The Bunker Diaries Part 3: Dramatic Light, Morning Victuals and a Thespian Warthog

Dawn broke with little fanfare, our south-facing hide precluding a view of the rising sun. Colours gradually strengthened in the beautiful “golden hour” light, while the post-sunrise chill surrendered to real warmth. Birds were our first visitors, the whistle-purr of doves’ wings a continuous background track to the developing day.

If you missed the first two instalments of this series, you can find them here and here.

Myriad birds descended for an early drink – buntings posing ostentatiously on rounded boulders while widows, waxbills and quelea edged gingerly down the smooth rocks for a sip. Cape turtle doves stridently exhorted us to “Work HAR-der!” as we tried to tally the skirmishing helmeted guineafowl. Like a live cartoon, flurries of feathers and dust complicated our task as the polka-dotted crazies raced to grab morsels from under each other’s beaks.

Doves came in waves, with four species visible in this photo.

A brief pose by a helmeted guineafowl. I liked how the side-light accentuated its facial markings.

A busy breakfast

In the hide, mouthfuls of cereal and sips of hot drinks were stolen between counting the burgeoning wildlife community near the pan. Kudu tiptoed timidly, their heads jerking with every step, ears rotating like satellite dishes and nostrils flaring. Their surreptitious tail flicks telegraphed their anxiety; we knew that at the slightest hint of danger, they’d display their bright white under-tails and disappear like ghosts into the treeline.

Larger herds of impala moved in, mingled and separated again. In the melee, we each chose a subgroup to count – adults, subadults or yearlings of either sex – so that we could keep track of entry and exit directions and times. Dominant rams, looking a little haggard after the rut, tried half-heartedly to keep their harems together. Smaller bachelor herds lingered on the periphery, the younger males mock-jousting in anticipation of ruts to come. One ram jealously guarded a salt lick (even when he was not using it), muscling over and scattering yearling upstarts. After drinking, many impala stood in the sun, taking turns to groom each other or simply enjoying the early morning warmth.

Impala maintain group bonds through allogrooming. Here, a young ram enjoys a neck clean by a subadult ewe.

A young warthog flopped down ostentatiously to elicit grooming from a sounder-mate.

Interspersed with the antelope were the warthogs. They scuttled in as singletons or family groups, tails wiggling, occasionally grunting as they neared the water. Seemingly undeterred by potential danger, they’d go straight to the water’s edge and, with eyes half-closed, take long, slow draughts. Some lingered for a mud-wallow, displaying their tide line as they wandered off again into the bush. A harried-looking sow followed her three energetic piglets to the pan – they drank and sploshed in the shadows while she paused to drink, looking for all the world like an exhausted single parent.

With all the melodrama of a bored teenager, one of a trio of immature warthogs flopped unceremoniously on the bare ground. Her sounder-mate (probably a sibling) sniffed her comprehensively from tail to head, before giving her a perfunctory grooming session and wandering off to sample the salt lick.

Occasionally, an animal would take fright and clatter off a brief distance, sending everyone else into temporary panic. Warthogs, their tails like the antennae of remote-controlled ATVs, skedaddled into cover. Impala leapt or jinked. Doves exploded into the air. The constant tension was almost palpable – a reminder that wildlife must live in a state of high alert or suffer lethal consequences.

The home stretch

As the temperature increased, activity slowed. A herd of impala browsed in the stand of mopane beyond the pan. Waves of doves flew in on occasion and a small mixed flock of seed-eating birds preened and chattered quietly in a shrub at the water’s edge. Bees droned among the boulders and the wind blew flurries of dust and hot air into the hide. In the soporific late-morning warmth, we savoured cold drinks from the cooler box, before quietly gathering our katundu, checking datasheets for completeness one more time, and readying for our exit from our temporary shelter.

This wasn’t our first count, and the wildlife we’d observed probably wouldn’t elicit palpitations in tourists. But we delighted in the privilege of having unfettered views into the daily rhythm of a wildlife community. We witnessed intimate interactions between herd mates, unashamedly anthropomorphised scenarios, and through the process developed a deeper understanding of the anchoring value of waterholes in an arid landscape. And next time, maybe one of those elusive leopards will grace us with its presence!

Experimenting with photo techniques was fun in the slower moments of the game count.

If you like my content, please consider buying me a coffee. A portion of all donations supports Dambari Wildlife Trust's research, conservation and outreach activities in the Matobo Hills.

[Photos (c) The Rambling Zimbo.  Camera body: OM System OM-5 Mk1; Lenses M.Zuiko 75-300 4.8-6.7 II and M.Zuiko 12-45 f/4 Pro. Post-processing in DXO PhotoLab 8].