PLEASE CLICK HERE FOR THE VIDEO.
Today’s video is truly the highlight of our post, not only for what you see on the screen, but for everything it represents to us after all these years.
It was back in 2018 when we saw Norman for the very first time.
At that time, our friends from the US, Lois and Tom, were visiting us for three weeks. As we so often do when we have visitors, we spent many hours driving through Marloth Park in search of wildlife, along with many outings into Kruger National Park. Each outing carried that familiar sense of hope and curiosity, never knowing what might appear around the next bend in the road.
We had heard from other residents that there was a single nyala living in the park. It was an unnamed male, wandering alone without a mate. Some people had seen him, while others had not, and there was always a sense that perhaps he was more rumor than reality.
We were determined to find him.
On one particular day, while driving along a quiet dirt road in Marloth Park, with Lois and Tom, we spotted movement ahead. There he was, casually meandering off the road and into the bush. We did not get a perfect view. In fact, all we really saw was his backside as he disappeared into the vegetation.
But that moment meant everything to us.
He was real.
Over the following months and even years, that lone nyala began to visit us more and more frequently. It was during that time that we gave him a name. Norman. Somehow, giving him a name made him feel more like part of our lives. He was no longer just another animal passing through. He became someone we looked forward to seeing.
As time passed, we came to love and admire this beautiful and gentle antelope. What amazed us even more was how, after repeated visits and hearing us call out to him, he began to respond to his name. Much like a dog or a cat might, Norman would pause and look in our direction when we called. It felt like a connection, even though we knew he remained completely wild.
Long after Lois and Tom had returned home, we learned that a female nyala had been introduced into Marloth Park. We later discovered that someone had named her Nina. It was not our choice, but the name stuck, just as Norman’s name had with us.
Interestingly, over the years, we learned that these animals often have multiple names. Residents from different parts of the world call them by names familiar to them. One person’s Norman may be another’s Pedro, or John, or even Hans or Pierre. Yet somehow, these remarkable animals seem to recognize and respond to all of them. It speaks volumes about their intelligence and adaptability.
In time, Nina and Norman found one another, and nature took its course.
Over the years, we believe they have produced around thirteen nyalas, some of them their direct offspring and others their grandchildren. As is typical, the young males eventually move on to find their own territory and, hopefully, their own mates. The females remain, forming the core of the family group of eight, and we now visit us regularly, along with a few young males who have not yet left.
Sadly, while we were away, Norman was injured, likely during a confrontation with another animal. His jaw was broken, leaving him unable to eat. The veterinarians, along with Deidre of Wild and Free Rescue, made the difficult decision that euthanasia was the only humane option.
Louise shared the news with me about a month before we arrived. I was heartbroken. The connection I felt with Norman, an animal I had never touched, yet had come to know so well, was suddenly gone.
I knew it would affect us when we returned to the bush.
But spending time with his family has brought us comfort. Each time they wander into our garden, we greet them with genuine excitement. I find myself hurrying into the kitchen, cutting up vegetables we know they enjoy, eager to offer them a small treat.
These visits mean more to us now than ever before.
Today’s video captures one of those moments. Watching them, we are reminded of Norman, of how it all began, and of the lasting legacy he left behind. We could not be more delighted each time they stop by, and we treasure every single visit.
Be well.
Photo from ten years ago today, July 10, 2016:
