Hwange In The Green: When The Rain Reigns

HWANGE IN THE GREEN

when the rain reignsWriter: Flo Coughlan Photography: Flo Coughlan

Like Picasso, nature matches its colours to its moods. When it comes to national parks, Mana Pools is famous for its hazy October blues, Gonarezhou for its geographical layers of brown and Hwange for the scale and depth of its greens during the wet.

If you mention to anyone that you’re going on safari between November and March— the green season—they look at you with dismay and alarm. They ask, ‘Has nobody told you that peak safari season is from May to October?’ And they question, ‘Do you know that you won’t see a thing? And that it may rain?’

Well, truth be told, part of the last statement is valid, but as anyone who has experienced a Zimbabwean thunderstorm knows, it never lasts long, it’s a spectacular show, and there will definitely be plenty to see...especially if you look beyond the obvious.

It’s certainly a privilege to be out in the bush in general, or Hwange in particular, when the first rains come. The vastness of Hwange National Park—14,651 square kilometres (5,657 square miles)—affords a multitude of locations and vantage points from which to experience the spectacle that is a rainstorm. In early November, the onset of the rains is heralded by the intense heat—stultifying, stupefying heat—heat that beats down and bakes the earth and sucks every bit of available moisture upwards into the atmosphere. This oppressive heat slows down every aspect of nature, until it’s in a self-induced slumber... an African equivalent of hibernation or a kind of overdue pregnancy. Not a breath is wasted—not even by the wind—as the big wait continues. Well into November, deep rolling thunder in the distance heralds the arrival of moisture-saturation and a dull and dusty sky soon transforms into a canvas of sharp shards of lightning piercing deep purple-grey clouds. All this built-up energy is about to be unleashed and spent where it is most needed, and it must return from whence it came—earthwards.

As the wind picks up, the rain arrives at a tree near you. Big blobs of moisture bounce off dust-laden leaves and bark and there’s an audible sigh of relief as six months of dust is settled. Flora can breathe again and the animals will soon eat again.

And the best part is still to come...that first whiff of petrichor, a musky scent formed by the reaction when chemicals emanating from the concentrated spores of soil bacteria collide with the first rain drops. Add to this the fragrance of oils given off by plants in arid conditions and the result is a heady fragrance that makes your evolutionary brain smile. Ask any African, it’s the very stuff that formed our souls and continues to feed them. It’s a primal sensation and it smells of new beginnings and times of plenty. Somebody should surely bottle it and label it thus.

When these first rains arrive, nature literally springs back to life from its heat-driven coma. The recovery is instantaneous; and as a visitor, now is the time to take pleasure in wondrous things: the migrant birds, the wild flowers and the depth and clarity of the colours. It’s also a time to share in the joy that is nature’s bounty—the grasses that shoot up overnight, the bulbs that poke their heads up through the soft earth and the new leaf on the trees. From the dark and moody skies to the soft green leaves and shoots, it’s a landscape of delight. Throw in all the colourful birds, butterflies and new-born animals and you’ll be

Hwange National Park, first created as a game reserve nearly a century ago, and later proclaimed a national park in 1961, is home to over 100 different species of mammal and 400 bird species. This naturally arid area was originally only suitable for seasonal game migration, but after having walked most of the reserve on foot between 1928 and 1929, the first warden, Ted Davison, identified areas that needed to be supported by the creation of artificial waterholes and pans to supplement the few seasonal rivers, pans and seeps. Some of these original boreholes still survive today along with many more, albeit now run on solar pumps and not their noisy diesel predecessors. Dedicated conservationists, safari operators and friends of Hwange support this massive undertaking which ensures that the park has water at strategic locations, even during the most severe droughts.

Against all these water scarcity odds, Hwange continues to be a top safari destination. It’s not only the vastness that attracts visitors; it’s the diversity that it offers. From grasslands to wetlands, from forests to craggy granite outcrops and from seeps to springs, the landscape is ever-changing, and never more obvious than in the rainy season. There’s a habitat for every animal which is why it boasts so many different species of herbivores and of course their trusted followers, the carnivores.

Most people come on safari to see animals...big animals, and big herds of animals. The Big Five is such an overused term and sometimes an insult to them all. Of course they’re wonderful to see, but a sighting of a bee-eater snatching a grasshopper in mid-flight or an impala lamb struggling to take its first few steps can be just as rewarding as a bored lion watching over his kill. Yes, in the green season, the big herds of buffalo and elephant will have congregated and moved to outlying water sources, but the main waterholes will now be a different delight to behold as the wet season brings with it a stress-free few months for the animals. Most antelope drop their young as the rains arrive and so a game drive does not disappoint if it’s cuteness you’re after. Youngsters born with legs that they still need to grow into—calves, lambs and foals—totter and gambol about and nursery herds of eland, sable and wildebeest rest peacefully in woodland groves. These larger herbivores are much more relaxed during the green season, not having to move such great distances for food.

Now is the time to sit quietly at the waterholes and observe a totally different side to these animals. They’re calm, they’re relaxed and they’re freshly washed, with no dusty irritated skin troubling their nerves and no insatiable thirst or ever-present hunger. Food and water are plentiful and so they can afford to rest and form bonds, and the smaller antelope can dare to be more adventurous as they have more grass cover. The sun comes up earlier and dips

below the horizon a lot later, giving visitors so many more hours to observe this serenity and time of plenty.

If you’re visiting the park in the wet season, a 6.00am game drive is brisk, not cold, but it’s the afternoon ones which will enchant you. Afternoon thunderstorms are common from late November to March. Wherever you are, whether seated at your campsite or lodge or out on a game drive, you can watch the storm clouds gather, build up and roll in, and dark skies and carpets of green vegetation make for magnificent landscape photography. Every now and again a silver shaft of light penetrates the clouds and the result is magical. Whilst the dry season brings a dusty haze which adds interesting filters to photographs, the crisp, clean colours of the rainy season make for more dramatic shots. Any sunset in Africa deserves a sundowner but when there is moisture in the distance and different layers of cloud, the resultant shot calls for a double. Any animal silhouetted against the setting sun is an added bonus!

On the birding front, any birder will tell you that it’s the diversity of Hwange that makes it so attractive to the migrant birds. Woodlands, grasslands, marshlands and isolated pools all provide perfect nesting spots, and the smaller pans and pools offer safe nesting grounds for the breeding ducks as they have great cover and no crocodiles or large fish present. Whether the migrants are escaping harsh winters to the north or flying in to breed, there’s a spot in the sun for them all. From little pygmy geese to pelicans, from cuckoos to cranes, skimmers to snipes or flycatchers to flamingos, the list of arrivals is endless and worthy of a whole new article. Southern carmine bee-eaters arrive en masse just before the rains do. European and blue-cheeked bee-eaters also fly in to join their locally resident little, swallow-tailed and white-fronted brethren. Helping them decimate the newly hatched insect population are all five species of rollers found in Southern Africa— purple, lilac-breasted and racket-tailed rollers are present all year round; broad-billed rollers arrive to breed and European rollers come for the company and food!

All of this insect and reptile snatching by birds, munching of grass and shoots by herbivores and efficient hunting of all of the above by the carnivores, reminds us that Hwange is still one of the finest places to watch the circle of life complete itself in one season—the green season. What comes from the earth must return to it and we are immensely privileged to bear witness to it all.

But I’ve left the best part until last. If you do visit in the green or emerald season, not only will your flight and accommodation be cheaper, but there’ll also be far fewer vehicles and humans around. Book your tickets now!

Across the border—Zimbabwe

Thoughts from Zimbabwe...

By Flo Coughlan (Photography by Flo Coughlan)

DOGGED ELEPHANTS

I was sitting under a tree one day in Mana Pools National Park watching the dogs do what they do every day at midday...absolutely nothing. It was extremely hot and so I was doing the same thing! Out of the corner of my eye I saw a young bull elephant approaching nonchalantly. Like us, he was operating on reduced power and so I knew what was to come when he inadvertently stumbled upon the dogs.

Elephants can’t bear any large carnivores for obvious reasons, but I have absolutely no idea why wild dogs irritate them so. The next time a dog even tries to chase an elephant, let alone catch one, will be the first time! However, for some reason, the minute these gentle giants catch a whiff of anything canine, they charge, trunks flailing and trumpeting loudly. The dogs moved off, looking irritated and bemused, while the elephant looked a little comical, especially as it was a young male. Breeding herds take the task more seriously and with less noise, and the old bulls just can’t be too bothered with it all.

It’s all about wisdom I suppose...and what to waste your energy on. If you’re an elephant mother, it’s about protection; if you’re a big breeding bull, it’s the knowledge that you’re at the top of the pecking order, so why bother; and if you’re a young bull, it’s all about establishing your position...all primal things really.

WHEN IT’S JUST NOT YOUR DAY!

This photo was taken many years ago in Mana Pools National Park but it still haunts me. The hapless impala had already escaped the clutches of a pack of wild dogs by jumping into the Zambezi River right in front of us. Unfortunately for him, a lioness, together with her mother and cub, was watching the whole show from a small island across the channel. We watched her get up slowly, swim across the channel quietly, and then stalk the antelope along the river’s edge. As the poor impala clambered up the steep, almost vertical embankment, he found the lioness waiting for him. She had calmly climbed out down-river and then waited for him at the top. The impala, in sheer terror, proceeded to run straight towards where we stood watching this incredible event. Fortunately for us, but not the impala, the lioness caught him just metres from us. They both tumbled down the river into a half-submerged tree, where she finished the poor animal off. It just wasn’t his day!

The cub and older lioness had watched the entire episode from the island, only swimming across once their meal was ready. They then dragged it out of the water and up the bank to feast on their very serendipitous catch.

I was the only one lucky enough to capture this shot as everyone else was too enthralled to photograph it! It does lack composition and clarity but I think the subject matter makes up for it.

BIRDS RULE

I’ve spent a large part of my life observing vertebrates, from humans to hippos, but still the class that impresses me most is the humble bird. And when, like these yellow-billed storks fishing in a shallow pool in Mana Pools National Park, they are in beautiful breeding plumage (bright red faces and legs), they fascinate me even more.

Imagine, if we humans could indicate our intent so easily, it would sure save a lot of time and money, and in some cases, wasted effort! And so, if I apply a little zoomorphism and anthropomorphism, I ask myself, why do we use the term ‘bird-brained’ so disparagingly?

Could we, like some storks, and so many other migrant birds, wake up one day and fly the length of Africa or further, without a GPS or night vision goggles? No, we certainly couldn’t. And although we humans like to ‘nest’ and ‘get broody’, could we possibly weave a nest with tiny feet and a beak? Again an emphatic No!

Finally, I’m of the generation where girls were still allowed to be referred to as ‘pretty chicks’. Did they rule the roost…Yes!

So my pointless point is this…have we indeed been trying to emulate birds since time immemorial?

And I haven’t even mentioned flying or fishing yet!