THE RAREST RHINO RUBBING POST ON EARTH.

There is no other like it - not even close.

 Painstakingly crafted by Mother Nature herself over millennia, the rubbing post stands over 70 cm tall with a circumference of 119 cm (28 x 47 inches).
















It has a very interesting history:

The tamboti tree grows extremely slowly - in all likelihood it took this tree hundreds of years to reach its maximum height of 18 meters. It probably died of old age or a lightning strike and was further broken by foraging elephants or more storms many hundreds of years ago.

One fine winter morning some forty years ago I accompanied my best friend and mentor on an extended motorcycle patrol through a very inaccessible and desolate area in the African wilderness. Always on the alert for dangerous wildlife, we leisurely meandered along the tortuous game trails in the bush. Should there be anything potentially dangerous up ahead, one needs to be aware of it in time for evasive action, if necessary. Fortunately the bigger animals will mostly avoid a confrontation unless you corner or surprise them. Mostly it will be a vocal warning, breaking branches or even a mock charge - but don't bank on it. A 500cc scrambler is usually quick enough to get you out of trouble with the big stuff. A four-meter black mamba, however, does not snort, growl or break branches, and as a rule it is only spotted once it rears up to eye level as prelude to striking - and by then it is mostly too late for evasive action. Standard procedure is to simply abandon the bike on the opposite side of the snake. This tends to be a bone-jarring experience, but preferable to near-certain death. Leave the fight to the bike and the snake.

By about noon we came across a small pan that still held some water from the previous summer. Judging by the depleted state of the surrounding vegetation it was probably the only water for miles around. We simultaneously spotted the mud encrusted rhino rubbing post at the edge of the water, and could only stare in awe. Neither of us had ever seen something remotely as breathtaking. Yes, when I first set eyes on the Venus de Milo the magnificence did take my breath away. But this was something else - this was not man-made. This was created by the Gods themselves, with their own tools and in their own time. I had goosebumps all over when the thought crossed my mind that, when Alexandros started chipping away at his block of marble thinking about Aphrodite, right here, in Africa, a single seed of Spirostachys africana germinated. Right here, on the very spot we were standing. Dumbstruck we reverently approached the post and touched it gently on the more recently rubbed areas, where the polished wood seemed to radiate life through the thin film of drying mud. Although my friend Tom never used hard language, I will never forget the first words he uttered in a whisper: "Fok my, Oom Leeu..."

All my life I have been in a close, intimate relationship with Nature and all its children and magical wonders. That day was the closest I have ever been to my Creator, and the most appreciative I have ever felt to all the wonders that surround us every day on this earth.

We fetched our water bottles, sandwiches and jerky from the bikes and sat down right at the edge of the little pan. The silence of the serenity was overwhelming. The picture of that magnificent sentinel in the middle of nowhere will live in my mind forever. Even through the coating of ancient clumps of mud, the elegance in the curves of the many sculptors was clearly evident. Definitely not the work of a mere human mind.

When we eventually got back on our bikes we hadn't really talked about the experience - words would have spoiled the sense of having discovered eternity. "If you are still alive by the time an elephant pushes it over, I want it. I will give you a lung, a kidney and half my liver for it" I said, only half joking.
He merely smiled and snorted. "It will and should probably end up in a museum of natural history where millions can share its magnificence. And maybe learn something."

We didn't talk about it further, but the magic remained.


Some five years later, on my fortieth birthday, Tom showed up at my house in his 4X4 truck. On the back, tightly wrapped in a blanket and resting on a foam mattress was the essence of my dreams.

Apparently an elephant did indeed make its contribution. Tom had leveled off the remaining roots and must have spent a lot of time removing all the mud encased in even the tiniest cracks. He must have gone through a wide variety of wire brushes and stuff.
Then he flattened a small area with a chisel where he engraved the epic words of a song by Koos du Plessis with an ancient dental laboratory drill:

An occasional thin coating of raw linseed oil applied by loving hands (not a cloth), and here it still stands proudly in all its glory. I still draw life and inspiration from it daily.



Author's note:
No-one has ever gotten out of this alive. When you die, do not die with dreams. Die with memories. Do not postpone  -  DO IT NOW!!






 

Dankie vir nog 'n lewe. (Weer!)

Dankie

Op Saterdag 12 Mei was ek teen middeldag besig met ‘n boekpromosie by Exclusive Books in die Llanga Mall in Nelspruit. Net na vyf dieselfde dag is ek in ‘n koma opgeneem in die Intensiewe Sorgeenheid in Pretoria se Kloofhospitaal. Op die oog af het dit na ‘n beroerte gelyk, maar die briljante internis het dit spoedig gediagnoseer as Respiratoriese Nood sindroom, oftewel die RD virus. My kanse op oorlewing is geskat op 15% mits daar geen ander komplikasies sou intree nie.

Van meet af aan het elke denkbare komplikasie sonder ophou ingetree – beide longe het platgeval, etlike orgaanstelsels het begin faal, drie nood-tracheostomies is gedoen, bloedvate in die lugweg het geruptuur en dit was net een krisis na die ander vir weke lank. Weens my komateuse toestand het dit bykans twee maande geduur voor die omvang van die wonderwerk tot my begin deurdring het: by twee geleenthede het die bekwame mense wat vir my lewe geveg het, besef dat hulle besig is om die stryd te verloor, en ons kinders laat kom van die Kaap en Natal om te kom groet. En elke keer het my Skepper Hom ontferm en ingegryp.

Nodeloos om te sê, almal het deurgaans met onwrikbaare geloof gebid, ten spyte van die wanhoop en trane. En ek praat nie net van my gesin, familie en vriende nie – ek praat van ALMAL. Nie net hierdie gemeente nie; die hele dorp, mense van oral, selfs (het ek later uitgevind) mense wat ek gladnie eers ken nie. Ek het geen benul waar al die liefde en welwillendheid vandaan gekom het nie – ou kennisse baie ver uit my verlede, mense waarvan ek in my selfsug en eiewaan lankal vergeet het. Alle eer aan God vir hierdie wonderwerk, en innige dank dat Hy al julle en ons gebede gehoor het.

Dit was ‘n wonderlike voorreg om weer te kon leer om self asem te haal, te loop, en kommunikeer. Die son te sien, die see, die groen van die komende lente… Om weer Jasmyn te kan ruik… Moenie dit ooit as vanselfsprekend aanvaar nie – waardeer elke oomblik daarvan. Wanneer dit verby is, is dit verby. Vir ewig is ‘n lang, lang tyd - dis nie aldag dat mens ‘n kyk-weer kry nie.

Wie nie in wondere glo nie, is geen realis nie.

My innige dank aan God, en elkeen van julle. Om te lewe is soveel meer as om net asem te haal. Moenie ‘n oomblik daarvan mors nie. Weet waar jou heil vandaan kom, en moenie nalaat om dankie te sê nie.

                                                                                                                                Leon Marè

My eerste Afrikaanse boek - op papier

Alhoewel Karma van ivoor eers in April/Mei amptelik vrygestel word (boekwinkels), is dit reeds in boekvorm op die Weskus beskikbaar by Buffelsfontein Natuurreservaat en by Yzerfomtein Spar.

Dit is ook reeds elektronies beskikbaar op Amazon Kindle.

Tom Yssel was senior veldwagter op die Nwanetzi-buitepos naby die Mosambiekse grens in die vroeë 90’s. Die onwettige handel in ivoor en renosterhoring het stropery laat eskaleer tot die vlak van georganiseerde misdaad.

Tom was verloof aan sy ou skoolkys en hy was ‘n gelukkige man, tevrede met sy lewe.

Maar toe kom Linda Crawford, die nuwe prokureur in Nelspruit, soos ‘n dief in die nag in sy lewe ingesweef op die wieke van lemoenbloeisels en mooi bene.

Teen die agtergrond van hierdie eskalerende liefdesdriehoek is Tom en sy kollegas gewikkel in ‘n bloedige stryd met die stropers en die sindikaat.

Tom het meer respek vir die wette van die natuur as diè van mense. Hy is ‘n reguit, harde man met ‘n byna obsessiewe liefde vir die natuur.

Karma van ivoor is ‘n aksiebelaaide liefdesroman waarin die leser ‘n kykie gegee word van wat agter die skerms aangaan – ‘n kykie na die werklikhede, die trane en die vreugde van natuurbewaring. Die hoofkarakter in die boek is geskoei op die van Tom Yssel, my vriend en mentor in die wildernis. Hy was vir meer as 20 jaar senior veldwagter in die Kruger Nasionale Park. Alhoewel die verhaal fiksie is, is baie van die natuurtonele gebaseer op ware observasies en ondervindinge.

Lions - too many, or too few?

Exciting news on the lions of Buffelsfontein!

The cubs being prepared for their journey:

The three adolescent Buffelsfontein cubs (see previous blog posting) have found a safe, caring home at Buffelsdrift, near Oudtshoorn. The owners of the nature reserve at Buffelsdrift have guaranteed Paul Loubser, owner of Buffelsfontein, an extended, dignified life for the three animals. In a combined effort with the well-known TV personalities of  'Groen Namibië' Dr Rudie and his wife Marlice van Vuuren, and under the ever-watchful eye of the KykNet TV director they were anaesthetised, crated an transported to their new home.

Wildlife vet, the good Dr. Willem Burger, arrived well equipped for any eventuality.

Paul was adamant that the wellbeing of the lions would take precedence throughout the whole of the translocation procedure. The minimum stress and maximal comfort of the cubs was infinitely more important to him than getting good TV footage. This is sometimes not easy, but he was adamant.
Fortunately everyone agreed, and the initial filming was done outside, in the family enclosure. Then the lions were enticed into the three small, individual little "hospital enclosures", where sick lions are usually treated. Here they were separately anaesthetised practically simultaneously - infinitely less stress and drama.

Each having had a proper medical check-up, they were individually loaded into their straw-lined, custom-made transport crates for the journey.

 As Paul watched the convoy leave Buffelsfontein, his body language said it all - his children were leaving home for ever. Pretty sad.

But then, on the bright side: a whole new lion colony will be established near Oudtshoorn, in a reserve which does not cater for canned hunting either.

While back in Buffelsfontein the only male in Elsa's latest litter will take another three years before reaching sexual maturity. Ample breathing space for all.

Enough Lions for now...

The Dilemma:

Lions in captivity breed like rabbits.
Wildlife tourists, true to form, want to see lions - the cubs are cute and cuddly, and the adults are huge, magnificent creatures, awesome to behold.

Uncontrolled breeding presents a serious problem  -  this little cutie-pie is going to grow up and would one day like to start a family of his own. My friend Paul Loubser, owner of the Buffelsfontein Game and Nature Reserve on the Cape West Coast does not condone the concept of canned hunting. He would only sell cubs to individuals and reserves where the cubs are guaranteed to live full, dignified lives without the possibility of being hunted.
This prerequisite, however, narrows down the market considerably. Paul tries to keep conditions as natural as possible for his lions, and is therefore reluctant to keep males and females in separate camps. Nature being nature, this co-habitation would invariably result in the population getting out of hand.

Initially the females were put on implanted birth control pills, but this required frequent darting of the animals, and somehow there were still a couple of surprise litters now and again. Sterilising the animals in the usual way invariably results in hormonal and a variety of behavioural as well as physical changes.

So, Quo Vadis? Something had to be done to limit the population increase.

Balzac, the alpha male, did not take kindly to the idea of being castrated - yes, he was growing rather fed-up with a new batch of youngsters pestering him every now and again, but the thought of his mighty roar changing to a timid squeak and losing his manly appeal did not sit well with him.

In fact, it seemed to bring him close to tears.



















But then we gave him the good news which immediately lifted his spirit. Although it would still entail a visit by the vet and some minute surgery, nothing would change - he would still remain the formidable Balzac with everything intact, including his virility. The tiny operation known as a vasectomy entails the removal of a short piece of the vas deferens, or spermatic cord. This is a thin tube transporting sperm from the testes to the rest of the plumbing, where it is mixed with various other fluids to produce the ejaculate. Only difference is there are no sperm in the semen, something you can only spot with a microscope. So the happy family life continues normally, the only difference being that the female does not fall pregnant.

This elegant solution to the dilemma appealed to Balzac, although he was still not all that enthusiastic about the vet.

Due to the general anaesthetic he was spared the indignity of "the shave"...

prelude to "the knife".

From "the first cut"....










...to the "final cut".

Within hours Balzac and his buddy were staggering about with their hang-overs, but converted to full sport(s) models without the usual loss of serious body parts. The big boy can even retain his name with pride.

This is not a permanent solution to the problem, but rather a reprieve. In the most recent litter there is (fortunately) only a single male cub, but it will take him a couple of years to reach sexual maturity.

Meet Frikkie III

THE NEW BOSS.

About two and a half years ago, a pair of wagtails started frequenting my garden. So I got hold of some freeze-dried meal worms, which I put out for them.
A couple of months later they disappeared. Then, last spring, there was a new wagtail. This one became quite tame, coming indoors and feeding at the table in my barbecue room. A month later he started bringing his mate along. Towards the end of winter, they would eat their fill, and then carry off some worms, two or three at a time. Freeze-dried worms are not easy to come by if you live on the remote West Coast, so I started breeding my own meal worms (not as easy as it sounds, either). Somewhere in the bush their eggs had hatched, and those little chicks had huge appetites.

Then, about a month ago, they showed up with their three young offspring. I was as happy as they were, except for the fact that my worm farm was not yet in production. Cape Town is a long way away, but I had no choice - step up the freeze-dried worms.

Initially the five of them would spend their days hanging around on the driveway and, of course, tucking into the freebies. It got to a point where I considered scraping guano off my driveway.

Then the parents decided enough was enough, and they started driving their offspring out of their territory. Two of the youngsters left promptly. Not so Frikkie III - he decided he liked it here, and fought back, feathers literally flying. Some mornings he would pitch up for breakfast looking as if he had been in a bar fight the previous night. He still looks a bit scruffy at times.

Then he discovered the worm farm had started producing fresh, live worms, and there was no stopping him. This went on for about a week before the parents conceded and took off. He is still considerably smaller than his parents, but he's got the heart of a lion and the persistence of a honey badger.

Once king of the roost, he started taking over big-time. When I'm in the veggie garden he would appear out of nowhere and land on my head or shoulder as if we'd been life long buddies. I am having a hard time convincing him to limit his indoor visits to the barbecue room and my office. Monica takes a dim view of him taking over the rest of the house, proclaiming furniture and sofas as part of his territory. How the hell do you house train a wild bird?

We have now settled for a fairly acceptable compromise. When I start working in the early hours, I make sure all the doors and windows in 'my' territory are open. Just after first light he would come zooming in, ready for breakfast.

Having eaten his fill he would perch on my arm and preen himself thoroughly. Then to work: I'm sure this little bugger can read. He seems to check if I have made sufficient progress and if the story line is still to his liking.

After wasting about an hour of my time he seems to get bored and takes off for the wide outdoors.

But he's back every hour or two, even if just for a quick snack or a chat. I simply love the little bugger.

Pizzabraai - easy, inexpensive and simply delicious.

Hands-down the best pizza ever - on a hinged grid (toeklaprooster) over open coals.

First, buy two of those cheapy thin-crust frozen pizzas from your local shop. They usually have hardly anything on them, but the less the better. You are going to build your own anyway.

Next, spray your hinged grid well with Spray & Cook or a similar product to ensure your pizza will not stick to the grid.

In a pan, fry some bacon and pineapple bits. Drain the pineapple well beforehand.

Place the first pizza face-up on the grid, and sprinkle liberally with grated cheese. Add the bacon/pineapple from the pan.

Next, add a layer of sliced banana...

...and top it off with another layer of cheese.

Place your second pizza face-down on this lot, and close the grid.

It is important that you give the coals ample time to cool down - so pour another one and wait.

Then, over very low heat, start baaing gently, turning frequently.

Do not leave unattended while you pour another one - it burns very easily.

You will know you have done it slowly enough if, by the time it looks like this, melted cheeze starts oozing out onto the coals, giving it that extra flavour.

This is basic, and it is the best tasting pizza imaginable. Feel free to experiment by adding your personal favourites, like salami, garlic etc.