Experts believe that fewer than 5,000 African wild dogs
(Lycaon pictus, commonly known also as the Cape hunting dog or the painted
hunting dog) currently exist in the wild, and their range has declined from 33
to 15 countries. Typically living in packs of 2 to 30 individuals led by a
dominant male and female, the largest populations now exist in Botswana,
Zimbabwe and Tanzania. Northern Botswana supports approximately 700 to 800 wild
dogs, one of only four populations containing more than an estimated 250 to 300
dogs in the whole of Africa. The Okavango Delta, where our camp (Sandibe Safari
Lodge) was located, and surrounding areas support healthy populations of all
African large carnivores and the wild dog population of northern Botswana is
the largest remaining unprotected African wild dog population on the continent.
Story by Steve Brynes.
The radio call
came in about 5:30, an hour before sundown. Sage, our driver and guide, turned
to us and, with an obvious excited edge to his voice, said, "Another car has
sighted the impala running. They are being hunted, perhaps by wild dogs. Let's
try to find them." Hearing this, Carlos, our tracker, moved from his foldable
seat on the front bumper into the 4x4 landrover, a precaution he followed
whenever we neared predators. And our hearts beat faster at the prospect of
seeing one of the African continent's most endangered animals.
A half
hour later, after innumerable bounces and jostles as we rode over Botswana's
rutted, sandy roads or through the tall grasslands that marked the end of the
rainy season (late March), we broke out onto the middle of Chitabe airstrip.
Sage turned around once again and apologized, "I'm sorry. We have seen nothing;
perhaps now, before it becomes too dark, is a good time to stop for a drink and
a snack."
As Sage repositioned the vehicle to the end of the dirt
airstrip I tried to reassure my wife, "Don't be disheartened. This is Africa
and animals, even elephants and giraffes, can almost miraculously appear and
disappear in the blink of an eye. You just never know when you'll have a great
sighting."
While Sage prepared our safari "tea," Carlos checked a nearby
bush and pronounced it safe for personal use, the cue my wife and I had waited
for. As my wife paced back and forth assessing the covering power of the bush
from every angle, I began to tend to nature. No sooner had I begun than I
spotted a pack of dogs gliding ghost-like across the airstrip in the fading
daylight. Thrilled to near carelessness, I jumped from the bush yelling to
Sage, "Dogs, dogs!" all the while zipping up. (Safari tip: Zip first, then jump
from bush to alert guides.)
Sage instructed us to return to the vehicle
immediately so we could try to follow the dogs. As we dashed back, my wife
trailed, lamenting, "But I didn't get to go!" A clear case of you snooze you
lose, safari style.
No sooner had we piled into the landrover than Sage
sped headlong into the tall grass, more in an attempt to intersect with the
pack than to follow it. Within 2 minutes, Sage brought the vehicle to a stop,
pointed about 20 feet to our left and whispered with a mixture of subdued pride
and reverence, "There are the wild dogs with their kill."
We had come upon a pack of seven dogs that
had taken down an impala. About the size of a German shepherd, the dogs have
long legs, large ears and mottled fur of browns, black and white. Two aspects
of the dogs' behavior became immediately apparent. First, they ate at a
remarkable speed, the carcass disappearing rapidly as we watched. Second, this
was no feeding frenzy, but rather an organized and well defined scene,
characteristic of the dogs' feeding style. We noticed that upon completing
their meal, the first two dogs to eat immediately left the impala to set up a
perimeter some 10 feet away, on guard for hyenas that were sure to arrive.
Indeed, when the pack finished and departed, we noticed hyenas skulking
in the heavy dusk towards the kill spot. Sage moved our vehicle and from a
short distance, we soon could hear the crunching of bones as the scavengers
went to work.
At about 5 pm of the following evening's game ride, with
the sun still fairly strong, we discovered a second pack of four dogs lying
helter-skelter in the thick grass under several trees. Other than occasionally
lifting their heads to peer curiously at us intruders, the dogs laid still,
conserving energy for the upcoming hunt. Finally, thirty minutes later, the
alpha female arose, nuzzled each pack member onto its feet, and then led the
pack off at speed.
Sage was unable to track the smaller pack and at
about 6:00, he stopped for our evening tea. As we stretched our legs and
enjoyed the spectacular African sunset, with breathtakingly colorful displays
both in the western and eastern (from reflection) skies, a herd of impala tore
across the plain about 200 yards from us. Some five minutes later we saw the
pack of seven dogs from the previous evening appear out of heavy grass.
The pack fanned out and, surprisingly, moved deliberately and
inexorably straight for us. Someone mentioned that in recorded history, there
were no confirmed reports of wild dogs attacking humans. I couldn't help
remembering Bill Murray's line from "Caddyshack" and thought, "At least we've
got that going for us." Sage must have had similar thoughts, because, as the
lead dog got to within 15-20 feet of us, he suggested, "They are just curious
about us, but you may want to consider climbing into the car."
Just then
the group edged around us and, as it did so, a noise in the grass behind them,
probably caused by a Springhare (rabbit), prompted the pack to yelp and
scatter. The tension broke, we laughed, a bit nervously really, and Sage
explained that dogs, when startled, run first and investigate
later.
At dinner that
night, Sandibe's visitors and staff were abuzz over the wild dog sightings. The
manager of the camp marveled, "You just don't understand. We go very, very long
periods without seeing a pack. If people told me they'd seen two packs and a
kill in the space of two days, I would have a hard time believing it. Even when
we encounter a pack, we don't expect to see them the following day because they
move so quickly and cover vast amounts of territory. Consider yourselves
extremely lucky."
In fact, we knew we were fortunate. Once, African
wild dogs numbered in the hundreds of thousands and were common in virtually
every environment in southern Africa except rain forests and deserts. But human
encroachment has drastically reduced their range and their numbers. They have
been widely regarded as pests; consequently, they've been poisoned, shot, and
trapped in many areas. Perhaps their most serious threat, though, is introduced
diseases. Burgeoning human populations have brought the African wild dogs into
frequent contact with domestic dogs, many of which carry canine distemper,
parvovirus and rabies. These diseases are ravaging the wild packs.
That
final night at Sandibe we counted our lucky stars. And under the pitch
Botswanan sky, with the Southern Cross and the Milky Way ablaze, it added up to
immeasurable good fortune.
Written by Steve
Brynes