By Roxanne Reid
We’re perched on the rocks of a small hill that provides an amphitheatre view of the Moringa waterhole at Etosha National Park's Halali camp. It’s our chance to grab a last few remnants of warmth from the rocks before the sun sets and the show begins.
We’re perched on the rocks of a small hill that provides an amphitheatre view of the Moringa waterhole at Etosha National Park's Halali camp. It’s our chance to grab a last few remnants of warmth from the rocks before the sun sets and the show begins.
The sun is going down, a crimson fireball in a cloudless sky. There’s the soft phut of a cork being pulled and the clink of glasses as a young couple toast the occasion with some red wine pulled from a backpack. There’s a strong aroma of anti-mozzie spray and a hint of peach shampoo from someone who has come here straight from the shower, not to mention a faint whiff of animal dung, courtesy of a herd of highly productive elephants that were here earlier this afternoon.
There’s the constant bickering of a pair of drongos not wanting to share their tree perch or the insects they’re catching in the glare of the floodlight. And then there’s the first liquid call of a doublebanded sandgrouse, weep weep wieuw. Then another. Soon the air is alive with them, swooping down to the water for a sundowner before taking off again in a staggered chorus, first one small group then another.
‘Renoster!’ shouts an overexcited voice and a quivering finger points stage left. A few foreigners behind us shush her, but they probably don’t understand what she’s saying. Sure enough, a big black rhino lumbers into view to take centre stage under the floodlights. A clutch of impala make way for him and he drinks, sipping first here and then there until he’s happy with the particular cocktail mix.
For about ten minutes, there’s a hush as we have the privilege of watching this strange prehistoric beast in his natural habitat. Then, as silently as he arrived, he’s gone. Our day is complete.
Copyright© Roxanne Reid - No words or photographs on this site may be used without permission from roxannereid.co.za
There’s the constant bickering of a pair of drongos not wanting to share their tree perch or the insects they’re catching in the glare of the floodlight. And then there’s the first liquid call of a doublebanded sandgrouse, weep weep wieuw. Then another. Soon the air is alive with them, swooping down to the water for a sundowner before taking off again in a staggered chorus, first one small group then another.
‘Renoster!’ shouts an overexcited voice and a quivering finger points stage left. A few foreigners behind us shush her, but they probably don’t understand what she’s saying. Sure enough, a big black rhino lumbers into view to take centre stage under the floodlights. A clutch of impala make way for him and he drinks, sipping first here and then there until he’s happy with the particular cocktail mix.
For about ten minutes, there’s a hush as we have the privilege of watching this strange prehistoric beast in his natural habitat. Then, as silently as he arrived, he’s gone. Our day is complete.
Copyright© Roxanne Reid - No words or photographs on this site may be used without permission from roxannereid.co.za
