Life Sibuyi, my tracker, often reminds me, “You can hear far further than you can see.” At first, it felt like one of those throwaway sayings, but I quickly realised just how true it is.
In the bush, alarm calls are often the first indication that something is happening. You may not see the predator, the kill, or even the prey, but if you’re listening, really listening, the bush will guide you. This has quickly become one of the most valuable lessons I’ve learnt in my time out here.
A single impala ram makes sure he knows exactly where the leopard is as it walks through a clearing.
Alarm calls come in many forms. The guttural snort of an impala. The bark of a kudu. The sharp chatter of a squirrel or the frantic low call of a grey go-away bird. On their own, each one tells a story. But what amazes me is how other animals rely on these calls just as much as we do. A troop of monkeys will go quiet the moment they hear impalas alarming. Nyala will freeze, ears turned in the same direction as a squirrel’s warning. It’s an interconnected web of survival, and nothing operates in isolation.
Often perched high up away from danger on the ground, a squirrel’s tail will go ridged and they will chirp incessantly at passing predators. Scared of a lot, they will alarm at all sorts of predators, including snakes and eagles. Also known to send you on a wild goose chase due to the fact that everything is out to get them.
It’s in those moments, engine off, wind still, is where I’ve learnt the most. Tracker Life will often raise his hand, cock his head, and say a single word:
“Leopard.”
What follows is rarely immediate action. Instead, we pause. We listen. And more often than not, he’ll point in a direction, sometimes hundreds of metres away, and say,
“That’s where it’s coming from.”
I’ve stopped pretending I know how he does it. The distance, the direction, the certainty. It’s a skill born from decades of paying attention, of understanding that even a single bark in the distance is rarely just noise; it’s communication.
Tracker Life Sibuyi, an absolute master at his craft.
There’s no better teacher than time spent in the bush with someone like Life. On one particular morning, just after sunrise, we sat silently with the engine off, taking in the dawn chorus. A group of impala grazed in the distance, their heads periodically snapping up. Life, as always, said very little. But then came the sharp, dry bark of one impala. Life looked at me and smiled slightly before quietly saying,
“Leopard.”
Life hadn’t seen one. Neither had I. But that single call, a coded message, clear as day to those who know the language, had revealed more than any track or sighting could.
And sure enough, after a slow, patient loop around the block, we found her. The Xinkhova Female, tail twitching slightly, laying atop a termite mound. The impala’s message hadn’t been for us, but we were listening anyway.
The Xinkhova Female strategically sits on top of a termite mound to scan the impala herd to figure out the best route to ambush them.
Born 2021, daughter of Nkoveni. Young dynamo actively claiming territory near camps, showing promise as next generation's dominant female.
Alarm calls don’t always guarantee a sighting. But they do offer a clue. A starting point. A direction. Life often says that tracking isn’t just about what you see, it’s also about what you hear and sense.
What’s also struck me is how animals react to each other’s alarm calls. It’s a shared language. Species don’t have to understand each other perfectly to understand danger. And in that shared urgency, they offer each other, and us, a glimpse into something far greater than any individual sighting.
Interesting read. Thx Ross and Life!
Ross, Thanks for a great story about how important listening is! It is always an exciting moment when a Tracker makes you stop and listen, and aren’t you so lucky to ride with Life!!
Thanks Ross. Is the alarm call given by a particular species let’s say Impala, slightly different for different predators eg. lion, leopard, cheetah or is it the same for all predators?
It’s always amazing how trackers and guides can tell the direction these alarm calls come from. And they often result in fantastic sightings. I remember a starling giving alarm calls and we found a mother leopard and her cub. Or birds and squirrels quite close to the deck and there was an interesting animal.
Hi Ross, I studied and edited a few ethograms based on alarm calls intensity depending on the predators species. It would be very interesting to know something about impala on this matter. Say, prairie dogs, marmots, suricate and mongoose are known to have diverse alarm calls and members of the family emitting them… herbivores like bovids surely have their own, it also depends on the role of the individual in the group or only the predators? Thanks, lovely blog edition
Hi Ross, the alarm calling in the bush is there way of communicating to other animals that there is danger. I have heard here on the reserve I have heard the Impala’s snorting and the Kudu’s barking and even hearing the monkeys alarming. Some birds will also alarm when there is a snake or an owl nearby. We must just be quiet and listen, then you will know exactly what is happening around you.
Fascinating article today Ross, highlighting how various sounds in the bush are distinctive methods of communication between species, including humans. Trackers at Londolozi are highly skilled in understanding bush language, as you’ve discovered by working with Life. Guests soon discover that stopping to listen during a drive can reap great rewards.
And I remember Life doing just that when we were on the trail of the Senegal Bush Male! Those calls, especially those of the little trees squirrels, are exciting to hear, immediately raising expectations!