There’s the hard part too…More visitors…More photos…Life in the bush…

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Mr. Kudu came to call!

We’ve never intended to imply that living in the bush is easy amid all of our nearly constant entertainment from the wildlife and with the people we meet. In many ways, it’s definitely not for the faint at heart.  

Giraffe in the neighborhood that we spotted on the way out of the driveway to go to the store.

Perhaps living in the mountains of Italy in the summer and then Kenya in their late spring for three months toughened us. I assure you, had we gone directly from Minnesota to either of these locations, we may have turned around and gone back to the US.

Notice the Kudu’s head tipped up to grab a leaf from the tree near our carport.

Perhaps it was our good fortune to have “worked our way” into tougher living conditions that brought us to where we are now, at peace and at home in the bush, but mindful of potential risks facing all visitors to this rough terrain.

This is the mineral lick we purchased for visitors that is recommended by the rangers as an excellent adjunct to the visitor’s natural diet of greenery. So far, the kudus are the only visitors that have tried it. The others sniff and walk away. We’d hoped this would attract wildebeests, yet to spend time in our yard, only running through on one occasion.

Below are the adjustments that we have freely become accustomed to living in Marloth Park that others may find uncomfortable and unbearable. For us and many other tourists, the choice to visit Africa comes with the acceptance of challenges that one can choose to accept for the joy that Africa can bring in so many ways.

Kudu closeup was taken while I stood directly in front of him, behind the veranda railing.

1.  Gecko poop – It’s everywhere, including in the house. The thatched roof provides easy access for the Geckos to enter. Although harmless, they can be annoying, when last night one ran across the kitchen counter during the preparation of dinner. We see no less than six of them a day inside the house. Outside on the veranda, they are everywhere.  We don’t care.

Our warthog friends visit frequently, now so, at ease, they’ve started napping in our yard.
In the same manner, as beloved pets do, even warthogs tuck their chins onto their front “paws” when resting.  

2.  Heat – It’s summer in South Africa.  It’s not uncommon for the temperature to be as high as 100 F, 37.78C or more and humidity to be in the 80% range. In this house, there is AC in both bedrooms and the upstairs living room/loft. There’s no AC in the kitchen or main floor living room. We spend most of the day outside and only come inside to the loft when we need to cool off.

The family of nine still stops by almost every day. The other mom and one more baby were off to the side when taking this photo. The babies love looking at us almost as much as the moms. Each time they arrive, we take a headcount ensuring all nine are still there.

3.  Rain – It’s the rainy season now. Since we’ve been here it’s been cloudy five out of seven days a week. For those that require lots of sunshine, this may be an issue in the summer. We no longer have a tan or bother to try. The sun when it does shine is so hot it’s unbearable to lounge in a lawn chair. This is of little concern to us when neither of us bothered by rain or cloudy days. We do miss the visitors who seem to stay away on rainy days.

Upstairs in the loft with AC, in the awful heat a few days ago, we took kudu photos from the second-floor veranda as they looked up at us. Kudus can weigh 700 lbs., 317.5 kg, or more.

4.  Insects – They’re everywhere, zillions of them, though not inside the house as much as they were in Kenya. With no screens here, we keep the doors and windows shut constantly and keep our bedroom door closed at all times. With no mosquito nets here (Louise offered but we declined) we’ve found keeping the door shut helps. It’s still necessary to inspect shoes and clothing before dressing to ensure nothing lurks inside.

Kudus never seem to miss a photo op.

5.  Power outages – Although not as frequent as in Kenya, it does occur for short periods an average of once a week. We’ve learned to keep all of our equipment charged at all times allowing us to watch movies during a power outage. 

The pink inside their ears, the one line across the bridge of their nose, the white mustache, and the white stripes on their bodies, make the kudu a particularly beautiful animal. Females kudus don’t have horns, the mustache, or the white stripe on the bridge of the nose.

6.  Bumpy roads – If a person had a medical issue that made driving on bumpy roads a concern, this environment would not be appropriate. Few roads are paved in Marloth Park. Driving around looking for wildlife is one seriously bouncy experience. We don’t give it a thought other than possible damage to the tiny pink car.  Had we been willing to spend four times more than we paid, a 4 x 4, would have been a better option.

Zebra by the local watering hole.  Others were nearby as we observed on our way to the store.

7.  Wild animals – The very essence of the joy of Marloth Park is the wildlife over which one must exercise consideration and caution around them.  They are wild after all and could carry disease, attack if provoked or in the case of a few snakes and other creatures could inflict life-threatening bites and injuries. The closest medical clinic is a 30-minute drive.  

Had we not experienced the four-hour rough and dangerous road in Belize, the hairpin turn roads in Tuscany, the bumpy roads in Kenya, we may have been less tolerant. Had we not been exposed to the endless noisy geckos in Belize, batted off the flies and bees in Tuscany, danced around the centipedes and other insects in Kenya, or experienced day-long power outages, we’d be less tolerant.

But, experience is a powerful teacher and by learning, we continue to glean something new and meaningful each and every day in one manner or another.Each day brings new challenges but with it, comes the exquisite opportunity to embrace life in the bush, so far removed from the life we lived only a short time ago. For this, we are eternally grateful. For this, we will never forget.

Missing…

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Last Saturday as I was getting ready to head out the door to a family member’s baby shower, Tom said, “Move slowly and look out the window to your right.”

As usual and to our delight, there was one of Mother Nature’s delectable morsels in our yard. I moved gingerly toward the window to my right. 

A wild turkey lumbered around the stone patio with eyes darting fervently for a possible intruder. As I moved to grab my phone’s camera, which proved to be too quickly, he spotted me and scurried away. A wave of sadness came over me, not over missing the shot, but after missing the frequent sightings of God’s precious creatures, abundant here in Minnesota, abundant here on the lake.
I will miss the coyotes, their grace, their piercing eyes, their hunger for the little dogs here at the point, along with the caution we’ve exercised all these years to avert their consumption of own little wonders. I will miss the eagle that swooped into our yard to settle high up on a favorite tree, the glaring stance, the perfectly poised talons, easily able to grab a fifteen-pound unsuspecting furry pet in seconds.
Early spring this year, the loons appeared. With their pointy beaks, banded throats, and musical calls they flirt with one another primping for the prospect of little chicks yet to come, who will somehow know that shyness is quite appropriate in this land of predators and humans. I will miss that sound.

We will miss the adventure of the one-day event of baby wood ducks being mercilessly tossed from the wood duck house by their parents, hoping they’ll survive the long fluttery jump to the ground, the short trek to the water.
They scurry about the yard frantically, unsure of which way to go, a few wanderers ending near the house, only to be coached along with us humans, careful not to touch and leave our scent. The cheep, cheep, cheep of the fluffy little puff balls will be hard to forget in the days to come.  

The heron, so playfully referred to as “Big Bird” by my husband, to our long lost WorldWideWillie who enthusiastically ran to the end of the dock to chase this leggy character, unfazed by its disgruntled roar as it flew away. With the utmost curiosity, he’d sniff its remains. I will miss “Big Bird.”  

Of course, I will continue to miss Willie. No longer will we be able to stand by his little grave marker in the yard. Willie inspired me to write my first blog, a blog that will end on April 9, 2012, the one year anniversary of the day he died. Each night after writing that blog, I’d read aloud the day’s writings to Tom holding back the tears. 

It’s sad and ironic that when losing a beloved pet, we not only cry for the loss of their companionship, we cry for the loss of their peculiar habits, their tricks, their ticks, their characteristics, and their rituals all of which bring us humor, familiarity, and comfort.  

And sometimes, when we cry for the loss of our pet, we cry for all the losses of our lives at the same time; the loss of people, the loss of relationships, the loss of meaningful work, the loss of success, the loss of hope, the loss of health and the loss of a dream, whatever that dream may be.

Yes, we will miss Mother Nature’s gifts here in Minnesota, but the nice thing about her is, she goes wherever we go, even if we only stop for only a moment to we breathe in the fresh air, to look and to listen. She will be there.