A Naked Ape Searching for African wild dogs at Kwando, Botswana

by Dominic Chadbon, 23 June 2008

I've just had a shower with a baboon. Let me start again. I've just had an outdoor shower while a baboon sat above me in a tree, feigning ambivalence but as interested in me as I was in it - two naked apes as it were, only one was hairier than the other.

I'm at Kwando Lagoon Camp in the Kwando Private Concession, northern Botswana. It's a remote and soggy area, accessible only by light plane or a day's bone-jarring, swamp-storming drive - choose the plane.

It's also one of Botswana's new wilderness hot spots, previously an off-limits hunting region and still virtually undeveloped save for a handful of lodges, including Lagoon Camp and its equally excellent sister lodge Kwando Lebala Camp, a couple of hours' drive away.

Squeezed in between the far more famous, and visited, Okavango Delta and the labyrinth of the Kwando/Linyanti swamps, it's an area that encompasses waterways and dry land - with the accompanying range of wildlife - and is well-known for the presence of Africa's rarest large carnivore: the African wild dog.

Reduced to a population no more than a few thousand, the 'painted wolf' (its scientific name is Lycon pictus) has few strongholds left.

The wild dog's hunting prowess may put it at the top of the table in terms of hunt-to-kill ratio (compare the lion's hunting success rate of 30 percent to the dog's return on investment of over 80 percent), but disease, habitat destruction and unsympathetic stock farmers have pushed the wild dog to the brink of extinction.

If I was going to see this exquisitely patterned predator, it would be here.

With these thoughts drifting round my head I finished my shower (the baboon had moved off in search of more lively entertainment) and took stock of my surroundings.

My 'tent' (I use the word loosely, this solid structure seemed to have more floor space than my city apartment) boasted its own wooden deck overlooking a deep lagoon, complete with honking hippos. Such was the level of comfort that it was impossible not to wander around the tent with an open mouth.

The main lodge was cool and shady with so many enticing places to sit and read or reflect that, unable to decide where was the best, I ended up playing musical chairs, hopping from one spot to another.

I sat down with a book from the well-stocked library to read up on the wild dog but found it impossible to concentrate: too much was going on.

Besides my baboon friends (who had now decided to play a game that involved jumping noisily onto the roof of a staff cottage), enormous water monitor lizards thrashed around in the rank waterside vegetation and a silent elephant put in a brief but pulse-racing appearance under a nearby fruiting jackalberry tree.

It's the Real Thing alright, and it was with a measure of anticipation that we set off on our game drive. The African bush is, however, a fickle creature - we made several forays to the local African wild dog den only to drive away disappointed, and the tantalising tracks of lion and leopard led us on a wild goose chase deep into the bush.

However, one of the advantages of visiting a private concession is that your four-wheel-drive safari vehicle not only sports a guide and tracker but the vehicle is allowed to off-road and go on night drives.

"Time for a swimming safari!” laughed George, our guide, as he ploughed along a submerged road, earning excited shrieks from the guests and a bemused glance from A.T, his tracker perched precariously on the front-mounted seat.

Determined to show us the best that Kwando could offer, George drove extensively across floodplain and through woodland. Herds of elephant eyed us cautiously as we stopped to watch them feeding, and mixed groups of stripy zebra and spotted giraffe provided a study in contrast.

It was the early rounds of the impala mating season, and the big males, a fretful look on their handsome face, were busy herding together large groups of females. "Lucky guy,” commented a guest. "Well, he does have to spend the day fighting other testosterone-crazed males as well as mating non-stop, leaving him weak and prone to being caught by predators,” smiled George, which rather put a damper on a possible job application.

Those predators were proving elusive, despite our night drive, and I was beginning to think the region's reputation for wild dogs was a spurious one. The season's good rains had resulted in tall grass and dense bush, as well as keeping the remote waterholes full in the deep back country.

"It's a bit quiet here,” I remarked, trying to keep a critical note out of my voice. The guides smiled and remained silent. I immediately felt foolish - after all, if you want guarantees, go to the zoo.

But the bush has a habit of saving the best to last, and on a sharp, ice-still morning we made a final turn at the den - and there they were, the pack of wild dogs basking in the frugal dawn sunshine of a winter morning in Botswana.

"They've been hunting,” whispered George, and sure enough they bore the marks of battle: bloodied muzzles, a limp or two - but full bellies. "The alpha female has pups,” added A.T, "so she'll probably be underground with them now.”

We sat for a while, watching the dogs interact with each other - they are a social hunter and reinforce clan bonds by constantly sniffing, touching and, from what I could see, lying on top of each other.

The dogs seemed unfazed by us, and continued loafing in the sun as we finally crept away. The fuzzy orange light lit up the dry grass in a blaze of colour and the last of the silent morning mist burned away. The vehicle filled with laughs and smiles: it seems that Kwando deserves its reputation after all.

Article © Copyright 2008 Go2Africa.

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