Wet and Wild in an African Eden
For six months commencing each November, it’s a time of plenty in Zambia, when big rains turn the land to an emerald sheen, birds appear in dazzling breeding plumage, animals give birth, and two of earth’s biggest mammal migrations are triggered by the rising waters. All this, and tourists are virtually non-existent.
It began with the bats. Each year, as the rains start sometime in October, little Kasanka National Park, north of Lusaka, fills with straw-coloured fruit bats, inbound from the Congo. With its nine lakes and network of streams, rivers and grassy **dombos** interspersed between red mahogany swamp and indigenous forests, Kasanka is a handsome location for what is – in terms of sheer numbers – the world’s largest mammal migration.
It’s estimated that by mid-November, some eight million of these creatures wing their way here, flying in to feed on the fruit of wild loquat (musuku) and waterberry trees. The bats roost in a patch of Mushitu forest along the Musola River. At dusk, we took guided walks to watch as they set out on their nocturnal flights. And at dawn we installed ourselves in a specially built tree hide, 18 metres up in a sprawling Mululu mahogany, from where we kept watch for sitatunga. It’s apparently the best spot in the world from which to observe these shy antelopes. We counted scores of them gathering in the Kapabi swamp below, while up above the sky darkened with the swirling mass of bats returning from the night’s feed.
The bats drew airborne predators. Kites, vultures, African hawk-eagles, falcons and other raptors took the opportunity to pluck snacks from the air. Many bats, we were told, would also fall from their roost in the forest and be eaten by opportunistic leopards, crocs and monitor lizards.
Kasanka, despite its size, is considered to be one of the best bird watching parks on the continent, and with the rains came species we’d never seen. A boat ride up the Luwomwba River revealed African pygmy geese, fawn-breasted waxbills, marsh tchagras, coppery-tailed coucals, blue-mantled crested flycatchers, and Böhm’s bee-eaters… The list went on and on.
There were more birds and lots more predators at South Luangwa National Park, not too far from Kasanka. We were particularly interested in exploring the park on foot, so joined knowledgeable armed guides for daily walking safaris along the riverbanks, through groves of cathedral ebony trees, and around watery dambos plugged with Nile cabbage. It was a chance to get lost in the unfolding drama of animals responding to rising water levels which altered the twisting-turning course of the life-bringing Luangwa River.
The earth seemed insatiable, gobbling up the rains, transforming the park into a glistening patchwork of tributaries and lagoons, interspersed between the lush Mopani forest. There was animal activity everywhere, the rain bringing a palpable ease, signalling a time of abundance.
On calm, steady, unrushed walks, we stopped to watch elephants – mixed herds of ancient matriarchs and curious youngsters – crossing the river in single file, pausing to play and fiddle and drink along the way. Crocodiles basked on river banks and, poking from the water’s surface, twitching ears and pairs of eyes and wet nostrils were often the only sign that submerged hippos were wallowing contentedly below.
As the day’s heat simmered after late-afternoon downpours, we’d listen to the shrill whistles of gold-coloured puku and watch as waterbuck, Cookson’s wildebeest, bushbuck, zebra and giraffe appeared in multitudes across the plains.
Back at Puku Ridge Camp, our smart eco-friendly tented lodge at the edge of the escarpment, we lazed on the deck and stared into the rain-soaked night. The shadows of wild dogs scampered across the horizon and elephants trumpeted happy choruses somewhere in the blackness. And we’d fall asleep listening to deep-bellied hippo grunts that sounded like the laughter of drunken clowns.
Luangwe isn’t the kind of place you ever tire of, but we wanted to see another of Zambia’s lesser known reserves, Kafue. Said to be the second-biggest national park on earth, it is vast and untamed; a raw, rugged, isolated expanse that feels like proper wilderness, centred on the Kafue River. We watched enormous Nile crocodiles basking in the sun, pods of hippos trundling out of the water to graze, and tree-climbing lions sprawled in the branches of gnarled, bendy fig trees. With its mix of savannah, woodland, and extensive wetlands, the park packs in huge bird numbers, including crowned cranes, woolly-necked and saddle-billed storks, and Goliath herons.
Our seasonal bush camp was situated deep in the heart of the Busanga Plains, a marvellous wetland where we not only walked with guides, but also headed out on river cruises, fish eagles swooping overhead as we marvelled at the skills of pied kingfishers zipping in and out of the water, surfacing with fish in their beaks. And when we went out on drives, we were taken around in Africa’s first electrical game-drive vehicle, the "eLandy". Not only was it eco-friendly, but also marvellously quiet.
A ride in a tiny Cessna took us farther west, to the virtually unvisited Liuwa Plains National Park, which occupies part of an ancient kingdom, Barotseland, near the Angolan border in the upper Zambezi floodplains. Once the hunting grounds of the Lozi kings, the area has been protected since the late 1800s. Like some uncharted Eden, it remains extremely isolated, difficult to get around, and low on infrastructure. And during the rainy season, the park’s extensive wetlands fill to flooding, turning roads to mud while attracting enormous inbound migrations of water-loving birds.
We saw masses of storks, cranes, slaty egrets, and whiskered terns, and when not navigating the muddied tracks, our guide pointed out red-billed teals, woodland kingfishers, white-bellied bustards, secretary birds, sooty chats, pink-throated longclaws, and flocks of black-winged pratincoles, all the way from Europe and Asia. It certainly helps to have wings if you’re here during the rainy season – we frequently held our breaths as we narrowly avoided getting stuck in roads consumed by puddles. But it was worth braving the mud to witness the world’s second-biggest wildebeest migration. As water levels rise, the park fills up with beasts skipping in from Angola.
Apart from the blue wildebeest arriving en masse, there were zebras and tsessebe, and we saw tiny oribi, herds of Lichtenstein's hartebeest, red lechwe, little duikers, and roan antelope. And, of course, predators were having a field day picking off the weak and injured stragglers. Hyenas, wild dogs and lions seemed to make a game of taking turns to hunt, their over-stuffed bellies sagging, their self-satisfied faces permanently drenched in blood.
Aside from this profusion of animals, it was wonderful being here for the sheer drama of Liuwa’s skies, thick with bulging clouds and surging with the energy of storms that seemed always on the verge of breaking. And each time they did, it felt like a miracle of creation.
<sidebar> Where to Stay
- Kasanka has two permanent lodges. Of these, Wasa is best suited for visits to the Fibwe hide. For more information and booking details. Visit www.kasanka.com.
- In South Luangwa, stay at Puku Ridge Camp, run by Sanctuary Retreats. www.sanctuaryretreats.com
- In Kafue, Mukambi Plains Camp operates seasonally, and shuts at the end of this month, reopening only in July. Mukambi Lodge, however, is open throughout the year. www.mukambi.com
- Liuwa should have its first luxury lodge by late 2015, along with a direct helicopter service, managed by Norman Carr Safaris. www.normancarrsafaris.com
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