Tales of the Unexpected.

                                                                               By Kennedy John

Sometimes, things happen in the bush which are not explained by the usual 'blah blah' of animal behaviour guide books. It shows how much we still really do not know of these matters. I observed a group of  three cheetah brothers and close by, three nearly adult cubs and their mother. The posture of the three brothers was head low, stiff legged walking which usually signifies agression. I assumed that mother and the cubs would flee but  they turned and attacked the coalition of males in unison until they reached a stalemate, whereby all seven settled down in close proximity to each other, looking puzzled, like me I suppose, by the behaviour of the young cheetah cubs and their mother. They never expected that challenge either.

A story of unusual cooperation near Tarangire Silale Swamp. It is a normal thing to see feathered creatures such as oxpeckers clean buffalo by taking off the ticks and other insect life from their hides. But it is not at all normal to see a bird cleaning another bird. I observer this fork-tailed drongo, perched on the bulbous head  of a Black-chested Snake Eagle. Thinking that this small bird was about to attack and maybe kill a large eagle though the eagle was doing nothing to get away, I picked up my binos and to see exactly what was happening. The insect collecter was actually picking parasites off the head of the eagle. I do not know if it was a common occurence in some places but to me, it was a new thing: to observe brids cleaning each other. Was it mutual benefit? Yes definitely. Drongo gets food and eagle gets cleaned, isn’t nature wonderful!

All of a twitter...........

By Jules Knocker





The cacophony of bird song in dry country areas is spectacular. If you live in mainly green surrounds, you forget the sheer volume and variety of the various calls from these noisy creatures that are your constant companions from before daybreak to after night fall. Twitcher or not, these birds demand your attention and there is no escape.

It starts pretty early, especially if there is a full moon, with the squeaky bed-spring bird that has decided that the patch just by your tent is the perfect place to let rip. Koki koki koki, getting faster and faster as the Coqui Francolin gets into its stride. Any thoughts of a lie-in are swiftly dismissed, as you awake with a start. Who needs a morning wake up at 6.15 am when these birds will happily do it at 5.30? It seems pretty ironic that this incredibly loud sound emits from such a skulking, shy creature.

Not surprisingly, the tuneless alarm, with no snooze button, gets the others going and soon you are surrounded by Red-eyed Doves (I AM the red-eyed dove), Mourning Doves (wu HOOO wu, wu HOOO wu krrrrrroaw) and all their numerous relatives and friends, full of morning vim and vigour as you stagger to your vehicle, clutching binoculars and peering owlishly through your specs at the scene that greets you: that wonderful, crisp, clear morning air before the African sun has started warming the earth.

In the bush around your car, the Red-billed Buffalo Weavers and the Masked Weavers have got going and are hopping around the trees and the ground below, being very, very busy indeed.

The Red-billed Hornbill sits on a termite mound, peeping gently to the inhabitants within. WuckWuckWuckWuckaWucka. Soon, a brown, furry head pops up out of the hole, scratches itself and heads back to wake the rest of the dwarf mongoose pack. Since, by this stage, you have been awake for more than two hours, you are definitely envious that these smart creatures have such a civilised introduction to the day.
By breakfast time, more of the avifauna are ruffling their feathers, preening and setting out for yet another successful forage. The helmeted guinea fowl chuckle softly, moving onto an alarmed kakakakakakakaaarrrrrrr, fluffing up their billowing, spotted skirts, as they run this way and that, worried at intrusions and eventually settling down to a determined peck.

You are just about to tuck into your bacon and egg sandwich when a loud Screeeeech gives you pause for thought and a brilliant flash of green and orange whistles past into the dense foliage of a nearby baobab. The Orange-bellied Parrot. Much more soothing, but no less dramatic, are the mini-screeches from the small flocks of Yellow-collared Lovebirds, as they flit to and fro, from ground to tree, a spectacularly colourful display of emerald green and sunflower yellow.

No dry season would be complete without the large flocks of Red-billed Quelea. Thousands move as one, flowing in waves, twisting and turning with the leaders. Catch them in the heat of midday coming into drink at the river and the sight is spectacular. The noise from thousands upon thousands of continuous, small chatterings can be almost deafening.

The soft boom of the Southern Ground Hornbill or the squawk of the Violet-backed Starlings; the Babblers and Barbets, Brown-hooded Kingfishers, European Bee-eaters, Nubian Woodpeckers; the tink tink tink of the Blacksmith Plover and the kreekree kreeip of the Crowned Plover. The list is endless, the sounds distinctive and the action ubiquitous. There is never a dull moment in a dry season park, as there is always some interesting, feathered friend hopping about and chirping brightly.

Not all the birds are as noisy and active. Early morning will see the large birds of prey sitting gloomily on the top of a tree, waiting for the sun to give them enough thermal lift. You feel they share some of your horror at the early morning wake up, as they get mobbed by screeching Shrikes and Starlings if they are discovered too close to some nest or territory.

As night falls, the birds all head to their roosts and silence slowly descends as they fall asleep, exhausted from the day’s exertions. Not long after, you do the same. But just as you start floating off, the Pearl-spotted Owlet with its rising peep gets going or the prrrrrp-prrrrrrp of the Scops Owl seeps into your tent along with the wikwikwikuwik of the Slender-tailed Nightjar on the move, gently reminding you that this is their time. Luckily, they have more respect for the sanctity of the night and the gentle hoots will lull you to sleep.

Yet this time, your sleep will be a satisfying one and the extra early wake-up, a pleasure. The best thing about all of this avi-torture is that you soon become an instant bird expert, picking out the loud Haaa Haaa Haaa of the Go-away Bird with the ease of a professional. The calls are so distinctive and individual, that the names will just trip off your tongue, as you point, with knowing smugness, in the direction of the third branch from the top of the small acacia bush on the right, where a Diederik Cuckoo is perched. deedeedeeDEEderick

Savour the moment - a close encounter with an elephant in Tarangire

              By Jules Knocker

We sat and waited in complete silence as the solitary male elephant ambled along between the acacia trees in our direction. Early morning and no other cars around to stress him nor to rob us of the exquisite moment. He was happy to take his time, as he followed a meandering game trail towards the track. We were happy to wait and accept whatever he offered us.

The elephant wandered out and stopped, inches in front of the car, then turned his head calmly, to consider us. His drooping eyes opened wide for a brief moment and the rising sun caught the full beauty of that ruby chestnut colour, usually hidden behind long lashes. He slowly brought up his trunk and reached over to the windscreen. We savoured the moment, almost feeling the rough and the smooth, as he whiffled the end of his trunk over us for a few seconds, before losing interest and slowly scrunching away in the sand – looking for that tasty acacia seedpod or an early morning tipple in the river.

We were all transfixed with the sheer majesty of the moment, to be so close to an elephant that was at peace with itself and its surrounds. To be accepted as part of the landscape and to be included, in such a natural way, in his perambulations was a moment to savour for always.

......And we never got a photograph. Despite the fact that we were holding the cameras all ready, it never crossed our minds to raise them and record the moment. If we had, I suspect we would not have been touched so fundamentally by that brief, magical moment of sharing. While the camera will keep your memories safe for the future, and your memories fade over time, the sad fact is the lens, between your eye and your experience, keeps you at one stage removed from whatever you are photographing at all times.

Sometimes, it is better just to sit and enjoy.





Our Tarangire elephant - the only shot we took, when he was about 40 yards away