When the tsetse flies are gone
Uganda | Anno 2016
Saturday, July 16 | Papaya Lake – Queen Elizabeth National Park
Sunday, July 17 | Queen Elizabeth National Park
Monday, July 18 | Queen Elizabeth National Park
Saturday, July 16 | Papaya Lake – Queen Elizabeth National Park
With over 1,900 km², Queen Elizabeth National Park is one of the largest parks in the country. But it's also the busiest and most visited, explains driver Richard, as we head south to our next destination. Originally, it was called Kazinga National Park, but when Queen Elizabeth II of Britain visited in 1954, they felt it necessary to rename the park after her.
Supply of matoke
A wide variety of habitats can be found there – savannah, forests, mountain gorges, lakes, swamps, floodplains... So, there's also a wide variety of animals, Richard tells us.
That joke came to an end when the dictator had to pack his bags
Two lakes dominate the area. The largest of these is Lake Edward, with an area of approximately 2,325 km². It lies right on the border, so it is partly Congolese and partly Ugandan. In 1973, Idi Amin managed to persuade his colleague Mobutu to rename the lake after him – Lake Idi Amin. That joke came to an end in 1979 when the dictator had to pack his bags.
Compared to that, Lake George is the little sister. Connected to its bigger counterpart via the Kazinga Channel, a relatively straight but natural waterway, it's like a gigantic dumbbell with two unequal weights.
In Uganda, indeed, a man can marry multiple women, Richard answers our question. However, he doesn't think it's a good idea – neither financially nor practically. It's also not very common anymore. If it does happen exceptionally, it's usually among Muslims.
Moreover, a man here will divorce his wife if she doesn't give him children. Providing room and board without receiving anything in return is unacceptable, isn't it?
Matoke market
In the misty distance to our right, we discern faint foothills of the Rwenzori Mountains, one of the largest mountain ranges in Africa. There, too, should be Mount Stanley, standing at 5,109 meters, the highest peak in Uganda and one of the few African peaks with eternal snow.
Just after three, we come to a stop in Kasese. The children call after us, Abazu – white people. Mozu is what they call you if you're alone.
Equator
It was a long time coming, but just after four o'clock, it happens – we cross the imaginary line that marks the equator. It's busy, everyone wants a photo, preferably with some limbs in the northern hemisphere and some in the southern.
Two buses unload a load of students. They're all high school boys, one group consisting entirely of seminary students. Amidst the hustle and bustle, a boy in a Ronaldo T-shirt – number 7, indeed – futilely tries to sell his roasted corn cobs.
That means we've arrived at Queen Elizabeth National Park – and we didn't even realize it. A quick stop at Crater Gate to arrange the entrance fees, and then it's straight to the Kasenyi plains, the eastern part of the park. Reportedly the perfect setting for a classic African safari, with kobs, lions, elephants... aplenty.
For now, however, we remain disappointed
For now, however, we remain disappointed. While the low sun heralds dusk over the savannah, we experience nothing more than an eerie emptiness between the acacias and euphorbias – save for a few solitary kobs.
Kob (m)
Tentatively, our drivers Richard and David steer their jeeps along the sandy tracks, constantly conferring. The other safari vans seem equally perplexed. Rumour has it that a leopard has been spotted somewhere – the only one of the Big Five we have yet to see.
Kob
On the lek, the traditional mating ground of the kobs, it is still fairly quiet. It's the females who determine the location of such mating grounds. Low grass without trees or bushes, that's their main criterion. That way, you can see any potential predators coming from afar. A lion visiting, that's something you definitely don't want when you're peacefully engaged in mating.
Darwin at his best
Traditional mating grounds of the kobs
A dozen males are ready. Full of anticipation and eagerness, they have gathered, attracted by the scent of female urine marking the territory beforehand. They keep each other alert with shrill alarm calls.
A handful of females have already made their appearance. Some males are eager to get started right away, but the females are not ready yet.
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Later, as the evening falls and it becomes busier, the lekking will begin. The males will engage in fights to determine who gets to mate and who doesn't, while the females watch from a distance. It will be a long endurance test, only the strongest will remain standing and have enough strength left to mate. Only then will the females step forward and willingly allow themselves to be mounted, knowing they are ensuring strong offspring – Darwin at his best.
Buffaloes
A few buffaloes couldn't care less about the mating commotion. Three of them lie lazily in a pool, almost completely submerged in the mud. Head and horns have become one grey, shapeless mass. With half-closed eyes, they peer around from under the sludge. A hippopotamus has the adjacent mud pool all to itself.
Red necked spurfowl
Perched on a small termite mound stands a red-necked spurfowl, looking out proudly. This isn't typical behaviour for this grey, pheasant-like bird with red legs and a red spot on its throat. Normally, it prefers the shelter of the bushes. Closer to Lake George, some speckled mousebird frolic in the bushes, searching for fruit, buds, and young shoots. They are quite agile, their long, stiff tails swishing around. But we barely catch a glimpse of their amusing crest.
Several jeeps have gathered around a tree. It quickly grows to about half a dozen, as there are rumours of a leopard hiding in the foliage. With luck, we might see it leave its hiding place to hunt in the twilight. Quietly, we keep watch.
However, we didn't count on the disturbance caused by a group of young people. They're having a great time in their safari jeep, accompanied by cheers and laughter. Any self-respecting leopard would think twice before venturing into the open with such commotion. Disappointed, Richard turns the jeep back.
Brown snake eagle
A brown snake eagle surveys the savanna from a distant euphorbia tree. True to its name, it primarily hunts snakes. Even large, venomous specimens are not safe from it. As if aware of the danger, an adder rustles through the sand next to the jeep and swiftly disappears into the grass.
Just after seven, we arrive at Katunguru Gate, one of the entrances to the western part of the park. Darkness gradually envelops the savanna. It will be about three quarters of an hour before we can see the twinkling lights of Mweya Safari Lodge in the distance.
They call themselves the most popular tourist destination in Uganda here. All comforts are available, bordering on luxurious. But what a hustle and bustle. As we unfold our en papillote with tilapia, we reminisce with a touch of nostalgia about the delightful intimacy of Papaya Lake Lodge.
Sunday, July 17 | Queen Elizabeth National Park
This is the oldest park in Uganda, Richard explains as we drive over the narrow ridge connecting the Mweya Peninsula to the Kazinga Plains just after half past six. In the deep darkness to our left, there should be an extension of Lake Edward, while to the right lies the Kazinga Channel.
For centuries, people lived here. But in the early twentieth century, the tsetse fly made their lives unbearable – just like in the more northern Murchison Falls area. Moving elsewhere was the only option. Years later, when the tsetse epidemic seemed to be under control, they were able to return to their villages.
So, unlike the more remote Murchison Falls area, the government here tolerates limited human presence. But, as Richard notes, hunting is, of course, not allowed. Fishing, however, is permitted, as long as they leave the young fish alone.
Nonchalantly, an elephant walks ahead of us on the sandy track in the twilight. It's a solitary male. Shortly after, he stops by the path to nibble on some trees. He has no natural enemies; he can easily live up to 75 years – that depends on his molars, as we now know.
Buffaloes in a bachelor group have no future anymore, while antelopes in a bachelor group are precisely the future
A solitary old buffalo is also nibbling at the bushes. It's a male, undoubtedly driven out of the herd by younger buffaloes once he could no longer contribute to the defence of the herd. Getting room and board without providing any contribution in return is unacceptable, isn't it?
Typically, such males form a bachelor group. Traumatized by the expulsion, completely reliant on themselves, and frustrated by the fact that they can no longer mate, they are extremely dangerous.
It's very different with antelopes. A bachelor group there consists of young males. Once they reach sexual maturity, they become a threat to the dominant male's mating monopoly and are expelled from the harem. Eventually, they will acquire a harem themselves, perhaps by overthrowing an older male from his throne.
Buffaloes in a bachelor group thus have no future, Richard concludes in a philosophical mood, while antelopes in a bachelor group are precisely the future.
Like sphinxes, they survey the surroundings
Completely unexpectedly, we come across two young lionesses resting on bare ground among bushes. Barely visible, there turns out to be a third one sleeping in the bushes. Like sphinxes, they survey the surroundings, clean their front paws, scratch behind their ears, yawn contagiously. Or roll onto their backs, which undeniably leads to the realization that they are not females, but males.
The idyllic scene cannot conceal the fact that the situation for the lion population in Africa does not look very promising. There were less than 20,000 lions in 2015 – a decrease of 42% since 1993.
Lions do not have a fixed mating season. However, it is often the case that all lionesses in a pride come into oestrus at the same time. The cubs – two to four per litter – are therefore born more or less simultaneously. Lionesses can thus collectively care for the offspring and even nurse each other's cubs – very useful when they need to hunt regularly.
Lionesses can thus collectively care for the offspring and even nurse each other's cubs
However, on average, only one out of four cubs survives to the age of two. Initially, they are very vulnerable. They can only walk by the end of the third week, and they are even blind during the first week. This makes them an easy target for other predators. Additionally, when a lion takes over another lion's pride, it will immediately kill all cubs younger than two years old. However, once a lion reaches adulthood, it can live to be ten to fifteen years old.
Hamerkop's nest
Hanging between spreading branches of a tree is a gigantic nest. It must be the work of a hamerkop, although the builder is nowhere to be seen. Such nests can sometimes measure more than one and a half meters in diameter and are sturdy enough to support the weight of a human. Inside, a tunnel of about sixty centimetres leads to a kind of living room that provides enough space for the couple and their chicks.
Hamerkops build three to five nests every year
Hamerkop
They are compulsive nest builders, these hamerkops – they build three to five nests every year. Often, this is necessary because the hamerkop is a relatively small bird. If an eagle or a snake has decided to take over its nest, the hamerkop is powerless and must vacate the area.
Such a herd is a matriarchy in itself
Further on, a herd of elephants stands among the bushes, munching on vegetation. All ages are represented – babies, adolescents, adults. Such a herd is a matriarchy in itself. A dominant female is the undisputed leader. If she moves, the rest follow suit. If she stops, everyone else stops too.
Water is a constant concern for these pachyderms. More than two hundred litres go into their trunks every day – sometimes a hundred litres in one gulp, according to Richard. But they also need water to regularly cool down their young, given their delicate skin.
It's not surprising that these elephants are heading towards the Kazinga Channel. However, they hesitate because they have to cross the sandy track, where a handful of jeeps are emitting various strange smells and sounds. They are wary of the situation, even though there is intentionally a gap of several tens of meters left between two jeeps.
More than two hundred litres water go into their trunks every day
Eventually, an elephant takes its chance and promptly disappears across the other side among the euphorbias. One by one, the others follow suit, their initial hesitation quickly turning into a short sprint.
Perched on a tree stump are a pair of hamerkops, while another one sits higher up in a tree. With their heavy bills and large crests at the back of their necks, their heads do indeed resemble a hammer – that is, when they're not tucked between their shoulders. They prefer to stay near bodies of water, as they primarily feed on amphibians. Both the male and female take care of the offspring together – incubating the eggs and bringing food. Sometimes it takes them quite a while to return to the nest, which might be why they build such massive nests.
Zitting cisticola
At the northern edge of the Kazinga plains, we overlook the salt lake of Nyamanyuka. Buffaloes often come here to lick salt to balance their minerals. But sulphur is also present in this volcanic environment. The name nyama-nyuka actually refers to the smell of rotting flesh.
Birds are abundant here, and Richard identifies them without hesitation. Deep in the bushes, there are hyperkinetic birds with crests and long tails. Not speckled mousebird this time, but blue-naped mousebirds. They dart back and forth at lightning speed, too quick to catch a glimpse of anything.
Sooty chat |
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Winding cisticola |
A sooty chat hops through loose soil, its white shoulder patch clearly visible on its black plumage. It feels lost in tall grass. It has a taste for ants and termites, but it doesn't disdain caterpillars or grasshoppers either.
A winding cisticola clings to a long reed stem with both feet. It feels at home amidst tall reeds and grass. There, it primarily hunts for insects.
Despite belonging to the cuckoos, the white-browed coucal is not a nest parasite
White-browed coucal
Providing a small crescendo is a white-browed coucal. Shy as always, it hides behind the branches of a bush, but its beautiful brown feathers, wide blue-grey tail, and white stripe above its eye do not escape our notice. Despite belonging to the cuckoos, it is not a nest parasite. The male takes charge of nest construction and will subsequently brood the eggs together with the female and provide food.
It's half past ten when we sit down in the lodge to a hearty breakfast. Only now can the impressive setting of the lodge sink in. At our feet lies the stately Kazinga Channel, over 700 meters wide. Silently, it makes its final bend towards Lake Edward. To the left, a narrow ridge separates the channel from the lake. The only access to the peninsula is through it, with the white-yellow sandy track winding between the trees.
Rueppell's long-tailed starling
At the bottom of the pier, some boats are waiting for tourists. The bushes along the slope are the territory of vervet monkeys. As they nibble on fresh leaves, they occasionally cast a wary glance upwards – they don't want their brunch to be disturbed.
Black-headed gonolek |
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Common bulbul |
One bird after another settles in our vicinity – a small, restless cisticola, a black-headed gonolek with a beautiful red chest, a common bulbul that likes to hang around people, a Rueppell's long-tailed sterling that never fails to amaze us with its sparkling blue plumage, an African pied wagtail.
African pied wagtail
On the other side of the channel, more and more elephants are descending to the sandy shore. Through the hazy air, we can make out about forty of them, along with roughly the same number of buffaloes. With their feet in the shallow water, they quench their thirst or spray their thick hides. Some are almost completely submerged. Until a tourist boat approaches. Indignantly, they trumpet briefly, then quickly make their escape, with the buffaloes following in their wake.
Kazinga Channel, Lake Edward – Elephants and buffaloes on the sandy shore
Just after four, Vincent welcomes us aboard the Hippo. Our program for the next few hours is to cruise down the Kazinga Channel along the southern bank, right up to the edge of Lake Edward. From the covered upper deck, we survey the surroundings. It's lightly cloudy, but the sun refuses to be subdued today, generously casting its rays over the water.
They don't put the slightest obstacle in each other’s way – as long as their territories are respected
Buffaloes, hippos
Dozens of buffaloes, perhaps close to a hundred, are lounging on the sandy shore. Some are lying in the shallow water, almost shoulder to shoulder with a dozen hippos. Neither of them are carnivores, so they don't put the slightest obstacle in each other’s way – as long as their territories are respected, of course.
Pied kingfishers at their nests
Where the bank rises steeply above the water, pied kingfishers have found their haven. It's teeming with burrows, the kingfishers come and go.
Pied kingfisher
Pied kingfishers
A male is recognized by the horizontal white stripe on the chest, a female by the two white dots. Easy to remember, grins Vincent – it's as if she's wearing a white bra.
African spoonbill, black-winged stilt
Bending forward, several graceful, white birds wade through the shallow water, their bills just below the water surface, swaying back and forth. They are African spoonbills, their bills broadening at the end into a kind of spoon. With this, they easily scoop up all sorts of treats from the river – fish, molluscs, crustaceans, amphibians. In the background, a yellow-billed stork stands motionless, its lower legs comically folded forward.
A plastic replica, it seems, deliberately placed there
Nile crocodile
Motionless, a crocodile lies sprawled out in the sand. It seems like a plastic replica deliberately placed there by Vincent. Fearlessly, it lies on the busy beach, mouth and eyes closed. For who would it have to fear?
African openbill
Less at ease is the black wading bird that springs up as we approach. It has a strange, curved beak. Both halves of the beak do not fit perfectly together, showing an opening in the middle. He owes his name to it – African openbill. Such a beak comes in handy when snails and freshwater mussels are your daily food – you always have a nutcracker at hand.
African fish eagle
A tree with high branches that extend far above the water, better lookout posts cannot be imagined by African fish eagles. From afar, we can already discern their characteristic chest as a white spot amidst the foliage. They are not picky; anything swimming just below the water's surface quickly falls prey to their strong talons.
A lion or a crocodile will effortlessly catch them
A few buffaloes lie alone in the water. Seemingly calm, but that's just a facade. Such old males are frustrated, aggressive, and dangerous. After all, they've been ousted from the herd by strong young males. They're sometimes called losers, but in fact, they're just retired, Vincent explains. They have at most two, maybe three years left to live. Then they'll be so weakened that a lion or a crocodile will effortlessly catch them.
Elephants descend to the water
Several elephants have descended along the steep slope of the plateau to the water's edge. It's part of a family group. The male – Vincent calls him Big Daddy – roams alone but is never far away. In times of danger, he comes to the rescue immediately. Such a bull can weigh more than six tons. With his trunk, he can toss a small car into the air if he feels like it. Including the occupants, Vincent adds with a grin. Yet, that same trunk is sensitive enough to pick up something as small as a stick, thanks to two finger-like protrusions.
Weaver nests
Hamerkop with prey
Weaver nests hang low over the water. A hamerkop has captured a fish. With caution, it holds its prey in its beak, as it doesn't trust the large object floating over the water in its proximity.
Long-tailed cormorant
An long-tailed cormorant also watches us carefully. Perched on a tree stump, its fiery red eyes sharply contrast with its black feathers. It doesn’t hesitate to dive to great depths. However, out of convenience, it usually catches its prey in shallow waters.
Hadada ibis
Finally, we get to see it up close, the hadada ibis. It's a magnificent bird, with bronze-coloured wings that sometimes shimmer with a greenish metallic lustre like a rainbow in the sun. A touch of red adorns the top of its long, curved beak. With this, it can easily dig through loose soil, searching for coveted worms.
Buffalo, yellow-billed stork
The plateau now slopes steeply towards the river. Sandy paths lead here and there along the slope, winding occasionally in hairpin turns.
As dusk falls, they will climb up in procession along these paths – the hippos, the buffaloes, the elephants
Later, as dusk falls, they will climb up in procession along these paths – the hippos, the buffaloes, the elephants – to graze on the plateau. Tomorrow, they will descend again to the river to quench their thirst.
That such cumbersome animals – even elephants – are capable of climbing up these dizzying paths seems unfathomable. Especially when rains have turned them into a mud sludge. Even for humans, it would be a perilous undertaking.
A mother hippo leads her young to a small grassy field at the foot of the slope. She's not keen on the climb upwards. After all, on the plateau, the young would quickly end up on the menu for hyenas, as Vincent vividly puts it.
Warthogs
Warthog, yellow-billed oxpecker, cattle egret
Meanwhile, a family of warthogs sets a good example and descends swiftly from the plateau. To graze, they must bend their knees because their necks are not flexible enough to graze while standing upright.
It appears to be a distinguished gentleman, this bird with its elegant grey plumage
Black-headed heron |
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African wattled lapwing |
A black-headed heron stands calmly, gazing out over the water. It appears to be a distinguished gentleman, with tis elegant grey plumage and black and white stripes on its neck, as if it's wearing a stylish tie. And of course, a black spot on his head, to honour his name.
Monitor lizard
A monitor lizard wanders through the sand, its blue, forked tongue occasionally flicking out of its mouth. Likely, it's searching for eggs, preferably those of crocodiles.
African sacred ibises
A wattled lapwing pays no mind to the crocodile lying further in the grass. Striking yellow wattles on its beak are its trademark. The crocodile, on the other hand, isn't fond of our proximity and silently slips into the water.
Great egret
Along the water's edge, two ibises are rummaging through the grass. Their white bodies with black heads, legs, and tails immediately catch the eye. In classical Egypt, they were revered. They are still called sacred ibises for this reason. A great egret stealthily creeps along the shore. A juvenile yellow-billed stork curiously watches us from over its shoulder.
Yellow-billed stork (juvenile)
Two elephants take a sand bath. They are adolescent brothers, not yet sexually mature. Later, they will spray water over their backs to form a coat of mud, which protects their skin against ticks, parasites, and other pests.
Yet, Vincent still has one last surprise in store
Marabou storks, cormorants, Egyptian geese, sacred ibises, yellow-billed storks, grey-headed gulls, …
Marabou stork, cormorants, grey-headed gulls
Gradually, it seems we've seen just about everything with wings or legs in this environment. Yet, Vincent still has one last surprise in store. And what a surprise it is. There must be hundreds of them, birds of various plumages gathering on a small piece of land.
Pink-backed pelicans
Marabou storks tower above cormorants, Egyptian geese, grey-headed gulls, and sacred ibises in a schoolmasterly fashion. Great egrets and yellow-billed storks rummage along the water's edge. At the back, a colony of pink-backed pelicans huddles together. Even a fish eagle has descended from its ivory tower and stands with both feet almost in the water.
African fish eagle
Amidst all that hustle and bustle, it's barely noticeable that there are also a few buffaloes lying dozing. They pay no attention to the commotion. Nor does a solitary kob, unperturbed as it nibbles on the juicy grass.
Monday, July 18 | Queen Elizabeth National Park
Even the hotel grounds are not spared. A hippo came grazing on the grass around the lodges last night. Luckily, it didn't defecate, because then it would have waved its tail to spread its faeces – and thus its scent trail – as widely as possible…
Acacias are almost absent in this savanna. Instead, towering euphorbias have taken their place. Like a forest of giant green candelabras, they line the sandy track. They are formally known as euphorbia candelabrum, named for their peculiar growth pattern. The dominance of this succulent from the spurge family is owed to the farmers. They used it extensively to demarcate their fields. When the tsetse fly temporarily drove the farmers out of the region in the early twentieth century, the spread of euphorbia knew no bounds. With the acacias gone, so too did the giraffes. Euphorbias are not exactly their preferred food. You won't find zebras or rhinos here either.
Elephants, on the other hand, pay no attention to that. They stand among the bushes, munching away contentedly. Until hesitantly, they cross the sandy road, one by one. We count about twelve of them.
Further down the line, it's another sighting, this time of a herd of about ten elephants. But appearances can be deceiving because there seems to be no end to them once they leave the bushes – there are probably around thirty of them. There are also quite a few calves, nervously trotting amidst the forest of legs of the adult females.
It's eleven o'clock when we finally arrive at Katunguru Gate and bid farewell to Queen Elizabeth National Park. Shortly afterwards, we reach the asphalt road that leads us southward.
Jaak Palmans
© 2024 | Version 2024-02-11 14:00
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