The Koa Dunes

 I wonder who else hasn't heard of this place, apart from us! There is a special place in the Northern Cape where the first evidence of the red dunes of the Kalahari hides down a gravel road outside Aggenys. These are the Koa Dunes, and if you obscure the surrounding landscape, you will think you are in the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park with its distinctive iron-rich red sands and sparse grass. The Kalahari stretches from Namibia all the way across the Northern Cape as far as Kimberley and surrounds and is the largest continuous stretch of sand in the world. The dunes run in the same direction and a scan of the area on Google Earth will reveal the fascinating topography.

Our target in these dunes was the Red Lark, and we spent a very pleasant few hours out in the wide open spaces observing a multitude of birds in their habitat. It was clear that nesting time approached, as the males were doing their best to attract the females, or had already paired off and aerial activity was lively. A great treat was a sighting of the vulnerable (ecologically) Tent Tortoise, so called because each of its scales eventually forms a raised point as it matures. This one was young and very shy and scuttled off as soon as we moved away. Such a privilege to see, as we only have an opportunity if they happen to be in the road.  

A particularly special experience was the appearance of a Black-eared Sparrow-lark - my bogey bird, as I have never seen it even though everyone else did! They are nomadic and not territorial, and can arrive unannounced in an instant. We were treated to the special attention of a male who repeatedly flew overhead, rising into the air and flapping its wings butterfly-like as it descended to land on the ground and shuffle around before repeating the display. He kept returning to where we were, and it was almost as though he was performing for us. There were no females nearby. So another one on my list, which is now 468 species - not bad for not being a birder and merely travelling in the slipstream of the Frazzled Birder. As a willing slipstreamer, I am able to study geology, botany, meteorology, astronomy and geography along the way, so the benefits are enormous!

The sight of the red dunes made me long for the quiet of the Kalahari, a place where the silence feeds the soul and all those who have experienced long to return to. One day.

The Koa Dunes offered so much in the way of birding that we were lured back the next day, despite the distance from Springbok, and I am sure future visits are on the cards.

A grim fairytale

 

Once upon a time, a family took a Sunday drive around the Cape Peninsula. A picnic basket with sandwiches, fruit and a flask of tea was packed. Near Smitswinkel Bay, a troop of baboons foraged, groomed and sunned themselves on the warm roadway. Father pulled over so the kids could see the wildlife in its natural habitat. He rolled down the window and held out a banana to see if he could get the big baboon to come closer.

Decades later, a cage is being built to keep the descendants of the troop away from the bananas on the table in the house of the great-grandchildren of those Sunday drivers.

In the intervening years, I have spent 45 on the urban fringe, observing the changing behaviour of the baboons from mostly disinterested passers-by to sometimes an aggressive and generally traumatised, fragmented and lost troop.

No more the squealing and scampering of young baboons in the evening light as the sinking sun warms their cliff-top sleeping site, with the disciplinary bark of the alpha male calling his family to order before nightfall.

No more the recumbent baboon on the neighbour’s roof enjoying a moment of quiet contemplation as he watches the breath-taking sunset of late summer.

No more the lightning raid through the front door, eyes fixed with intent on the fruit bowl before snatching a handful and escaping through the side door to enjoy the booty while I doze on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

The change came when they found they were not threatened by the presence of people and were actively receiving overtures of friendship. In particular, it seemed that the males would no longer react to attempts by women to chase them from a home raid, but still regarded men as figures of authority. Baboons are exceptionally intelligent and pass on all the knowledge they acquire, but unlike humans, are unable to unlearn or distinguish between right and wrong (my observation). Having learned where to find high-calorie food with minimal effort, they have chosen fast food over foraging – something we can all identify with.

The problem is that they remain wild animals, and our interactions should therefore remain respectful of the limitations of their ability to understand the terms ‘ownership’, ‘right of admission reserved’, ‘do not steal’ and ‘do not show any aggression when confronted’. Food remains food and a baboon who is separated from his meal becomes defensive, which surely applies to us as well.

Man’s propensity to harm anything that infringes on his right to a comfortable existence has led to despicably cruel acts towards animals by people who possess no emotional intelligence. The use of bear bangers, firecrackers, pellet guns and even bullets are all intended to frighten and disperse. Add to that the hysterical screams and barking dogs and chaos ensues. Again, in the belief that Man is higher in the chain of importance, it is decided that the baboons are the problem and must be dealt with in human terms. Removal from society is recognised as the punishment for criminals. A cage for animals is a prison for them. Because Man cannot be trained to be responsible for his own actions, to clean up his waste, close doors and windows at appropriate times and learn a little about nature and interaction with wild animals, the solution is always to deal with the results and not the symptoms.

The clock can never be turned back. The banana cannot be put back in the picnic basket. Man’s obsession with feeding wild animals cannot be cured. The result will always be detrimental to the animals.

A cage is no solution. There is no solution except what Man wants.

 

It's a long, long road

The small town of Springbok has long featured on a map of the Northern Cape, but I have no recollection of ever visiting there, although when we travelled to Namibia in 1969, we probably passed through it. As a 13-year-old, it's unlikely that my enquiring mind had kicked in yet to include rural towns. So our arrival there at the end of a long day's driving (more on that just now) allowed for only a cursory assessment: a narrow valley with one main road carrying all the traffic between the Cape and Namibia (a railway line would be preferable) and a couple of parallel side roads on the lower slopes where a variety of architectural styles housed the residents. Familiar shops revealed that all mod cons could be obtained if desired and indeed are probably the only source of retail therapy for the farming communities in the surrounding few hundred kilometres or so.

With no early memories, I was stunned by the topography - massive granite domes rose like bubbles across the landscape, which I always thought would be flat and arid semi-desert. This is the part of South Africa where minerals such as copper and zinc have been extensively mined, the lifeblood of the economy in the north. It was also the scene of clashes in the Second Boer War, with remains of stone walls still visible, should you care to clamber a kopje. We in fact stayed at the foot of the granite dome where they are found but resisted the call of history as we have seen many a relic of past conflicts in more accessible places. 

The main purpose of the trip, apart from a break from the daily grind, was to do a recce of the area for background knowledge on where to find birds, the condition of the roads and a general satisfying of curiosity for new places. Having left Kommetjie at 5am and not exceeding 100km/h but with no stops except for the thirsty fuel tank, we actually arrived in Springbok around 1pm. A quick stop at the local Engen to refill again allowed us to also refuel with the ubiquitous Wimpy road trip burger. Google Maps took us to our comfortable accommodation (not totally reliable, the GM) and then of course we were back on the road to cover as much ground as possible in the few days we would be there. The much-vaunted displays of carpets of orange and yellow had faded from their early glory and had little more than a week left as no more rain had fallen for weeks, so only small patches remained.

Our destination that afternoon was a dirt road leading off the N7 at Aggenys, some 150km away. Yes, the mind boggles. The target was the Red Lark. I once took a photo of one on a far distant bush somewhere near Sak Rivier; such a bad photo that only the stance and colouring identified it. The Frazzled Birder needed it for his life list, so distance was no object. I take a much more relaxed view of birding and try to combine every conceivable experience of nature into every trip. This involves flowers (much easier to photograph), fascinating geological features (of which South Africa has an abundance), clouds, the way light reveals folds in the mountains, the smell of the veld on a warm summer's evening, etc.

The road was long. The road was straight. Cars overtook us as though we were standing still. We left the granite domes behind and entered flatter territory with low hills and vast windfarms and solar arrays. The Northern Cape has fully embraced the power of nature. Soon a pair of Greater Kestrels with a nest were sighted on a telephone pole. Great excitement, stopped for innumerable photos. There were pairs on every third pole. There is no shortage of breeding pairs in that area. Another target for the FB was a Sociable Weaver, preferably with nest. Lo and behold! We stopped again for further photos. If we still used film that needed to be developed at CNA where we waited for two weeks to see if they were any good, I am sure no more than three or four photos would have been taken. The difference now with digital photography and multiple bursts is that two weeks is what it takes to sort, choose and delete the photos when you get home.

At last we approached Aggenys, where a colossal mine dump has grown over the last 10 or more years as zinc is mined from inside a mountain. The mountain is now a deep hole in the ground with the mine dump concealing Man's destruction. It has doubled in size since I was last there in 2019 and Google Earth will give you a bird's eye view.

We had reached our first dirt road since leaving home. Adventure time!

Heading north to explore more

A road trip invariably has led us along now familiar routes through the Tankwa, Little Karoo, Great Karoo or Garden Route. After months seemingly velcroed to my computer, the call of wide open spaces and new horizons could no longer be ignored. Reports of spectacular displays of flowers in the Northern Cape due to exceptional rains followed by unseasonably warm weather planted the seed. Head north to Springbok, perhaps take a left to Port Nolloth and a right to the mines of Aggenys - even (gasp) the bustling metropolis of Pofadder? A quick search on accommodation websites secured a home from home within minutes, and payment at the tap of a finger meant the trip was on! Time from first thought to confirmation of pending adventure - maybe an hour. I love spur-of-the-moment plans. And the weather would be perfect. 

With birding being high on the agenda, I knew this would be four days of early starts, long hours on lonely roads, lots of reversing, gazing across distant landscapes for a fluttering of wings and craning the neck to scan blue skies for the soaring speck of a raptor. For my part, I would be also scanning the ground for new plants to add to my iNaturalist citizen science observations and unusual rocks to feed my appetite as an amateur, very amateur, geologist. I have no regrets in life, but if I did, it would be that I didn't become a geologist. Stargazing would be out of the question due to the full moon, but that interest is fully covered by annual star parties at Leeuwenboschfontein and long days require early nights.

Although a road trip begins as soon as you leave your driveway, the process of actually leaving Cape Town means that you are technically an hour away from home before the city lights fade behind you and the lush farmlands of the Swartland unfold on either side of the road ahead. Rather like opening a zip. 

Rolling hills adorned with verdant pastures soon gave way to the mountainous Cederberg, where the road follows the meanderings of the Olifants River, its waters enabling the thriving citrus industry with orchards lining the banks and farmstalls urging us to stock up on the season's bounty. Our destination lay far ahead, and we pushed on without exploring side roads as we kept well below the speed limit and allowed the cowboys who suddenly appeared in our rearview mirrors in twos and threes to overtake and disappear into the distance. Apart from the odd 'train' appearing behind us, the road was surprisingly devoid of traffic and even trucks, for the main route to Namibia. A pleasant drive overall and in exceptionally good condition.

Arriving at the 'knersvlakte', a word which aptly described the crunching of wagon wheels in the pioneering days as they crossed this quartz plain, meant we were truly heading for the Northern Cape, and despite the early morning coolness, patches of purple and yellow and orange could be spied among the low scrub. My last visit to the region was about 14 years ago, and I had forgotten how spectacular and mountainous the geology would become as Namaqualand drew nearer. Vast granite boulders became granite kopjes, a landscape of veritable bubbles from millions of years ago, and the fields between were far from the desert I had imagined - excellent rains a while before has made this a sheep's paradise. 

Every kilometre brought new and awe-inspiring vistas and it became necessary to pull in at a lay-by to breathe in the pollution-free air and appreciate the scent of the vegetation, together with the absolute silence that comes with the absence of tyres on tar. It soon became apparent that the veld was alive with birdlife, calls coming from all over, and as we scanned with our binoculars, a 4x4 pulled up and the most personable young farmer who owned the land we were gazing at so intently asked: "Are you alright? Do you need any help?" On hearing we were just looking at birds, he unhesitatingly invited us onto his farm, to wander at will, and just to make sure the gate was closed when we left. He would unlock any gates for us. This is the spirit that drives the soul of the farming community. We took him up on his generosity and enjoyed a short time among his sheep at the windpomp, while he drove off into the distance to check on his livestock. Salt of the earth.

Then it was back on the road - Garies, Kamieskroon, Springbok. What would the next few days bring?