Sunday, April 27, 2008
Guests had just begun to gather at the bar Saturday night when lodge manager Kobus Lubbe jumped up from his chair and rushed toward the lawn to investigate a strange noise. He scanned the roof of the bar/lobby common area, then rushed back to announce what he had seen: the kittens of a common large-spotted genet were at the apex of the roof, under the eaves.
Lodge manager Obie Magunga grabbed a torch, and we all hurried out into the night to look up at the starry sky. Nestled in the eaves, their faces squeezed into the opening, two kittens peered down at us, crying for their mother. They sounded a noise between a “peep” and a high-pitched, squeaky mew. By any measure the cries were demanding and loud from such tiny creatures.
Chris and Tilde Stuart’s “Field Guide to Mammals of Southern Africa” says genets have long, slender bodies and tails -- and short legs. The common large-spotted genet has large spots that are usually rusty in color and legs that are paler than those of their small-spotted kin. Its habitat is chiefly restricted to the eastern areas of Southern Africa, where it ranges throughout the night.
Perhaps it was the same genet in all of the sightings, the mother of the kittens, of which there were four, maybe five. The guests Saturday night watched in delight as two kittens scampered and cried in a tree near the bar, waiting for their mother and separated from their siblings under the roof. Mother genet appeared, as if by magic, to slip across the lawn in cover of darkness and up into the tree. With her mouth she grabbed a kitten and headed off toward the brunch deck. She came back, climbing along branches through the treetops, to grab another kitten, astonishing the guests by her stealth.
Obie soon discovered what must have made the mother hurry – and worry. An eagle owl surveyed the area from a branch above the brunch deck. Several of us wished we could run to the kitten hanging on at a nearby tree trunk and pet and comfort it. But we hung back, letting the mother do her job.
After dinner we pointed the torch upwards again, hoping to see the kittens in the eaves of roof, but the mother genet had secreted them away – from us, and, we hope on this fine night, the eagle owl.
--Maria Henson
Volunteer, Desert and Delta Safaris




For the next 40 minutes, guests gathered at the outdoor brunch area to lean out over the railings and watch the scene to their left. From the expanse of windows in Room 7, it was a straight-on panorama worthy of a National Geographic movie screen. The lions stretched out on their bellies and chomped loudly on their meal, guarding it with ferocity. The wild dogs were jittery; they closed in by a half-circle formation only to jump back when the lions roared. Even a simple twitch of a lion’s tail sent them darting off, only to try again. If nothing else, they were persistent. They came close at times to the lions, but the lions always scared them away. One lion rose nonchalantly, with her share of the meat in her mouth, and walked over to a bush a few meters away and tucked herself into the shade. The lion in the open kept eating, her face a bloody mess. Vultures flew in to prepare for scraps diving. Still, the dogs persisted. A couple of them sped close to the Room 7 deck, on the other side of the electric fence. As if to show who was boss, the lioness in the open eventually picked up her part of the meal and paraded off past Room 9 and beyond, dangling the impala from her mouth like a wet rag. The dogs gave up but not before stopping at the central water hole of Savute to take a drink. Nice photo op.
A game drive after this display of nature’s drama seemed unnecessary. How could anything top this morning’s sunrise starter? Savute guides set out with their guests, however, to give it a try.
