Jealousy, lust, sex, fighting, bloodshed… it could be the plot for one of my airport novels, but it’s all real, and it’s been happening all around me.
As I type there’s a female in distress, but a strapping male is striding through the African bush to come to her rescue.
Just yesterday there was blood on the wire. Seems a young guy tried to muscle in on an older dude’s turf and steal his ladies, but the big man showed him he’s not ready for retirement yet.
It was a fight, and like most fights it wasn’t meant to be to the death, but when there’s girls involved things can turn nasty.
When the men in uniform came to break up the fight, the young gun’s challenge had failed, and they carried him, bleeding, away… He didn’t make it.
Back on the ranch the king was celebrating in style, with his ladies.
And last night, into this world of rough justice, stabbing fights, rampant lust and multiple sexual partners, another little baby was born. In fact, about 20 of them were born.
Impalas. Who’d have thought they could be so interesting?
One of the many good things about living in the Kruger Park for a couple of months at a time (which I do when I’m writing) is having the time to watch the little things of the bush; and the “boring” things – such as impala.
There’s a resident herd at Pretoriuskop Camp and I never knew their day-to-day lives could be so fascinating. It’s better than a soap opera and more confronting than Tarantino. What these antelopes get up to should be rated X.
The wet season is on and while the ewes are busy giving birth the males are shaping up to see who’s going to be the big daddy of the harem next year.
While I was busy making a fire, up in the corner of the camp ground, a young male impala bounded up to me, and stopped not two metres away. I’m kind of used to this, as the impalas here are well habituated to humans and graze away quite close to tents and caravans, and happily mow the lawns and tend the gardens while tourists and park staff wander past.
Then I noticed this young fella was in trouble. In fact, not to put to fine a point on it, he was disemboweled. He’d squared up for a fight with the dominant male in the camp and come off second best. The ram had speared him in the guts, and they were hanging out. His flank and rump were scored and bleeding from numerous stab wounds.
Fortunately, three parks officers arrived a second later – they’d actually been herding him into the corner. They tackled the poor, dying young male – quite a feat in itself – and carried him away. I hope they put him out of his misery quickly.
But life goes on…
Each day the herd leaves the camp to browse and graze just outside the fence and around 5.45pm in the evening the herd male starts rounding up his bevy of beauties and moving them back towards the gate. If a female gets separated from the herd he goes bounding off after her.
The lambs are arriving, now that the rains are setting in. They look so peaceful, so cute and so harmlessly boring, these impalas. But don’t be fooled…
