Finally some scenery in the sky...note the nice clean blue sky and green flush on the plain after the first rains
The first rains falling on the Chimbwe Plain
Apologies for the lack of recent updates- it’s been an eventful few months. Since the rain was switched off in May, access and working conditions in the field improved which has resulted in my data collection going far more smoothly. I wish I could use this as an excuse for my lack of updates, or the fact that our internet is often too unstable to upload pictures, but it all boils down to lack of discipline on my part. I need to make updating this blog a habit, unless everyone starts objecting to the frequent mails!
Massive dust storms kicked up by the turbulent pre-rain winds. In the background, the big Eucalyptus tree at Chikuni. Note the amount of lechwe dung lying in the foreground (click to enlarge)- this is fertilizer for fish!
As the water in the swamps and floodplains retreated, so new areas became more accessible. Fishing camps that were always a half-hour’s boat ride away could now be reached by a short walk, making data collection on the fishing far easier.
An area that was four hours away by boat in March- now a nice woodland for walking. Photo taken from the top of a tree covered in vulture guano, so please appreciate the view!
I developed more ideas and research avenues to pursue, though many of these fall outside the scope of my masters and will require further study. One of these is trying to assess the impact that the lechwe herds have on the nutrient dynamics. If I can find a link between lechwe grazing and the release of nutrients back into the food chain (especially when it is flooded), then the protection of lechwe and other herbivores would have huge implications for the health of the fish stocks and the ecosystem as a whole.
The morning greenskeeper's parade (lawnmowers and fertilzers)
What I see over a cup of tea every morning...
The black lechwe antelopes are still a spectacular sight- the wonder of seeing huge herds of these elegant antelopes moving across the plain in the mornings and evenings never wears off. The bulk of the population has moved onto swampy plains north of here- areas that are flooded for most of the year. In this month, November, the females will hide their new lambs in the long grasses and sedges there, and will only come back to the plain with their young lambs in December and January. Most of the females had last year’s lambs by their side right up until a few weeks ago. Now there are many rather forlorn looking young animals (they take 2-3 years to reach adult size) mixed in with the bachelor herds that are still hanging around. The females seem to be the more migratory of the two sexes, as already in June they were crossing the channels to feed on longer grass on the edges of the channels.
Lechwes in the mist...
I have now seen most of the wildlife species common in this area. These include the long legged tsessebe antelope, hippos, hyenas and the delicate oribi antelope. The oribi and tsessebe live on higher lying ground strewn with large and small anthills. After the grass here has burnt, one is left with a ‘lunar’ landscape, except that the craters have been replaced by the termite mounds. This is a tough landscape to drive though, because you cannot go in a straight line for more than a few metres. While returning along a path from exploring a distant forest, a group of poachers hiding in the grass with their dogs distracted me for a split-second…enough time for the quad bike to ramp up the side of an anthill and flip over. Fortunately I hadn’t been going fast and I managed to jump off without injury. I stood up to see shapes ducking through the grass at quite some speed, and a hunting dog sat looking at me with a confused expression. Quad bikes are dangerous, noisy things… but without one I’d be pretty limited here.
Quad bike in the lunar termite-scape...note the freshly sprouted grass, still months before rain
The hyenas lope across the plain usually only after dark, and are therefore not easily seen. Their whoops can be heard most nights, and we frequently come across the shredded remains of their kills in the mornings when walking to fishing camps. They seem to be very effective predators on the lechwe. While searching the woodland for tsessebe, some visitors and I came across a large female hyena lying outside a den. I’d just been lent a camera trap, and after receiving the go-ahead from the project’s manager, I set it on a branch near the mouth of the burrow. Two days later when I returned, the camera had been pulled down and was dangling by its strap…I didn’t even want to look; what I had feared had surely happened. But by some miracle the hyena had only ‘nibbled’ it and nothing essential was broken. The photographs were great- a single baby hyena, and a steady procession of different hyenas coming at intervals during the night to give the den a sniff and say hi.
The mother reluctantly leaving her den...
And the mohawk baby...the camera had already been knocked about at this stage
What the hyenas don’t finish, or don’t find, the vultures quickly clean up. Occasionally the wildlife scouts have carcasses of poached lechwe, and sometimes David the ornithologist on the project will put pieces out on the plain for the vultures. The sharp-eyed but very timid white headed vultures are usually the first to arrive.
From left to right: hooded vulture, white headed vulture, lappet faced vulture and a pack of white backed vultures feeding on a lechwe head
They don’t have long to feed before the hordes of white-backed vultures come piling in. There’s only one thing that can break up the ensuing frenzy…the massive wings, razor sharp bill and aggressive demeanour of the lappet-faced vulture, our largest species.
Incoming! A greedy lappet faced vulture about to break up the mob...
Once arrived, these birds will hold off all the other vultures until they have had their fill.
'Hey come on boss, can't you share?'
They are really fierce, and none of the other vultures will take a chance against them. Finally, the tiny hooded vulture will come in and finish off the scraps. The vultures are extremely entertaining to watch with their funny hunched waddle and squabbling over scraps. Needless to say, it’s hard to find a blowfly in these parts- some South African farmers should be extremely ashamed of having poisoned these essential birds in many areas.
The first orchid so far, Eulophia gonychila- popped up in the miombo in late October
Botany-wise, things are starting to get interesting again. I don’t have regular access to the miombo woodlands that are typical of most of Zambia, and I usually only see the woodlands when traveling or when visiting the Bangweulu Wetlands project headquarters at Nkondo.
The Bangweulu Wetlands office under construction- note the cool logo! And the new flush in the miombo
A strange flower sticking straight out of the ground- Costus spectabilis, in the ginger family. The leaves should follow shortly.
Gladiolus outfocusii= no idea what it could be (actually Gladiolus melleri)
In September, after fires have passed through most of Zambia, the trees lose their leaves and their pods dry out in the sun. With a loud bang each pod splits and curls up, shooting the seeds out. Many of the tree species do this. Just afterwards the trees get their new leaves, mostly dark purples, reds, oranges and pale greens. The red was just starting to show when I left for South Africa in early September, and by the time I returned all the trees had fresh green foliage again. So I missed this central African spectacle of colour, but the green flush in the middle of hot, dry October was most welcome.
Driving to Bangweulu through the miombo
Bricks that have been burnt local style from termite mound clay- I'm taking lots of notes!
The burning of Zambia is quite something- fires are never large and extensive like in South Africa, but rather burn only a few hectares at most and then go out. But the patchiness of these fires results in an extended burning season- and only the most remote areas are spared. The miombo woodlands are fire-adapted, and the spread of fire impact as humans expanded their distribution in the region probably explains why this vegetation type is so common. Riverine and true forest is rare, fragmented, and frequently with ‘fire-pruned’ edges. The lack of frost and a shallow water table allows the grass to sprout again within days, such that the bleak burned veld quickly becomes a pale green carpet. However, the grass only gets going properly with the first rains, and this has been most evident on the Chimbwe Plain. It becomes noticeably greener with every passing day after the first rain shower we have had. This first rainstorm also turned the sky from the smoky, hazy brown of the last few months into a clear, sharp blue. Instead of disappearing into a purple haze, the sun once again set on the horizon itself! The whole landscape looked beautifully clean and refreshed as the dust and smoke of months and months was washed away.
Sunset before...
Sunset after... The island (house next to the big tree on the right, taken from the boomerang flying range!)
The fish are still doing just fine…they have far less habitat now, but the fishermen make sure there’s not too much overcrowding.
Some interesting fish- colourful Petrocephalus on the left, Pollimyrus to right (both belonging to the strange Mormyrid family) and a Serranochromis on the bottom right, a predatory cichlid and possibly a new species
People have been employing some interesting methods, such as using a fish poison made from a local plant, and spearing barbel (catfish) in drying pools.
My favourite Cipupila (fishing chief)- always arrives cursing and swearing drunkenly trying to drive me away, but this time she was very helpful in explaining the fishing going on in the background. People spear blindly into the muddy slurry as catfish have become concentrated in this drying pool.
Children pounding the local fish poison- a leguminous herb
Floating mats of mud and vegetation are a rather interesting phenomenon. If you walk around and find a patch of papyrus, you know there’s deep enough water there that the plants don’t have their roots in the ground for most of the year. But you don’t see any water. Walking closer, you become aware of a slight swaying of the earth underfoot as you move. Jumping up and down, you can cause a bit of a ripple in the ‘earth’. Now when you look around you may see a small hole with muddy water- this is a breathing hole used by catfish; much as seals will make holes through pack-ice through which to breathe…certainly a very strange feeling standing on all this!
One of our assistants, Muwele (alt. Brighton), standing on 'imitafu' adjacent to papyrus- yip, there's fish under there
Another important resource that has just come into season is caterpillars. These occur on the miombo trees, especially where the trees are coppicing after slash-and-burn agriculture. I have only seen the one species alive, and they don’t look at all like Mopani worms. Could these also be in the emperor moth family? Entomologists, please help!
This caterpillar (chipumi in Bemba, which feeds on Mutondo (Julbernardia paniculata)) is an important woodland food- but many people (including me) get allergic reactions to them. There is a local tree (musafwa), the leaves of which can counteract this reaction, though I haven't tried it because I'm not that desperate to include caterpillars in my diet!
Even after only a little bit of rain there are noticeably more insects…and once all the lechwe dung is properly soaked through the flies apparently come out in unbearable swarms- going home for Christmas is sounding more and more attractive!
A large predatory katydid- genus Clonia
A diurnal moth on the flower of Oncoba spinosa (musombo-wild rose)- anybody have an ID on the moth?
Apart from catching and moving a few snakes, the only really exciting wildlife ‘rescue’ I have done was with a huge nile monitor lizard, one of the biggest I have ever seen. This poor thing somehow found itself in the tree next to the house, where it remained too scared to come down until a quiet Sunday morning when nobody was around. However, it didn’t take long to be spotted: first by crows, then by children as it headed across the airstrip towards the staff houses. It would not be safe there because of the threat it posed to their chickens, and harassed as it was, I decided to try to move it to the safety of the reeds next to the river. Thinking it would dash off once ushered in the right direction, I was surprised when it decided to go for ‘fight’ instead of ‘flight’. Cracking its tail like a whip (no, they can’t break legs as old tannies will tell you- but it feels like being beaten with a belt covered in sandpaper) and hissing fiercely, I tried to gently push it along. Eventually this highly distressed lizard decided it had had enough, spun around and came right for me running on its hind legs. I had to run backwards for ten metres, and then another ten, as this lizard chased me like a Tyrannosaurus rex, its open jaws mere centimetres from my…thighs. The bystanders all fell onto the ground with fright (not laughter, I assure you). Changing plan, I went to go fetch a box to try catch it because it wasn’t going anywhere of its own in this angry state. After first knocking a scout off his bicycle and chasing him down the airstrip, the lizard finally allowed me to approach with my box. Throwing my old bush jacket over it (it immediately tore into it with jaws and claws) I stuffed the whole bundle in the box, slammed on the lid and we carried it down to the reeds. Faced with good shelter, the lizard finally dashed off to safety- and at quite a speed! While this blood-free incident would have made boring viewing on National Geographic channel, I consider the lack of injury to man and beast as far more important to being able to show off some scars afterwards…
I would also attack some jerk posing for photographs (photo D. Ngwenyama)
More adventures soon!
"Where do children come from?"- I don't know, but here they spring out of holes in the ground!
BangweuluFish 
