There’s something about mornings along the banks of the Sand River that always draws me in. The calm flow of the water, the shade of the ancient jackalberries and leadwoods, and the chance of spotting a leopard moving quietly through the riverine woodland make this one of my favourite areas to explore.

We were meandering slowly one morning, scanning the branches for any sign of a spotted coat, when a patch of freshly turned soil caught my eye. Right in the middle of the track was a large, newly dug hole, surrounded by damp, loose earth. I eased the vehicle forward, but before I could roll over it, tracker Veatence leaned over to have a proper look.

He immediately signalled for me to stop.

“This looks like a honey badger’s work,” he said, his voice alive with excitement. “Probably from last night, and it looks like there’s honey.”

I reversed back and we both climbed out for a closer look. The hole was deep and fresh, and when we peered inside, we saw tiny golden flecks glinting in the sand. It took us a moment to realise what we were looking at — drops of honey, mixed into the loose soil.

The honey badger had raided an underground beehive and left behind a few sticky traces of its discovery.

Most people imagine beehives hanging from trees, but some species of bees, such as the Mopane stingless bee, will also nest in the ground when they find a suitable cavity. They look for cool, dry, sheltered spaces, old termite mounds, hollow logs, or abandoned burrows. These underground hives are well protected from predators, temperature extremes, and fire, which makes them an appealing home.

Unlike the familiar honeybee, Plebeina armata — commonly known as the mopane stingless bee — is smaller, darker, and, as its name suggests, harmless to humans. These bees thrive in the Lowveld and are often found in mopane woodland or near old termite mounds and riverbanks.

Here is a colony of another form of stingless bees (Trigona meliponini) that looks very similar to the mopane stingless bees.

Instead of nesting in tree hollows or hives above ground, mopane stingless bees build their nests underground or inside cavities like abandoned burrows or rotting logs. They use wax and plant resins to create intricate chambers that hold honey, pollen, and their brood. The honey they produce has a slightly tangy, almost fermented taste and is prized across Africa for its unique flavour and medicinal properties.

Hidden beneath the surface, these hives are usually well protected. But to a honey badger, they might as well be signposted.

Honey badgers (Mellivora capensis) have an incredibly strong sense of smell and are notorious for their persistence. They can pick up the faint scent of honey or wax from metres away, and once they’ve located a hive, there’s little that will stop them. Using their powerful claws, they dig straight through hard ground, roots, and even wood to reach it.

Honey badgers are famously tough. They’re covered in loose, thick skin that protects them from bee stings, porcupine quills, and even snake bites. Their thick coat and coarse hair act as additional armour against angry bees. Once they’ve broken into a hive, they feed on the honeycomb, brood, and even bees themselves.

A Taste of the Wild

Back at the hole, Veatence could hardly contain himself, knowing how delicious this honey is. He crouched down, ready to reach straight in, but I quickly stopped him. “Let’s make sure there’s nothing still in there first,” I laughed, finding a sturdy stick to test the ground.

Once we were certain the badger was long gone, we took turns scraping at the sides where the damaged hive’s honey had seeped into the soil. It was sticky, gritty, but so delicious.

Soon we were both sitting there on the ground, fingers covered in golden sweetness, grinning like two kids who’d just stumbled onto treasure. The taste was very sweet, deep and rich, earthier than the honey you’d ever find in a jar.

It was a small, unexpected moment that somehow captured everything I love about being out here, how nature constantly reveals something new, even in the smallest discovery.

Finding that hole was a reminder of how intricate this ecosystem is. A honey badger following a scent. Bees building underground. And then us — unknowingly following in the badger’s footsteps, drawn in by the same sweetness.

We spend much of our time in the bush searching for the big moments, such as a leopard in a tree, a pride of lions hunting, but often, it’s the small details that make you stop and appreciate the web of life that connects everything here.

That morning, the bush offered us a taste of its wild generosity, quite literally.