November in northern Botswana can be an exasperating but also an extremely exhilarating month... The life-giving rains are just around the corner, and they must come soon: the golden grass wilts in the sun and the calcrete pans start to look like the surface of the moon. As the month progresses there is a tangible tension in the air, like a single note played on a vibrating string; the sense of anticipation is palpable.
The African bush ecosystem is an intricate mechanism, lubricated by water. For all the beautifully engineered components to keep clicking together, we need the rains now. Sleek impala bellies are swelling with new life and soon thousands of hungry mouths will need to be filled with green shoots. As each waterhole surrenders to evaporation, animals must walk farther to find water...
Of course, many things have changed this year, with the waters of the Savute Channel creating a vital green path in the otherwise parched landscape. As the dry season reaches its peak, this reincarnated African river becomes a magnet for game.
As the heat spikes early each afternoon, herds of elephants trek down to the Channel and as we enjoy tea in the camp we watch as they delight in the river, demonstrating a real enjoyment of life.
Each afternoon the clouds gather, bruised thunderheads climbing thousands of feet into the sky above the camp and then fading away: seeming to promise relief but giving none. It's a meteorological tease right now. On evenings when the stars are blotted out by inky clouds, and a stiff breeze comes in off the Channel, it is easy to think that surely this is it. Sheet lightning flickers inconstantly, throwing the riverine trees into brief silhouette. Surely this is it ... But no, the next morning the sun's rays burn holes in the clouds, revealing the relentless blue beyond.
Our find of the month was undoubtedly the new lion cubs born to a female in the DumaTau Pride. We already knew one female had given birth several months ago, but now one of her sisters was seen nursing three little blue-eyed scraps of fur - which instantly and effortlessly stole our hearts.
If you like your wildlife cute, the DumaTau Pride is a must-see, with a total of six cubs under four months old. The order of the day is curiosity and play, but these are games with a deadly purpose as these future killers work in concert with each other to subdue such dangerous prey as grasshoppers or the black tuft of fur at the tip of a lioness' tail.
Preparations for summer continue apace everywhere we look. Lacking the vertical river banks they would normally use, a colony of Southern Carmine Bee-eaters at the Linyanti River (to the north) have resorted to digging burrows into the sandy ground. This spot is a constant hive of activity with bee-eaters circling and wheeling, or striking comical poses with their heads down and little feet whirring away, kicking more sand out behind them as they lengthen their tunnels.
They are by no means the only summer migrants to have returned. Swallow-tailed Bee-eaters are here too, and the skies are full of the distinctive shapes of Yellow-billed Kites as they carve the air, either trying to avoid the pesky attentions of mobbing Fork-tailed Drongos, or swooping down to seize the intestines of a spring hare killed by a pair of black-backed jackals.
In a lofty leadwood tree to the east of camp, a pair of Giant Eagle-Owls have built their untidy nest, and from this vantage point they regard the diurnal world through heavily-lidded eyes, waiting for the cloak of darkness, waiting for their eggs to hatch.
The African bush ecosystem is an intricate mechanism, lubricated by water. For all the beautifully engineered components to keep clicking together, we need the rains now. Sleek impala bellies are swelling with new life and soon thousands of hungry mouths will need to be filled with green shoots. As each waterhole surrenders to evaporation, animals must walk farther to find water...
Of course, many things have changed this year, with the waters of the Savute Channel creating a vital green path in the otherwise parched landscape. As the dry season reaches its peak, this reincarnated African river becomes a magnet for game.
As the heat spikes early each afternoon, herds of elephants trek down to the Channel and as we enjoy tea in the camp we watch as they delight in the river, demonstrating a real enjoyment of life.
Each afternoon the clouds gather, bruised thunderheads climbing thousands of feet into the sky above the camp and then fading away: seeming to promise relief but giving none. It's a meteorological tease right now. On evenings when the stars are blotted out by inky clouds, and a stiff breeze comes in off the Channel, it is easy to think that surely this is it. Sheet lightning flickers inconstantly, throwing the riverine trees into brief silhouette. Surely this is it ... But no, the next morning the sun's rays burn holes in the clouds, revealing the relentless blue beyond.
Our find of the month was undoubtedly the new lion cubs born to a female in the DumaTau Pride. We already knew one female had given birth several months ago, but now one of her sisters was seen nursing three little blue-eyed scraps of fur - which instantly and effortlessly stole our hearts.
If you like your wildlife cute, the DumaTau Pride is a must-see, with a total of six cubs under four months old. The order of the day is curiosity and play, but these are games with a deadly purpose as these future killers work in concert with each other to subdue such dangerous prey as grasshoppers or the black tuft of fur at the tip of a lioness' tail.
Preparations for summer continue apace everywhere we look. Lacking the vertical river banks they would normally use, a colony of Southern Carmine Bee-eaters at the Linyanti River (to the north) have resorted to digging burrows into the sandy ground. This spot is a constant hive of activity with bee-eaters circling and wheeling, or striking comical poses with their heads down and little feet whirring away, kicking more sand out behind them as they lengthen their tunnels.
They are by no means the only summer migrants to have returned. Swallow-tailed Bee-eaters are here too, and the skies are full of the distinctive shapes of Yellow-billed Kites as they carve the air, either trying to avoid the pesky attentions of mobbing Fork-tailed Drongos, or swooping down to seize the intestines of a spring hare killed by a pair of black-backed jackals.
In a lofty leadwood tree to the east of camp, a pair of Giant Eagle-Owls have built their untidy nest, and from this vantage point they regard the diurnal world through heavily-lidded eyes, waiting for the cloak of darkness, waiting for their eggs to hatch.
