Night in the Kalahari

The Land Cruiser launched into the air and then bounced on the sandy desert. My rearview mirror showed the paved street receding like the end of a rope disappearing behind my swirling dust. Soon only sand and brush could be seen in all directions. After spending several days in South Africa, I left the paved roads and trekked across the sand to the Kalahari desert in southern Botswana.

The trail was undulating like a washboard, forcing the truck to vibrate violently and veer from side to side. As I got further into the desert, the deep sand was like snow and made the truck more difficult to drive. With no police, speed limits, or people for hundreds of miles, I felt free to drive as fast as I could. But the loose sand would eventually drive me out of control when I dared to push my luck.

This truly untamed part of Africa is endless rust-red sand dunes dotted with solitary trees and sparse grasses. The Kalahari desert is a part of the largest continuous area of ​​sand in the world. The area covers approximately 2.5 million square kilometers within the countries of Congo, Gabon, Angola, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Botswana, Namibia, and the South

Africa, with some areas of sand reaching more than 300 feet deep. Although the Kalahari lacks surface water, it is not technically a desert. It is a semi-arid area, but nevertheless it is one of the most treacherous lands to travel. Yet this harsh climate has remained in constant balance supporting an overwhelming diversity of life for millions of years. When I got to camp, I pitched my small two-person tent next to a dune and built a fire. As I cooked an ostrich fillet over the flames, I watched the moon slowly rise above the horizon.

Sitting hundreds of miles from modern civilization, he could hear the faint hum of silence. As our world is drowning in human-created noise, silence is a quality of life that countless people lack; many people have never experienced a single minute of pure silence, whether it be the faint hum of a refrigerator or the explosion of a car, noise surrounds us. As night approached, a strange sound began to echo from the bushes next to me.

Eee Eee Eee, Eee Eee Eee…

Soon the air was filled with sound. I shined my flashlight in one of the bushes and found out that there were Gecko lizards, thousands of them calling from the bushes looking for mates.

The lizard’s love song became quite hypnotic as I lay on the ground and gazed at the stars. The sheer number of stars was overwhelming, and the refreshing air made them shine and pulsate intensely. When gravity connected me with the lower hemisphere of the earth, I felt as if I were looking down from the night sky at an infinitely large city. To this day, I have never looked up and found more magnificent stars than in the Kalahari sky.

The bright moon cast an eerie glow over my surroundings and without the need for a flashlight, I clearly saw a black-backed jackal tiptoeing past my tent in search of food. When his sensitive ears detected something below ground, he jumped straight into the air and landing quickly unearthed a mouse which he promptly swallowed whole. Most jackals perform this unusual vertical leap when locating their prey; it’s quite a comical habit to watch.

Weighing only around 20 pounds, the jackal resembles a small coyote. These nocturnal animals feed on small rodents, insects, and occasionally wild fruits. One morning I learned that jackals are very curious and mischievous after noticing that my leather sandals were stolen during the night. The only clues left behind were the jackal tracks leading into the desert, accompanied by the tracks of my sandals bouncing off the sand as they were dragged into its mouth. This seemed normal at the time since a human thief in Johannesburg two days earlier stole my sneakers.

Fortunately, I was barefoot for only three days when a bushman noticed my need for footwear and traded me a pair of sandals for a toothbrush (unused of course) and a knife. The sandals weren’t exactly fancy, made from the tread of a flat truck tire, sometimes they looked more uncomfortable than hot sand, but I guess they were better than nothing.

After the jackal swallowed the mouse, it raised its nose and quickly detected my presence. As he inclined his head and made eye contact with me, I realized that I was probably the first human being he had ever seen in his life. After several seconds of interest, he tiptoed past me with no apparent concern and was out of sight over the dunes.

I turned my attention to the sky and noticed that the moon seemed to be shrinking. Half an hour before it was full, and now it was halfway through. It was a lunar eclipse. As the earth’s shadow gradually covered the moon, its last bright sliver faded to black, and the desert was swallowed by utter darkness. Seconds later, a pack of jackals began to bark frantically like dogs in a kennel, and then a spotted hyena began to wail over and over again.

I scream, I scream, I scream.

Spotted hyenas have more than ten different vocalizations that can be linked to specific behaviors. If you are familiar with these sounds, one can imagine much of your actions without seeing them. For example, when a spotted hyena “whines or neighs,” which is a series of loud, high-pitched squeals and chattering noises, it is usually begging for food or was simply weaned from its mother.

Like a squad of air-raid sirens, the rest of the pack stepped in like a band of frenzied looters. Their sounds completely drowned out the tiny jackals, and as they ranted and fought, they painted a stark picture of the fierce competition for survival in the Kalahari. The accelerated speed of the screams made me believe that the hyenas were challenging a lion for prey. Most likely, a lion took advantage of the total darkness of the eclipse and brought down an antelope.

The Kalahari lion, with its characteristic black mane, was once thought to be a subspecies of its own, but is now classified as a lion particularly well adapted to a desert environment. Their fur is lighter than lions elsewhere and serves as excellent camouflage in the arena. They have also adapted the ability to go weeks without drinking water and to survive on a minimal amount of prey. In this vast region, they must fight more for their food than in any other territory because stalking is more difficult in such an open area.

As he suspected, the deep roar of a lion pierced the night and immediately the hyena cries were replaced by high-pitched laughter. Associated with the common name “laughing hyena,” this comical yet sinister sound is usually made by people while being chased or attacked.

The lion must have been protecting his prey when the hyenas tried to steal it. I specify “she” because after a lion’s typical twenty hour rest day, 90% of the time it is the female that does the hunting. The males simply follow the female until after the prey dies and then he runs off and claims “the lion’s share”. With two deep blasts from the lion’s lungs, he called the rest of the pride to him.

AAAAAHHHOOOOO!

AAAAAHHHOOOOO!

The chilling sound took my breath away. The rest of the pack must have arrived pretty quickly because the hyenas started screaming again. But now the sound had a long slow “oooo” which means that the competition for the kill had become too fierce and the hyenas decided to stay at a safe distance and wait for the lions to finish eating. Occasional quick whoops followed, expressing their impatience as they sat on the sidelines.

Then the moon gradually reappeared, illuminating the desert once more, and I retired to my tent. As I fell asleep, I heard the hyenas arguing over the remains of the kill, and the sound of the lions calling to one another soon faded into the night.