August, 2022: The second of a series of memos from MHHF co-founder Lee Vogel, who recently visited Africa.
Our safari guide KLB whispers urgently: “Take picktcha! Take picktcha! Take picktcha!”
We’re in a sunken pit-blind like waterfowlers use in the Midwest but we’re not hunting ducks today. We’re in front of a man-made watering hole on a private preserve in the Kalahari Dessert in Botswana, Africa.
The setting sun behind us creates perfect light for photographing kudu, jackal, springbok and warthog. The national bird of Botswana, the Kory Bustard poses cross-legged, head tilted one-quarter away toward the evening light as if to say, “I am kind of a big thing, you know.”
Safaris are big business in South African countries, the third greatest source of revenue behind diamonds and beef export. Guides like KLB (he goes by initials since his native name is too long and difficult for guests) use skills handed down over hundreds of years dating back to the indigenous Bushmen.
The guides learn to identify the animals, male/female, old/young, their “scat” (manure), how to read their tracks and how recently those tracks were made. Over time they become knowledgeable about individual animals.
They also learn about the plant life, its medicinal properties, whether it’s useful to get water from, and using them to make tools, traps and fire. They learn how to read the weather and understand the impact of the changing seasons.
In hunter education we classify these skills and knowledge as woodsmanship. Like the African, many of these skills that we use were handed down from our own indigenous people.
The guides ascend through the ranks as they gain knowledge and experience. They move from one camp to another like doctors completing their “clinical rotations.” At each camp they learn all of the different jobs from guiding to vehicle maintenance, from making up the visitor tents to washing dishes. The camps are remote and if a staff member can’t perform the others must fill in. When a rotation is over they “furlough” home for a period, often to remote villages with a community water well, no sanitary system, comprised of grass huts structures with dirt floors and many family occupants.
The role of the safari guide has changed little since the days of the big game hunter in search of a trophy or procurers filling an order from a zoo. Today the ecotourists are armed with Canon, Nikon and Sony digital cameras, and of course cell phones.
This morning we saw a family of white rhinos. Since this is a private preserve the rhinos are tranquilized every one to three years to remove the horns making them useless to the poachers who would kill them otherwise.
There is strict protocol when tracking moving wildlife for the tourists. Up to three vehicles, usually specially outfitted Land Cruisers or Land Rovers, are allowed in a particular area at a time. Any additional parties must wait at a distance until one of the other leaves (otherwise the experience seems more like a Disneyland ride). The guides stay in radio contact. Once a moving animal or group is spotted the first guide provides location and direction to the other two guides. The autos “leap-frog” past each other and then park along the forecasted path of the animals, waiting for them to appear.
Although the animals generally ignore the safari vehicles, guests are instructed to stay seated and in the car. Humans are considered a form of “super-predator,” which through experience the animals learn won’t attack them. As long as the humans behave, the animals behave and go about their business. The one exception is when young animals are present. Larger beasts surround the young ones even if they are grazing. If one of the youngsters gets curious about the onlookers and steps away from the group the rest of the herd pays close attention. We saw a mother elephant face us, spread her ears and threateningly shake her head as if telling us to keep our distance.
While experiencing the wildlife in Africa I found relevance to the MHHF Mission of introducing youth to an outdoor way of life. Time and again I was moved with an unfamiliar awe. Much as I’d like to think our clinic participants feel when they first spy a deer approaching their blind, a duck cupping its wings, swooping in close or watching the rising sun painting the sky through clouds of their breath in the chilly morning air. It’s easy to get lost in the hustle of what we do every day and the human drama around us. We know it’s important to take time to pause and experience these special moments nature provides.
