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Victoria the young impala was about eight months old when
she found her rightful place back with a herd in the bush. During her
last month or so with us, she had to share her bed not only with a bull
terrier, but a monkey as well. Old Philemon Mkanzi had called us from
Gowrie (where Vuyatela stands today) and said there was a baby monkey
very high up in a Marula tree, screaming presumably for its mother.
Philemon said there had been a leopard in camp the previous night, but
could not be sure of the sequence of events, but the day was moving
on and this youngster needed attention. Jurie went over on his motorbike
with a soft bag over his shoulder and arrived back an hour or so with
a small lump clutching to his chest. Once again we got on the phone
to various rehabilitation centers and were advised that bottle-feeding
Soya milk should start as soon as possible. As we guessed, this little
monkey would need some external stimulation to get it going, and who
better to call on that our wet-nurse, Douglas! We never named this monkey,
but he was with us for about 2 weeks while we encouraged the local wild
troop to take him. Every time the wild monkeys were around, we put him
out on the lawn in the open, each encounter getting closer and closer.
Between these sessions Doug, Victoria and the monkey would be seen walking
around or taking naps together. Without too much ado, "our"
monkey joined the troop. Doug had started getting a reputation around
that he was taking his mothering role very seriously, an odd label for
a bull terrier male to be bearing! A couple of months later our neighbours
picked up a stranded impala lamb that needed to take food from a bottle.
They had been trying for more than a day, and the baby was getting weaker.
We suggested that they "loan" Doug and see what would happen.
They came and collected him, and within an hour the lamb was feeding,
and we got our dog back.
Sometime in 1996, Dixon Mkanzi was just getting back from a bush walk
with guests when a very vocal little warthog was waiting in the driveway
to Bush Lodge. After a few days we realized that she must have been
separated from her mother and siblings, as there was a similar aged
family seen not from the lodge. By this stage she was too weak to go
back and needed some TLC from foster moms, Pendrae and Douglas. Doug
helped getting Nomfu ("nose" in Shangaan) onto the bottle,
but she had quite bad diarrhoea and the first few days were a bit worrying
as to if she would make it or not. Naturally she pulled through and
started pulling the strings around camp. She moved into Pendrae and
Campbell's bed and preferred having the TV on while she slept! Nomfu,
for all her quirky looks was extremely smart. She house trained quicker
than any dog and had a strange sense of humour. Her nose was designed
to dig in the dirt, with the result of a snotty mud patch leading her
around. She would inevitably go up to the guests with light coloured
clothing and smear her nose on their pants and then squeal and run off!
Anther thing she liked was to lie in the chalet showers, where it was
cool and peaceful. On more than one occasion she gave huge frights to
guests who stepped in for a wash only to be alarmed by horrendous squealing
- sometimes that of the pig, sometimes those of guests.
We started realising that Nomfu was going to be a handful to have around
for too long, and Jurie and I started encouraging her to go out to the
bush as much as possible. Her tusks had just started emerging and she
was getting rather large and her behaviour getting "less cute"
by the day. Favourite tricks were to pull the tablecloth off the lunch
table and revel in all the food that landed on the floor. She would
also get up early, before the wake up call and wait for the coffee trays
to be place outside the guests' rooms. Then up she came and tipped the
trays over to lick up the milk sugar and steal the rusks. One of the
most memorable Nomfu stories happened one lazy midday at Bush Lodge.
Our first office was behind the bar (bar storeroom now), and Jurie was
finishing up some paper work before lunch. Lynneth Mathebula, who was
a waitress way back then, walked up to Jurie and said, "The pig
is in the hole". Jurie did not take much notice until he had to,
as Lynneth was very determined and kept pointing to the lawn. We had
forgotten about the septic tank under the lawn in front of No.1! Over
the years the corrugated iron covering on the pit had weakened, and
had given way under the weight of Nomfu as she dug for tasty tit bits.
There was Nomfu two meters down, just her head peeping out above the
swill in near darkness. A couple of men joined Jurie to fashion a lasso
that was lowered and tightened just behind her tusks and she was hauled
up. Naturally the mess was unspeakable and a bath was necessary. The
men wrestled her to the ground while the stench was hosed off her. As
fate would have it, three very serious German guests had just arrived
and everyone else in camp was too stinky or speechless to welcome them!
Once they realised we were not preparing dinner, and we became more
composed the mood relaxed a little.
Before we had the staff go on strike we need to make a plan. Pendrae
and Campbell were on leave, and Jurie and I saw our chance! The Beckers,
neighbours of ours offered to take her as they were still building their
camp and did not have guests who could be troubled by the ever-expanding
Nomfu. She was accommodated in her own room complete with a TV! She
had not even managed 1 night without her creature comforts. We did hear
that she had put her tusk through a brand new door, which could not
have added anything in her favour. A couple of days after that she arrived
back at Bush Lodge. Next we took the tough love approach, loaded her
into the bakkie and drove her into the bush. We found some other warthogs
and coaxed her out the vehicle. Jurie would go out and check on her
everyday and she seemed fine, eating and in fine warthog company. However,
she then found her way to the gate where the gate guards started feeding
her and she started being a nuisance again. At the same time some other
neighbours, thinking we were cruel and unkind took Nomfu back to their
camp, which was also in the stage of being built. Nomfu became skilled
at lifting newly laid flooring tiles and was soon persona non grata
there too.
We had to take responsibility for what was ultimately a dilemma that
we had brought about. Basically, although she was fully able to support
herself in the bush, it was a lot easier to hang out with humans and
not have to work too hard for a living. This meant that she had to go
somewhere far enough away from camps or lodges but still have access
to water and warthog habitat. We phoned up one of the section rangers
at Kruger National Park for advice and he said he would drop Nomfu off
in a wilderness area of KNP. These are special parts of the park that
are off limits to tourists and provide safe quiet havens for the game
to carry on doing what they do. These neighbours were incensed but I
guess a bit relieved too as we bid farewell to Nomfu. We did get regular
report backs about her, and it seemed as though the story ended well.
There were a few other creatures that have shared our lives, one being
an Egyptian goose and another, and a very young vervet monkey that was
also successfully returned to what could only have been his own mother.
Years ago, neighbours who were out for Christmas holidays had started
rearing a gosling that they had found and handed it over to us as it
was clearly not going to enjoy going to Johannesburg for the rest of
its life. It was a fluffy little ball and very specific about its dietary
requirements. This entailed running around with a butterfly net catching
grasshoppers and large insects, the more the better! The goose grew
at a rapid rate and latched onto Jurie as its "mother". Any
affection shown towards Jurie was rewarded with a fierce attack on the
ankles. The goose than made the old pool at Bush Lodge it's home and
although a rather smelly creature, it was quite homely taking dips with
a goose for companionship.
As for the monkey, Solly Sithole, guide at Vuyatela, called our house
early one morning and said there was a baby monkey stranded at the workshop.
He thought it might have been separated from the local troop just before
dawn when a commotion broke out in the near surrounds. There he was,
a mere handful, with a trace of umbilical cord still attached to his
belly. Our small daughters called him Mikey, so that he could be Michael
when he grew up. By now we had a drawer full of various sized bottles
and teats as well as sterilizing units and we confidently started getting
this little fellow strong enough to be reunited with his troop. This
happened sooner than expected a week later. The troop popped past our
backyard and Jurie rushed out with Mikey and left him in the open in
the driveway. The troop nervously flitted about and the big male came
down for a closer look. He was showing concern but for some reason could
not or would not pick the baby up. After a few minutes a very young
female ventured down from the fence top and immediately picked little
Mikey up and the troop left the garden together. From this event, we
surmised that his mother was a new mother and had probably been separated
from him in the first place due to inexperience.
My daughters were heartbroken that he was gone but after much explaining
realized that this little monkey was better off with his mother. A couple
of months later, Rebecca, about 3 years old, was lying on my bed watching
cartoons when I heard a blood curdling scream coming from the house.
I rushed out my office and found her extremely agitated that there was
a monkey sitting on the bed sharing her snacks, but her scream had scared
him off. We like to think this was Mikey who had seen her and a bowl
of treats and had the confidence to join her. Maybe it was, maybe it
wasn't, but a monkey has never been that bold before!
Pippa Moolman
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