  This is just so pure and wild. When you ride an African elephant that heaves through the tall grass, surrender to animal instinct, when you feel its gusty breath, hear the flap of its giant ears, when you see a herd of impala zigzag through the veld to confuse the predator. Or when you feel the food chain come alive at night, hearing the crocodile splosh into the river, dragging its prey with it even as you bite into kudu meat. And then there is the ambient reality of the croaking frog, the grunting hippo and the ceaseless cicada piercing through the heart of darkness.
We are somewhere near the unspoilt wilderness of the Okavango Delta in Botswana, very beautiful and not as doomed as the rest of Africa is usually portrayed to be. This country is peaceful, has been so under a Black majority government for the last 26 years. And although it is completely landlocked — between Namibia, Zambia, Zimbabwe and South Africa — it is a land blessed. Two big rivers, the Chobe and the Okavango, nurture all safari animals before they get gobbled up by the sand of the Kalahari. The Okavango delta is the world’s largest inland drainage system. Fed by the floodwaters of Central Africa, it fans out to cover some 16,000 sq km, forming a wetland system of beautiful palmfringed channels, lagoons and islands that support a wealth of flora and fauna. Because 70 per cent of its land mass is desert, locals treasure this slice of paradise with a guardedness that’s almost sacred. So while elephant numbers elsewhere in Africa have been decimated, they have actually grown in Botswana. A controversial water project on one of Okavango delta’s major channels has been put on hold following objections from a growing environmentalist community. And tourism has been allowed to the extent that it’s sustainable, not a mass phenomenon.
 A 20-minute flight out of Maun in a 10-seater Cessna takes us to Pom Pom camp. Flying low at about 4,500 ft above ground level, we get a good view of the inundated grasslands and spot some wildlife, clustered like dots on a weather map. Our guides — BD and Peter — pick us up at the airstrip and lead us into the camp, a 10-minute drive away. Being one of the busiest camps located in Botswana’a Okavango delta, Pom Pom is open all the year round unlike the others, which close during the monsoon. The camp is located at the edge of a lake and comprises a central lounge, bar and dining area, all made out of reed and bamboo with ethnic assortments, and tents overlooking the water. Each tent has been pegged in such a manner that the shower in each can be kept open on one side, truly giving you a feeling of being in the midst of nature. Within minutes, we get a glimpse of the many spectator sports here. A family of elephants saunters in, feeding on the trees around our tent.
 When you are on foot and meet an elephant in an open space, you’re almost doomed. First, stand still, and if the elephant charges, run as fast as you can. If you encounter an elephant in the bushes, then, if you need to run, zig-zag between the bushes and hide so the elephant loses interest. If you manage to startle a buffalo lying in the tall grass, it will most definitely charge at you. There is no other option but run, run, run and climb a tree, hoping there is going to be one nearby. If you’re extremely lucky to spot a leopard, it will almost always run away. So no worries there. However, if you meet lion cubs then they will usually approach you with wild curiosity. Their mother would often be near. If she sees that her babies come too close, she would call her husband and attack you. Running away is out of question. You should always stand still. The lioness would come up to your feet, make a few circles and make some noises like cats do. Until the cubs leave. Simple rules, aren’t they?
The babies throw themselves into the water, thumping and splashing around happily and climbing on top of each other, gambolling in their freedom. One rubs her eye with the tip of her trunk, clearly not yet accustomed to water sports. Others entwine their tails and trunks with each other for a collective dip of faith. The young are unhindered; the old stand near the water and dip their trunks occasionally, warily.
African elephants, contrary to their image, are gentle, courteous and smart. This is a regimented outing with the adult bull much in command, holding his herd with a rumble now and then, like a dormant volcano waking up. He looks the wise man, the leader of his flock, with experience etched on his parched skin and ears the size of overused raincoats. He is authoritative but not imperious. The group, that had begun to move in several different directions, regroups and falls in line. The skittish calves, who perhaps wanted to cross over to the other banks and experiment with the shrubs there, turn back midway.
 Then he decides it’s time for a snack. Fronting up to a mopane tree, he wraps his trunk around a branch and breaks it off with a snap that smacks into our eardrum and generally puts our vulnerability in perspective. He strips it with his trunk, munches with audible content and decides to catch up with the rest of the elephants.
His wobbling gait becomes a trot till he gets ahead of everybody. The babies barrel along, swinging their trunks behind him. They also get lessons along the way. The big bull touches a tortoise which looks like some crunched up leaf cluster. But his trunk tells him it’s alive. He retracts it with the distaste of a vegetarian, backs up and ambles down the trail. As soon as he’s gone, five calves converge over the hapless tortoise in imitation, their trunks hovering and wondering over it, swaying their bon bons. Eventually, they recognise the tortoise as another foreign living object in the jungle wild.
 If you want to beat stress, try being around a family of elephants. They are the most effective natural tranquilisers we’ve ever seen. Their longlashed hazel eyes are windows to large and benign souls that seem ready to befriend and forgive a species that seems intent on snuffing them out over much of the continent. African elephant populations plummeted from 1.3 million in 1979 to about 6,00,000 ten years later. The damage was concentrated in eastern and central Africa. Global campaigns thereafter spurred the formal recognition of the African elephant as threatened with extinction and led to a ban in the trade of elephant products.
We proceed for lunch, followed by a quick nap before starting out on the game drive with BD and Peter. Our first sighting is none other than a pride of five female lionesses, sharing their lives like the Joyluck club. Oblivious to our presence, they refuse to stir from their slumber and it amazes us to see how close our vehicle can go without it disturbing them or violating their “conform zone” as our guides call it. After the initial fascination, we realise it’s better to proceed to the rest of the grassland. These lions don’t look like they are going anywhere, anytime soon. We spot a hyena, ears pricked, alert eyes, its snout just visible above the tall grass.
 Even though they usually scavenge on the kills made by lions and other predators, if hyenas are hungry and motivated enough, they are known to be able to fight off a pride of lions, leopards and cheetah with relative ease.
It’s for this reason that government parks do not allow camp-outs outside of designated spots. In a rare incident once, the hyena came after a young child, who was sitting between his parents. A serious tug-of-war ensued and while fortunately the child survived, he lost his ear.
 We get off to an easy start in our motorboat. There is the option of going in the mocorro or the dug-out canoe made from the hollow trunk of what the locals call a sausage tree. It’s a single row float where you sit behind the rower. But we need to cover more distance in the delta and choose speed We manoeuver around the reeds and instead. The lake is beautiful, filled with water lilies and clumps of weeds. The pure, almost chilled water of the delta invariably surprises first-time visitors, who expect warm and swampy conditions. The slow drift of the annual flood, taking weeks to push in from Shakawe on its upper reaches to Maun on its eastern edge, causes minimal turgidity. This, combined with the very effective filtration action of the dense reed beds and papyrus groves, results in water of almost startling clarity.
Everyone loves a waterhole. Hippos wallow. Crocs lurk. Cormorants sit in the water berry trees when they’re not diving for fish, holding out their wings to dry. A group of elephant bulls stands on the bank at dusk in brotherly companionship, entwining trunks and making room for each.
 We manoeuver around the reeds and palm, hoping to find a surprise with each bend. We first come across a Jacana, also called the ‘Jesus Bird’ because it walks, rather glides on water. As we pass, saddle-billed storks and cormorants take off with a whoosh of huge wings, while a tiny whiskered tern holds its ground on a sandy island, puffing up its white breast and fixing us with its tiny, fierce bead of an eye.
Nearly all of the water in the delta is lost to gradual evaporation. We stop, check for crocodiles and take a quick swim. Drying off on the grassy bluff, we watch a tiny, bright blue, malachite kingfisher swaying on a reed. It is a surreal moment, this becoming at one with the wild, shedding your inhibitions and fears and learning the art of survival, being casual and cautious at the same time.
We then approach a stretch with a group of hippos; the corpulent submarines are immediately alert to our presence. We try to get closer for some pictures but find ourselves surrounded in a matter of minutes. Paunchy hippos may not seem very intimidating or lethal as they snort and pad about but they are responsible for the maximum number of deaths in the wetland. Everybody tells you to “never come between a hippo and the water” because it can tear a person by half if it senses intrusion. We decide it’s not worth testing their patience and almost dart out of their area. Looking back, we realise that one of the hippos is just two sneaking feet away from our boat!
 We decide to do some fishing instead. A large school of huge tilapia fish is lurking just metres away, hanging around in the hope of a free handout. It’s surely not an easy task, tempting the prey, as seven out of 10 casts get caught in the weeds and we even lose a plug. Finally, we manage to reel in a “Pike” fish. This, however, is not the end; Peter puts some thick seaweed through it and throws it back into the water. The aim is to watch and photograph the Fish Eagle swoop down and get it. We succeed in our endeavour but while the photo is not perfect, the split second moment is. The bird zeroes in like an expert lancer, hooking up the fish even before it can sense a shadow or a ripple in the water. As the bird enjoys its meal, we have breakfast on board.
between his parents. A serious tug-of-war ensued and while fortunately the child survived, he lost his ear.
All the zooming up and down the lagoon makes us soar with the birds. There’s the Maribu Stork, which looks majestic from a distance but up close, has the appearance of an ugly old man, with sparse white hairs on its head. The legs are naturally grey, but appear to look white because they’re covered in excreta. Sure enough, its spot on Botswana’s “ugly five” list is justified.
 The campwallahs space out the routine very well, knowing that all tourists are not committed researchers or conservationists but pleasure- seekers who love their epicurean delights under the sun, particularly wine and cheese. So we settle for a sumptuous brunch and an ambling siesta. It’s only when the sky turns lavender and the mellowed sun awaits to bow out that things stir up again. Peter says we will soon become the creatures of the night. We come across a family of wart hogs going back into its burrow. They go out in the bush during the day, preferring to stay in to avoid predators after dark. They burrow in with their plumpy rear and keep a lookout as they cram themselves in. There is a large number of anthills in the delta; enormous ones that are made close to trees. Once abandoned, these anthills serve as good burrows for animals like the ant eater, wart hogs and hyenas. In fact, at one time, the burrows are used by two different species of residents. Their timings are perfectly worked out. During the day, while the wart hogs are out in the bush, the hyenas sleep in.
 Once darkness seeps in, the hyenas head out in search of food and the wart hogs slip in like shift workers in a dormitory.
This is our first bush walk without a gun. BD identifies leopard tracks and we follow them till they meet footmarks by a lion. And after a few moments, we see her — a beautiful, muscular young lioness stalking a group of impala. As soon as she sees us, she runs away like lightning. We feel a little tremor under our feet when she lunges out of our vision but then realise that she is probably more scared than us. Lone lions would normally avoid people. Sensing that something might have been wrong, the impala get nervous. I am not sure they know about the lioness and the leopard. A group of zebra and a kudu showed similar behaviour. We cross show leopard’s very fresh tracks several times, but cannot spot it. Then we spot a solitary elephant.
 The night unfurls quickly without much preamble. Frogs croak loud, hippos come close, sometimes right by the camp, to keep breaking the monotony of the frogs with their loud splashes and unmistakable grunting. The distant hyenas with their hungry laughing can’t compete with either the hippos or frogs. And the cicadas never stop. To the extent that one could actually forget they are even there, their ceaseless hum a part of the night.
As we sit by the bush fire over stories and warmth, the elephants come closer again. We cannot see them but hear them wading in the water, just beyond the acacia tree lit up by the fire. This is the eerie part, you can’t see them in the darkness of the night, yet you can hear them breathe around your tent. This is how close you get.
In the morning, we spot the same herd of lions which had welcomed us, lazing around on the Pom Pom airstrip. Just then, someone radios in a leopard sighting. We immediately follow cue to find a pregnant leopard, all swollen up, sitting atop an anthill. The lithe and lightning creature must have been too tired to be completely unperturbed by our presence. We cross one of the jeeps from another camp but BD decides not to divulge our leopard sighting to the other ranger. After all, they are competition.
It’s a 20-minute flight from Pom Pom Camp over to Chief’s Island; home to the only family of rhinos in Botswana. They are obviously very hard to spot because most have been killed by poachers for their horn. The government has a breeding programme now and ensures that the horn is cut off when the rhinos are young so as to eliminate poaching. However, the poachers are unaware of this and track these rhinos for many days. When they finally do come across them, they are so frustrated to find no horn that they kill them anyway.
 Shinde Camp is spectacular, situated among a thick, forested clump. Built entirely using teak wood and the colour red, the tents are pitched on wooden stilts overlooking the open grasslands. The food is excellent, we are served everything from salmon and kudu meat to Crème Brule. This camp, too, is unfenced and we find hippo pugmarks right outside out tent. The next day too a male tromps all over the camp while his poo-markings abound over the bushes and swimming pool.
Our guide here is Keone who acts as both tracker and ranger. He tells us how an elephant has taken a fancy to his tent at night and snores so loud while sleeping that he goes sleepless!
Keone also tells us about an injured lion that has been around the camp for a few days and we drive out to see him. He’s young, about six years old. He has a mane but not too large (Lion mane grows to its fullest in about 10 years). Apparently, he had hurt his right front leg, due to which he was not really being able to hunt fast animals. Two days ago, a pride of lionesses had killed two wart hogs. They were eating one and the injured lion tried taking over the second. That’s when the lionesses fought him off and gave him a nasty blow on his already injured leg. He clearly doesn’t like being a spectacle, certainly not in his helpless state. Most definitely not when the hunter has been reduced to depending on others for food.
 Just a little further away, a terrible odour forces us to swerve away. Sure enough, it’s the body of the second wart hog the lionesses didn’t eat. It was a large kill and completely intact. Pity the injured lion could not find it. You could make out that he did get a whiff of it but was not able enough to come too far out looking.
The Lion Ant We never actually spotted them but did come across traps made by them to find smaller insects to feed on, which look like small conical shaped holes.
The rhino beetle The staff at Shinde showed us one during dinner one night. It’s an average size beetle with a specific distinguishing feature; the large Rhino horn at its mouth.
Red Billed Buffalo Weavers These birds somehow didn’t seem small enough to make it to this list.
Elephant Shrew Not spotted
Leopard Tortoise Not spotted
We spot a hyena, in one fleeting moment. Probably, he’s on the prowl for the wart hog kill. But the most powerful image of a predator is that of an owl, holding a jungle rat in his claws and eating it, the blood dripping from his beak. In the torchlight, his eyes burn a fiery yellow, like a severe monster, a creature of the night.
 Next morning, the wart hog goes missing. We assume the hyena must have taken it last night. We hear the injured lion roar. He has been roaring for a while and doesn’t stop even when we get close to him a second time. Our ranger tells us he is marking territory. He is in a very pitiable situation indeed. No food for a couple of days and no sign of him getting any either. Keone tells us that forest officials would soon be coming to take a look at him. Not too sure what they would do. Having an injured lion so close to the camp is definitely not safe, our guide tells us. Desperate as he is, he could attack anybody and in such situations they may need to put the animal down.
We don’t humiliate him further by showing pity and move ahead to the marshes where we see a lot of Red Lechwe or antelopes. It’s courtship season and we spot three frisky males trying to seek the attention of one young female. But she is distant and unaffected. She won’t oblige all too easily; condescension befits her prima donna status. Keone tells us it’s usually the male with the best stamina and perseverance that manages to mate with the female, as she usually keeps running till he is exhausted. She is clever, our lady, and flees the moment the suitors get busy sparring with one another and forget to keep tabs on her. The moment the males realise their folly, they settle down to a good round of feed.
 Near the marshes, we come across some water bucks. Contrary to belief, they move around the water but are seldom in it. When these animals die, they give off a terrible odour because of the water-proofing secretions of their sweat glands, so they have to be consumed fast. In the healthy food chain here, where predators are aplenty, we are thankfully spared such situations. For the first time, we encounter Tsessebes, a lot like Wildebeest, except they are slimmer and of smaller built.
As we continue driving through the bush, we get lucky to see a hippo walking on land. The only reason he’s left the water and come out on to land is because he is crossing over from one part of the delta to another. He doesn’t like walking about in the sun, he secretes a layer of reddish sunscreen to sheathe himself. This is a first, seeing a whole hippo up close. He moves sloppy, waddling on his stubby legs which are really short and straight, without knees. The legs seem disproportionate to the colossal weight of his barrel-like torso. Keone tells us hippos always use a fixed path when on land. He shows us one such track, narrow with a small ridge of grass in the middle. The trail may be definitive but don’t get ideas. Despite his stocky shape and short legs, he can easily outrun a human. Hippos have clocked 29 km/h over short distances! And their legendary temper is so well-known that we see a small jackal snooping around and disappear in the foliage.
The zebras seem less shy, a dazzle of them, all calm and composed. But Keone shatters more myths. They are not as innocent; when a herd is attacked by lions, the stronger ones kick out the weaker ones with their hind legs so that they fall and become easy prey. This lack of team spirit is strange, very unlike the buffaloes which stay together and protect the herd. The zebras feel it’s better to sacrifice their weakest link to save the rest of their kin. Survival is a bitter truth. And very ugly against the spectacular sunset in the delta, as if the sun is melting in the waters.
 Next morning, it’s our last game drive at Shinde and Keone decides to take us further out from the area we have been navigating. He thinks there is a chance of spotting a cheetah. We are totally game. It’s a beautiful drive as usual. We come across a troop of Chacma Baboons (the largest and heaviest baboon species) and vervet monkeys. Interestingly, they follow a strict order of hierarchy and have an extremely strong attachment to their young. There are times when the baby dies but the mother can’t come to terms with the fact and does not let go. She carries the tender body around until it finally rots and falls off!
The rangers keep an eye on everything. Keone halts to show us traps made by lion ants, conical holes in the ground where insects would fall and not be able to come out. He also pulls out “lucky beans” from a bush beside us. These are smooth, little red beans with life-saving properties. Even if you have consumed poison, just mix one of these in a glass of water, drink up and you’ll be back in the land of the living.
 We are now driving through some parts of the delta where the water is rather deep. Our jeep has a pipe so that the water doesn’t choke the engine. At certain crossings, the water literally comes up to our seats and we have to keep our legs up to avoid getting wet. Keone, used to driving in such situations, sits on the door and keeps his legs up while steering the jeep with one hand. Still, for all his deft manoeuvering, we get stuck about a quarter of the way. Keone, however, is rather resourceful. He rolls up his trousers, gets out with a massive jack and hauls up the jeep about two feet. Then marches off to get some thick branches to put under the tyres. Sure enough the project takes about 10 minutes and instead of reversing out of the patch, he goes straight ahead and crosses the marshy bit. Very impressive indeed!
We stop by a pool of water that has been drying up for refreshments and on our way back, come across the enormous Southern Ground Hornbill. Just ahead of them is a huge flock of vultures. The birds are nibbling at a carcass of a giraffe.
It’s a 10-minute flight from Shinde to Okuti. However, Okuti is part of the Moremi Game Reserve, which comes under the Botswanian government, and the rules of which are a little different. It’s located at the end of the Okavango river which then branches out into the delta.
 Our ranger for the trip, James, picks us up and we are greeted by camp managers Julius and Bee. This one is elevated on stilts with wooden bridges/ walkways connecting the rooms to the main area. We have been assigned a family room, bigger than what we’ve had so far. There’s a shower area inside as well as outside, a living room, a bedroom and a large private balcony. Must say, the luxury is tempting and we indulge ourselves before riding out at 3.30 pm. Rules mean we have to be back by 6 pm, no matter what.
We come across an enormous herd of cape buffaloes, a bulky crowd of easily 300. A couple of them pans the grasslands as the rest of the herd carries on with their grazing, glaring at us from a distance and gently guiding the others to move away without being alarmist. We get busy spotting birds but soon we are radioed in by another camp jeep on a wild dog sighting. James, who seems rather old, suddenly turns into a race car driver and hurtles down the forest with such speed that we barely hold on to dear life. But the crazy spin is nothing compared to the darting wild dogs, which manage to wallop ahead of us. At first, it seems they are just making their way around the reserve. However, a few minutes down, we see them rolling in the mud, an attempt to mask their own smell from their prey. As expected, a little ahead they turn off on to a side road and head towards a herd of impalas. They stop a short distance away and while the rest of the pack lazes around, the alpha male keenly observes the prey. Once the leader has figured out the strategy, the rest of the pack gets together and launches a sudden, combined assault on the herd. It’s bestial and powerful, watching the six dogs create mayhem, clawing on to and tearing down the rumps of their victims. They are fast but the sprightly impalas fight back, shaking off their predator in lightning speed. The dogs don’t give up, they chase the impala as they glide in various directions. James tells us that the dogs usually single out the weaker ones and tire them out. But they won’t retreat till they have got enough dinner.
 After the violent images of the evening before, the morning is a placid experience by what they call a paradise pool, bursting with birds of all kinds, from the saddle-billed stork to the various varieties of ibis. But action heats up again at sundown when we are told a pride of lions has just killed a buffalo calf a little off the road. We see the feasting party between the bushes (all eight of them) around their kill, greedily trying to grab as large a share as possible. The alpha male intervenes, making enough noise to ensure that he has the best share. He’s the king, and no matter what the effort put in by his consorts in procuring dinner, he must be served. No wonder the females and their cubs get in a squabble over whatever is left. And in 15 minutes, the family leaves nothing except the hairy tail of the little calf.
Back at the camp, we are served a traditional meal with day lilies, beef and fish, all sourced from the bushes around. We’ve clearly had our trophy, an unforgettable experience. And we realise that we’ve not just answered the call of the wild, we’ve become one with it.
The Hyena Interestingly, even though they usually scavenge on the kills made by lions and other predators, if they are hungry and motivated enough, they are known to be able to fight off a pride of lions, leopards and cheetah with relative ease.
We were told, people can come in and camp (at their own risk) inside the park. There are usually designated spots for this in the government parks. On one such incident, the hyena came after a young child who was sitting between his parents. A serious tug-of-war ensued, and while fortunately the child survived, in the bargain, he lost his ear.
The Baboon Both ugly and vicious. Usually very aggressive in camping spots where they know there is a chance of getting some easy food.
Maribu Stork Viewed from afar, it seemed strange that the Stork made to the list. But up close it has the appearance of an ugly old man, with sparse white hairs on its head. The legs are naturally grey, but appear to look white because they’re covered in excretion. Sure enough, their spot on the list is justified!
African White-backed Vulture We spotted a huge flock of these huddled by an old giraffe carcass. Definitely didn’t seem that ugly.
Wildebeest Almost always spotted in large herds as they follow the logic of safety in numbers. They have very strong hind legs and can fend off predators.
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Gaborone
Botswana
