REMINISCENCES: Of Legal Eagles and Culture Vultures

The great majority of visitors to wildlife reserves are watchers of large mammals, especially so the celebrated carnivores, the pachyderms and the large or rare antelope. A much smaller subset of wildlife enthusiasts is comprised of the birdwatchers who take delight in even the smallest and drabbest of the feathered folk. The birders often spend many minutes (or even hours) deciphering the minutest of differences in plumage or behaviour in order to identify the correct species to which an LBJ (little brown job) belongs. Encountered even less often are the tree-and-flower-watchers – they do exist, and it is very worthwhile spending some time in their company. An awareness and appreciation of the splendour of the flora will enrich any trip into the wilderness.

While it is accurate to claim that mammal-watchers outnumber birdwatchers and other enthusiasts by a substantial amount, it would only be fair to add that mammal-watchers occasionally do stop for a sighting of a bird – provided that the bird is large and spectacular, such as a Southern Ground-Hornbill or a species of stork or heron.

Two categories of birds, particularly, will halt the peregrinations of any mammal-watchers through a park: the eagles and the vultures. Both kinds are very photogenic – they are large and have immense wingspans so that they are spied without difficulty and can be photographed over quite long distances. Furthermore, they can be followed quite effortlessly if they are spooked. They also occupy large ranges in a reserve – they can be encountered repeatedly on separate occasions. Their habit of soaring at some altitude also allows visitors to spot them often, especially when vultures circle above a recent kill or eagles patrol their territories.

Throughout human history, the eagles have managed their public relations splendidly well. We consider them as formidable hunters, powerful in the air and on the ground in equal measure. Their posture signals confidence, competence and intelligence. To us, they are majestic, so much so, that they are portrayed on the national flags of several nations (Zambia, Zimbabwe, Egypt, Mexico, Albania, and Serbia, for example). Various species of eagle are also the national bird of a host of countries (such as the United States, Germany, Scotland, Serbia, Albania, Mexico, Panama, Indonesia and the Philippines, while the African Fish-Eagle is the national bird of Namibia, Zambia and Zimbabwe).

In heraldry, the eagle represents fortitude and action. Eagles appear on the ensigns and crests of countless individuals, families, associations and villages, towns and cities, amongst others. The eagle has always been used as a significant symbol – think of the emblem of the Roman Empire with its imperial Aquila, or think of Saint John the Evangelist, the most lofty and prophetic of the four evangelists of the bible.

The classical literature of the antiquity of western civilisation abounds with accolades for the eagle. Frequently, the eagle is described as the king of birds. In the Iliad, Homer considers the eagle as the most perfect of birds – certainly sent by Zeus as an omen. Following the Iliad and Odyssey, later Greek and Latin writers commonly cite eagle omens.

Often, the collective noun that is used for a group of eagles is ‘a convocation’ with its connotations of formality and purpose. We speak of excellent game-spotters as being ‘eagle-eyed’, while a person well versed in the law is called a ‘legal eagle’. All in all, the eagles have captured our human imagination; they have even won our respect.

In general, the same can not be said about vultures. Their reputation is lacklustre at best; at worst, their penchant for carrion has ensured labels such as soiled, polluted, foul, foetid and quarrelsome. Moreover, they are often perceived as being rather comical. If vultures were smaller, I doubt that an average visitor to the wilderness would bother taking a look.

Only a single Old World vulture* is elevated to the status of a national bird – in Serbia, both the eagle and the vulture share this illustrious nomination. In heraldry, the vulture represents rapacity, but it is chosen only very rarely as a symbol on important crests and insignia. Generally, vultures are given a bad press. A large group of these birds circling at altitude is referred to as a ‘kettle’; the company of several vultures on a kill is called a ‘wake’ – at least, so say the ‘culture vultures’.

Classical Greek literature is often unclear about the kind of large, predatory bird to which an author refers. In many instances, the bird could have been a vulture or an eagle. The ‘winged hound’ that Zeus sent to torment Prometheus may have been a vulture. The harpies too suggest a more vulturine disposition – they were incarnations of the gales of tempests and possessed the body of a great predatory bird, with the head and breasts of a young woman, whose hands ended in long, razor-sharp talons. Indeed, Ovid described them as human-vultures, brutal, ferocious and forbidding agents of punishment.

The only ‘vulture’ that seems to have escaped the disdain that is ingrained in ‘western culture’ for this group of birds is the Andean condor (a New World vulture*, quite different from the Old World vultures). The Andean condor is the only vulture depicted on the flag of a single Andean nation – Ecuador. However, the Andean condor does perch proudly on the coats of arms of Ecuador and several other South American states, including Argentina, Peru and Venezuela. The Andean condor also fares better as a national bird (namely of Ecuador, Chile, Colombia and Bolivia).

In the ancient civilisations of the Andean region of South America, the condor shouldered an important role in mythology and folklore. The mythology of various Andean cultures associated the condor with the sun-god – thus the Andean condor was regarded as a quasi-deity who was the potentate of the upper realm. Many Andean cultures revered this huge bird as a symbol of power and health – purportedly the bones and organs of the Andean condor retained medicinal powers. Sadly, to this day still, the rare Andean condor is hunted for the supposed curative benefits of parts of its body.

In several African cultures, vultures too are imbued with some positive attributes. Particularly in some South African cultures, such as the amaZulu, vultures are hunted, killed and traded as umuthi (traditional medicine). Particularly the heads of vultures are claimed to confer powers of clairvoyance, foresight and amplified intellect.

Both eagles and vultures are worthy of our attention (as are all species that still survive despite our misguided, rapacious exploitation of the planet and its inhabitants). Both are inexhaustibly intriguing in their structure, abilities and behaviour. Rightfully, both groups attract the attention even of non-birders.

Nevertheless, when we sing the praises of any humans or animals, it is just also to point out those moments in the lives of the performers that do not reflect glamorously on their prowess. A fair consideration of their lives must also include those times when they are not in full control of their look or their actions, when things go wrong, when they are not magnificent or resplendent. On several occasions, I have had the good fortune to witness instances of the appearance and behaviour of both eagles and vultures that have brought forth more than a brief giggle. These are large birds – their size (as it does in myself and other humans too) often betrays their attempts to appear regal, majestic, fierce.

*   The general term ‘vulture’ applies to large birds that principally scavenge their food from animal cadavers. Importantly, the deleterious, disease-causing bacteria present in carrion do not harm ‘vultures’ – in fact, these bacteria (otherwise very harmful to the majority of vertebrates) flourish in the intestines of these large scavenging birds.

A characteristic of the plumage of many vulture species leaves their heads (and often their necks too) covered only by very small down feathers. Consequently, these parts often appear naked or only very sparsely feathered. This lack of large feathers promotes convective heat loss from the exposed skin of the head (and neck) of vultures – heat loss that is vital since these birds often feed on carcasses at or near midday, exposed to blazing sunlight.

Old World vultures live on the continents of Africa, Asia and Europe, while the New World vultures and condors today exist in central and South America. Interestingly, Old World vultures find carcasses exclusively by sight, whereas some species of New World vulture have a good sense of smell.

While the phylogenetic relationships of ‘vultures’ and birds of prey is in flux and await further, detailed research to discombobulate the ancestral relationships between several groups of these avian predators. What has been discovered is that Old World vultures are not closely related genetically to the outwardly similar New World vultures and condors. The similarities of form and habit shared by the two groups of vultures are due to convergent evolution (that is, adaptation to the demands and challenges of very similar life-histories), rather than stemming from an inheritance of a set of adaptations from a recent common ancestor.

Recent research seems to indicate that the Old World vultures are most closely related to the eagles, buzzards, kites and hawks. This large group of predatory birds shares a common ancestor with the New World vultures and condors, and both groups together then share a more distant common ancestor with all falcons.

A SENSE OF PLACE: Kruger National Park’s Mopane Country

The Kruger National Park, South Africa, remains my favourite destination for wildlife photography. In particular, I am enthralled by the more densely vegetated central and northern regions of this vast, magnificent reserve. From the middle of the park northwards, the vegetation quickly becomes dominated by mopane (Colophospermum mopane) on the flatlands. Three large rivers, flanked by thick riverine bush, cut across the flat plains. The rivers and their numerous smaller tributaries allow the growth of dense woodlands and scrublands in this part of the park.

Many of the roads in the northern half of Kruger travel along the large rivers and their branches. These rivers are often dry, with wide sandy riverbeds, except after very good rainfall – sadly in more recent decades, these rivers have flooded much more frequently than customary in the past, causing extensive damage to the riverine bush flanking their banks. The gravel roads in the central and northern sections, particularly, are often narrow. They wind up-and-down through large gullies; they wind along twists and turns, following the snaking courses of the rivers. All along the way, even narrower, more hidden little loops extend from the roads to the banks of the rivers – here you get spectacular views of the wide rivers and their often high riverbanks. The roads also frequently skirt small kopjes and rock-outcrops. All-in-all, the roads of central and northern Kruger offer privacy and add a sense of mystery to any game-viewing drive.

While game sightings with photographic potential are far more rare in this part of Kruger (rather than the grassy plains and more open bushveld of much of the south-central and southern sections), when I do stumble upon a sighting, it is usually brief, intense and intimate – the way I like it. Moreover, sightings of game often happen at very close quarters – that is, if you are lucky and the game is not spooked by your approach. The winding roads, the small lookout loops and the dense vegetation always heighten my sense of anticipation. You have to scan the terrain very thoroughly – anything could be hidden behind the thick bush, massive tree-trunks, dense reeds in the riverbeds and large boulders of the kopjes. Just possibly, some spectacular animal could stroll out into the open at any moment to afford me the briefest of glimpses.

Since good sightings are infrequent and the vegetation is very dense, many photographers find the environment of the central and northern sections of Kruger less-than-ideal for wildlife photography. However, I thrive on the numerous challenges set by this part of the park. The greatest challenge is to get it right; to achieve your photographic goals here takes concentration, a lot of very hard work and time. I get much greater satisfaction if I capture just a few photographs that are good (for me, not necessarily for the ‘experts’ on social media), rather than returning with hundreds or thousands of clicked-off images of a sighting of game that lies exposed before a crowd of game-spotters and me for hours. For me personally, the greater the challenge, the more I have to work at photography, the better. It is in short, intense interactions with game that my instinctive reactions (of camera settings, composition and visualisation) allow me to attempt to capture a unique photograph.

I also relish the challenge of shooting in an unpredictable environment that shields my ‘prey’. For me, the challenge is always to show an animal in its environment; it is never the animal on its own that is important to me as an environmental photographer. To me, a successful photograph must express the ‘being’ of my ‘prey’ and must not simply be another documentary portrait of a particular species.

The numerous layers of vegetation – grasses (short and tall), shrubs, bushes, trees (the stained-glass mosaics of leaves and branches) – always test my skill at composition too. I have to consider the lines, shapes, positive and negative spaces, patterns and rhythms, and perspective – always subtle, never obvious in the bushveld – while attempting to get a complimentary composition of a subject that I am interested in photographing, a subject that invariably has no intention whatever of obliging my photographic aspirations. Add to this often cluttered, three-dimensional environment the different textures and hues of the vegetation and the ever changing fall of light and shadow. For any photographer interested in chiaroscuro (as I am) the dense bushveld of central and northern Kruger is a paradise.

In Kruger, the seasons are defined less by the calendar, more by the presence or absence of good rainfall. The bushveld-palette of the northern half of this national park changes dramatically with the seasons. Spring is a time of recovery, mixing fresh new greens of short grasses and young leaves with the bone-white of the remaining straw of the previous summer and the browns of winter. In years of good rains, summer can be overwhelmingly green throughout, until flowers and fruit appear later in this season. The colour palette of autumn is the most spectacular – the grasses attempt to out-compete each other with their display of the range of yellows; trees and bushes along the rivers compete with greens; while the mopane outshines all other vegetation with its hues of green, lemon-green, yellow, orange and deep-red. For all plants and animals, the winter is the harshest season, often extended for several months during times of drought. On the flat plains, almost all of the plants are deciduous, dropping their desiccated dark-brown leaves, and leaving behind only their twisted, tortured stems and branches to form brown-black skeletons reaching towards the cloudless sky, like supplicants, with arms raised, begging the deities for mercy.

Irrespective of the season, a host of animals are thrown into the mix of colours of the vegetation – the Big Five, the Tiny Five, the Magnificent Seven (or Eight), depending on the conversation of whichever particular crowd of game-viewers to which you are subjected. When it comes to wilderness – and only then – I am catholic. To me, Kruger is home to the Awesome Twenty-Thousand at least, and then there are still the waters of streams, rivers, pans and mud-puddles; the endless morphing realm of the clouds; the infinite earthly landscape of sand, soil, rocks and boulders of the riverbeds, riverbanks and kopjes. How could any photographer, obsessed with capturing and expressing in images the patterns and processes of our planet and its inhabitants, not fall in love with the central and northern sections of the Kruger National Park in South Africa?

Of the several million sightings of the tremendous variety of the landscape, the plants and the animals that I have been privileged to witness, the majority are recorded only in my memory. Very often – most often, in fact – I could not record on camera a fraction of beauty, a sliver of action. The moments were too sudden and too fleeting; the sightings were impeded by the dense bushveld of the central and northern Kruger; or, I simply failed to find a composition that was worth seizing.

And, it is precisely these ultimate of challenges to my own photography, my own vision of wilderness, that draw me back, again and again. The central and northern sections of Kruger hold on to their treasures; it is not easy working in this environment. Nevertheless, you can (with a bit of luck, with patience and with very hard work) be offered a very special gift – that feeling of the ethereal, that image of the fleeting moment, and that sense of place.

REMINISCENCES: Why do Bullies Always Hog the Swimming Pool for Themselves?

As a four-year-old, I came very close to drowning in a public swimming pool. It is no surprise then that as a pre-teen I was always reticent to immerse myself in deep water, be it in a swimming pool, a farm dam, a lake or a stretch of river. In my early teens, I developed into a very strong swimmer and enjoyed the wild waters tremendously. Nevertheless, public swimming baths still gave me the heebie-jeebies. The reason for this apparent discrepancy was rooted firmly in the inevitable presence at public pools of a few males intent on being noticed, thereby disrupting the peace and pleasure of others. There are always bullies at public swimming pools!

Jacqui and I had decided to visit Suikerbosrand Nature Reserve (some 50 kilometres South of Johannesburg, South Africa) for a half-day trip. We had spent a wonderful morning exploring this little gem of a reserve. On our way back to the main gate, we spotted a troop of chacma baboons foraging in some grassland flanking one of the many hills that comprise Suikerbosrand. I always stop for baboon troops – I can watch these mini-hominoids for hours on end, usually giggling all the while at their concentrated, solemn miens interspersed suddenly with comical antics.

As the morning heated up, the troop moved towards a seep-line for a drink of water from several runnels flowing between small boulders. A few youngsters discovered a tiny pool of water. One of them decided to take a dip, probably attracted by some luscious water plant stems. The troop soon decided to move on; only the youngsters remained behind at the seep, relaxing on rock slabs or playing very short games of ‘catch-me-if-you-can’.

A straggling male arrived near the seep a few minutes later. With a typical male strut (like gym-jocks, arms seemingly bent as though clutching watermelons under armpits), he moved swiftly towards the knot of relaxing youngsters. With gusto, he started chasing the youngsters off the rock slab. Next, he turned his attention on the lone dipper. The large male leaped into the water and attacked the bewildered youngster with ferocity. A young sympathiser tried to support his chum from a safe distance, without influence on the conflict.

Is bullying unique to our species? A number of scientists who study animal behaviour would claim that the answer to this question is almost certainly “No”. After all, we simply need to look at whether or not bullying is present in other species – a simple enough task, it seems. Furthermore, most of us, if asked this question, would answer that we personally have witnessed bullying behaviour in animals such as dogs, lion prides, hyaena clans, troops of baboons and vervet monkeys, for example.

Even a cursory glance at the scientific literature on animal behaviour will show that a number of ethologists claim that there is ample evidence that many animals other than humans engage frequently in bullying-like behaviours. It has been reported that bullies exist among rats and mice (usually studied in laboratories), a large host of other social vertebrate species, including most other primates.

Among baboons, bullying-like behaviours are claimed to be very common. It is alleged that baboons use actual and threatened ‘violence’ to confirm their social status within a troop and to increase their status if this is possible. The aim of the aggression is to become the most dominant animal, or at least one of the high ranking and more dominant individuals within the troop. Social dominance confers first (or a better) choice of food, mates and other resources.

A baboon troop is essentially a society of several females and their offspring living with several males. The social status of the females is based on matrilines spanning several generations. That is, all the female offspring of a dominant female have high rank within the troop bestowed upon them by their kinship to the dominant female. Inevitably, some matrilines are more dominant than other kinship groups, so that social bonds amongst the females can be quite complex. Competition over limited resources can become severe within a baboon troop (during extended droughts, for example). While it is certainly well documented that female baboons will use aggression and intimidation to gain greater access to limited resources, we need to keep in mind that the hostility usually never becomes so severe that the society itself breaks apart. Moreover, the aim of the aggressive behaviour is twofold: to gain greater access to resources and to reinforce the social hierarchy.

The social status of the males is more precarious than that of the females and is subject to change. The rank of males depends very much on age and size; males dominate everyone smaller than they are, regardless of their matrilineal rank. The recipients of the fiercest aggression are the adolescent males in the troop. In their endeavours to join the social milieu, their attempts at any form of dominance behaviour are usually reciprocated with hostility. Again, this ferocious behaviour towards the young males is not aggression or intimidation for their own sake; rather, being related to their mothers and sisters, these youngsters may not mate within the troop. The ousting from any animal society of youngsters of either sex (or both in some cases) serves to protect the society from the negative effects of inbreeding. Aggression and intimidation towards individuals on the cusp of their sexual maturity, behaviour aimed at individuals to force their departure from the society, is present almost universally in animal societies; this belligerence is thus mostly a consequence of heredity.

It is clear, then, that to work out a definite answer to the question of whether bullying behaviour exists in other animal species too is much more difficult to achieve than many ethologists claim. Bullying behaviour is an act of intention. Intentions are difficult to identify in other animals simply because we can not communicate with them. We can not ask individuals of other species about their intentions. It is often assumed in studies of animal behaviour that we do not need to know the intentions of animal individuals when we are trying to understand and interpret their behaviour; we just have to determine if the point of a particular behaviour is to achieve a certain outcome as defined by the human observer. For example, the aim of bullying would be to intimidate other individuals (so it is claimed). If we can show that an individual animal that is the perpetrator of bullying behaviour shows measurable signs of aggression (defined by the observer), and the recipient, the target of the aggression shows a measurable response to the intimidation (again defined by the observer), then we have shown that bullying has indeed taken place.

Yet, without knowing the intention, it is difficult to tell bullying apart from many other behaviours that include aggression and intimidation. Good examples among non-adults include rough play behaviour or mock fighting in adolescent animals. Is such behaviour ‘bullying’, or is this ‘play behaviour’, this ‘training’ a learning experience and necessary practice to develop physical strength and agility of movement for forthcoming fights as an adult?

There are many examples from the adult world of animal behaviour too. If a wild animal has ever charged you, you will know that the charge is meant to intimidate you. Similarly, individual animals will also threaten and displace others from a food source such as a kill or a shrub with sweet fruits on it, for example. Again, intimidation is used to achieve a particular goal – to ensure that the threatening individual receives sufficient food. Another example involves the holders of a territory, an area of exclusive use, from which they exclude other individuals by using aggression and intimidation – this is done to secure a scarce, defendable resource. Is the defence of a territory an example of bullying behaviour? Are territorial animals bullies?

The behaviour I witnessed in Suikerbosrand was clearly intimidation, plain and simple to see. Levels of aggression were high and the youngster who was the sole focus of the fierce intimidation by the older male attempted to defend itself with obvious submissive gestures. When submission failed, the behaviour changed at certain times to aggression, bared teeth, snarls, growls and howls.

And the aggressor? He simply ended up standing in the centre of the little pool of water. He did not drink, he did not munch on the juicy stems of water plants, he just yawned, exposing his fearsome canines. This lack of measurable gain from the use of all that aggression and spent energy gave rise to my suspicion that I was witnessing one of the swimming pool bullies from my youth. It certainly looks like I have not been the only primate youngster to have been bullied at a public swimming pool.

UITTREKSELS UIT: “Wie is Ek?” “Wie is Ons?” – Diere van Afrika Stel vir Jou Raaiseltjies – Reeks 1

Elke reeks bevat veertien kort raaiseltjies. Hulle word aan die jong leser gestel deur ses soogdiersoorte, vyf voëlsoorte, twee ordes insekte en een groep ‘reptiele’. Elke raaisel is geïllustreer met uitstekende fotos. Kom meer te wete oor elke spesie of groep se kenmerkende persoonlikheid, eienskappe en eienaardighede deur te probeer om die vrae te beantwoord “Wie is Ek?” en “Wie is Ons?”.

Om hierdie boekies by jou gunsteling eBoek verskaffer te kan vind, volg die skakel

https://books2read.com/ap/8NkvaJ/Tnreb-Rekabnessiev

My Naam is Galago moholi – Wie is Ek?

Ek is veral beroemd vir my springvermoë – ek klouter nie in bome rond nie, ek wip en spring van tak tot tak, van boom tot boom. Dis hoekom ek 'n lang stert het - my stert help my om my balans te hou. My stert help my ook om koers te hou terwyl ek gedurende 'n lang sprong deur die lug seil. As ek op die grond moet beweeg, omdat die bome te ver van mekaar af staan spring ek ook op my agterbeentjies in lang, hoë boë – jy sal my nooit sien hardloop nie.

My Naam is Struthio camelus – Wie is Ek?

My ma en pa is die grootste voëls op die hele aardbol. Omdat hulle so groot is kan hulle ongelukkig nie vlieg nie. My ma se vere is van 'n vaalbruin kleur. Net die vere op haar maag en sye is vaalwit. My ma lyk eintlike altyd stowwerig. My pa spog met swart vere op sy rug en vlerke – sy vere op sy maag en sye is spierwit. My pa hou daarvan om sy vlerke wyd te sprei en dan te wikkel; só spog hy met sy veredrag.

Soos jy weet vertel mense graag stories oor die diereryk. Een van dié stories is dat ek sukkel om 'n besluit te neem en dat ek liewers my kop in die sand sal steek as om 'n probleem op te los. Ek kan vir jou nou sê dat ek dit nooit doen nie. Hoekom sou dit in elk geval só wees? Ek is mos baie slim en rats.

Ons is die Dag-aktiewe Skubvlerkige Insekte van die Orde Lepidoptera - Wie is Ons?

As ons besig is om op 'n blom rond te klouter terwyl ons nektar soek, word ons lywe oortrek met die stuifmeel van blomme. So is ons verantwoordelik vir die bestuiwing en voortplanting van baie plantsoorte. Die blomme self kan nie voortbestaan as ons nie hulle nektar sou drink nie. Dit is hoe ons nog altyd met blomme saamgewerk het – hulle gee vir ons nektar en ons karwei hulle stuifmeel na 'n ander blom toe aan, maar altyd net van een spesifieke blomsoort na dieselfde blomsoort.

My Naam is Equus burchelli – Wie is Ek?

My lyf is nou nog met langer hare oortrek sodat ek nog 'n bietjie wollerig lyk. As ek ouer word sal my hare kort wees. My lyf is gestreep in wit en swart lyne. As jy mooi oplet sal jy sien dat daar ook dun ligbruin lyne tussen die wit en swart strepe loop. Van my kop af oor my nek tot by my skouers dra ek 'n maan van lang, swart hare wat altyd kiertsregop staan.

Ek het ook 'n lang stert wat met lang, swart hare versier is. Ek gebruik my stert voortdurend om stekende vlieë van my lyf af weg te hou. Mense het altyd geglo dat my strepe vir my 'n soort kamoeflering in die bos is – maar my strepe verwar eintlik die vlieë wat my bloed wil suig sodat ek minder deur dié bloedsuiers gepla word as ander wilde diersoorte.

My Naam is Merops bullockoides – Wie is Ek?

Noudat ek al baie gesels het, sal jy ook seker wil weet hoe ek lyk en wié ek is. Ek sal eers my ouers beskryf omdat hulle kleurvoller as ek is; jy onthou dat ek nog nie volwasse is nie. Vir voëls is my ouers van middelmatige grote – hulle lywe is redelik lank en slank. Die vere op 'n volwassene se rug en vlerke is 'n mooi, donkergroen kleur. Die vere aan die stert se onderkant is 'n donker blou. Die vere op die bors asook die nekvere en vere op die kop se kruin is van 'n ligte oranjebruin kleur.

My Naam is Phacochoerus aethiopicus – Wie is Ek?

My stert is lank, dun en kaal, behalwe vir 'n kwas kort hare aan sy punt. My stert word kierts-regop gehou wanneer ek draf; so kan my familie sien waar ek hardloop tussen die lang grasse en struike deur. Só sal my ma haar kinders nie maklik in die bos verloor nie. Dis nou 'n puik sisteem om mekaar te laat weet waarheen jy verdwyn het. Ek is verbaas dat nie meer diersoorte aan hierdie plan gedink het nie.

Ons is die Nie-giftige, Vierpotige Diere Met 'n Skubbige Vel van die Orde Squamata – Wie is Ons?

Voordat ons met ons raaisel kan begin, moet ons net eers 'n probleem uit die weg ruim. Julle mense het ons nog altyd ‘reptiele’ genoem, maar ons was nog nooit net een natuurlike versameling van diertjies gewees nie. Sommige ‘reptiele’, soos julle aanhou om ons te noem, is nader familie van voëls as wat hulle familie van die ander ‘reptiele’ is.

Dit is eers nóú dat die wetenskaplikes agterkom dat hulle 'n fout gemaak het om ons almal saam in een groot groep te plaas. Ons het glad geen probleem om die voëls saam in ons groep te verwelkom nie – 'n puik en ook wetenskaplik aanvaarbare oplossing! Die voëlkykers sal egter die stuipe kry as hulle agterkom dat hulle nog altyd net ‘reptielkykers’ was. Wié is ons nou eintlik?

My Naam is Haliaeetus vocifer – Wie is Ek?

Ek het ook aan die begin van hierdie raaisel gesê dat ek wêreldwyd beroemd is. Dis nou nie eintlik ék nie maar wel my ouers. Elke dag patrolleer my pa 'n lang gebied net langs ons rivier om seker te maak dat geen ander voël ons visse daar sal kom vang nie. Jy sal my pa en my ma maklik sien terwyl hulle vir ure op bome sit om ons gebied vir indringers dop te hou. My pa sweef ook gereeld in wye kringe oor sy gebied, of hy vlieg net bo die boomkrone op die rivier se wal rivier-op en rivier-af.

My Naam is Canis mesomelas – Wie is Ek?

Ek is seker dat jy al 'n storie of wat oor ons gehoor het. Die mense sê aanmekaar dat ons baie slim is, maar dat ons ook slu en agterbaks is. Ek hou glad nie van dié stories nie. Ons is wel slim en boonop is ons baie rats. Ek dink dat daar 'n paar mense is wat dié stories versprei omdat hulle nie so slim en vinnig soos ons is nie.

My Naam is Streptopelia capicola – Wie is Ek?

Dit is nou al 'n week gelede dat my sussie en ek leer vlieg het. Ek moet bely dat ek nog nie heeltemal die vliegkuns perfek geleer het nie, maar ek kan darem al in goeie, stil weer redelik goed en vinnig vlieg. Ons kinders volg nog heeltyd ons ouers as hulle kos soek – hulle deel ook nog baie van hulle kos met ons. Daar is nog baie om te leer; hoe om in die veld veilig te wees en watter kossoorte waar te vind is. Ek is opgewonde (maar ook 'n bietjie bang) dat ek oor 'n week of so my eie gang sal moet gaan – anders as by jou mag ek nie meer as drie weke by my ouers bly en van hulle afhanklik wees nie.

Ons is die Vinnigvlieënde Jagtende Insekte van die Orde Odonata - Wie is Ons?

Om die klein prooi wat ons op jag maak te kan raaksien, en om nie in iets vas te vlieg nie, het ons reuse, saamgestelde oë. Dit beteken dat elke oog baie lense het en nie net een soos dit by jou oë die geval is nie. Daarom sien ons enige beweging in die veld om ons maklik raak. Ons oë is só groot dat hulle amper die hele oppervlakte van ons koppe beslaan. Daarenteen het ons nie 'n gooie reuksin nie; ons antennatjies, of te wel voelhorinkies, is maar baie kort. Ons kan ook ons koppe draai omdat hulle deur 'n baie kort nek aan ons borsstukke vasgemaak is. Weereens kan ons die hele wêreld om ons maklik fyn dophou.

Ons is die vinnig vlieënde vername jagters van die waterkante. Om ons te sien moet jy skerp oë hê en jy moet fyn oplet. As jy weer 'n keer by 'n waterbron soos 'n rivier of dam 'n bietjie tyd kan vertoef, kyk uit vir 'n kleurvolle flits wat deur die lug snel. Dít sal een van ons wees!

My Naam is Tragelaphus strepsiceros – Wie is Ek?

Op my klein koppie spog ek al met twee kort horinkies. My ma lag altyd; sy sê dis nog nie horings nie, dis nou net kort spykertjies. Ek dink sy is 'n bietjie jaloers want sy het nooit horings gehad nie. My pa en ooms spog met die mooiste, lang, gekrulde horings. Hulle lyk soos spirale, 'n bietjie soos die kurktrekker wat jou pa gebruik om 'n wynbottel mee oop te maak. Eendag sal ek ook met 'n paar horings kan spog omdat ek 'n mannetjie is.

My Naam is Alopochen aegyptiaca – Wie is Ek?

Byna onmiddellik nadat ek en my klein sussies en boeties uit ons eiertjies gebars het, het my ma ons geroep om saam met haar dam toe te stap. Jy sou verbaas gewees het om te sien dat ek só gou kon stap en selfs kon swem – al was dit net dat ek op die water gedobber het en my pootjies gewikkel het om vorentoe te beweeg. My ma en pa het ons veilig gehou – ons het net in 'n klein vlak poeletjie gebly en ons mag nooit ver van die oewer beweeg nie sodat krokodille ons nie kon gaps nie.

My Naam is Panthera pardus – Wie is Ek?

As jy in die nag slaap is ek wakker en op jag in die pikdonker. Terwyl jy in die skool sit om meer te leer, lê ek lekker in 'n sonkolletjie en rus. As die dag warm raak hou ek daarvan om op 'n breë tak van 'n groot boom te lê en slaap. Jy sal miskien my stert sien afhang – die res van my lyf sal sommer tussen die sonkolle en skaduwees wat op die blare val wegraak.