The sun was not yet risen and the coffee had barely kicked in when, as we left the camp one morning, we spied a pack of wild dogs trotting down the road toward us! A dash of adrenaline helped the coffee do its work and we suddenly had a full 8 very awake and very excited members on the vehicle, myself and tracker, Rob Hlatshwayo very much included!
The pack had set their sights on a herd of wildebeest slowly beginning their day, stretching out stiff muscles and commencing their days feeding. And with very little preamble the predators launched into action, their lean bodies cutting through the air, fluid and lithe, beginning their relentless chase.
But the wildebeest, despite being caught off guard, held their cool and banded together in a bid to defend their youngsters, quickly forming a formidable wall of hooves and horns.
Bursting forth from the defensive position to run down an attacking enemy. This dance would eventually lead to too many wildebeest breaking rotation at once and the pack managing to separate a calf from the herd.
And for a time, it seemed as though the herd might hold off the attackers, bravely standing their ground against the relentless assaults of the wild dog pack. It is something I’ve only seen once before in my time here and it is as thrilling a sighting as you are likely to encounter out here. In that instance, the wildebeest managed to hold the pack off for over half an hour until they finally lost interest and moved on to easier pickings. However, on this occasion, it seems fate had other plans. In the chaos of the 5th or 6th clash, a young calf found itself separated from the safety of the herd. With panic coursing through its veins, the calf fled, hooves pounding as it raced towards the relative sanctuary of a nearby waterhole.
Flee!
Now, wild dogs are not known to be fond of waterholes. They are wary creatures, acutely aware of the lurking danger that lies beneath the surface. The calf had no time for thoughts of crocodiles and plunged headlong into the cool embrace of the water, swimming frantically into the depths as the pack spread themselves around the perimeter, seemingly ready to wait this one out.
Beware the depths.
And then we saw it, the silent predator, emerging from the depths. The crocodile, golden eyes gleaming with reptilian hunger, approached with a leisurely menace, swimming alongside the frantic calf, seemingly certain of its kill. With a swift motion, it lunged sideways, its powerful jaws clamping down on the young wildebeest.
The casual approach of the crocodile indicated that this was perhaps more of an opportunistic attack than anything. Its sinisterly slow approach almost made it worse to watch!
And yet the exhausted calf still managed to dig into some deep well of energy and thrash its head out from betwixt the jaws of the predator, tearing a horn loose in the process, and in an incredible display of adrenaline-fueled determination, clawed its way to the safety of the water’s edge, the crocodile harrowing it all the while.
Ripping free from the jaws of death the calf raced for the bank!
Meanwhile, the wild dog pack, seeming to have accepted the loss of their prey, had moved off into the distance, conceding defeat to the ancient reptilian predator, the one small fortune bestowed on the calf that fateful morning. The young antelope, now battered and bleeding, but alive, emerged from the waterhole and sped eastward in a crazed dash, its survival instinct driving it forward, despite what must be flagging reserves of energy. We emerged from the other side and watched as the calf turned into the thickets south of camp.
And here, we have, unlike most of these Lowveld epics, a happy ending! As all who had witnessed the chaos of the morning hoped, the calf was seen later that morning by ranger Andrea Sithole, reunited with its herd on the airstrip, seeming in a much calmer state of mind, glued firmly to the side of its mother. The calf was safe.
In the end, amidst the unforgiving wilderness of Africa, life continues its eternal dance – a testament to the resilience of nature and the indomitable spirit of survival that courses through its veins.
Kyle Gordon
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