From Kruger Park to Johannesburg

A cheetah at the HESC.

On our way up Abel Erasmus Pass. Stunning scenery.

Leaving then Kruger National Park, our destination was the Manor Guest House in Lydenburg.  We stopped for a tour of the Cheetah Sanctuary, or the Hoedspruit Endangered Species Center (HESC) where Joe had booked an 11:00 a.m. tour several months before. When we arrived the staff had no record of our booking. We were shown a 25 minutes National Geographic video and taken on a 30 minute drive in a Land Rover.  We drove between numerous, spacious fenced enclosures and were disappointed that we couldn’t see any of the animals close-up without a fence between us. The lunch was good however, salvaging some of the disappointment. An African Grey parrot kept Avery amused. The HESC is a worthy project but when you have spent ten days seeing wildlife roaming free in the open bush it is a disappointment.

The scenery along the highway to Lydenburg was ever changing as we left the bush and drove westward to Abel Erasmus Pass, past the Blyde River Canyon turnoff and up the mountain to the J. G Strijdom Tunnel.  We stopped to look at the crafts and visit a bit with the women who sat there all day with their small children enticing tourists to buy their wares. We drove on and detoured to Blyde River Canyon overlook and took photos of the Three Rondavels on the opposite the edge of the gorge. Regrettably we had not allowed ourselves time to explore this region which is very picturesque and has many interesting stops. It was late in the day when we arrived in Lydenburg and city traffic was just like rush hour at home.  The streets were filled with people walking in all directions as it was the end of the workday.  It took a while to find our B&B (Manor Guesthouse) and it was a little difficult to park the large van in the small gated area. 

The Manor Guest House - Lydenburg

The accommodations were spacious and lovely, however, very cold.  The hostess turned on our electric blankets and the wall space heater.  CJ and Joe and Jan had free standing fireplaces in their rooms—but J&J couldn’t light the fire because they had no matches.  We took the van and went in search of something to eat and found a pizza-fish place, fast food that was filling and satisfying.  Michelle caught the attention of the girls behind the counter, they noticed she was American, and soon they all left their posts and were asking all sorts of questions about the US.  Pictures were taken, the food was delicious and we were on our way to Spar (store) for more provisions.  Biscuits disappeared quickly and we had another day on the road tomorrow.  The beds were warm and comfortable, but the wi-fi was tricky.  We had been without email for a several days and we needed to check in.

It was nice to have coffee and tea service in our room, so we enjoyed a cup before packing up and having breakfast at 7:30 Wednesday in the sun-room in the main house.  We again had typical African fare, a choice of cereals, fruit, yogurt and cooked breakfast of eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes, bacon or sausage and toast.

The N4 to Pretoria

Our drive was mostly on a toll highway to Pretoria.  We had a standing PBJ (peanut butter and jelly – for those who are not familiar with this staple) picnic at a rest stop on the way.  Pretoria (Tswhana) is a bustling capitol city to the north of Johannesburg.  We stopped at the historic Union Buildings where the administrative government for South Africa has its offices.  The lovely gardens were not in bloom, as it was wintertime, but the vista was impressive and there were crafts to browse.  Michelle and Avery picked up small gifts for Avery’s friends. 

Joe phoned Barry Blair (old friend from Rhodes University and Rhodesia) and got directions to his home.  Of course, we missed a turn on the busy confusing highways but Kevin used his GPS and rescued us.  Barry welcomed us and served tea before Hilary arrived home from teaching her Pilates class and reminded him of the milk tart (melktert), so we each had a slice of the wonderful pudding.  Joe and Jan wanted to visit with their long-time friends and the kids were eager to move around so Barry and Joe took them to nearby MonteCasino where they toured the Bird Sanctuary and shops.  Jan stayed to visit with Hilary and then we made plans to have dinner at our airport hotel that night.  J&J then met the kids at Monte- Casino.  Before entering, we had to pass through a security check, opening our bags and being frisked—they were looking for handguns.  We sat with the kids while they had an Italian dinner and heard tales of the birds attacking them in the aviary.  They laughed so hard telling us about their experience there.

 

Historic Union Buildings - Administrative Capitol of SA.

We encountered rush-hour traffic on the drive to the Garden Court Hotel at O.R. Tambo  Airport.  An accident brought traffic to a halt—no matter what country one may be in, highway traffic can be a pain.  Thankfully Kevin used his GPS to get us on the right highway.  As we neared the airport, we could see the hotel, but couldn’t find an exit to get to it, so we went in circles until Kevin found the exit we needed on his GPS.  We were all a bit stir-crazy by the time we unloaded our luggage.  Joe needed to return the rental car but decided to call the agency and asked them to pick it up at the hotel—the road maze was too much to deal with a second time.  Advice to anyone visiting O. R. Tambo airport in Johannesburg for the first time (or tenth time!) - call for help.

We put our luggage in our room just as Barry and Hilary arrived.  It was so much fun sitting down for a relaxing buffet dinner and catching up, laughing like we always do together.  The dinner was delicious and the puddings plentiful.  We had long ago given in to the delicious fare.  
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And so ended our adventures in the northern provinces.  Tomorrow we would fly to the coast at Port Elizabeth and bring Joe back to the familiar Eastern Cape where he had attended High School and University in the 50s and 60s.

Search for the African Chicken

In 2001 a.d. the Great Chicken Quest began.  It would never be compared with the legendary quests of human history; the search for the Ark of the Covenant or for the meaning of life; nor would it hold up against the remarkable achievements of those explorers searching for new worlds or circumventing the globe in those ridiculously tiny wooden craft with canvas sails.  In a personal way however, it was significant to me.

Why, you may wonder, would someone search for a chicken? It wasn’t just any chicken of course, so perhaps a more complete explanation will help readers understand.  The protagonist of my story was a student, you see, attending a school of higher learning whose educational standards were rigorous. His chosen course of study was the biological sciences, with majors in Zoology and Entomology.

The final-year Zoology curriculum included several practical laboratory assignments.  One of those assignments required students to submit, for grading by the end of term, a complete, mounted skeleton of a vertebrate.

By laying out this assignment the academic staff of the Department of Zoology was realizing two important objectives. On the one hand students would learn the basic skills of disassembling an animal and putting it back together again.  The second objective was to build up the collection of animal skeletons necessary to help teach vertebrate anatomy to future students.

It was from the department’s existing collection that our student sought inspiration.  What was needed? Most specimens in the collection were mammals; understandably, as mammals are numerous and tend to have strong bones that could be cleaned and assembled without too much difficulty.  Specimens of fish, amphibians, reptiles and birds were scarce.  All might pose difficulties, he thought. Fish and amphibian bones were tiny and delicate.  Reptiles would not be easy to catch and the thought of disassembling a snake and putting it together again was regulated to the “not” category pretty quickly.

So it was that our intrepid student went home for a ten-day holiday break and sat at the dinner table with his family.  A freshly roasted turkey was set before him to carve.  “You’re the zoologist son; you should know how to carve a turkey.”  And so he did.  The inspiration came to him almost instantly. Why not a turkey or a chicken?

The next day he drove to a rural poultry farm and asked for a whole chicken, complete with feathers, head, feet and entrails.  In fact, he asked for two chickens, as close in size as possible.  While thinking about the assignment he realized he may need spare parts. What would happen if he overcooked the first chicken or lost one of the tiny rib bones?  Yes, spare parts were definitely required. While the attendant withdrew two whole chickens from a freezer, our student paid his $1 each (this was 1964 after all!) and went home with his bird specimens in a cooler.

The next few days were busy.  His father’s barbeque grill was requisitioned and two large buckets of water were brought to a boil over the fire.  The chickens were plucked, and one was put into each bucket.  After  many hours, during which neighborhood dogs  seemed to bark more frequently and become more restless than usual, most of the skin, internal organs and musculature had softened and been removed from the murky brews.  Clean water was added, along with a small amount of caustic soda which would sterilize and bleach the bones.

Without providing the clinical details, the eventual results were two piles of bones; some almost too small to find.  All were removed from the soup and laid out in the sun to dry.  Over the next week, the painstaking task of getting all the pieces in order and drilling tiny holes in the bones, so they could be threaded with fine wire, absorbed every minute of his time.  The bones of birds are hollow.  This makes them delicate but also presents a way to thread the wire through each one.  Some pieces, like the tiny ribs and bones of the feet had disintegrated or broken, and the spare-part chicken proved its worth.

Finally the entire bird skeleton was mounted on the top of a wooden dowel standing vertically on a stained wooden base. Afresh egg was removed from the family refrigerator and the contents were blown out of a small hole at one end. The inside of the shell was cleaned with caustic soda..  The egg was placed under the chicken, and a neatly printed label giving the species (Gallinas gallina), date (1963), and the creator’s name was applied with suitable adhesive. The chicken project was complete.  In due course the student’s specimen was well received and placed into the Department of Zoology and Entomology collection at Rhodes University.

A word of caution; anyone considering putting together a chicken skeleton should understand it is not as easy as one would think. Do not try this at home.

Fast forward 37 years. I was returning to Rhodes University in Grahamstown, South Africa for the first time since leaving in 1967.  My wife and I were staying with old friends while on tour of South Africa for a few weeks.  A few former classmates from the 1960s joined us for dinner.  In the 1980s the old Department of Zoology and Entomology where I had studied in the 1960s, had been moved into a completely new building and had been expanded to include the Institute of Freshwater Studies, the Department of Microbiology, and other research departments.

During a wine-induced lull in the conversation at dinner I dared asked the question, “Does anyone know if my chicken is still being used, or if it still exists?”  One lady said she thought she had seen it, but added that much of the old Department’s collection had deteriorated or been damaged in the relocation 20 years earlier.  I vowed to begin a search, which quickly was referred to as the “Chicken Quest,” and decided I would not give up until the fate of the chicken skeleton was learned.  Was it still there, helping to educate the new generation of young biologists, or was it to be just a fond memory?

The following morning we walked across the campus of Rhodes University and entered the impressive, modern, three-story Biological Sciences Building.  Friends from the night before met us and we began to search the ceiling high glass cabinets in the museum.  After a few minutes it was obvious there no chickens in any of the displays.  Eventually we were shown to a large empty conference room with a long board-room style table.  At the far end of the room was a wall to wall array of wooden shelves and closed cupboards. We methodically opened each of the cabinet doors. It was here, we were told, that the most frequently used specimens were kept for easy access.

Running out of hope, I twisted the latch on a middle door and opened it.  Stepping back I must have made a strange sound because everyone turned toward me when I leaned forward and carefully withdrew my chicken from its dark sanctuary.  At last!  It was there, still in use. 

For a 37-year-old chick she was in pretty good shape.

A Glossinologist is born

Glossina morsitans - scourge of Africa (from:Wikipedia)

The Tsetse Fly is a pest. It resembles a horsefly in size but it is only found in Africa and it packs a really annoying and painful bite.  I learned about the Tsetse Fly while pursuing a Bachelor of Science degree at Rhodes University in Grahamstown, South Africa.  I experienced my first bite on December 26, 1966 while visiting Rhodesia for the first time.  I was driving my red 1300cc, Volkswagen Beetle from the small village of Makuti to Lake Kariba. My friend from Rhodes, Andrew Campbell-Watt, was sitting next to me and I suspect he will remember our road trip around Rhodesia as well as I do.

The Zambezi Escarpment near Makuti

As we descended the “escarpment” along the scenic two-lane highway into the Zambezi Valley the summer heat began to rise as the elevation steadily dropped; from 3,200 ft. to 1,590 ft (485M) at the lake.  The only air conditioning option was the open-window kind.  The rounded hills were covered with Msasa trees.  Today it is more common to call these areas Miombo Woodland, but back then the vegetation was called Brachystegia Woodland (from the tree genus Brachystegia).   These woodlands extend from Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) north through Tanzania and Kenya and serve as hosts to the amazing diversity of wildlife found across the vast African continent, south of the Sahara Desert.  We crossed many dry river beds over concrete bridges and causeways on the 48 mile (77km) highway.  

Famous mile-marker at Makuti - 2001.  Kariba 77km.

When passing through Tsetse Fly country it is risky to slow down and to drive with windows open.   In one of the low places we made the mistake of slowing down as we crossed a stream bed.  The vegetation in these low areas is thicker, and game populations tend to be more concentrated.  Tsetse Flies feed on the blood of wild mammals (antelope, elephant, warthog etc.) and also breed and congregate in dense numbers where wildlife populations are highest.  They also tend to rest in shady spots – such as the underside of concrete causeways over which people in red Volkswagens pass.

The Tsetse fly is a tough critter.  It flies fast and can land on your skin without you feeling it.  It’s the most amazing thing.  It will be sitting on your arm or leg or on the back of your neck and you can’t feel it.   And then there are its piercing mouth-parts, perfectly adapted over millennia to penetrate tough skin to tap a hot, juicy blood vessel.  The first clue that it is biting is the pain, like a hot needle.   They almost always seem to land on your body somewhere out of sight.  I was driving with both hands on the steering wheel and one of those annoying critters landed on one of my fingers, just about the nail and proceeded to stick its sharp little proboscis into my finger.  Ouch!  I nearly lost control of the car!

Once bitten you begin to imagine flies all over your body and you begin to fidget like mad, running your hands up and down the backs of your legs and over the back of your neck and shoulders, just in case one has come to rest and is about to stick its little dagger through your thin cotton shirt.   Andrew and I completed our passage to Kariba Town without more Tsetse Fly attacks, mainly by speeding up so the flies couldn’t catch us.

Lake Kariba on the Zambezi River - 165 miles long.

Over the next few years I would become very familiar with the Tsetse Fly.  Glossina morsitans is its name in scientific circles. During my first road trip to Rhodesia that December 44 years ago, two significant things occurred in my life.  First, I fell head over heels in love with that beautiful country and its people, and second I interviewed for a job as a Field Entomologist with the Ministry of Agriculture, Department of Veterinary Services, Tsetse and Trypanosomiasis Control Branch (Tsetse Control for short).  A few weeks later I received a letter offering me the position and I accepted without hesitation, but replied that I could only report for work in July 1967.  

I had already made a commitment to stay on as Senior Lab Technician at Rhodes University until early June, and then to volunteer as an Instructor at the Veld & Vlei Adventure (VV&T) School in Sedgefield, South Africa, later that month.  VV&T would become part of the worldwide Outward Bound organization a few years later.  Fortunately the good people of Tsetse Control agreed that I could delay my start.  The rest, as some might say, is history.

In July I reported for work in Salisbury (now Harare) and began playing a small role in trying to reduce the unbelievable economic damage and hardship that was, and still is, caused by this little insect, across the African continent.   My life as a Glossinologist would begin.

But more about that in my next blog.

A car full of monkeys

In December 1964 I completed all but one of my courses to graduate with a Bachelor’s Degree, majoring in Zoology and Entomology, at Rhodes University in Grahamstown, South Africa.  With just one course remaining to complete, I decided to enroll in Accounting I, the first and only non-science subject that I would study during my time at Rhodes.  In a fortunate coincidence the long serving Senior Laboratory Technician in the department of Zoology & Entomology had resigned and would be taking a new position at another university. The Head of the Department, Professor Brian Allanson, asked me if I would be interested in filling the position.  I needed a job and thought the job description might be right up my alley; so, in January 1965 I became the Senior Lab Technician in the Zoology Department at Rhodes University.

There were many advantages to starting out my official working career in this field. Working on campus, I would be able to attend one-hour accounting lectures three times a week. I knew and enjoyed working with most of the department staff, lecturers and post-graduate students and researchers. I could continue to play rugby. The work required me and my small staff to prepare all of the lab equipment, chemical reagents, set-up microscopes and other equipment for laboratory for all students. Of course we had to clean up as well. I had to maintain adequate stock levels of all equipment and arrange to order or collect specimens for dissection. These would include frogs, dogfish, a variety of insects, worms and occasional reptiles.  I would also, from time to time, be required to go on field trips to collect specimens.  Many of these would be invertebrates (shellfish, crabs, starfish, mussels etc.) from the sea shore or fresh water streams and lakes in the area.

My 18 month tenure as Senior Lab Technician left me with many happy memories and unusual experiences.  I was able to take part in two remarkable research trips to the remote area of Northern Zululand (Tongaland), South Africa, to help the Zoology Department conduct Limnological  (Limnology: the study of inland waters) research on a previously little studied series of freshwater lakes. I played a role in planning these trips. Many years of camping and an enjoyment of camp-cooking served me well.  I remember making careful calculations of how many potatoes, eggs, pounds of sugar, coffee, meat, fruit, etc. would be required to feed 14 people for three meals a day for 12 days. We carefully loaded a green wooden, hinged-lid, box with 144 fresh eggs and placed it in the back of one of our Land Rovers. During the next two weeks only one of the 144 was rotten - not a bad average.  It was on one of these trips that I was able to witness giant sea turtles (leatherbacks) come ashore at night and lay their eggs on the Indian Ocean coast near a place called Black Rock – not too far south of the Mozambique border.

Vervet monkeys (Cercopithecus aethiops) in South Africa

In September 1965 Prof. Allanson told me that he wanted to surprise the Zoology Honours (honors) students with something different for their final (December) Practical Lab examinations and asked if I knew where we might be able to find about 12 primates.  I did in fact know that a friend of my dad, a rancher in the Middleburg area of the Karoo (a vast semi-arid region of South Africa) had been having problems with troops of Vervet monkeys raiding and damaging his crops.  I contacted Mr. Turner and he readily agreed that he would attempt to capture a dozen monkeys and sell them to us. I recall that the price was a very reasonable 50 SA Rand each.  This would allow Mr. Turner to pay his farm employees a bonus for the trouble they would have capturing these clever and elusive animals.  So, it came to pass that over the next two months, slowly but surely they were able to lure the monkeys into cages and transfer them into a holding pen where they were fed and watered.

When, at last, Mr. Turner had captured 14 monkeys he called me and said it was time to come and collect them.  The question was asked, “How are we going to euthanize them?”  He suggested we cover the wire enclosure where they were being held and pipe the carbon monoxide exhaust fumes from a vehicle into the cage. We assumed they would quietly and painlessly go to sleep and never wake up.

In the afternoon of the appointed day in early December I requisitioned a Rhodes University Land Rover Station Wagon, and taking a long length of 2 inch flexible hose with me, left Grahamstown for the 2-1/2 hour drive to the Turner Ranch some 230 miles northeast of Grahamstown. It was a drive along mostly deserted two-lane paved highways through beautiful, scenic country, over a few winding mountain passes , and with only the occasional small town to break the monotony of driving alone. I arrived at the ranch in the late afternoon and in typical South African fashion was greeted warmly and invited to stay for dinner.

A quick inspection of the monkey holding pen – resembling a large wire-covered chicken coop – confirmed that we had 14 lively and energetic Vervet monkeys in our possession. Before making our way to the house for dinner we sealed the enclosure tightly and attached the hose to the Land Rover’s exhaust. As soon as the engine was started there was a wild scrambling of monkeys as they reacted to the smell of the exhaust fumes. The noise quickly subsided as they succumbed to the fumes.  I went to dinner with a little queasiness in my stomach for what I was doing.

We enjoyed a very nice dinner and about two hours later it was dark and time to start the long drive home. We returned to scene of the primate extermination and one by one transferred the limp, but still warm, little bodies to the back of the station wagon. We said our goodbyes and I drove away. I should mention that there was a small sliding window separating the cab from the rear of the Land Rover. I always kept this open. It was also a moonless night and although the Milky Way filled the night sky, it was dark and lonely on those long, open stretches of road.   

For a while I listened to music on the radio, but before long I was out of range and reception was bad.  The head lights exaggerated the darkness of the desert and it felt like I was racing into a long dark tunnel, with nothing visible on either side of the road. It was just me and the primates.  As time passed I heard a sharp barking noise behind me, followed by what sounded like scratching.  For a brief moment I was as close to panic as I had ever been in my life; before or in the 46 years since.  I reached back and to my left and slid the small window closed, certain for a moment that I had seen a small human-like hand reaching through it.

The next hour was a complete nightmare as the noise levels and variety of sounds from the rear of the car increased. High pitched and low rumbling sounds increased in volume and frequency.  I just knew that the little guys, with the happy monkey faces, had woken up and were struggling to escape – or to attack me while I was concentrating on the road ahead.

Somewhere around 11:00 o’clock the welcomed lights of Grahamstown lay ahead and, arriving on campus I drove up the steep hill behind the Zoology Department.  I had the key to the back door of the building with me and inside that door was a room containing a large chest freezer.  I propped the storage room and freezer doors open and returned to the Land Rover to retrieve the bodies. It took me a while to summon the courage to open the back door.  Once it was open I realized what had been causing the sounds.  The smell of gas was almost overpowering.  As each animal’s body had begun to cool, gases from their slowly bloating stomachs began to be released. They were passing gas like the old ladies having tea in the opening scenes of “Gone With the Wind.”

My sense of relief that the monkeys had not woken up and were ready to attack was offset by my discomfort in moving those once lively and beautiful little creatures into a freezer for preservation in the cause of science.

A week later, the Zoology Honours students walked in to their final Practical Laboratory examination and were, evidently completely surprised to find they were to dissect and report on the internal organs of monkeys.  At least one of those students went on to become a medical doctor.  Others were to have successful careers in various fields of research and academics. And I, the specimen collector, would have dreams of little hairy hands reaching for me through a small car window, for many years to come.