From the bush

6 min read

What a ranger listens for before sunrise

Before the sun comes up, the bush tells you most of what you need to know. Nomsa on the sounds she listens for.

Portrait of Nomsa Dube in the bush at sunset

Nomsa Dube

Walking safaris and tracking

Elephants walking through golden dust at dawn

At five in the morning in the Timbavati, before there is any light, I am already listening. The bush has a soundtrack, and once you know a few of the tracks you can tell what happened in the night without leaving the tent.

The alarm calls

Impala snort when something is moving that should not be. Francolins scream. Vervet monkeys have a specific bark for leopard and a different one for snake. None of these means much on its own, but when three of them come from the same direction, I know where we are driving first.

What silence means

The hardest thing to teach is that silence is also information. When the frogs stop at the waterhole, something is drinking. When the guinea fowl go quiet in the tree, something is under it. On the walking days I ask the group to stand still for a full minute every hour. By day three nobody needs reminding.

Coffee is at half past five. We leave at six. The light is better and so is the listening.

The journey behind this note

Bush Season, Greater Kruger

Seven days of tracking on foot and by vehicle with a former field ranger.

A herd of elephants in golden dust, Greater Kruger

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