hard to think that almost a year ago, I had barely even heard of pangolins, and now I get to spend most nights with these incredible creatures in the most beautiful place. My MSc research involves investigating the body temperature and activity patterns of free-living ground pangolins (Smutsia temminckii) at Tswalu Kalahari Reserve in the Northern Cape Province. It has taken me a while to sit down and put into words the incredible journey I have been on this year. As I sit and wait for a pangolin to emerge from its burrow, I have plenty of time to gaze at the stars and reflect on my 2015 adventure. How could I possibly put this incredible year into one blog post? So many spectacular stories can be told here, but for now I’ll stick to telling you about my daily field work life at Tswalu.

 

After a successful week of surgery to implant pangolins with temperature data loggers, my adventure into a mind-blowing world was to begin. I’d be away from home longer than ever before, and fending for myself for the first time. I could never have dreamed that I would end up here, living in such a spectacular reserve. I dived right into things, venturing over the sandy dunes of the Kalahari, tracking the pangolins each day with a VHF receiver and antenna. There are few things more thrilling than hearing that first beep coming from your receiver, indicating that the animal you seek is nearby. Whether it takes you five minutes or an hour, you can’t help but feel the excitement boiling inside you when you know you’re getting close. There it is… a beautifully structured burrow that houses the precious scaly creature you’ve been seeking. I place a camera trap, mark the burrow on my GPS and get a slight sense of victory as I walk away.

 

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Tracking pangolins in the Kalahari. Photo by Lizelle du Preez

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A camera trap in front of a pangolin burrow. Photo by Wendy Panaino

 

Daylight passes and the glorious night sky awakens. The way the moon rises over the mountains is more spectacular here than anywhere I’ve ever seen. This is my FAVOURITE part. I arrive at the burrow that I had marked earlier in daylight hours. I use the VHF receiver to ensure that the pangolin has not left its burrow yet. Providing that it is still in its burrow, I carefully position myself somewhere close by and down-wind. Here I sit and wait for the sound of the pangolin emerging from its burrow. Such a unique sound it is for a mammal, with the scales brushing against each other, a sound that could easily be mistaken for grasses rustling with the evening breeze. However, after spending many nights with these little animals, I have finally developed an ear for the unique sound. The moment I hear the animal in motion, my heart starts to race and the butterflies in my stomach emerge. I am about to lay my eyes on one of South Africa’s most elusive animals; the animal that I have chosen to devote an entire year to study. What a privilege!

 

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A pangolin with a tracking device attached. Photo by Wendy Panaino

 

After the pangolin emerges, I follow the scaly critter from a distance as it forages for ants and termites through parts of the night. Recently I have managed to catch a pangolin in the act of laying a scat. How many people have seen a pangolin in the wild, let alone seen its scat? That’s a component that is lacking in most “tracks and signs” wildlife field guides. To take things even further, I have had the most incredible experience of being able to watch a female pangolin emerge from her burrow with her offspring. This may be the highlight of all my experiences here at the ever-so mesmerizing Tswalu, and I’ve only just begun! I cannot wait to see what lies in store for me in 2016.

 

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A pangolin female with her offspring clinging to her back. Photo by Wendy Panaino.

 

When I am not tracking or following pangolins, I am sitting counting ants that have been collected from pitfall traps. Although this takes many hours out of each day, it somehow gives me a sense of peace and I have learned to embrace it, since I am so fortunate to be doing it in this beautiful reserve. I never thought I’d end up working with insects, but I’ve recently taken it upon myself to learn as much as possible about the various insects and other little creatures that I find in these traps. The endless urge to keep learning and my continuous curiosity is what drives my passion for science and research, and so I encourage myself to embrace every opportunity that comes my way, no matter how small. Looking at each day with utter optimism is what makes my journey so special to me, and is what drives my excitement for this project and this place. And what would such an adventure be without the people I get to share it with? Living with such a diverse group of researchers has been a whole new world of fun, and each person (albeit unknowingly) drives my passion and excitement even further. I have met some of the most incredible people in this spectacular place. Tswalu is possibly the best place I’ve ever had the opportunity to visit. It is so unique and different to any other place I know and I have now started thinking that maybe, just maybe, I was born to be a Kalahari kid.

 

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A few of the researchers and students at Tswalu that inspire me every day. Photo by Wendy Panaino.

 

Kruger behind the scenes

Malek J Murad

 

When the student protests finally ended, we went to the Kruger National Park, the biggest national park in South Africa (the park is as big as Belgium), to collect data for a research project on buffalo. I was looking forward for our trip really badly and I was so excited when we finally got there.

 

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First time in Kruger! Photo by Malek Murad

 

How did it feel to be in Kruger for the first time? Incredible! We were sitting outside, having dinner, while a gecko was catching a moth and some mosquitoes by the light of the lapa. A perfect symbiosis. I hate mosquitoes.

 

In Kruger, it is never quiet. You fall asleep to the sound of the crickets chirping. You wake up in the middle of the night and the crickets are still chirping. Then you lie awake for two hours, because you are so excited. There is always an animal calling somewhere. Was that a hyena maybe? In Kruger, it is never quiet. And your heart isn’t either.

 

If you have never been to Kruger you should add a visit to your to-do-list. On our way to our camp, we watched an elephant herd taking a bath from 100 m away. Readers who have seen an elephant bull from up close will know what I mean; he’s not just big, he’s huge! And at that moment in time I did not yet know how close I would get to an elephant bull during my visit…

 

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Elephants enjoying the water on a hot day. Photo by Arista Botha

 

After a short night in Kruger Vetcamp, we left early the next day to start with our research work. So this is how wildlife research works: You get up at 4 o’ clock to start work at 5. What is the benefit of that? You have to work in the cooler morning hours and finish before noon to prevent heat stress for the animals during immobilisation. What is the benefit for yourself? You can go for a game drive in the afternoon!

 

So why did we go to Kruger National Park? What did we do there? Arista Botha, PhD student at BFRG, is currently doing research on African buffalo. The buffalo have to be sedated so that we can collect samples and weigh them. No sooner said than done. The well-rehearsed team of the Kruger State Veterinarians sedated, weighed and measured all the buffalo and collected all the samples well before noon. The Kruger veterinarians allowed me to help out where I could.

 

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The buffalo were immobilised to collect samples and to weigh them. Photo by Malek Murad

 

The director of the BFRG, Professor Andrea Fuller, asked the senior manager of Kruger Veterinary Wildlife Services, Dr Peter Buss, if I could help out with any other projects during my stay in Kruger. Luckily, there was an elephant bull that had to be routine-sampled the next day. So we went into the bush with a 4×4 vehicle and a helicopter to look for the bull.

 

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The helicopter manoeuvres into position to dart the elephant bull. Photo by Malek Murad

 

I was very close when the one ton elephant bull was darted from the helicopter. It was incredible to see how accurate the helicopter pilot controlled his machine. He was able to position the helicopter perfectly for the veterinarian to dart the bull from up there. Shot – Strike! You could easily see that the dart had hit its mark by the pink feather on the end of the dart. We then had to follow the elephant, who was running away from us into the bush. The effect of the anaesthetic is not immediate; it usually takes a few minutes before the animal goes down. We drove through the bush for 1,5 kilometres until we found him. As soon as we were there, we started routine sampling, measurements and a general health check-up on the elephant.

 

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Elephant bull undergoing routine sampling and health check. Photo by Malek Murad

 

My first trip to one of the South African National Parks (SANParks) was fantastic. Not only could I enjoy the wonderful scenery, but I was able to observe, from up close, the SANParks Veterinarians doing their job with their impressively elaborate and professional routine. It is the dream of every veterinary student to be a part of that.

 

“I think you get born with the spirit of a vet. I don’t know anybody who decided to become a vet at the age of 18. I mean there are many other possibilities to earn more money without getting that dirty.” – Lou (24), qualified in veterinary medicine this June.

At the end of our last day in Kruger we watched the sunset at Lake Panic. We watched the hippos playing in the water and just enjoyed ourselves and Kruger.

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Sunset over Lake Panic. Photo by Arista Botha

 

I am so glad that I had made the decision to come over to Africa. I was very lucky – I met the right people who gave me the help and support I needed. People who gave me the opportunity to develop and to use the skills I have. Not only here in Africa, but also at home in Germany. They taught me to be confident. I especially have to thank my parents who always support me and back me in everything I do. I can always rely on them. There were many hurdles to overcome before I could get here. My wish for everybody who has a dream in life, is that he will take his chance and that he will find people who will back him when he needs them.

Royal’s capture

Anna Haw is our Group’s veterinarian and research officer. She is also busy with her PhD on respiratory depression during opioid-induced immobilization of wildlife and is involved in a few other research projects. One of the projects is a collaborative study with Oxford University on thermoregulation in lions in Zimbabwe. The lions were caught in 2013 and implanted with temperature-sensitive data loggers. For the next year, while they were free-living on a reserve, the lions’ body temperatures were measured every five minutes. The lions were recaptured in December 2014 to retrieve the data loggers. However, one lion’s capture, Royal, was delayed due to her newly born cubs. She was captured only during a second field trip in February 2015, and this capture proved to be quite exciting…

One of the male lions, captured for a research project on temperature regulation in free-living lions, with a dart in its shoulder. Photo by Anna Haw.

One of the male lions, captured for a research project on temperature regulation in free-living lions, with a dart in its shoulder. Photo by Anna Haw.

 

Royal’s capture

Anna Haw

The last rays of golden light were kissing the earth goodbye as we headed out into the heavy humidity. Straight ahead of us, we could see magnificent lightning in front of a backdrop of black cloud. We stopped on the top of a crest, taking in the beauty of this intense electrical storm. Byron, with antenna in hand, looked at me and said “she’s about 3 km that way”, while pointing directly towards a massive fork of lightning that divided the sky ahead of us. As the gusty wind blew straight into our faces, we contemplated our options. Either we turn back and try again tomorrow, although time is running out and if it rains hard tonight, our destination may soon be inaccessible. Or, we push on, while keeping a beady eye on the storm clouds above to see if we can somehow escape the downpour.

Thankfully, we chose the latter option. As we honed in on the VHF signal, it became evident that the storm had skimmed the area and was now dissipating somewhere off in the distance. By now, the golden light had disappeared, being replaced by moonlight that was eagerly trying to find a gap in the heavy clouds. Our options were not fantastic, but we settled on a somewhat flimsy mopane to hang up our bait and moved the vehicle into place to start our little game.

As the speakers vibrated with the sound of a squealing pig, we waited, eyes squinting into the dark. Two lionesses approached from behind the mopane, but they slunk off seemingly uninterested in the bait. A few minutes later, I heard heavy breathing over my left shoulder, getting louder and louder. As I turned my head, the unmistakable silhouette of two adult lionesses padded past me as I sat just metres away. They were coming in for the bait. As we watched the mopane getting pulled almost horizontal, we readied ourselves for some darting action. The spotlight hit a stunning lioness standing perfectly, broad on, exposing multiple potential dart sites, totally engrossed in the meat and unphased by the light, or our presence. The only problem was that she didn’t have a collar. It was the wrong lioness. Our lioness was cunningly lying low behind her sister, nibbling at the back end of the bait.

With a combination of skill and luck, we finally got a shot at the right lioness and a few minutes later our collared lioness was lying sound asleep. Her sister, with six cubs at her heels, thankfully decided to move off as we approached with the vehicle. Just as Byron and Amorai had their hands on Royal, my spotlight fell on a magnificent male lion coming in for the bait, a mere 30m away from us. As I alerted Byron, another male came in, and then another, bringing this spectacular coalition to three. We tried to push these boys off a bit with the Cruiser, but these manly felines did not seem too bothered by the big, noisy, clumsy Cruiser. There was no other option but to move our surgery someplace else.

Somehow, we had to load Royal while also keeping the male lions at bay. Amorai was given seconds to take off the Cruiser’s tail gate, I kept the spotlight firmly on the lions, while Byron, gun in hand, stood between Amorai and the lions. Next, Byron had to drop guard to help load this hefty lioness. As I was giving running commentary about the whereabouts of the lions “they’re coming in, closer, probably about 20 m away…”, Byron and Amorai were cursing the height of the Cruiser.  “Anna, we need your help”. Grabbing the handle of the stretcher from above, I cast a quick glance over my shoulder and thanks to the strength of Amorai and Byron, we somehow managed to get Royal onto the back of the Cruiser without getting eaten. I sat, straddling this sleeping lioness trying to keep her from slipping off the back of the vehicle as Byron bounced the Cruiser through the thick, elephant-trodden bush.

Finally, we were ready to start the surgery. I got busy, nervously asking Amorai if he had picked up any other predator eyes, while also keeping tabs on Royal’s anaesthetic depth, hyperthermia, flying insects and other obstacles that bush night surgery may throw in your face.

It went smoothly; logger out, collar changed, samples taken, all while the welcoming progressing night alleviated some of the heavy lowveld heat. We injected the antidote to the tranquiliser and moved off to enjoy the night under a now cloudless sky. I revelled in the moment; the moon so bright that a dove apparently thought it was the rising sun, while the other creatures of the dark noisily celebrated the coolness that comes with the deepening night. Sitting in the middle of the bush, watching a lioness slowly raise her head, stand up and slink off into the darkness is a feeling and experience that each time fills me with utter awe. We have successfully retrieved all our data loggers, but I sincerely hope this is not the last time I have that incredible feeling.

With the data loggers all successfully retrieved, Anna is now busy analysing the data. Judging from a quick glance I took at the initial data, the body temperature patterns of these lions seem to tell an interesting story. Hopefully we will be able to share that story soon…