Settling into the busyness of a winter season in the bush, mornings like the one we had the other day are few and far between. With full camps, radios constantly active, and a rhythm to the day that so often revolves around moving with purpose, it felt off-beat and refreshing to head out without any particular agenda at all.
On a recent morning when we were not driving guests, Nick Tennick, Joy Matebula, Equaliser Ndlovu, Nic Glassock, Ian Thomas, and I spent a morning exploring the northern parts of the reserve. No pressure to produce sightings. No destination in mind. Simply a group of people deeply connected to the bush heading out to see what would capture our attention.
A morning well spent with Nic Glassock, Nick Tennick, Ian Thomas, Joy Matebula and Equaliser Ndlovu.
Crossing Ximpalapala Crest, we came across tracks of a male lion moving east along the road. The track was fresh. Judging by the crisp edges and the coolness of the morning, the lion could only have passed there a few hours before us.
Naturally, the focus immediately shifted towards Joy and Equaliser.
What followed was a reminder of just how extraordinary the art of tracking truly is. The first few tracks were easy enough to follow on the sandy road, but after only a short distance, the lion stepped off into the grasslands of the crest, leaving us with little more than fragments to work with. The pace slowed considerably as our attention narrowed onto the finer details around us.
The turning point. Confirming the direction in which this lion decided to step off the road.
Ian, in his element.
A slight bend in the grass. A patch of dew brushed off along a narrow game path. A stone very subtly shifted in the soil. The process became less about following obvious tracks and more about interpretation, anticipation and instinct. It felt as though Joy and Equa were not simply following the lion’s movements, but rather stepping into the mindset of the animal itself. We started asking ourselves where he would choose to walk, what terrain he would favour and why.
Equa and Joy show Nick the subtleties of grass disturbances, highlighting the lion’s path ahead. Nick pretending to see it hehe!
Not long after we had left the vehicle and begun walking the crest, a deep roar drifted across the landscape ahead of us.
Confirmation.
Had we been out on a normal game drive with guests, we likely would have reacted very differently. We would have climbed back into the vehicle, looped around quickly and attempted to close the gap as efficiently as possible. But that morning was not really about finding the lion. The lion simply gave us a reason to be out there together.
Trying to see the signs lifting our gaze across the crest.
Views on views on views. Presence on foot reminds all of us how incredibly insignificant we are in the vastness of the natural world.
The real privilege was watching Joy and Equaliser operate in their element. Watching years of experience, patience and intuition unfold step by step across open ground where most of us would struggle to notice anything at all.
Tracking through open grasslands is no easy task. There are long stretches where the signs disappear completely, where momentum slows and where confidence in direction becomes everything. Yet somehow, the two of them continued to piece the puzzle together.
On a mission. What a privilege that the Tennicks have been fortunate to work with these two men for the past few years.
A while later, we received an update from our western neighbours that tracks of two dominant male lions from their side had crossed into Londolozi. We eventually concluded that the male we had been following had likely heard these dominant males calling in the west, causing him to move steadily eastward and away from us.
Two hours later, standing in the Manyeleti Riverbed as the tracks continued off into the distance, we finally called it a morning.
We never caught up to the lion, but none of us seemed to mind.
Grateful for our partnership and all that I continue to learn from men like Equaliser.
Driving back to camp for breakfast, I remember feeling incredibly grateful. In a world that moves so quickly, mornings like this feel increasingly rare. Time spent walking slowly, fully present, and collectively focused on one thing. No distractions. No urgency. Just people, wilderness and a shared appreciation for the privilege of being out there.
For a few hours at least, we got to step away from being observers of the wild and embrace participating in it.
The morning was made extra special by being able to live this life and share a morning like this with my husband.
Kate Tennick
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