Update on dangerous Cape buffalo in Marloth Park…

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This is the Cape buffalo that entered Marloth Park yesterday and was considered a danger to humans. It was too aggressive to be captured, could not be moved, and was euthanized. Image – Roland William Patrick

“UPDATE: THE DAGGA BOY’S JOURNEY HAS COME TO AN END

Sadly, the Dagga Boy(Buffalo) that wandered out of the Kruger National Park into the Marloth Park area has been put down.
After efforts to manage the situation, the difficult decision was made in the interest of public safety. While this is not the outcome many were hoping for, it serves as a reminder of the challenges faced when wild animals move beyond protected areas.
These magnificent animals belong in the wild, and every effort is made to protect both wildlife and the communities they interact with.
A sad ending to an extraordinary journey.
Rest well, Old Warrior
🩵“
There is a tendency for many of us, especially those who visit national parks as we do, to view wildlife through a romantic lens. We arrive with cameras in hand, eager to capture a perfect sighting, a lion in golden light, a herd of elephants crossing the road, or a lone giraffe silhouetted against the horizon. In those moments, everything appears as it should be. The animals seem free, untamed, and thriving in a vast wilderness. But the reality, when observed over time and with a more thoughtful eye, is often far more complicated and, at times, deeply unsettling.

In places such as Kruger National Park, as magnificent as it is, life for wild animals is rarely easy. Survival is a constant struggle. Food is not guaranteed. Water sources dry up. Injuries go untreated. An animal that limps today may not survive the week. Predators hunt not out of malice but necessity, and the scenes that unfold can be difficult to witness. A kill is not always swift. The suffering of prey animals can linger, and the sounds alone are enough to stay with you long after you have left the bush.

A family of three zebras often visits, drinking from the splash pool.

Even beyond the predator-prey dynamic, there are other harsh realities. Droughts can devastate entire regions, leaving animals desperate. We have seen emaciated antelopes wandering slowly, their ribs sharply visible, even here in Marloth Park, searching for sustenance that is not there. Waterholes become crowded and tense, with competition increasing as resources diminish. The strongest survive, while the weak quietly disappear.

Human impact, even in protected parks, cannot be ignored. Fences, roads, and increasing tourism alter natural movement patterns. Animals are forced to adapt in ways that are not always beneficial to their well-being. In some cases, they become habituated to humans, approaching vehicles or camps in search of food. This often leads to dangerous encounters, not only for people but also for the animals themselves, who may ultimately pay the price for behavior shaped by our presence.

A fourth zebra joined them,

Poaching remains another tragic aspect of life in many wildlife parks around the world. Despite ongoing conservation efforts, animals such as rhinos and elephants are still targeted. The loss is not only individual but also deeply affects social structures within the species. A herd that loses a matriarch or a calf experiences disruption that can last for years. These are not isolated incidents but ongoing threats that add another layer of hardship to an already difficult existence.

In other parts of the world, the story is much the same. Whether in Africa, Asia, or South America, wild animals face mounting pressures from habitat loss, climate change, and human encroachment. Forests are cleared, migration routes are blocked, and traditional feeding grounds disappear. Animals are left to navigate a world that is changing far faster than they can adapt.

And yet, despite all of this, there is resilience. Animals continue to live, to raise their young, and to follow instincts that have guided them for generations. There are moments of peace and beauty that remind us why these places matter so much. A mother nurturing her young, a herd moving together in unity, birds calling at sunrise. These moments are real, but they exist alongside a harsher truth.

We’ve been spotting giraffes in the garden every few days.

To spend time in the bush is to witness both sides of this reality. It is a privilege, but it also comes with a responsibility to see beyond the surface. The lives of wild animals are not idyllic. They are fragile, often difficult, and sometimes heartbreaking. Recognizing this does not diminish their beauty. Instead, it deepens our understanding and, hopefully, strengthens our commitment to protecting what remains.

It is always sad to see that even the loss of a single Cape buffalo, as happened yesterday, can weigh heavily on those of us who spend time observing and appreciating these animals. Each life in the wild has meaning, not only within its herd but also to those of us who have come to respect its presence. Watching them day after day creates a quiet connection. When one is gone, it is impossible not to notice the absence. It serves as a reminder that life in the bush is fragile and that every moment we witness is both special and fleeting.

I especially feel this after the recent loss of my favorite wild animal, Norman, the nyala, who had become an integral part of my enchantment with the bush. I miss him each day.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, July 3, 2016:

In Singapore, the displays with menu options are meant to whet passersby’s appetites. For more photos, please click here.

Warning!!!…Dangerous animal roaming the roads in Marloth Park!!!

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We took this photo of a Cape buffalo in Kruger National Park on September 21, 2018. They look scary even when at rest. For more of our Cape buffalo photos, please click here.
This morning, the message below from the rangers in Marloth Park made its way across social media, catching the attention of both residents and the steady stream of holiday visitors. During this busy school holiday season, when the park feels more alive with human activity, the warning carried a noticeable weight. A new danger, they explained, has begun to move among us, angrily and with purpose. It was a reminder that even in familiar surroundings, the balance can shift. We are urged to remain alert, to respect the wildlife, and to proceed with a level of caution that never drifts into complacency.
“Good morning.
The Rangers have issued a general warning that an aggressive rogue BUFFALO BULL (DAGGA BOY) has broken through the KNP fence and is roaming around in Marloth Park!
It is currently moving around in Olifant next to the Lionspruit fence towards Wildgoose!
The Rangers are on site trying to guide him away from the public!
Please do not try to chase or confront him or get in the way of the Rangers! The bull is VERY AGGRESSIVE and could charge at vehicles or people, or attack!
YOUR LIFE WILL BE IN DANGER!!
Your full cooperation is appreciated!
For all inquiries, contact the Rangers:
Rangers 082 802 5894.”

Cape buffalo are not like the other animals we so often admire from a comfortable distance. They do not startle easily, nor do they retreat simply because a human presence is near. There is a confidence about them that can feel unsettling, especially when they wander into areas where people live, cook, and go about their daily routines. In places like Marloth Park, where the boundary between wilderness and home is intentionally blurred, this creates a delicate balance that can shift in an instant.

“Buffalo are inherent carriers of viruses fatal to domestic stock, and for this reason, disease-free Buffalo are specifically bred in areas such as the Eastern Cape in South Africa and fetch very high prices.” From our post on October 20, 2018, found here.

We have learned, sometimes through uneasy observation, that buffalo are deeply unpredictable. One moment, they may appear calm, grazing quietly, their massive bodies swaying gently as they tear at the grass. The next moment, without any obvious trigger, their posture changes. A raised head, a fixed stare, a subtle shift in stance, and suddenly the air feels heavier. It is not always aggression, but it is always a reminder that they are not here to coexist on human terms.

What makes them particularly dangerous in populated areas is their sheer size and strength, combined with a tendency to stand their ground. Unlike some animals that flee at the first sign of disturbance, buffalo may choose to confront what they perceive as a threat. A person walking too close, a vehicle approaching from the wrong angle, even the sound of voices carried on the wind can be enough to provoke a reaction. And once that reaction begins, it unfolds with startling speed.

There is also something deeply protective in their nature. Buffalo move in herds, and within those herds, there is a strong sense of unity. If one feels threatened, others may respond. It is not uncommon for a single animal’s agitation to ripple outward, creating a situation that escalates far beyond what one might expect from a solitary encounter. In a human setting, where fences, pathways, and buildings limit movement, this can quickly become dangerous.

Our photo of three Cape buffaloes crossing the road in Kruger.

We have heard stories from locals, told in quiet voices, about encounters that turned serious in seconds. A man stepping outside at dusk, unaware of a buffalo standing just beyond the edge of his garden. A cyclist rounding a bend in the road finds himself face-to-face with a bull. These are not exaggerated tales meant to alarm. They are reminders that living alongside wildlife requires a level of respect that never fades into complacency.

Even from our veranda, where we often feel like observers rather than participants, the prospect of a buffalo’s presence changes everything. Conversations pause. Movements slow. We find ourselves watching more carefully, not out of fear alone, but out of an understanding that this animal operates on instincts far removed from our own. There is no negotiation, no shared language of intention.

Our photo from Kruger…A lonely-looking Cape buffalo.

And yet, there is something profoundly humbling about sharing space with such a creature. The danger is real, undeniable, and demands attention. But it also reminds us that we are visitors here, even when we settle in and begin to feel at home. The buffalo does not adjust to us. We must adjust to it, learning to read the subtle signals, to keep a respectful distance, and to accept that not every moment in the bush is meant to be comfortable.

In the end, the presence of Cape buffalo in human areas is not simply a matter of risk. It is a reflection of the fragile line we walk between appreciation and intrusion. Each encounter asks something of us: awareness, patience, and above all, respect. Without these, the consequences can be swift and unforgiving, a reminder that the wild does not bend, even when it briefly overlaps with our own world.

We will keep you updated on this event as it unfolds.
Be well.
Photo from ten years ago today, July 2, 2016:
Live crabs at a Singapore fish market. For more photos, please click here.

The amazing tree frog…More new photos…

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This tree frog is resting on the inside edge of the outdoor refrigerator. We’ll never know how it manages to get in there. They left for a week and later returned. Even the little things in Marloth Park never cease to amaze us.

There is something magical about tree frogs in South Africa, especially as the seasons shift and the nights lose their summer warmth. We tend to think of these delicate little creatures as permanent residents of the warm, humid evenings, clinging to reeds or perched near outdoor lights, patiently waiting for insects to drift by. But when temperatures drop, their lives change in ways that are both subtle and remarkable.

Tom put some meat out for the genet, and later, the trail cam took this photo. Not a clear photo, but fun to see.

Unlike mammals, tree frogs do not hibernate in the traditional sense, yet they enter a state very close to it. In the cooler regions of South Africa, particularly in places where winter nights can be surprisingly cold, these frogs slow their metabolism to conserve energy. It is less a deep sleep and more a quiet retreat from the world, a waiting period that allows them to survive until warmth returns. They are often found in the most peculiar places, here in Marloth Park.

As the air cools, tree frogs begin searching for safe, hidden spaces. They may slip beneath loose bark, tuck themselves into crevices in trees, or burrow lightly into leaf litter where the earth still holds a bit of warmth. Some species take advantage of manmade structures, finding shelter in thatched roofs, garden sheds, or even the corners of outdoor furniture. Wherever they settle, the goal is the same. Protection from temperature extremes and a place where moisture will not completely disappear.

This zebra was waiting nearby while the lucerne was being delivered from Daisy’s Den. Once the delivery guy left, she dug right into it. A short time later, six more zebras stopped by to partake.

What fascinates me most is how their bodies respond. Their metabolism slows dramatically. Heart rates drop. Breathing becomes almost imperceptible. They are still alive, still aware on some level, but everything is reduced to the bare minimum required for survival. It is as if they place themselves on pause, trusting that the world will soften again in time.

My boy, Chewy, stops by several times a day to see what’s on the menu. Today, it was raw red cabbage leaves, celery tops, and sweet potatoes.

Moisture plays an important role in this process. Tree frogs rely heavily on their skin to maintain hydration, and during these dormant periods, they must avoid drying out. The microclimate of their chosen hiding spot becomes critical. Too dry, and they risk dehydration. Too wet and cold, and they may struggle to maintain balance. Nature, however, has a way of guiding them to just the right place, a pocket of stability in an otherwise unpredictable season.

Bushbuck Marigold stops by eight or ten times a day.

In some cases, particularly in milder areas like the Lowveld, where Marloth Park is located, they may not fully retreat for the entire winter. On warmer days or after an unexpected rain, you might still hear a faint call at dusk or catch sight of one moving slowly along a branch. These brief appearances feel like quiet reminders that they are still there, simply waiting for the right moment to return fully.

Their survival strategy is not dramatic. There is no grand migration or visible transformation. Instead, it is a lesson in stillness. They conserve, they hide, they endure. And then, almost overnight, when the rains begin and the air warms, they reappear. The silence gives way to a chorus. The stillness becomes movement. Life resumes as if it had only been gently paused.

Marigold and Lily dug into the lucerne.

Sitting outside on a cool day or evening, it is easy to forget that just a few meters away lies this tiny creature patiently waiting on the interior edge of the outdoor refrigerator door. In a world that often feels fast and restless, something is grounding about that. They do not rush the seasons. They adapt, quietly and effectively, trusting in the pace of the environment around them.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, July 1, 2016:

Tom likes these “wienie wraps!’ in Singapore. These are SGD 1 and US $ 0.74. For more photos, please click here.

Excellent anniversary dinner in the bush…

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    ToCelebrating our 35th anniversary of meeting in 1991. It was a great day!

Our 35th anniversary of meeting was indeed a special day. Then again, every day we spend together feels special in its own quiet, steady way. Perhaps it is the quality of our lives, constantly moving yet somehow grounded, or perhaps it is simply the comfort that comes from knowing one another so well after all these years. Whatever the reason, there isn’t a day that goes by that we don’t recognize how fortunate we are to be sharing this journey.

I made Sauteed Cognac Garlic Mushrooms to go with the steaks.

As we sit here now on the veranda, cherishing what can only be described as a perfect sunny day, the bush seems to put on a show just for us. Before our eyes, five species wander in and out of view as if they have all agreed to gather at once. A kudu moves gracefully through the trees, its long horns catching the light. Not far behind, our friend Hal, the wildebeest lingers, his heavy steps stirring the dust. A shy duiker appears briefly, pausing just long enough to remind us how much we might have missed if we had looked away. Several bushbucks stand alert in the distance, while a warthog ambles along with its usual determined stride.

What could be more magical than this, especially on a day like today?

Moments like these settle deeply within us. They remind us of why we chose this lifestyle, why we continue to embrace the unknown, and why we remain so grateful for each experience, no matter how big or small. It would be easy to focus on the inconveniences that come along with living this way, and yes, there are always a few. But more often than not, those minor annoyances become part of the story, something we learn to work around or accept.

Take the insects, for example. As the weather warms, they arrive in numbers that are hard to ignore. With no screens on the veranda doors, which we keep open day and night while we are outside, they come and go as they please. We have learned to adjust. The bedroom door stays closed at all times, and the windows are rarely opened, not only because of the insects but because of the ever-present risk of baboons and monkeys finding their way inside and leaving chaos behind.

In the warmer months, repellent becomes part of our daily routine. We apply it throughout the day and again before bed, a simple act that offers some comfort. Each evening, while we sit outdoors enjoying dinner, Tom sprays the bedroom, so the time we spend outside doubles as time for the fumes to dissipate. It is not a perfect solution, but it works for us.

There is always a balance to be found. On the one hand, there is concern about chemical exposure; on the other, the very real risks that come with mosquito bites and sleepless nights filled with the constant buzzing of insects. It becomes a matter of weighing one against the other, of deciding what allows us the most peace of mind.

These steaks were very thick but turned out medium rare for Tom and rare for me. Grass-fed meat can be tough, so I marinated the steaks, and they were delicious. This morning, we gave the fat scraps to the mongooses. They loved it.

And really, isn’t life itself a balancing act?

We are constantly adjusting, shifting our priorities between work and play, relationships and independence, health and indulgence, planning and spontaneity. Each choice we make contributes to the overall picture of our lives, shaping not only what we do but how we feel about it all. Happiness may come and go in fleeting moments, but contentment, that deeper sense of satisfaction, feels far more attainable when we learn to manage that balance.

As we reflect on these years together, and on this day in particular, it becomes clear that contentment has been one of our greatest achievements. Not because everything has been perfect, but because we have learned to appreciate what is right in front of us, even when it requires a bit of compromise.

And that, in the end, is what defines the quality of our lives.

May you all find your own version of that balance, and with it, the kind of contentment that carries you gently through each day.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, June 29, 2016:

Sri Mariamman Temple, which we toured. For more photos, please click here.

South Africa’s school holidays have begun until July 22…Not much wildlife around…But we are!…Celebrating a special anniversary…

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Hornbill eating seeds off the birdfeeder.

School holidays in South Africa carry a feeling that is hard to explain unless you have lived through them, season after season, watching how the pace of everyday life shifts. It begins before the actual break arrives. You can sense it in the conversations at the shops, in the slower pace at the petrol stations, and in the way families begin preparing for time together. There is an anticipation that settles in, especially in places close to nature, where holidays are less about schedules and more about space.

Big Daddy eating lucerne with bushbucks and an elusive duiker in far right.

For many families, school holidays mean travel. Cars are packed to the brim with coolers, bags, and often far more than anyone truly needs. Roads leading out of the cities become busier as people head toward the coast, the bush, or small towns where life feels simpler. In areas like Marloth Park, you start to notice new faces arriving, a steady flow of visitors who bring with them a different kind of energy.

Children, free from the structure of school days, seem to expand into the space around them. Mornings are no longer rushed. There are no uniforms to press or lunches to pack in a hurry. Instead, the day unfolds slowly. Kids ride bikes along dusty roads, swim for hours if there is a pool nearby, or wander, discovering things that would go unnoticed during busier times. There is a natural return to simple pleasures, the kind that do not require planning.

Kudus, including Bg Daddy and the girls.

In wildlife areas such as Marloth Park, the holidays take on an even more unique character. Families sit outdoors longer, watching animals come and go as if they, too, are part of the routine. Children learn patience without realizing it, waiting quietly for a kudu or a warthog to approach. These moments become small lessons, not taught in classrooms but absorbed through experience. It is not unusual to see families gathered together in the late afternoon, drinks in hand, sharing stories while keeping an eye on the bush.

Of course, there is also a livelier side to school holidays. Restaurants, bars, and gathering spots become busier, filled with laughter and conversation. People who may only see each other once or twice a year reconnect as if no time has passed. There is something comforting about this, a sense of community that feels stronger when everyone has stepped away from their usual routines. Even simple outings feel more meaningful because they are shared during this break from everyday life.

For some, holidays are not about travel at all. They are about staying home and enjoying the quiet. Without the constant demands of school schedules, there is time to catch up on things that often get pushed aside. Families spend more time together in ordinary ways, cooking, talking, or just sitting without feeling the need to rush off to the next obligation. These four-times-a-year holidays have their own kind of richness, one that is easy to overlook but deeply satisfying.

Mom and babies.

Grand events or strict plans do not define school holidays in South Africa. They are shaped by moments, by connection, and by a shared understanding that this time is meant to be different. It is a pause, not just from school, but from the pace of life itself, offering a chance to breathe, to notice, and to be.

Often, we find ourselves complaining about the lack of wildlife during the holidays, missing the quiet times we have come to treasure. But when we pause and look around, it is impossible not to smile at the sight of children riding bikes, families laughing, and people fully embracing this magical place. The energy is different, yet still meaningful.

On another note, today marks thirty-five years since we first met. In many ways, we celebrate this day even more than our wedding anniversary, since it was the moment everything began, when we first laid eyes on one another and knew something special had begun.

Be well

Photo from ten years ago today, June 28, 2016:

In Denpasar, Bali, while we awaited our trip to Singapore…Charming Chef Suhaimi spent considerable time discussing my menu options and creating a meal I’d have loved even if my restrictive diet wasn’t necessary. Also, we shared travel stories with him, since he’s from Singapore, where we’ll be arriving later today. He also lived in Thailand (where we’ll be in three weeks) and then in Dubai, which we visited in 2013. For more photos, please click here.

Lucerne delivered…Funny photo…

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We couldn’t help but laugh when, only minutes after lucerne was delivered, the mongoose, which doesn’t eat it, decided to climb atop the bale.

There is a lot of controversy about feeding animals in the wild. Many believe that nature needs to take its course, and if animals die from starvation when there is not enough viable vegetation, then that is simply part of the natural cycle. It is a perspective rooted in the idea that human interference often does more harm than good. Under ordinary circumstances, this way of thinking makes perfect sense. Nature has a way of balancing itself over time, even when that balance feels harsh to witness.

Kudus love lucerne.

But here in Marloth Park, the situation does not feel quite so simple.

For many of us who spend time observing the bush day after day, there is a growing awareness that what we are seeing is no longer entirely natural. The landscape has changed over the years, and not always for the better. One of the most noticeable changes has been the spread of invasive plants and trees, many of which have taken hold in ways that crowd out the indigenous vegetation that wildlife depends on for survival.

Zebras will often take over the entire bale, refusing to let other animals partake.

These invasive plants did not simply appear on their own. In many cases, they were introduced by well-meaning homeowners and holidaymakers who wanted to beautify their properties. Others arrived unintentionally, carried in through agricultural products or spreading from nearby regions. Over time, these species established themselves, often thriving more aggressively than native plants, leading to a slow but steady shift in the natural food sources available to animals.

Some of the invasive species commonly found in and around Marloth Park include lantana, bugweed, triffid weed, syringa trees, prickly pear cactus, and various species of eucalyptus. Each of these plants competes with indigenous vegetation for water, sunlight, and nutrients. In doing so, they reduce the availability of the grasses, shrubs, and leaves that animals such as impala, kudu, and other browsers and grazers rely on.

When you sit quietly and watch the bush, as we do each day, these changes become more than just an abstract environmental issue. You begin to notice animals spending more time searching for food, moving further distances, and sometimes appearing thinner than they should. During dry periods, when resources are already limited, the impact feels even more pronounced.

Zebras will eat lucerne for hours and wipe it out.

This is where the internal conflict begins.

On one hand, there is a desire to respect nature and allow it to function without interference. On the other hand, there is the understanding that human actions have already altered the environment in ways that make it difficult to step back and do nothing simply. When the playing field has been unintentionally shifted, it raises the question of whether some level of intervention is not only justified but necessary.

In Marloth Park, this has led some residents to provide supplemental feeding for wildlife, especially during times when natural forage is scarce. It is not done carelessly or without thought. Conversations about what to feed, how much, and when are ongoing, often shared among neighbors who care deeply about the well-being of the animals that wander through their properties.

There is no perfect answer, and certainly no universal agreement.

Dad and Son, enjoying the lucerne.

What remains clear, however, is that the presence of invasive species has had a tangible impact on the ecosystem. Addressing the spread of these plants through removal and greater awareness may ultimately be one of the most important steps in restoring balance. Until then, many of us continue to navigate this delicate space between letting nature take its course and acknowledging the role humans have already played in changing it.

It is a complicated issue, filled with both emotion and responsibility, and one that continues to unfold with every passing season in the bush.

As a result, we have chosen to offer food appropriate for the wide array of animals and their differing digestive systems, ensuring that nothing we provide is harmful in any way. It is done with care and constant awareness. There is simply no way we could spend the countless hours we do with these remarkable animals, often standing quietly while they look back at us, and ignore what we sense. In those moments of shared stillness, when their eyes meet ours, it becomes impossible to turn away from the reality that, at times, they are hungry. We do not hand-feed.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, June 27, 2016:

In Bali, we dined each night with views of the pool and the sea. For more photos, please click here.

It’s Friday…Another fun weekend on the horizon?..Wildlife…Humans…

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We were thrilled to have Nina and Norman’s girls and grandkids visit us. The boys have left the group but are still in Marloth Park. We hope to see them eventually, too.

Spending both Friday and Saturday evenings at Jabula has become one of the highlights of our weekends. No matter how the week has unfolded, there is something comforting about knowing exactly where we will end up when the sun begins to set. Even on quieter weekends, when fewer people wander in, we never feel at a loss for conversation. Dawn, Leon, and their manager Corrine always make the evening feel lively and welcoming, as if we are stepping into a familiar gathering rather than a public place.

Bossy wanted to ensure we noticed her while Nina and the girls were here.

Each time we walk through the door, we are greeted with warm smiles and a sense of easy recognition. Without hesitation, we settle into our usual spots at the bar, where a reserved sign seems to say that this little space has become part of our routine. There is something simple and satisfying about that. No decisions to make about where to sit, no uncertainty about what comes next. We order our drinks almost without thinking, and they are being prepared as we walk through the door. Tom choses his Lion beer, and I chose my ultra-light white wine. It has become our small ritual, one that marks the transition from the day into an evening of relaxation.

Suckling young zebra.

Most nights, especially when it is just the two of us, we order our dinner and eat right there at the bar. There is something casual and unpretentious about it that suits us perfectly. When we meet up with friends, we tend to move outside to the veranda to dine, where conversations seem to stretch a little longer. Both settings have their charm, and we have come to appreciate each for different reasons.

One thing that continues to amaze me is how well Tom has managed to avoid smoking. It has been nearly two years since he quit, and he did it all at once, without easing into it or relying on substitutes. That alone is something I deeply admire. It is not always easy, especially in a place where smoking indoors is still allowed. The temptation is there, lingering in the background, particularly in moments when others around him are lighting up. Yet he holds steady.

Big Daddy was lying down in the garden for quite a while.

Interestingly, smoking is not permitted out on the veranda, only inside the bar area. Despite that, the smoke indoors never feels overwhelming, especially with the doors open to the outside air. It drifts rather than lingers, and over time, we have grown accustomed to it. We have also learned not to judge those who choose to smoke. It is simply part of the culture here, more common than in many places we have spent time before. Everyone makes their own choices, just as Tom made his when he decided to stop.

His decision, of course, was not made lightly. The diagnosis of pulmonary fibrosis changed everything. After more than forty-two years working on the railroad, with constant exposure to asbestos and countless other chemicals, the risks he once carried in the background became very real. We have known too many of his coworkers and friends who faced devastating lung conditions, some of whom did not survive them. Those experiences stay with you, shaping how you look at each day.

So many mongooses come here now that they know we have paloney!

At this stage in our lives, there is a deeper awareness of how fragile health can be. We do not take our time for granted. Instead, we try to live in a way that honors that understanding, doing what we can to stay as healthy as possible while still enjoying the life we have built. Our days are full, not only on weekends but throughout the week as well. There is always something to do, someone to see, somewhere to go.

And perhaps that is what makes these evenings at Jabula feel so meaningful. They are not just about the food or the drinks, but about connection, routine, and gratitude. Sitting there side by side, surrounded by familiar faces and easy conversation, we are reminded of how fortunate we are. Life here in the bush has given us a rich and active social world, something we cherish more with each passing day.

Be well.

Photos from ten years ago today, June 26, 2016:

This morning’s sighting on the beach in Bali, on our last day. Wow! Was that intended for us? For more photos, please click here.

Meet some of our friends in the bush….

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This is my handsome boy, Hal.

It’s noon on Thursday, and I am sitting at the table on the veranda, gazing out into the bush, wondering who might wander by next. There is a quiet anticipation in these moments, a stillness that feels alive, as if anything could happen at any time. The air is warm but not oppressive, and every rustle in the bush draws my attention. Living this way has taught me to slow down, to watch, and to appreciate the small, unexpected visits that make each day feel unique.

Hal is contemplating a sweet potato on the railing.

A few weeks ago, when we left Minnesota, I made a mistake that still lingers in my mind. I left my favorite butcher knife behind on the kitchen counter at the hotel. It wasn’t just any knife. It was one of those rare finds that feels perfect in your hand, balanced and reliable, the kind of tool that makes cooking feel effortless. I didn’t realize it was missing until after we had unpacked here. That sinking feeling hit me immediately.

I called the hotel as soon as I could, hoping for a small miracle, but the knife was already gone. It’s easy to imagine what happened. Housekeeping must have found it, and I can’t say I blame them for keeping it. It was, after all, a beautiful knife. Still, I felt the loss more than I expected. It wasn’t just about the cost. It was about familiarity, about having something dependable in a lifestyle where so much is temporary.

He ate it.

I began searching for a replacement almost right away. I checked Takealot, which has become our go-to for many things here in South Africa, but I couldn’t find anything that compared. Everything I saw felt like a compromise. I wanted that same knife, the exact one I had purchased back in 2024 from Amazon in the United States.

Louise mentioned that she had been using Amazon South Africa since it launched and had good experiences with it. I decided to give it a try. I found the original order in my orders file on Amazon USA. I copied the name and pasted it into the search bar. To my surprise, there it was—the same knife.

Where in the world do you see giraffes on the side of the road on the way to the market?

It felt like a small victory. Without hesitation, I placed the order. Of course, it’s not quite the same as ordering from Amazon in the US. There is no next-day delivery or even anything close to it. The estimated arrival time is nearly three weeks, and it will most likely ship from the US warehouse. Even so, knowing it is on its way is enough to make me happy.

The price was the same as before, Zar 1324, about US $80. That consistency felt reassuring in its own way. In the meantime, I have tried to make do with the assortment of knives here. I have sharpened them as best I can, but none of them come close to what I had. Cooking has felt slightly off.

Giraffes on the side of the road on our way to the market.

Still, there is something comforting about knowing that soon I will have my proper tools again. My favorite frying pan has been here waiting for me, untouched since we left nearly a year ago. Once the knife arrives, I know I will feel a renewed sense of enthusiasm in the kitchen. Cooking, for me, is not just about preparing meals. It is part of how I settle into a place, how I create a sense of home no matter where we are.

As I sit here now, my thoughts shift from knives and cooking back to the bush in front of me. Right on cue, as if he knows he is being thought about, Hal appears. Hal is a wildebeest we came to know during our last stay here, and somehow, he has remembered us. Since our return, he has resumed his regular visits, as though no time has passed at all.

Big Daddy is eating pellets off the railing. Below him is a helmeted guineafowl.

Something is endearing about him. Wildebeests are not known for their beauty, but Hal has a presence that draws me in. He looks at me with his small eyes, and although his vision is not particularly strong, there is a sense of recognition in the way he pauses and stares. He becomes animated in his own quiet way, shifting his stance, holding eye contact just long enough to feel meaningful.

Big Daddy’s mouth was open for some reason.

We have learned that wildebeests often travel with zebras, forming a kind of partnership that benefits them both. Their grazing habits do not compete, and their different strengths help them detect danger more effectively. It is a simple yet brilliant arrangement, one that speaks to the balance found in nature.

Big Daddy decided he wanted the banana pieces we left for the bush babies and fruit bats.

Watching Hal, I am reminded again of how fortunate we are to be here. This life, with its mix of routine and unpredictability, feels both grounded and extraordinary. We live what could be called a normal life, cooking meals, running errands, waiting for packages to arrive. And yet, just beyond the veranda, the wild carries on, offering moments like this that make everything feel a little more magical.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, June 25, 2016:

Buffaloes on the beach in Bali! Wow, we never stopped enjoying this daily scene! For more photos, please click here.

Our team came in second at Quiz Night!…Horrible dental experience in Malelane…

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Last night, our teammate, Sandra, took this photo of us.

Last night turned out to be far more fun than we expected, and perhaps even a little triumphant in its own modest way. Quiz Night is always a gamble. Some evenings we sit there scratching our heads, wondering how on earth anyone could know the answers. Other nights, like this one, something clicks. Somehow, our six-member team, the Bush Babies, pulled together and surprised even ourselves by finishing second.

Last night at Quiz Night, for the first time in years, Tom ordered a pizza at Giraffe. He saved a few pieces to eat this morning. He said it was very good.

The prize was small, Zar 55, which worked out to about US $3.31 each. Certainly nothing to write home about in terms of winnings, but that was never the point. What made it special was the sense of accomplishment. The questions were tough, and there were moments when we were completely stumped, exchanging puzzled looks and tossing out wild guesses. Yet, little by little, we found our footing. When the final scores were announced, and we realized we had placed second, we all broke into smiles and laughter. Our teammates told us this was the first time the Bush Babies had ever come in second, which made it feel even more meaningful. Now, of course, we are all determined to take it one step further and aim for first place in the future.

Adding to the novelty of the evening, Tom did something he had not done in decades. He ordered a pizza. I could hardly believe it when he said it. Over the years, restaurant pizza has never been something he gravitated toward, so this felt like a rare and unexpected treat. He enjoyed every bite and even brought the leftovers home, which he happily polished off this morning. As for me, I stayed with my usual Greek chicken salad, which is consistently good and exactly what I felt like. Between the food, the camaraderie, and the excitement of the game, it was one of those evenings that leaves you feeling content and grateful.

A purple-headed turaco is a bulky, iridescent bird clad in deep purple, blue, green, and olive, washed with pink. It clambers acrobatically through riverine woodland and savanna thickets. In flight, it explodes from the canopy, with distinctive deep-red panels on the wings. It produces a distinctive croaking “khoh-khoh-khoh-khoh….” that gets progressively louder before suddenly stopping. The similar Ross’s Turaco differs from Purple-crested Turaco by being darker overall and having a red crest and yellow face.

But as pleasant as the evening was, it stood in stark contrast to the experience we had earlier in the day. What we expected to be a routine dental appointment in Malelane turned out to be quite the opposite.

We had previously seen another dentist at this clinic when we could not get in to see Dr. Singh, who, without question, has always been excellent. His reputation makes him very busy, and with our limited time in South Africa, scheduling has sometimes been a challenge. Still, we thought this visit would be straightforward. We both went in for cleaning with this new dentist, and I needed to have a crown reattached that had come loose during our last cruise. I had saved it, knowing that, in most cases, it is a simple procedure to cement it back into place.

Unfortunately, this was anything but simple. The dentist struggled from the start. He could not get the crown to fit properly and proceeded to drill and adjust for what felt like an eternity. After 90 minutes of discomfort and growing concern, I had finally had enough. I told him to stop. There comes a point when you know something is not right, and this was one of those moments. I left the treatment room feeling shaken and frustrated. The crown still doesn’t fit properly.

When I found Tom in the reception area, I told him to go ahead with the cleaning only so we could leave. After 10 to 15 minutes in the chair, he, too, refused to continue when he saw the quality of the work. It was clear we were not in capable hands.

Perhaps a mom and baby were using a branch to scratch themselves.

To make matters worse, the billing process became another ordeal. The receptionist, who was clearly doing her best, struggled with a new computer system and could not figure out how to generate the bill. We stood there for 35 minutes, already frustrated by the experience, only to be presented with a charge of Zar 2850, about US $171.55. It felt like a complete rip-off considering the outcome.

As soon as we left, we drove straight to Dr. Singh’s office. Fortunately, we were able to secure appointments for both of us on July 6. There is no question in our minds that we will stick with him going forward. His professionalism, skill, and attention to detail are exactly what we need, and this time we will be here long enough to see everything through properly.

After such a stressful morning and an unexpectedly delightful evening, today has been all about slowing down. We headed to the local SparMore store to pick up fresh salad ingredients and returned home to enjoy the quiet. The weather has warmed up nicely after a few cooler days, making it perfect for spending time on the veranda. There is something especially soothing about sitting outside, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds.

Tonight will be simple. A good meal, fresh air, and the comfort of being in a place that feels like home. And as always, we will carry on, taking the good with the bad, grateful for the balance that makes each day its own story.

We will be back tomorrow with more.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, June 24, 2016:

This buffalo in Bali was not happy to see him. Tom used no zoom to capture this photo when this monstrous, agitated animal suddenly approached him. For more photos, please click here.

Off to the dentist…Quiz Night tonight…

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Mongoose mania in the garden.

Soon, we are off to the dentist in Malelane, a 35-minute drive from Marloth Park. It is always a stressful drive with a constant stream of fast-driving trucks, which is all the more stressful when we are heading to an appointment that isn’t exactly high on our list of favorite things to do.

This time, however, there is a bit more uncertainty than usual. A new dentist has taken over the practice, and we have no idea what to expect. Finding a good dentist when you are living a nomadic lifestyle can be challenging. You don’t have the luxury of long-term relationships with healthcare providers, so each visit feels a little like starting over. We are hopeful this new dentist will be a good fit, but as always, time will tell. We will report back in tomorrow’s post with all the details.

Today’s appointment is fairly straightforward. We are both scheduled for teeth cleanings, and we also plan to discuss a few procedures we know we will need going forward. More than anything, we want clarity. We will be asking for details, timelines, and most importantly, an estimate for the work that needs to be done. When you are only in one place for six to nine months at a time, planning becomes essential.

In prior years, we saw Dr. Singh, who is highly skilled and very competent. We always felt confident in his work, which made the situation all the more disappointing when communication became an issue. For several months, we tried to obtain estimates for upcoming procedures, but he was too busy to respond. We certainly understand how demanding a dental practice can be, but unfortunately, our timeline didn’t allow for that level of uncertainty. In the end, it just didn’t work out, which was frustrating for both of us.

So now, here we are, starting fresh once again with someone new. It is all part of this lifestyle we have chosen, and for the most part, we take it in stride. Flexibility has become second nature to us over the years.

Tonight, we have something much more fun on the agenda. It is Quiz Night, and we are looking forward to joining our new team, the Bush Babies. Our group includes Marlene, Sandra, and Natasha, and as always we will enjoy the lively atmosphere and camaraderie. It is a great way to unwind, share a few laughs, and test our knowledge on a wide range of topics, some of which we know surprisingly little about.

Other than these two events, it is a quiet day here. We always appreciate these slower days, especially when they are balanced with a bit of activity and something to look forward to later on. Life in Marloth Park has a way of offering just the right mix.

We will be back tomorrow with more and, hopefully, a positive report on our visit to the new dentist, along with a few new photos to share.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, June 23, 2016:

Hindu temples often have scary statues to ward off evil spirits. For more photos, please click here.