There’s a moment, usually just before dawn, when the bush still lies in darkness, the horizon only hinting at the approaching sun. It’s in that silence that you hear it—a deep, resonant lion’s roar, rolling through the landscape like thunder on a clear day. Your breath catches. The spell is cast. And just like that, the day breaks.
At Londolozi, many guests arrive seeking to see Africa. But what often lingers longest after they leave are the sounds—an invisible thread connecting them to something ancient and wild. In the bush, sound is everything. It alerts. It reassures. It immerses. It transcends. It captures.
Nature’s Soundtrack: More Than Just Background Noise
Unlike the relentless noise of city life, the bush’s soundscape invites stillness. It commands your attention with its unpredictability. The breaking of a twig could signal an approaching elephant. The alarm call of a francolin might betray a leopard. Even silence itself becomes meaningful—a moment charged with anticipation.
As days unfold at Londolozi, you begin to tune in, and your senses sharpen. From your first game drive to your next, there is something subtle that has shifted: you are no longer just observing the bush; you are part of it.
The Sounds That Stay With You
Ask any ranger or returning guest, and they’ll tell you: certain sounds imprint on your memory. The low-frequency vibrations of elephants rumbling to each other. The quiet whisper of wind through trees. The hyena whoops at night. The tremble of a lion’s roar. Or the chorus of the morning.
These are not just sounds. They are emotional cues, touching something deep within us—perhaps a forgotten awareness, passed down from ancestors who once depended on these auditory clues for survival. These animals use these cues to survive out here.
Healing Through Listening
Science increasingly supports what the soul instinctively knows: natural sounds have the power to calm, heal, and rewire the brain. The rhythmic cadence of crickets at night can lower blood pressure. Birdsong can reduce anxiety. But beyond the science, there’s a spiritual transformation that takes place when you truly listen and take in all of what’s around you.
For many, Londolozi becomes more than a destination. It becomes a remembering. In the calls of the wild, we rediscover a part of ourselves long silenced by modern life.
When you leave Londolozi, the sounds don’t stay behind. They echo within.
Because once you’ve heard the bush—not just with your ears, but with your whole being—you are never quite the same.
Thank you Kirst – Very well written – As i read this – i heard the bush speaking in my inner self and come alive again.
I could not agree more.
There is something about the photo of the single lioness that really touched me. She looks so happy to be alive. Is that the Tsalala female?
Hi Kirst, that is forsure the sounds of the wild stay with you so clearly. Closing your eyes and remember the sounds of the wild, the whole tapestry of your experience comes to light. Even the smell of the wild or when it rains you can remember so clearly. Nothing like the bush sounds.
Kirst, You are right – the sounds of the bush never leave you, and sunrise is magical!
I read your blog twice, Kirst, and let it bring me back to Londolozi once again. How lucky you are to live the life you do and experience the sounds and sights and smells of the bush everyday! Maybe in my next life…
Everything in the bush is amazing and fascinating and indeed, sounds, as you have written so very aptly, are something really special, something one remembers and can even feel in ones body, like the impressive roar of a lion.
When I hear sounds of the bush in a video for example, even without looking at the pictures I can tell whether it’s morning or evening, the birdsongs and sounds, the whole atmosphere are so different.
And listening to sounds is especially fascinating and exciting when one goes for a walk in the bush.
This blog resonated so deeply with me, Kirst. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve been to Londolozi, and it’s the sounds of the low veld that I miss the most. I remember every moment of the time we spent with the Plaque Rock female and her tiny cub, from our first view of her on the road to our celebratory breakfast on Plaque Rock itself. I will never forget how you thought that the sound above the ravine could be a bird…or a leopard’s contact call. We were so incredibly fortunate to be the first [and perhaps the last] to see these two leopards. Lion roars are exhilarating, but the contact calls of leopard, lion and cheetah, the seeking of connection in the wild, really do echo within me, always.
I read this Kirst and I was immediately transported back to the sounds of the African bush. Seeing is an important sense but hearing allows one to fully open up to the magic as oftentimes we hear what’s to unfold first, sometimes whilst it’s still dark. Even though I physically leave Africa after each visit, I’m never far away as sometimes it the smallest rustle by a lizard or the hooting of an owl and I know the bush lives within my soul.