Sitting outside my cottage in the Londolozi village the other afternoon, I found myself simply watching and listening. The small garden in front of me has become a kind of barometer for the seasons. As the air cools or warms, as the rains come or hold back, so too do the plants respond. Fresh shoots after a shower, flowers fading in the dry months, grasses rising and falling with the rhythms of the year. But what strikes me most is how these shifts bring different voices into the space. Namely the changing chorus of birds.
The brightly yellow coloured flowers of the Mopane Pomegranite are one of the first signs that the seasons are shifting towards warmer, longer days.
Some mornings are punctuated by the familiar calls of resident species such as Scrub-robins, Robin-chats and Bushshrikes, always present no matter the season. Yet as spring unfolds, new notes join the choir. The first Woodland Kingfisher, trilling brightly from a nearby knobthorn, seems to announce the turning of a page. Later still, the cuckoos arrive, each with its own call. These migrants have travelled many kilometres, sometimes thousands, drawn here precisely because the conditions have shifted in their favour. After all, it is the reason migration exists. To be in the right place at the right time.
A Woodland Kingfisher. Their machine-gun-like trills punctuate the summer landscape.
That thought stayed with me a few days later while out tracking along the Maxabene riverbed. The sand was soft beneath our feet, etched with the fresh tracks of a female leopard. The riverbed is lined with ancient jackalberry and leadwood trees that hold the cool shade of late morning. Following the tracks, we rounded a bend where the dappled light seemed to thicken. There she was. A young female leopard stretched along the fallen trunk of a weeping boerbean tree. The Three Rivers Young Female.
A tracker’s dream. Fresh leopard tracks.
For a while, we simply watched, captivated by her beauty. Her coat melted into the play of sun and shadow. But beneath that beauty lies an intricate web. She was only there because everything else was in place. Healthy herds of impala grazing nearby, dense thickets offering cover, and fresh pools of water not far away. The leopard, like the migrant birds in my garden, was the ‘flowering’ of a whole ecosystem working quietly in balance.
The Maxim’s Male, arguably one of the largest and most dominant male leopards in the region, perches on a boulder in the Sand River.
Before I ever had the opportunity to track leopards, I worked as a landscaper in the city of Cape Town. One truth I learnt early on was that if you want flowers, you don’t fuss over the petals. You nurture the soil, the water, the light. Create the conditions or the right environment, and the bloom will follow.
After months of waiting patiently for the right conditions, this little purple Ipomoea blooms.
Here at Londolozi, it is no different. By safeguarding our unspoilt rivers, the grasses, the insects, and the smallest unseen parts of the whole, we are tending to the soil of the wild. And when the conditions are right, the leopards, the elephants, the migrants, the flowers of this living garden… will always come.
That is the quiet promise of wild. It is not one of guarantees, but of possibility. Every track, every birdsong, every rustle of grass is a sign of this promise. And if we keep protecting it, then generation after generation will find themselves pausing just like I do, in my garden, in a riverbed, beneath a tree, and marvelling at the flowers of the wild.
Goodness, Matt. What a perfect – almost poetic – blog. While I enjoy the big guys it’s the framing by the flowers, trees, bugs, water, sun . . . that makes time in the bush enriching.
What a lovely, overarching metaphor, Matt.
Absolutely charming! You wrote it down wonderfully. Flowers blooming are the embellishments of nature that nurture the land, and it starts from pollination to scattering seeds… Flowers are a joy to the sight and heart. How beautiful, regal, the Three Rivers young female has become! I’m sooo happy for her, she’s a real princess!
Those little Kingfishers are so cute!
Hi Matt, here on the reserve where I live we had 12mm of rain so far. You can already see the difference in the bush becoming greener and flowers starting to bloom. We also see a few swallows have arrived, we are awaiting the Woodlands Kingfisher to make their appearance. By just keeping the bush clean and see that the animals are in good condition says a lot.
Today I am enjoying one of the most beautiful places in the world. It could as well be Londolozi, though today it is not. And I was thinking that to be at such a place,a place like Londolozi, is an absolute privilege. Especially as the world gets more and more crowded, huge cities getting even bigger. Paradises in the wild get rarer and rare, for people and even more so for animals. So, it is great that some such paradises still exist. I hope, Londolozi will be around for a very long time. It is so important.
Matt, you transported me to your little garden through the tapestry of your words – thanks for allowing me to share those peaceful moments.
Hi Matt, Time spent with you and Terrence was truly amazing! But, your literary genius has made my day. It is a haiku in and of itself. Thanks for bringing the essence of nature to such a vivid light. In addition, the last couple of reads from all of you rangers makes me think you all are channeling no less of a master of being than ee cummings! So, keep those reflections coming. They are truly enjoyable.
Beautifully written Matt, thank you.
All in perfect motion with all else.