Diary entry 3                         8 Dec 2011

The previous entry was incomplete, because I saw two more events on my walk. The first was sad and made me angry, while the anther made me appreciate this amazing and wonderful landscape I am exploring.

 On my way back I literally stumbled upon an Nguni herd in the thick mist. They were ruminating on the sand at a small river mouth about 2km from Qolora Mouth. Once again I wish I could find the connection between beast and beach. Why would the Nguni spend so much time on the beach, especially at night? The explanation that was given to me was quit logical. The cattle will come down to the sandy areas on the beach to get away from flies and tics that are pestering the herds on the open grasslands.

 To me it sounds logical to a point; because there is some nasty flees and flies on the beach also. Ask me, small bloodsuckers are under every grain of sand and being in the tidal zones for long periods of time do have its itches. I decided that there have to be a better or more explanations for the Nguni’s behavior.

I must admit there are very few flies among the cattle when they are on the beach and flies do not fly at night. Meaning the cattle can stay on the hills at night. Previous trail showed many tracks in the sand and it almost looked like the Nguni was taking part in some kind of ritual. There was a new moon present and I calculated the time they were on the beach to be around 3 in the morning. Taking the tides in consideration one can quickly work out the time the tracks was laid down. If you check when last there was a high tide and there are two high tides in a day, you can be sure if the tracks were laid down while the tide was pushing towards the high mark the track would be washed away.

 The following picture was taken 7h00 in the morning and the last high tide was at 1h00.

My imagination ran wild and it looked like the Nguni was moving in circles, or were they doing something else. I have been reading stories of herdsman spurring their beloved beast into stampeding down the coast for miles. The Nguni would show off their muscled bodies to their masters and the winning bull will be glorified with poems that are recited around campfires for many years afterwards.

How I wish I could be witness to a spectacle of this magnitude, hundreds of free roaming cattle charging down the beach and glorification to the winning contestant. Luckily the Nguni that I met today was relaxed and once the herd was used to my presence, I was moving freely among them.

 

This cow is called, “Inala” the one with abundant colors.

This bull is in peak form and one can clearly see the diagnostic black hoofs and snout. This color pattern is called, Amasomi, the bull has reddish-brown flanks like the rufous wing bars of the Redwing Starling.

It was time to head back to the ferry, the motorized float is operating till 19h00 and if you miss the last ride you are stuck for the night in paradise. The mist disappears like only it can before the sun and the sand was starting to heat soles of my feet. I was happy and was absorbing all the beauty around. Being a super predator I became used the fact that all animals will rather flee than fight when approached by humans. I was fast approaching a Swift Tern sitting on a rock close to the water’s edge and for some reason it was just sitting, almost not afraid of my close proximity. It was then that I saw a fisherman’s hook and swiveled line embedded in the poor bird’s neck.

 

 I through my gear down and lounged for it in an attempt to help the poor bird, but to no prevail. There was still too much life in the tern and I was crushed to think that the birds suffering is only in the beginning stage of a long and miserable death. Two more attempts brought me close to tears and I decided that my attempts are futile.

Something so small like a hook and swivel can kill indiscriminately if left unattended. All that I could do was to watch the bird constantly pulling on the source that gives it so much pain. I then decided to make pledge to that bird. On every trail I do, with or without guest, I will pick up every hook, line and swivel that I can find. Maybe I can start a collection point in Kei Mouth that could act as an example for others.

So much happened on the walking trail and I cannot wait for the next excursion in the former Transkei. Life and death acted their age-old play right in front of my eyes, unforgiving yet loving. I am so proud to say I am an African born to this continent and that is why I would strife to protect the land and its creatures and to safeguard those that swim in the surrounding seas. Rangerriaan