time to go again

I’m always a little sad during my last few days of a Harnas trip. Tuesday night at dinner, I suddenly started crying over my food. No explanation to Johannes, my server, needed. He just gave me a hug and said he understood. He’s seen it a hundred times before with guests and volunteers alike. He just said, “I will look forward to the day when you return to Harnas.” That made me cry more.

I try to make the most of my last days. On Tuesday afternoon I took a walk with several volunteers that I especially like and three baboons that I’m fairly fond of. We walked through the bush while the baboons ate berries, explored, and took a ride on our heads—as in this picture. Sometimes they were sweet, giving kisses, and a couple of times they took a ride on their mood swings and tried to bite us. Generally, we forgive them for the latter. They’re baboons, after all, and live a manic life.

Today, walking across the lapa lawn, I saw a strange sight: a baby crocodile—about two feet from head to toe—was trying to get INTO the adult croc enclosure and had gotten his head, front legs and part of his belly through the chain link fence and then gotten stuck. The big croc—nine feet in length and scary--had his long mouth around the head of the baby croc, pulling him through. He could have beheaded the baby with ease, but seemed to be trying to HELP the youngster. Apparently the little one had gotten out of the baby pen and decided to join the two adults. Odd situation. What was actually happening here?

Of course I called for help. Gabriel, one of the bartenders, came running and we tried to decide what to do. I grabbed the tail of the baby and pulled him back—out of the mouth of the adult—and then Gabriel picked him up by the tail (brave man—flashing teeth and anger emanating from the little one) and carried him back to the baby pond and deposited him there with his siblings. Then we looked at each other and laughed. You just never know at Harnas what will happen. Rescue a baby croc? Just part of the morning routine.

This afternoon I visited my new love, Atheno, and asked a volunteer to take some pictures of the two of us cuddling. This picture is my favorite. I’m going to miss this boy. Just how do you tell an animal that you have to leave—to go back to work to make money so you can visit again? I’m sure I don’t know.

My heart breaks every time I leave Harnas. Tomorrow morning I begin the return. Thanks for taking this journey with me again. I appreciate all my readers and especially the ones who leave comments. Until the next time—B

this and that

It’s been a slow couple of days here—just enjoying the peace and quiet of the new year and spending time with my favorite babies.

I finally went back out to find Pride again—hoping she wouldn’t have just made a kill, so I could cuddle with her. Sure enough, we found her lounging under a camelthorne tree. As soon as we came into her sight, she started purring. She was affectionate and cuddly—amazing that one minute she’s a natural born killer and the next she’s licking the faces of her human companions and purring up a storm. She truly a wonderful cat who has proved to all that wild animals brought up by humans CAN be returned to the wild.

Yesterday, I took two new volunteers out in the late afternoon (it was soooo hot—it’s been over 100 degrees several days in a row) with the two 3-legged caracals for a walk in the wild. You’d think they couldn’t go very fast with only 3 legs, but they can really move when they want to. The heat kept them down a bit, though, and they spent most of their time moving from one shady tree to the next.

Here’s a great shot of one of the baby leopards resting, legs slung over the wooden log, hanging. This is how they sleep in the trees. Their balance is astounding. They look so carefree, but about two seconds after I took this, Gabana was up and flying through the air to land gracefully on his sister, Dolce. They move so fast and soundlessly. I can see, even in these babies, why they’re the stealthiest hunters in the wild. Nobody would see or hear a leopard coming.

Only a couple of days left. It’s been a great trip.

2012

I hope everyone had a good New Year’s Eve. It was wonderful here.

Marieta had the Bushman set up long tables out on the grass the lapa area and the cheetah enclosures (I'm sure the cats were a bit confused all night). All afternoon, they roasted three sheep and twelve chickens on spits over fires and the kitchen people prepared a feast of side dishes. Spotlights and candles were set up all over, and someone worked as a disc jockey near what used to be the outdoor dining area but what became for one evening our dance floor.

Around seven guests and volunteers began arriving. The volunteers had decided the theme was a masquerade ball, and they had all made masks decorated with whatever they could find. Feathers from the aviary were popular—as was some glitter from the children’s school. This picture shows a group of them showing off their masks.

Before dinner the Bushman children did a series of African dances to entertain us. No music--just handclapping in various rhythms--like their own sets of drums. They were so great—had on traditional costumes and really stomped and clapped their way into my heart.

Lots of eating, drinking, and laughing all evening, and then there was dancing under the stars for hours. Finally, at what we agreed was midnight (there was no Dick Clark and a lighted ball in Times Square), we all stood in a circle and counted down from ten. It was a memorable way to bring in 2012—a New Year’s that will stand out in all our memories as beautiful and fun and a bit exotic.

Today everyone looks a little worse for the wear, but we all agreed it might be our favorite New Year’s celebration ever. It’s hard to top dancing under the African stars while the lions roar in the distance.

un-routine routine

As the days have gone on, I’ve found a sort of rhythm to my days. After getting myself together each morning, I head over to Marieta’s garden area and feed the two macaws and the African gray parrot some peanuts (I’ve trained them to come to me when I yell, “Peanuts!” and the parrot will even perform a bit for me by saying “hello!”)

Then I take a couple more peanuts (yes, I brought them with me) to Audrey, the blind vervet monkey, who is a whopping 22 years old—practically unheard of, but true. She comes out of her little house when I tell her I’m there with her morning treat, pats her hands on mine until she finds my fist, and then unwraps my fingers one by one to get to the peanut. She’ll often touch my hands between bites to make sure I’m still there. (And her cage mate, a squirrel named Fred, comes over and takes his nut out of my hand, too.)

After I slip a couple more peanuts to the monkeys in the cage next door (they always look on with their big soulful eyes and beg), I move over to the garden area that houses Atheno the cheetah cub. I spend a few minutes brushing his coat and scratching him while he purrs. Then we play chase: I drag a toy along the ground while I run around as fast as I can and he waits as long as he can before he pounces on it. He’s fast, let me tell you—and he can turn on a dime. Sometimes the grass is slippery, though, and he goes careening into a corner before he can get his footing. I’m usually laughing hysterically before long, and we do it again and again until we’re both panting.

After some more cuddling (if I can get him to calm down long enough to let me), I’m off to gather up Pickles where I’ve left her by the outside gate, and then she and I head off to get some breakfast. I can’t think of a better morning routine—not ordinary, by any stretch of the imagination, but certainly joyful.

working it out

For the past few days I’ve been able to work with the volunteers. Their numbers are a bit lower than usual—because of the holidays—and yesterday they lost quite a few when a group flew home. Today they’re down to about 12--compared to sometimes having as many as 50--and the new ones coming this afternoon won’t be able to help much until they’re trained.

So I’ve joined in and had a good time. I helped clear the weeds from a cheetah enclosure where guests go (so it needs to be looking good). Then I helped clean the water hole in the aviary. And this morning I worked in the food prep area, cutting meat into various sizes for different creatures (1 inch cubes for mongooses; steak size for cheetahs; strips the size of your smallest finger for the bat-eared foxes), and finally I helped rake and clean up the aviary. I admit I'm a big sore in my shoulders and arms.

None of these activities are picture worthy, so I’m including a picture of Asem, our movie star vulture. He had a small part (picking at a dead body by the side of the road) in Beyond Borders from 2003. He was rescued as part of a group of vultures that were being smuggled into Namibia. Once he and his siblings were healed (and some died as a result of the smuggling), they were all released, but Asem kept coming back to Harnas. He just didn’t want to go. Finally, Marieta decided he could stay in the aviary—where he’s King.

The one thing I’ve been reminded about the last couple of days is how hard these young volunteers work. They toil out in temperatures that are near 100 degrees, doing manual labor they’ve probably never done before, and they pay to do it. It’s mostly European kids between 18-30, taking time off from work or in between school and work. I wish more American kids would take a gap year and do things like this. It changes your perspective and makes you appreciate how great you have it. And it helps the world become a better place for both people and animals.