Written by Neil Harmse

Chapter 9. Concerning Snakes

One of the most frequent questions I am asked by people venturing into the bush on a trail or hunt is: ‘Do we have to worry about snakes?’ To be honest, there are snakes all over, even in suburban gardens, but they do their best to avoid contact with humans. Over the years I have spent in the bush, covering many miles on trails and hunts, my incidents and encounters with snakes have been relatively few and, as mentioned, these reptiles do their best to keep out of our way.

My first serious encounter was on a day in the late 1960s in the Waterberg. I was working on a geological survey and when it was almost midday, I decided to sit down and have a sandwich for lunch. I found a convenient tree log to park on while eating. I placed my field bag with my notebooks, maps and equipment on the ground with a bit of a thump, which must have disturbed the reptile – a yellow Cape cobra, which shot out from under the log. It was trying to get away, but as I jumped up, it turned and spat venom directly into my eyes. The snake then disappeared, and I was left squirming with excruciating pain, especially in my left eye, which had taken the most venom. Grabbing my water bottle, I rinsed my eyes, but this did not seem to help. I was about 2km from camp and, like a halfblind man, stumbled back to it. There was a Fitzsimmons snake-bite kit and I managed to use a vial of anti-venom serum, diluted with water, to rinse my eyes again. I then made my way to the farmhouse and phoned a doctor in Warmbaths, who suggested rinsing my eyes with milk and then coming through to him as soon as I could. After rinsing my eyes, the farmer drove me to the doctor for treatment. He flushed my eyes and then bandaged them, with instructions to keep them closed and out of sunlight for a day or two. After two days, the bandages were removed, and medicated drops prescribed. My left eye was still badly inflamed and had to remain covered for about a week. My eyesight eventually recovered, but to this day, I still have trouble with my left eye, especially in harsh light or while night driving with oncoming headlights.

Many years ago, in the early 1970s, I was doing some geological mapping in a very remote area in South West Africa (now Namibia). I was alone and had parked my Land Rover and 46 proceeded on foot towards some rocky outcrops, plotting and mapping as I went along. I had my field bag over my shoulder with my notebook, reference books, measuring tape and pens, and had my clipboard and geological pick in my hands.

Ahead was a large outcrop of sandstone with a high and vertical cliff face reaching above it. Suddenly a black mamba shot out from some scrub and sped away towards the cliff. It reached the cliff face and moved left and right, trying to find an escape route. Unable to find a gap, it then turned and came back directly at me. Now, the black mamba is one of the most dangerous, venomous and aggressive snakes in Africa, and definitely not a creature to take lightly. This one must have been about 3m long and seemed to be moving like lightning. All I could think of was that if it bit me, I had no hope and my body would not be found for weeks, maybe months. I simply froze! Not a movement. I think I had stopped breathing. The mamba shot past me, about half a metre away, at unbelievable speed and kept going, just wanting to get away. Had I moved or taken any aggressive action, it would have struck and I would not be writing these words.

Another snake incident was years later and concerned a Mozambique spitting cobra or

Mfezi.

My good friend and expert wildlife guide, John Locke and I were contracted by the North West Province Nature Conservation to conduct a training course for prospective rangers in the Borakalalo Reserve. One evening, John and I had a campfire going and I went to the bathroom to clean up. This facility was rather rustic, constructed of poles, reeds and thatch. Standing at the washbasin, I heard a strange, hissing noise emanating from beneath it. Looking down, I saw a large snake curled up on a ledge. Needless to say, I beat a hasty retreat, hoping that the snake would move away on its own if left undisturbed. After about an hour, John and I went to see whether the reptile had gone. As it was getting dark, we had torches to see better in the dark recesses of the facility. We saw no sign of the snake, so we went back to our campfire to get a few chops and sausages going.

While sitting and enjoying a drink and dinner, we heard a strange, swishing sound moving closer. Jumping up and flashing torches, we saw a large Mfezi or Mozambique spitting cobra making its way over the loose sand from the ablution block and heading directly towards our camp. The snake must have picked up our movements and swung off to the left, directly to my tent, where it slid under the groundsheet. There was no way I was going to sleep in the tent while the snake was sharing the same space, even if it was under the canvas sheet. Wanting to make it move, I went inside the tent with a broom to try to push it to the side and out, while John was on the outside with his torch trying to see which way it was moving. Eventually a terribly angry Mfezi shot out and sped up a tree, below which my Land Rover was parked. Not wanting the snake to get into the car, I drove it away and parked on the other side of the camp. After a very uneasy night, at sun-up we could see where it had slid from the tree and moved into the bushes away from camp. We could again breathe easily. Thankfully, we did not encounter the snake again for the remainder of our stay.

Once, on a walking trail in the Manyeleti, I was leading a family group when I heard the sound of a herd of elephant ahead of us. My old tracker, Petrus, with us. He was walking ahead, following the tracks. As usual, when we approached the herd, he moved back to see to the safety of the people in the event of us having to back away suddenly, should the matriarch or one of the cows become a bit nasty. A breeding herd is always unpredictable because of the cows with young calves and sometimes immature bulls within the herd. We were walking slowly along and I was concentrating fully on the elephants. As Petrus was passing me to move to the rear of the group, I felt him grab my jacket and pull me backwards. Astonished at this sudden move, I looked at him and he pointed down, in front of me. There, where I was about to put my foot, was a nasty-looking puff adder curled up, watching me with beady eyes.

I was saved from what could have been a very bad bite by Petrus’s sharp eyes and quick reaction. We watched the ‘puffy’ for a short while and then left it in peace, giving it a wide berth and carried on observing the elephant herd. Again, the snake was simply basking in the sun and not really aggressive, but this would have changed, had I put my foot on it. While involved with game control operations in the southern area along the Kruger National Park border, my family and I had a house on a large estate in the Malelane area. Early one morning, I heard a high-pitched screeching or squealing coming from somewhere at the front of the house. Grabbing my shotgun, I ran through the house and onto the enclosed veranda. There was a large mamba trying to grab a big frog, which was the cause of the high-pitched screech. Before I could fire a shot, the mamba turned and was gone, into a tree on the side of the house. I fired a few shots into the tree, but with no result. I could not see where the snake had disappeared to.

When I eventually returned to the porch, the frog was dead, obviously bitten by the mamba. My two children, six-year-old Janet and five-year-old Craig, were standing wide-eyed, watching the incident. The snake gone and the frog dead, I went to put the shotgun away and asked the children to fetch a spade, pick up the frog and throw it over the fence into the veld. Inside the house, while storing the shotgun, I suddenly heard loud screaming from the children and, grabbing the gun, ran back. The mamba had returned to collect its prey and as the children ran away, it turned to chase them. I had heard of this behaviour before, but had never experienced it. I once again grabbed the gun and as I came around the side of the house, I encountered the terrified children with the mamba in pursuit, going in the opposite direction. Without hesitation, I blasted the snake, almost in two halves, from the close-range shot of the shotgun. With children and dogs around the house, I was taking no chances sharing our home space with a reptile like that.

Over many years and many miles through the bush, I can honestly say that the encounters I have had with snakes have been few and far between. Snakes are generally less of a problem than people imagine and for the most part, given their instinct for survival, they will move out of your way and do their best to avoid contact with humans.

Written by Neil Harmse

Chapter 8. Concerning Rhino

At one stage, when I was doing wilderness trails for the Wilderness Leadership School, I was asked to do a promotional walking trail with a group of journalists and dignitaries to help raise funds for educational trails for underprivileged young people. Included in this group were Heidi Muller of the SABC German Service, Greg Marinovich (a photojournalist with The Star), Willem Pretorius (a journalist with the Afrikaans newspaper Beeld), as well as several other media people. This trail was conducted in the Pilanesberg Game Reserve wilderness area and, after a few hours’ walk, we had been fortunate in seeing a variety of game animals. Discussions on the importance and use of various trees and plants generated a lot of interest, and notes and photos were taken.

We had also seen a number of rhino middens and had interesting conversations about the differences between white and black rhinos.

While walking in single file along one of the game paths through moderately thick vegetation, I spotted a white rhino cow and calf making their way along the path towards us. The calf was just ahead of its mother, being directed by nudges of her horn, which is the norm for this species. There was a bit of a gap in the vegetation along the path and my thought was to move the party out of sight and out of the way until the rhino had passed on their way. I quickly moved the people behind a large tree about 15m off the path, but – with a photojournalist’s instinct for a sensational photo – Greg stepped into the path to take a picture. The sudden movement ahead of her startled the cow and she immediately broke into a charge directly at Greg. He was wearing a short, sleeveless waistcoat, with many pockets for all his photographic paraphernalia, and I managed to grab him by the back of his jacket and pull him into the bush on the side as the rhino cow went thundering past. Fortunately, she did not turn, but kept going with the calf, huffing and puffing like a steam train. Needless to say, everyone was shaken by this experience and we all needed a while to settle our nerves before moving on.

Two interesting stories in daily newspapers came from this experience, one by Greg titled Close Encounters of a Rhino Kind and another in Beeld by Willem titled Dapper Daan Word Bang Jan (“Brave Dan Becomes Frightened Freddie”). Amusing stories which could have been tragic.

The experience proved that in the bush, it is mainly the clients who need to be watched! Another incident I experienced concerning rhino was in the Timbavati Reserve bordering the Kruger National Park. That time, I was on a walking trail with a group of Technikon students. We had started out at first light to make our 

way to one of the waterholes, about 5-6km from our trail camp. A light drizzle and thin ground mist had set in, making the conditions cool to walk in and deadening sounds, but visibility was limited to short range. I spotted a white rhino cow with a half-grown calf about 30m ahead. The cow was lying down and the calf standing by her side. Because of the drizzle, we were all wearing some form of waterproof jacket, but I did notice that one of the young ladies had an umbrella folded up at her side. I had not given a thought to this when we set out, which turned out to be a mistake to be learnt from. The cow seemed reasonably restful and I maneuvered the group to sit just in front of a fairly large marula tree and squat down while we observed the rhinos from a distance.

The wind direction was a bit variable and the calf seemed rather nervous, but I knew that as long as the cow was calm, and we remained quiet, there should not be a problem.

The mist had lifted somewhat and the drizzle had become light rain. I was quietly describing the differences between the black and white rhino species when there was suddenly a loud ‘WHAP!’ behind me as the young lady opened her umbrella. This alarmed the cow, which was immediately on her feet and startled by the movement of this strange, round object in front of her. Up went her head, then down as she charged directly at us. I shouted to the group to get behind the marula tree, out of her line of sight. Fortunately, the cow and calf thundered past about 3m from us and kept going, presumably in search of a quieter place to rest.

This goes to show that a guide must carefully observe and anticipate anything a trailist may get up to!

Another similar incident occurred when I was on a trail with a group of senior high school students, also in the Timbavati. We had walked about 6km to Oppie Dam, a medium-sized waterhole situated north of our camp. On slowly approaching it along a gully, I saw a young rhino bull also approaching the dam from the west side. There was a broken tree stump which had long acted as a rubbing post, against which rhinos and buffalo enjoyed rubbing mud and ticks off their bellies and legs. Crouching in the gully, we observed the rhino’s behaviour with interest. One of the boys had a 35mm camera loaned to him by his father and asked if he could take a photo. I did not see any harm in this and thought a quiet click would be safe enough from our distance. I did not realise that the camera had an auto-rewind and was on the last two frames. Nothing happened with the first click, but on the second, everything went pear-shaped. The camera automatically started rewinding the film with a loud, whirring noise. The startled rhino spun around in a circle trying to find the source of this annoying sound and immediately charged in our direction. Fortunately, he could not see us so low down in the gully and turned off at its edge, then kept going along the side of the gully and into the bush ahead.

This again taught me a lesson about noisy contraptions such as auto-wind cameras, beeping alarms on electronic watches and, later, cellphones, which were all banned from my trails and had to be left in camp. And, of course, umbrellas!

Written by Neil Harmse

Chapter 7. Lion Problems

As previously mentioned, during the 1980s the southern Kruger Park boundary was continuously faced with problems caused by lions crossing. into private properties and killing livestock. Once these nomadic lions realised how easy it was to catch and feed on domestic stock, they tended to remain in the area and habitually prey on the animals. Once hunted, they realised that they were safe on the park side and would come through after dark to raid the cattle kraals or kill the livestock in the camps.

Sometimes these young lions tended to show ‘bloodlust’ with such easy pickings and would kill four or five animals in one attack. I realised that the only way of making contact with these killers would be by setting up a hide and waiting for them to return to their kill to feed again. They were always more suspicious when approaching a kill of a domestic animal than one of natural prey, so the hides had to be carefully sited and disguised, and movement kept to a minimum. With care, I could sometimes shoot two or three in a night. If that sounds unsporting, I must stress that it was not sport hunting at all, but an attempt to rid the area of killers causing financial loss to the farmers and the community.

We did try to dart, capture and then relocate some lions further into the park, as far north as the Satara area, but this did not work. Within a week or two, these same lions returned and were again killing stock. They became wary and would not return to a kill, so they then had to be followed on foot from a kill – which could be quite ‘hairy’, especially in the dark. My tracker, Petrus, was very steady in this work and could be relied upon to keep a spotlight trained on the lion, allowing me to pick a shot. For this, I used a rechargeable battery with a spotlight and red filter. Following lion at night through the bush is pretty hair-raising work and shots were normally at close range.

I remember one time when Petrus was down with malaria and I used a substitute tracker named Magagula. I had used him on hunts before with no problems, but this tracking in the dark was new to him. I carefully explained what to do and he seemed OK with it. We picked up a group of four young male lions moving back to the park at about 11pm and were following behind at about 15m when the light was switched on and trained on them. One of them stopped and turned to look back. I raised my rifle, ready to shoot – when Magagula’s nerves failed and he suddenly switched off the spotlight. I whispered to him to switch it on again, which he did,

but he simply flicked it on and off! Believe me, it is quite daunting standing in the bush in pitch blackness with lions a few metres ahead. Fortunately, the lions ran off and made their way back to the park. We never managed to catch up with them.

An amusing incident occurred with Magagula a few weeks later. I was driving along the road past the cattle kraals when I noticed something lying across the road. There was Magagula, drunk as a skunk, sprawled on the road with his bicycle beside him. I stopped and, in the headlights, picked up the spoor of three or four lions along the road and all around Magagula. They had obviously seen him lying there and, out of curiosity, sniffed and smelt all around him before moving off again. Fortunately, most lions are not man-eaters by nature and I think these ones were put off by the smell of beer! In his drunken state, Magagula was completely unaware of what had happened. I loaded him into the back of my Land Rover and dropped him off at the compound. The next morning, I collected him and took him to show him the tracks around where he had been lying. I must add, however, that even this did not cure his drinking.

A raider lion taken out.

Most of the lions which caused problems were young males, although occasionally a mature lion or lioness was also a culprit. On two occasions, a large cow was killed and partially eaten. Waiting at the kill brought no results: the lion did not return. From the tracks, we saw that the killer was a large, mature male which had been hunted before and was wary of returning to his kill. The third attempt on a late afternoon was foiled by a tractor driver who arrived at the kraal just as the lion was trying to get into it. The lion ran off and they radioed me to advise what had happened. When I arrived, I saw from the tracks that it was the same lion that had previously made the kills. The tracks were fresh and reasonably clear, and seemed to be heading to the river boundary of the park. Petrus suggested that we cut across and try to get ahead before the lion reached the river. We could then perhaps get a shot. So we set off at a fast pace to make up time.

We arrived at the section of the river bank where Petrus thought the lion would cross, but no tracks were visible. We moved back into the tree line and sat down to wait. It was not too long before Petrus pointed and indicated that he could hear the lion. I trusted his instincts, as he was seldom wrong, so I moved to get ready if I had to shoot. Sure enough, we spotted the lion moving towards us, seemingly unaware of our presence. I took careful aim at his chest as he came forward and as my shot struck him, he seemed to leap up and flip over. I gave him a second shot and he fell flat. This cattle-raider had reached the end of his career. 

Not long after this, the raids seemed to become fewer, with the lions apparently behaving themselves and although there were sporadic kills in other areas, I was happy to have some respite from shooting more of them.

I would just mention that most of my lion control work was done with a .375 H&H and although it is not a favourite calibre of mine, I found it ideal for cats such as lion and leopard. It did prove effective in having a shock effect on them and knocking them down.