a typical morning

I thought you might be interested in a typical morning for me. I woke up at around 6:30 this morning and started getting ready for the day. While I was slathering on the sunscreen, I heard Pickles growl out on the front porch. I went out and found her in full combat with one of the fully grown ostriches here on Harnas. It seems the ostrich was coming to see if I wanted to feed her, and Pickles had a problem with that. I broke it up, sent the ostrich on her way, and finished getting ready while I drank a cup of coffee.

Next Pickles and I went on our own morning feeding tour. I always bring peanuts to Harnas--unshelled--and I give one each morning to the 2 big red macaws, Tumela the African grey parrot (who talks to me--"hello""lapa lapa lapa" "tu MEL a"), then out to the garden to give nuts to the three young vervet monkeys and finally several to Audrey, the blind vervet monkey, who likes to find the peanut in my pockets.

I also say hello to the two baby baboons that I'm assisting in babysitting right now. I put them to bed last night (bottles and diapers--and some screaming), and Angela, the volunteer who is taking the bulk of the responsibility, got them up this morning.

On to the year old baby baboon enclosure, where I play with the wild six of them. Coco grooms me (I guess she didn't think I did a good enough job back at my bungalow). Now that I'm sure I'm groomed and lice-free, I head to the lapa with Pickles across the grass.

On the way, I break up a fight between a peacock and a rooster (???????). They can't be fighting over the same female, can they? I also watch while the 7 baby ostriches run across the grass, following by Summer--the baby springbok who follows them all day. I think she doesn't know she's a springbok and has adopted the ostriches as her herd/flock.

I leave Pickles at the gate to the cheetahs and spend some quality time with Duma and Goeters, petting and purring, purring and petting. Having made my connection with them and completed my morning meditation, I sit down at the lapa where I watch a volunteer feed one of the two baby donkeys (whose fur is as soft as duck down). The donkey then comes over to my table and sucks on my fingers just in case there might be milk hiding in there.

Petrus brings me coffee, juice, yogurt, and fruit. Cornelia and Willi (friends from Munich) join me for breakfast and fill me in on how the baby caracals are doing. Marieta left them in charge, and the two kittens are about the cutest thing you ever saw. Their eyes are open now, and they've turned into squealers and runners. Cornelia has to bottle feed them every four hours, so they stay at their house.

After breakfast I go find Annika (the amazing artist who is here at Harnas--and whom I've commissioned to paint me one of her astounding new "blue" paintings--more on that later). We leave Pickles inside the lapa gates and walk out to Zion and Trust's enclosure. The brother lions come to the gate and let us pet their faces while they rub on the gate. Then--for the THIRD TIME in the past week--Zion quickly turns around and sprays urine all over Willi!! (Apparently, it's a sign of dominance, and he only does it to males). The three of us women laugh, of course, and Willi looks down at his wet shorts and shoes.

Then off I go to my bungalow, where Pickles awaits me on the front porch. She somehow sneaks out when someone opens the gate to the lapa and heads out to find me. If she can't, she goes to the bungalow and waits. What a girl.

So about 2 1/2 hours have passed since I woke up, and the day has been exactly what I want it to be--and it's only the morning. I can say to myself that no matter what happens the rest of the day, it's been a day worth living already.

The magic of Harnas repeats itself every morning.

cheetah therapy

Some people go to therapists. Some spill their guts to their friends. But for the record, I'd rather spend 30 minutes with a cheetah. It helps me clear my head the way nothing else does.



At least once a day I try to go in the enclosure where the Five Cheetahs live--Nikita, Leuki, Shingela, Afram, and (I can't remember the name of the last one). It doesn't matter because everyone just calls them the "Five Cheetahs."

Four of the five are very tame, and the fifth lets you know he wants nothing to do with you because when you move toward him, he'll hiss (it's a BIG hiss). I usually find them (unless feeding time is near) in the back of the enclosure under a big tree like in the picture above. I call out "Cheetahs! Cheetahs!" so they know I'm coming, and then I flop down in the shade with them and let them come to me. Sometimes, like in this picture, I'll be petting three at once, and I'll be wishing for a third hand.




Lots of big cats don't purr, but cheetahs are world-class purrers. I find it so soothing. I sat down with Nikita yesterday and just started to pet her face, neck and chest. She closed her eyes and let that purr go, and I felt renewed. Some of them get enough after 10 minutes and move away from me, but Nikita for some reason will let me pet her until I get tired. She just keeps purring and it's so strong that you can even see her neck vibrating from it.


It's hard to explain, but after just a few minutes of the petting and purring, I start to feel different--like I'm in the middle of a good massage or something. At first my mind goes everywhere--what I ate for lunch, what I'm going to do next, chores that await me back in America--but soon my mind clears, the way they say it works when you meditate (which I've never been able to do since I always see myself sitting there, and my mind won't stop making lists and planning the day).

Eventually, all I feel is the purr and all my mind does is float. After awhile, I feel so much better, I say my goodbyes and go back to the real world of Harnas (which is different from the Real World wherever you are).

And Nikita charges so much less than a psychologist!

every animal counts

I have a great story for you today. Marieta told me my first night here while we had a drink together. I was laughing so hard I almost spit out my wine.

Every animal counts at Harnas--not just the exotic or cuddly. First, keep that in mind.

Marieta's granddaughter (who ADORES animals as well), Nica, is--as Marieta puts it--the "true farmer" in the family. She especially loves goats and sheep, so when there were two orphaned babies, one of each, Marieta gave them to 7-year-old Nica to raise. Now Nica lives in Windhoek, the capital city of Namibia, most of the time and then comes to Harnas during school vacations. So when it was time to send Nica back to the city, Marieta put the two animals in the transport with her and sent them home, too.

Nica's mother Melanie called back a bit peeved--as you can imagine: "What do you think you're doing sending a sheep and goat to my house!" Marieta explained that Nica loved the babies and she couldn't separate them. "Well, they can't stay here," Melanie said, "I'm sending them back. They make too much noise 'baaaaa-ing' all the time."

A few days later, though, she called back to say that Nica had actually trained them not to say "BAAAA" but whisper "baaa." And she said maybe they could stay--that she was, in fact, falling in love a little with them. A few days later, though, she called back: "I'm sending them back to Harnas. My daughter was sleeping with them in her bed!"

So Marieta got the sheep and goat back, but she couldn't bring herself to put them out in the pen. After all, these animals had lived with a roof over their heads and they wouldn't know what to do outside. Besides, she didn't want Nica to think she wasn't supporting her--that she wasn't respecting her choice of pet.

So the sheep and goat began to live in Marieta's house. At night they slept in Marieta's bedroom with her--along with 4 dogs, 2 baby baboons, and sometimes baby springboks or kudus. First, the sheep wanted to sleep in the bed, but Marieta eventually taught him to sleep in a bed she made for him at the bottom of her bed.

And I know you're wondering about the poop and pee. Well, hold on now--like the baby baboons, the goat and sheep wore diapers, but they were so big by then that she sent her daughter-in-law Jo to Gobabis (nearest town) to buy adult size diapers. The sheep also sucked on a pacifier all night--no joke. So there they all were: At night Marieta would put diapers of all sizes on animals of all sizes, and they would all sleep together. Marieta said the sheep became quite attached to her. If Marieta needed to get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, the sheep came with her, watched her, and then returned to bed with her.

On Sundays, the goat and sheep followed Marieta to the little church that is here on Harnas. They'd sleep during the service and then follow her home.

But eventually something was bound to happen--the poop that the sheep was making began to smell really bad, and when Marieta would take off the diaper in the morning, the sheep would wag his little tail and poop would fly all over. "ENOUGH!" said Marieta.

But she still couldn't bear to put them out in the elements--rain, heat, dark--so she had the Bushmen make a home for them, bigger than a dog house, with a roof, windows, and plenty of blankets to sleep on. Out they went--finally.

But when Nica goes out and calls them--as she did for me so I could get their pictures, they come running just like dogs.

Only at Harnas.

Okay, I give up. I've tried for 30 minutes to upload a picture of the sheep. You'll just have to imagine!

Every time I leave Harnas, I try to have the next time I'll go in my mind. This keeps me from crying and whining and generally making a spectacle of myself as they drag me out of the gate and force me on an airplane.

So when I left at the end of March, I knew I would be returning in December for the book launch/fund raiser on December 4th. I leave tomorrow at 6:00 a.m. (don't even ASK what time I'm heading to the airport! It's obscene!) I plan on keeping this blog while I'm there as often as power and internet access allows. I hope you'll follow me and learn more about Harnas.

(This is the spot where I shamelessly remind you that my book tells even MORE about Harnas and would make a lovely Christmas gift for someone you love--even if that person is yourself!)

So here we go again! See you next on the other side of the world!

Mother of the Year

I know it's not Mother's Day yet, but I've already chosen the Mother of the Year here at Harnas. The lioness named Simba and her mate Macho (probably the largest male on the farm right now) are the proud parents of not one, not two, but THREE litters of FOUR cubs each in the past two years.

That's TWELVE for those math-challenged people. Clearly, it's happy marriage between Simba and Macho.

It also helps that it only takes 110 days from conception to birth for a lion. Like house cats, they can breed quickly and often. Most of the time at Harnas, cubs are removed from the mother when they're born because the male sometimes kills them to bring the mother back into heat. With lions so endangered, that's a tragedy that needs to be avoided.

The four male lions known as The Brothers were the first litter, but as I wrote once before, one of them died. They're less than two years old.

Then came the litter of four siblings we call The Babies--a sure misnomer these days. The litter has two males and two females.

Then came the litter of four that Martha, seen above, came from--I think 2 males and 2 females again. Only Martha is tame (and that's not exactly accurate either, since she's what you would call a moody girl. Yesterday she tried to eat my head, but she only got a fistful of my hair.).

The other three cubs are still with Simba, and visitors get to see them every day on the morning feeding tour. Macho is always waiting at the fence for his morning meat, so Etosha, the guide, feeds him first to keep him busy while he feeds the mom and cubs.

The mother and youngsters usually aren't waiting at the fence, so Etosha calls them. It's a wonderful sight to see Simba moving toward us through the grass with her three cubs scampering after her, jumping on each other, and wrestling their way to the fence.

The three are getting big now--not the size of their mother yet, but certainly twice as big as when I first got here at the beginning of January. They're still kids, though, and love to play with each other and their mother. Simba is a great mother. She lets them "attack" her and even steal her food. Their welfare is her first priority.

And for those of you who are worried about this fertile mama, she has an implant now to keep her from getting pregnant again. Macho seems to have accepted the babies for now and hasn't hurt them. We keep a close eye on them, though, because the behavior of males--even the father of the cubs--is unpredictable.

So here's a clip of Simba and the kiddies enjoying their meal. Notice the cub who steals his mother's food at the end and prances away with his prize. (It's half a donkey head, for those who are wondering. That's nature.) They maybe bigger now, but they're still adorable. Wouldn't you love one in your house or back yard?

Teeth of a Lion

Taking a lion walk is exceptional enough: walking through knee-high savanna grass in 95 degree heat, watching for snakes and other non-fun creatures, bumping up against lions as they run past you and jump on each other--and sometimes you. It's a wonderful way to spend a few hours in Africa.

And if you get Frikkie to lead the group, it's even more wonderful. He knows his way around. And he knows lions.

On Wednesday, I had not just one of this experiences, but two. In the morning, Frikkie took out the newest volunteers who had never been up close and personal with lions. We went with the four 14 month olds and the 6 month old, Martha. He told the vols the rules--don't run, don't scream, don't overhandle the lions--and we headed out. Some of the newbies looked nervous and stayed as far away as possible from the roaming lions.

Cornelia, Willi, and I were allowed to go along with the four volunteers. Frikkie probably had it all worked out before hand with the lions--I wouldn't put it past him--because 10 minutes into the walk, one of the babies decided to test me.

I was walking along with the sun to the right and back of me. I heard a slight rustle and looked left just in time to see my shadow--and a perfect silhouette of a lion flying through the air toward my back. I had just enough time to brace myself so I wouldn't fall down and look like weak prey. Instead the lion wrapped his paws around my arms and chest and put his teeth around my upper left arm.

I didn't scream. I didn't run. I didn't fall. I just stood there, reached around and smacked him in the face and said "nea, nea" (no, no) and pushed him off me--all 200 pounds of him. Frikkie laughed and pointed out that it was the right way to handle an attack. I think it was both good and frightening for the new vols. I'm glad it was me and not one of them for the first attack of the day.

I might add that a few minutes later, Martha jumped Cornelia--and she screamed, ran, and fell down. She laughs and claims that she was serving as a bad example to my good one--so the volunteers could see the difference.

So as you can see in the picture above, the teeth marks (in the perfect arch of the lion's mouth) didn't penetrate the skin--just left a bruise. That tells me it was all in fun. He could have snapped my arm off in one bite, but he was just having a good time. No real harm done. After the walk, I counted only three wounds that were bleeding--a good average when walking the 5 crazy youngsters.

After a few hours of this, we returned to the farm, unloaded the cats, and ate lunch. I fell asleep for about an hour and then got up for the second walk with the 3 bigger Brothers. I felt really tired for some reason, but I wouldn't miss this for anything.

This time we went with Frikkie, his son, and his new daughter-in-law (a very brave young woman who had never been to Harnas).

The Gentlemen Lions were well behaved--no jumping, no biting--just lots of head rubbing and body bumping. No blood. Lots of good pictures for the newlyweds.

Part way through each walk I offered the lions a drink from my water bottle, as did Cornelia. They're used to this because Frikkie often shares his water with them. I stuck the neck of the bottle into a mouth and poured. They lapped it up. And they stood in line for more. When there's a line-up of three big lions asking for water, it's not a good idea to say "no." So on both walks, Cornelia and I ran out of water before we barely got a sip. But it's okay because the lions were taken care of.

That night I felt sooooo tired. I couldn't believe it. Yes, the lion walks were exhausting, the temperature neared 100, I didn't have water--but it seemed worse than it should be. I know I'm old, but come on!!! Everything hurt and I could barely keep my eyes open through dinner.

The answer came a few hours after I went to bed: shivering, sweating, fever, and muscle aches. I have a virus. So I spent all day yesterday sleeping in bed, and today I feel weak but a bit better. With less than 2 weeks to go at Harnas, though, I hated losing a whole day to sickness.

All Babies Grow UP

When I was last here, in December of 2008, there were four new little lion cubs that had been born in September of that year. That's me in the picture holding Brad (named after Brad Pitt--You can imagine how all the women wanted a picture hugging Brad).

But all babies grow up. Fortunately, Brad and his two brothers (one, unfortunately, died when his intestine was punctured by a bone he swallowed) have grown into sweet, gentlemanly lions who are called by all "The Brothers."

Since Willi and Cornelia have arrived, I've spent much more time with the Brothers since Willi loves them as much as I do--and it's always good to go into their enclosure with another person. (Even though they're very tame, if they decided to "play" by pouncing on me, being alone wouldn't be a good thing.)

So every day Willi and I go into the enclosure and give the Brothers some serious loving--hugging, petting, and even kissing them on the nose. I know some of you out there are saying, "Barb's finally lost it," but those who have been at Harnas know what an amazing thing it is to be close to a giant carnivore, especially ones as serene and dignified as these boys.

Eventually--when they get sexually mature--male lions pretty much become unapproachable. They kick and roar and generally get all crazed when humans come into their territory (like in one of my earliest blogs about Sher Kahn). But right now I love to take advantage of the sweetness of these wonderful lions. It's a memory I'll take with me forever.

And now a word from our sponsor: The book I've written on Marieta and Harnas, SOUL OF A LION, is already on Amazon.com--as a preorder. When I received word of this from National Geographic, I went to the website and found it. I can't tell you how thrilled and proud I felt to be officially part of the Harnas family. Since I'm donating half my profits back to Marieta, I can feel good about saying I hope the book sells a million copies. This place deserves to be noticed and supported. Think:Christmas Gifts!

New Arrivals

We got some new baby baboons the other day. A farmer near the Botswana border caught the pair (two females) in a trap, called Harnas for help rather than shooting them, and then Frikkie and Sissel went to pick them up.

They're very young--smaller by far than Coco and Jessie. As you can see in the picture, one even still has a pink face--which they only have when they're babies. Then it turns black.

Pretty wild still. We've only had them one day, so they haven't got used to humans holding them and feeding them with bottles.

The big news is that, for the first time, Marieta suggested that we name them after ME. That's right, people out there, there are now TWO animals on Harnas named after Yours Truly.

At first I resisted because "Barbara" isn't exactly a cute name for a baboon, but then I remembered that my grandfather on my father's side used to call me Bobbie. I always liked that and kind of wished other people would use that nickname, but that just didn't work out. So the one with the pink face is named Bobbie. (It's also cute because the Afrikaans name for baboon is "bobbejaan"--pronounced "Bob-ee-yon"--so it's a bobbejaan named Bobbie.)

I told Marieta that she should choose the other name but she said she was exhausted from naming animals and that I should name the second one to kind of match the first. So in a total fit of egocentric behavior, I used my middle name, Anne. (No Beach Boys jokes, please.) So the second one, with the blacker face, is named Annie.

So far they act a lot like me--they're totally uncivilized, scream a lot, refuse to do what others want, and bite when they get mad. But Marieta and I are going to work with them a lot today and get them used to our touch. Tonight she and I will each take two of the four babies for sleeping. I'm so glad that Marieta trusts me enough to let me help.

What fun to work with baby animals! By 8:00 yesterday morning, I had already been peed and pooped on twice! Classic Harnas.

Lion Chess

Frikkie has been playing a bit of "lion chess" the last two days. He's moving individual lions around for various reasons. In addition, the vets need to put microchips into all the lions--there's a new law that large carnivores in Namibia need to be identified and chipped. It's to help with poaching, black market selling, and so on.

So yesterday morning, I went with Frikkie, the two vets, Desmond and Andrea, Gary, and some volunteers. The interesting thing is that the lions seem to sense when they're going to be darted--at least they figure out something is suspicious--and they disappear. And once one is darted, they start "talking" to each other from enclosure to enclosure, and all the others disappear, too.

So it took us some time to find Lerato hiding in the bush. Then we lured her out with a slab of ribs (extra rare, no sauce). Then Desmond darted her. It was just like Nat Geo channel. I'll include the video. (Actually, what we eventually learned is that we had darted the other female in the enclosure, Teri. But that was fine. Either was good for our purposes and both had to be done eventually. We probably all look alike to them as well as the other way around.)

Then we had to wait about 20 minutes for the drug to take complete effect (longer is better when you're talking about an angry darted lion). The dart must not have hit a muscle because she didn't sleep. Desmond had to dart her again. Finally she went to sleep.

It took six people to pick up the stretcher with the lioness on it and move it to the truck. Then we moved to Elsa's enclosure with our sleepy girl. Then we darted Elsa--who is so tame that she just stood there and let Desmond do it--what a sweetie.

A lot of you out there know that recently Elsa lost her enclosure pal, Sara, our oldest lion and the last of the South African lions that Marieta rescued from a bad zoo near Port Elizabeth. She was in her 20s--old by a lion's standards. (Those SA lions were the genetic base of nearly all the lions here at Harnas. ) Anyway, Elsa has been lonely since then, and she needed a friend. (She would stand at the fence when I'd go visit her and make this sad noise somewhere between a whine and moan.)

We put the two females (Teri is actually Elsa's daughter; Lerato is her granddaughter) under two trees close together so they could wake up slowly with each other and therefore wouldn't fight. (It's no fun to fight with a hangover, I guess.) They're up and around today--no problems.

It sounds easy, but there was a lot of driving through the bush, looking for lions who don't want to be found, and waiting. We tried again today for some different ones to move around, but word was definitely out, and nobody was getting darted today. If a lion doesn't want to be found, it's a good chance it won't--unless it's really hungry. Maybe tomorrow.

All in all it was amazing. When I was a kid I dreamed of doing this kind of thing--I used to love National Geographic specials, Jacques Cousteau shows, and Wild Kingdom. I don't know how I ended up teaching literature to college kids, but our roads often take turns we don't understand. At least I'm getting to take part in this right now--and for that, I'm immensely grateful and humbled.

Babies that aren't so small

Yesterday afternoon I went on a walk with the "Babies" but don't get the wrong idea. They're anything but babies. They're four lions that are called that to differentiate them from the "Brothers"--3 male lions that were born first. Then less than a year later came these four--2 males and 2 females. Right now I figure they're about 75-80 kg each--approximately165-175 pounds--not exactly infants.

They're better behaved than they used to be, but for some reason, they thought my camera was a toy and "tested" me by attacking me over and over. (Maybe it was because it's red?) No claws or teeth (okay, one time--in the video with the lion in the tree--my pants got torn in the back and I got a scratch on the back of my leg, but I'm still not sure if it was a lion claw or a big thorn.)

Anyway, the whole hour and a half we were walking, they tried to tackle me. When I got home and loaded the videos into my computer, I had to laugh and laugh. It looks like one of those Animal Attacks programs you see on cheesy television--especially when you view them over and over.

So I'm going to include three of them so you can get the idea. Let it be known that I never let them get the best of me. Never screamed. Never ran. But I did protest a lot.

Don't Try This At Home

A few mornings ago on my walk, I went to the cheetah enclosure with the five tame beauties--Nikita, Afram, and the rest. I found two volunteers there with Luiki, a large male. He was drooling incredibly and I asked them if they'd noticed anything. They said he seemed to have something in his mouth that he kept working around.

I waited a minute and he yawned. Sure enough, there was something grayish in the top of his mouth, stuck. It looked sort of like a slab of chewing gum.

I don't recommend doing this with your neighborhood cheetah, but I felt these cheetahs--four of them, at least--trusted me because I spent enough time petting, grooming, and discussing politics with them. (Besides, the volunteers were watching me and I had to look like I was an authority or something.) So I put my hand in Luiki's mouth and worked a space between the roof of his mouth and the "thing" and tried to pull it out. It wouldn't budge.

The space was still there, though, so I took a short, flat stick and opened his mouth again. It was amazing: he seemed to understand that I was trying to help him. He could have bit off my fingers or hand, but he just made a sort of "mrrroowww."

I put the stick in between the thing and the top of his mouth. I yanked. Nothing. I tried it again. Nothing. On the third time (we were both getting annoyed), it popped out.

It was a flat piece of bone that had apparently gotten stuck when he was eating. He worked his jaw around a little, swallowed, and started to purr. I put my arms around his head and thanked him for not killing me.

It felt like that fairy tale, you know? The one with the guy who pulls the thorn out of the lion's paw and then the lion doesn't eat him later in life? I figure I get a free pass if I'm in the bush and a cheetah decides I'm dinner.

It made me feel good. Let alone how it made Luiki feel!

Meerkat Mania

Anybody who has ever watched Animal Planet has probably seen at least ads for their popular show Meerkat Manor.

And yes, they really ARE that cute in person.

One of ours here (a small male shown sitting on me in the lower picture) had a broken arm. You can see his cast on his left arm. He still managed to do what he needed to do, carrying that heavy thing around. The vet took it off finally and the arm is as good as new. He lives in an enclosure with two females.

Meerkats are related to the mongooses that run around on Harnas (more on them another day). They spend most of their time either sunning themselves to warm their bellies (like the picture on the top) or digging tunnels to burrow in. (Although they often just use and expand the burrows of ground squirrels that have been abandoned.)

Meerkats are great to have around the house because they eat all kinds of insects. In fact, when I was here before, I used to invite them into my bungalow so they would clean out all the corners of spiders, scorpions, and other insects. They're good guests, leaving the place better than when they found it.

They do have long sharp claws and razor teeth, though, so they can bite and scratch if you get them upset, but they're pretty sweet most of the time. I like to go into the meerkat enclosure, sit on the ground, and let them crawl up on me. After checking to make sure that I'm bug-free, they usually fall asleep--while making their little "brr, brr" chirping noises (kind of like the Tribbles on the old Star Trek show).

Watch out when they dig, though. They mean business--as in this video.

local color

I went to church yesterday. Some of you are now gasping, hand over mouth, worried about the people who attended with me. I can assure you there were no thunderbolts coming through the ceiling, and everyone walked away fine. Calm down, now.

In the past decade Marieta lost both her husband and oldest son, so she had a small, open-aired church built here on Harnas to honor them. It has a stone frame, tin roof, and simple wooden benches inside. It's really quite nice. Every Sunday at 11-ish (African time) the Bushmen gather there along with any volunteers who want to attend, Marieta, Frikkie, and anyone else who wants.

There's no director, but somehow they start singing. Of course, most of the Bushmen are illiterate, so they just do it from memory. It's really quite amazing. Then at some point a Bushman preacher gives a short sermon (translated line by line into English by Frikkie), then more singing. Then they load themselves back onto the trailer pulled by a tractor and sing all the way back to their village.

It's the only church I know of that allows animals in. As the singing began, Klippie the giraffe showed up, drawn by the noise of people (remember that she thinks she's a human), and she hung out for the whole time eating leaves off a tree to the side. I'll include a picture.

I filmed some of the singing. It's really great how they all sing parts without any music in front of them. Clapping, swaying, dancing around. It was very cool. (And again, no human or animal was injured in the making of this film.)

a new caracal

Yesterday afternoon we had one of those sad/happy moments. A woman came to drop off her caracal, Zinzi, whom she had been keeping as a pet. Unfortunately, she got married and moved to an apartment where she can't keep her. So she brought Zinzi to us--and of course Marieta took her in. She never says no to an animal in need.

Caracals are closely related to the American lynx--big ol' cats around 45 pounds with tufted ears. They can be easily tamed if you have them from their birth, which means people take them in as pets. Never a good idea.

But we have another tame caracal, Tammy, who lives here with her friend, a tame African Wild Cat (irony noted) named Malcolm. We're hoping the three will become friends--in time. It takes awhile for cats to get used to each other, as anyone out there with a housecat knows. I got to spend a long time with Zinzi yesterday evening, though, and she eventually stopped hissing at me and let me pet her.

The thing I find most amazing about caracals is their ability to jump. Although they eat small ground rodents, they also jump up and catch birds in flight. You're doubting me, I can sense it. REALLY. As a matter of fact, I took a film of them jumping to catch their food. We have 7 wild ones and they get fed on the tour every day. Crazy cats.

Paula Devlin, you cat woman you, this one's for you.

Midnight Run--and Duck

I had an interesting encounter the night before last. Marieta is out of town for a few days on business, so I was sleeping with one of the baby 'boons (Marnus had the other). In the middle of the night, it became odorously clear that Jessie needed a new nappie (diaper), so I took my torch (flashlight) and walked across the courtyard to Marieta's kitchen where some were stored.

Halfway across her living room I got hit from above and behind, little thorns going into my scalp. I shouted (what I shouted doesn't matter, but be assured it was colorful), and ducked my head down. I saw a flash of gray swoosh by. I reached up--no blood, just my dignity in tatters.

It was a midnight attack by Doo Doo, the white-faced scops owl who lives in Marieta's kitchen. He's only about six inches tall but packs a powerful punch with those claws.

Doo Doo was rescued by some Bushmen who found him as a baby lying on the ground. They brought him to Marieta, who saved and raised him and then tried to free him. He wouldn't go. He likes Marieta's kitchen, perching on cupboard doors, curtain rods, and ceiling fans. And he likes his little bowl of raw meat he gets every day. So that's where he stays.

I'm going to include a short video so you can hear him. There's no "hoot hoot" from this guy. He "roars" like a tiny lion. Listen carefully and turn up the volume. The first, third, fifth, and sixth growls are me, trying to get him to talk. Listen carefully in between--the second and fourth ones. You'll see his feathers around his neck sort of fluff up as he does it.

He's hilarious--except when he divebombs you in the middle of the night. Very Hitchcock.

Audrey

I thought today I'd tell about a vervet monkey who lives here. Her name is Audrey. First of all, a few words on vervets: They're small and silvery-gray monkeys with a long tails and a black faces. (Males have blue private parts!) They climb like nobody's business and can sometimes be very aggressive (to make up for their size, I assume). Their teeth are like razors, and they love to bite ears, and the way they do it makes me suspect they're testing the humans to see if they can make them scream.

They can also be very naughty. When they escape their enclosure--running between your legs as you try to get out the gate--they are almost impossible to catch. Volunteers run around for hours, calling up to the branches, "Here, Etosha! Come come come!" When they get caught it's usually because someone snags their long tails.

Audrey is different, though. She was someone's pet, but the guy always kept her in a dark room--probably a basement. Then one day he decided to bring her into a sunny room without giving her eyes a chance to adjust. She went blind. Her eyes look sort of smokey blue--almost cataract-like.

So Audrey ended up here, safe in her own enclosure where she knows her way around. She can still bite like hell, but if she knows you--your voice, smell, and the fact that you're packing peanuts in your pockets--she'll respond positively.

So I visit Audrey quite often with the requisite peanuts. I call out her name and she will feel her way down a branch to meet me and take her bribe, so while she's eating I can pet her soft fur and hold her small human-ish hands.

A volunteer was around the last time I did it, so I had her film it. Watch how Audrey feels the peanut, smells it, and turns it around in her hands to orient herself to it.

Lots of different animals end up here--categories include injured, orphaned, former pets (like Audrey), and born on Harnas. The pets, I think, are saddest of all because people can be so unthinking. Sure--baby animals are really cute and cuddly, but what happens when they grow up and turn into the wild animals they're supposed to be--strong, aggressive, and needing lots of space and the companionship of their own species? They end up here--if they're lucky. If they're not, they end up being abandoned somewhere without the ability to hunt for their own food, or being put down by a vet.

Audrey was one of the lucky ones.

Goeters, the face of Harnas

A new email friend and a long-time supporter of Harnas, Regina from Austria, (who somehow found my blog!) asked me about Goeters, so I thought I'd write about him this morning.

Goeters is the oldest cheetah on Harnas--and maybe in the world. As I mentioned once before, in the wild cheetahs don't live very long, 3-5 years. But Goeters is, by Schalk's estimate, about 23 years old.

He came to Harnas when he was about a year old, rescued from the side of the road. Marieta rehabilitated him and then tried to put him in with other cheetahs, but he just stood at the fence and cried for his human companions. Finally the vet said to take him out and make him one of the family. So for years and years, Goeters has lived in the garden area and acted pretty much like a tame dog.

Anyone could pet him--family, volunteers, guests--and his purr is legendary. You can hear it most of the time before you see him. It's deep and gravel-ly and soothing. Everyone adores him.

But after many years, he showed signs of old age just this past year. It looked like he might not make it. Good vets and regular meds, though, healed him once again. But he still seemed frail. Then Marieta and her team had an idea. They tried once again to put him with other cheetahs, this time a small group of young females.

What do you know? Goeters perked right up! It seems all he needed was the adoration of younger women. In fact, something amazing happened: one of the females actually ended up pregnant! Unfortunately the babies were born premature and didn't survive, but who knew the old guy had it in him?!?

He lives still with three females--Pride, Cleopatra, and Dumas--and seems very happy and healthy. He still gets his daily meds--which he probably needs to keep up with the girls.

I'll attach a video of me with Goeters just this morning. He seemed a bit camera-shy, so I'm also including a close-up still photo. You can see he's a handsome devil.

City Girl for a Day

I woke up this morning to a perfectly blue Wedgewood sky. No clouds or rain, a perfect day to drive to Windhoek. I have some things to print, copy, and send to NYC, so I made the 3 1/2 hour trip and am staying at a hotel here in the city. I admit, it feels weird to be back in traffic, see people, and hear noise. But here are some things I've noticed on this trip:

1. On the drive in, I saw five giraffes just standing and eating off a tree about 20 yards off the road. I know they must belong to a game farm, but it was a strange sight to those of us who still marvel at seeing a squirrel in the wild.

2. The "wildlife crossing" signs here don't have deer on them. Many of them have the silhouette of a warthog--and yes, they look eerily similar to the warthog in Disney's "The Lion King," whatever his name was. (Pumba?)

3. On the streets of the city, I've heard at least five different languages, at least one of which is a bushman tongue with clicks, clacks, and ticks. Very musical.

4. The gas stations don't have self-service options. I was forced to sit in my car and let others fill my tank (even toy cars need fuel), clean my windows, check my water, and take my money. What a luxury that my generation has nearly forgotten in America!

5. I listened to African radio, which on the same station in succession played schoolchildren singing a folk song, Shania Twain's "I Feel Like A Woman," an operatic Ave Maria, and then a hymn--which if I'm not mistaken, was "Nearer My God to Thee."

6. Water pressure! At Harnas my bathroom has no shower curtain--because the water pressure is so low that the water doesn't have the opportunity to hit outside the bathtub. In the hotel, I remembered what a shower feels like!

7. I visited my favorite street in Windhoek with local artisans displaying their goods on the ground. I pretend to bargain for the carved cheetah or the woven basket, but in truth, I'm just looking for an opportunity to give them more money than they ask.

8. The hotel TV doesn't have a lot of channels compared to America (maybe fifteen), but four of them were playing soccer (different games) and one had the Australian Open. Go figure.

9. And finally, Joe's Beer House--a local and famous eatery where I had dinner with Marieta's daughter-in-law, Melanie. Amazing grass roofs, group tables, and the best food in the city. Melanie saw at least 10 people she knew, and believe it or not, I met two people I knew! Big city/small town.

I forgot to bring the connector from my camera to laptop, so pictures will have to wait. In the meantime, I thought I'd give you a video of Petrus, the bartender at Harnas, speaking in the San language, telling you about himself and his family. Cheers! Back to the bush tomorrow afternoon.

Martha on a walk

Just a quick addition to this morning's blog. I went on a walk with Martha, the lion cub this afternoon along with several volunteers, including Lars, the guy in this video. It shows the kind of thing we do on a walk--just playing the way you would with your dog at home. I got jumped twice from behind, but she was in a good mood, so no claws or teeth. (She's the moodiest lion I've ever known.)

cheetahs and more cheetahs

It's been a couple of days of cheetahs, cheetahs, cheetahs. First, we had a sick one that had to be transported to the vet in Windhoek (our vet gets back tomorrow, thank goodness). It had some kind of intestinal problem that is being fixed, and he'll be fine. He comes home Saturday. Then a farmer found and trapped a cheetah on his farm and brought it here. It's being treated for worms and will also be fine eventually and released with some of our cheetahs.

Next, in the wild cheetah enclosure--a HUGE space that holds 28 cheetahs who were caught by farmers and so are very wild--there were 3 missing. We feed them every day, and we count them as they take their slab of meat. For several days we were short three of them, so Frikkie (the volunteer director) decided we must find them in case there's something wrong with them. Many of them are very old, though, for cheetahs, so the probability of death by old age was high.

Just a couple of words on cheetahs: they are incredible beautiful creatures, but they're also very delicate and endangered. Genetically they are all so similar that they've developed a lot of problems. Some quick stats: Only about 10% of cheetahs in the wild make it to adulthood. The ones who do only live 3-5 years. But in captivity, they can live twenty years or even more. The problem is that they don't usually reproduce in captivity (although some at Harnas have). So every cheetah counts.

I asked Frikkie if I could help with the search since I knew that the more people the better. So we spread out along one fence--about 20 of us--and walked through the bush about ten meters apart, checking for sick or wounded cats. We each took only a small stick and an attitude of authority. With twenty-something healthy wild cats, we were always running into them. Fortunately, cheetahs can be dominated pretty easily. You just have to look them in the eye and speak harshly to them and point the stick. They'll hiss and act like they're going to attack, but if you don't back down, they'll run away.

It took about two hours to cover the enclosure and we found three carcasses. It seems they all died, probably of old age. We also saw lots of interesting insects (not my favorite) and a couple of snakes. Every plant in Africa, it seems, has thorns, so our legs and arms were all pricked and bleeding as if we had been attacked by pins. But it was work that felt good--does that make sense? Real. Physical. Goal-oriented. It reminded me of what it means to be a volunteer here, as I was back in Feb of 2007. Hard and dirty work. But it's satisfying.

Then this morning I asked Frikkie if there was anything I could do to help. He smiled at me and said, "Yes I have a big job for you. I want you to take the five tame cheetahs for a walk. If no one takes them, they sit around all day under trees, and cheetahs need exercise."

"Ah. What a difficult job. Walking with beautiful, tame, and loving cheetahs." I accepted the "job" and walked about 1/2 mile to their enclosure. I called to them and they all came running (they probably thought I had meat). But even when they knew it was just me with no food, they followed me. We walked for about an hour through the bush. I kept calling "Come cheetahs! Come , come, come!' And amazingly enough, they followed me!

Every once in a while I'd stop and wait for them to catch up to me and we'd have a little love-fest. They'd purr while I'd pet them. It was heavenly. They are the most astounding creatures. I took a short video of them as they came to explore my camera. They're curious just like little house cats. Listen for their purrs.