Botswana Page 7

  “Gentlemen, lunch is served,” Chocs said.

  “I hope you’re kidding,” I said.

  “No, I am not,” Chocs replied with a smile.

  “What kind of snake is it?” Wyatt asked.

  “Black mamba,” Chocs said.

  “When we were in the Kalahari, Jubjub told us black mambas are poisonous,” I said.

  “Extremely poisonous.”

  “And we’re going to eat it?” I asked, confused.

  “Absolutely. The meat is delicious!”

  Chocs explained that the venom is stored in a sack located in the back of the snake’s head. As I mentioned, Tcori had already cut off the head, so, technically, the snake was safe to eat. Tcori took his knife and made an incision along the underbelly that ran the length of the snake. Then he took a firm hold of the scaly, black skin and started to tear it off, slowly exposing more and more of the snake’s pinkish meat. For the final and most disgusting act of this performance, Tcori removed the guts with his hand and tossed them onto the ground near our feet.

  I’m not going to lie. I almost puked.

  As Tcori cooked the black mamba, its pasty meat crackling over the fire, I didn’t think I’d be able to stomach a single bite. It was disgusting just to look at it, hanging there over the fire all pink and wormlike, but then again, it was my fault we were having to grill up poisonous snake in the first place, having given away our food to the baboons and all. So, it was snake or nothing and trekking through the bush you work up quite an appetite. I was beyond exhausted and literally starting to think that I might die if I didn’t get some kind of nourishment.

  By the time the snake meat was cooked, I was so hungry my stomach hurt. Tcori cut it into six-inch sections and handed a piece to each of us. The meat had turned golden brown and didn’t look nearly as bad as it had when he first started cooking it. I’d never eaten snake, of course, so I set my portion on my lap and watched Tcori and Chocs peel strips of meat away from the bones and toss them into their mouths.

  “Mmm,” Chocs said. “Very good. Try it, Gannon and Wyatt. I think you’ll like it.”

  Wyatt and I looked at each other, neither of us believing for a single second that we’d actually enjoy the taste of snake. I mean, if snake is so good, then why don’t restaurants serve dishes like Teriyaki Python or Barbeque Rattlesnake? Reluctantly, I peeled a small strip of meat and quickly threw it into my mouth. Hard to believe, but it actually tasted decent. Okay, fine, I’ll confess. Chocs was right. The snake was delicious.

  “It tastes a lot like chicken,” I said.

  After swallowing his first bite, Wyatt agreed.

  “Not bad,” he said. “Not bad at all.”

  “Did you doubt me?” Chocs asked.

  “Of course we doubted you,” I said, and we all laughed.

  I think our enjoyment of the black mamba probably had a lot to do with the fact that we were all so hungry the bark of a baobab tree would have tasted good.

  All right, well, at least my belly’s full now, and that’s good because it’s time to get going. Some nasty thunderclouds are gathering in the sky and it’s important that we make some ground before the weather turns bad.

  WYATT

  AUGUST 28, 5:58 PM

  OKAVANGO DELTA

  20° CELSIUS, 68° FAHRENHEIT

  THUNDERSTORMS, WIND 15-25 MPH

  The rain has made it very difficult to trek any farther today and impossible to track the lioness. This is unfortunate because we were close. Just as the thunder began to rumble and clouds darkened overhead, we heard a roar in the distance. It was clear by our smiles that we were all thinking the same thing: “That’s her!”

  But just then the skies opened up and we experienced a downpour that would have sent Noah running for his ark. Not having an ark, we ran for some trees along a dried riverbed and quickly put up a tarp for shelter. Water soon flowed in the riverbed, turning the hill where we sat into a small island.

  “This will be a good place to stay the night,” Chocs said. “We’re high enough from the water that our camp won’t flood. And like the red lechwe, we can use the water to warn us of approaching predators.”

  I asked Chocs to explain.

  “Red lechwes are a species of antelope,” said Chocs. “They like to gather on islands and use the water as a warning system. As predators close in, the lechwes hear them splashing and know that danger is approaching. Lechwes are very fast in shallow water and can outrun the predator if they get a good head start. On dry land, they might not hear the predator until it’s too late.”

  “Where’s the safest place to stay when you’re trekking in the African bush?” I asked. “On an island? In a tree? On the open plain?”

  “In a hotel, if you can find one,” Chocs said, followed by that great laugh of his.

  A red lechwe on alert for predators

  GANNON

  AUGUST 29

  This morning I was sleeping like a rock and having this really awesome dream where I was on a sailboat in the middle of the ocean—which, if I had to guess, was probably brought on by the fact that we’re camped on this little bump of land surrounded by water—when Chocs came into my tent and woke me up.

  “Gannon,” he whispered. “Come out of your tent and do it quietly.”

  “What now?” I thought. “Are we surrounded by a pod of hungry hippos?”

  I put on my boots and crawled out my tent door, trying my best not to make any noise. Wyatt, Chocs and Tcori were looking up into the tree that spread out over our camp. About fifty feet above our heads was one of the most elusive creatures on earth, the leopard. Chocs later explained that leopards have sharp vision and radar-like hearing and typically flee when humans get too close and because of this it’s very rare to see one, so we were lucky. This beautiful cat seemed totally comfortable around us, though, and went about its business of grooming its spotted coat with its long, pink tongue. Still, it was nerve-racking to know that there was a big cat sitting in a tree just over our heads that could jump down in about a second flat and kill us.

  Tcori spoke, and Chocs translated. “This leopard has eaten recently,” Chocs said. “You can still see the blood around its mouth. As long as we don’t do anything to make the leopard feel that it is in danger, we’ll be okay.”

  We slowly packed up camp without saying much of anything to one another. The leopard was watching us, studying our every move. Once I was all packed up, I grabbed my camera to take some video, but when I looked back up into the tree, the leopard was gone.

  “Oh, man, where did it go?” I whispered. Suddenly, I got this eerie feeling that it was about to leap onto my back and I kept turning around to make sure it wasn’t sneaking up on me and ended up spinning around in circles so many times that I started to get dizzy. The leopard stayed hidden. We couldn’t find it anywhere. Like a phantom in the night, it had completely vanished.

  About fifteen minutes later, we were all packed and ready to start the day’s trek, when I spotted the leopard. He hadn’t disappeared after all. He’d just moved without making a sound.

  “Wyatt,” I whispered. “Turn around slowly. He’s right behind you.”

  Just across the shallow riverbed sat the leopard, licking his paw under the shade of a tree like he didn’t have a care in the world. Little rays of light were coming through the leaves. It was amazing the way the light made the leopard’s eyes glow. I sat down and balanced my video camera on my knee to keep it steady while I filmed. Wyatt backed away slowly, got his camera ready and snapped off about a million photos. Eventually the leopard grew tired of all our gawking and picture taking. He stood up casually, gave a great yawn, and strolled away.

  WYATT

  AUGUST 29, 6:51 PM

  OKAVANGO DELTA

  18° CELSIUS, 64° FAHRENHEIT

  SKIES CLEAR, WIND 0-5 MPH

  NUMBER OF PREDATORS IN A ONE-MILE RADIUS: TONS

  As I write this journal entry, I am resting against the trunk of a tree, just happy to be i
n one piece. Our bravery was just put to the ultimate test, and to be honest, I nearly cracked under the pressure. I only hope that when all is said and done, we make it out of the bush alive. But we’re beginning to push our luck.

  There are countless stories of explorers dying in Africa. The most famous story of all, Dr. Livingstone, I’ve already mentioned. But the great Dr. Livingstone wasn’t the only one. There are many others, such as Keith Johnston, the Scottish cartographer, who died of dysentery in the first weeks of his expedition to map the central lakes of Africa. Then there’s Mungo Park, who was attacked by natives and drowned while attempting to chart the course of the Niger River. Another forty men on Park’s expedition died from complications of malaria.

  The list goes on—Clapperton, Lander, and Tuckey, just to name a few. We don’t have to worry about bloodthirsty tribesmen these days, but there are other skillful killers that still wander these parts. Namely, lions.

  When you are trekking through the bush, the high, golden grasses provide a perfect camouflage for lions. You could trip over a lion before you ever saw it. And today, we nearly did just that.

  As the four of us were moving slowly across the delta, Tcori lifted his hand, signaling for us to stop. I watched curiously as he surveyed the area. It seemed like he detected something, but looking around I saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then, as if it appeared out of nowhere, a male lion rose up out of the grass just twenty feet from us.

  When a lion is staring you in the face, your instinct tells you to turn and hightail it out of there as fast as you can. But I knew that running from a lion is hopeless. A human can’t outrun a lion, and running will only encourage an attack.

  The lion was disturbed and growled ferociously. Tcori took small steps backward and signaled us to do the same. But when we followed his lead, the lion grew even more aggressive and charged. Gannon was the closest to the lion, and it went right for him. Chocs quickly lifted his rifle and took aim. I held my breath and could hardly stand to watch. Just when I expected to see the lion leap at Gannon’s throat, it stopped dead in its tracks. A mock charge, just as Chocs said lions often do. But that didn’t mean we were safe. The lion was still agitated and considering its options. Attack or just back away? Chocs kept his finger on the trigger, ready to fire if the lion moved any closer.

  Gannon remained perfectly still. How he kept his calm in the face of what seemed like certain death is beyond me. He was actually smiling at the lion, much like a dog owner smiles at his golden retriever. Maybe Gannon understood that his fate was in the hands of the lion, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. Either that, or he was scared stupid. I’m going to guess the latter. But either way, he did exactly what he was supposed to do, and it saved his life.

  Tcori waved his arm, attracting the lion’s attention. When the lion turned to him, Gannon, Chocs, and I slowly backed away. Tcori spoke softly in his native language, and the lion followed him. When the lion moved uncomfortably close, Tcori would swat at it with the tip of his bow. This would send the lion scampering, but he was curious and kept coming back.

  Tcori’s bravery was nothing short of heroic. The fact that he would risk his own life to save ours, people he hardly knew, was very noble. I watched in awe as he continued to lure the lion away, until finally it lost interest and walked off, disappearing into the grass.

  The male lion before he charged

  GANNON

  Well, I totally blew it! I could have gotten the most amazing lion footage ever, but when that lion popped up out of the grass, I was so scared I couldn’t even lift my arms, and when he ran at me, oh, jeez, I totally froze and my brain just shut down like a bolt of lightning had struck it and blown out all the circuitry. Maybe I was in shock. Who knows, but after the lion put on the brakes and was just standing there, looking at me, my brain started firing again, like the power had been restored, and I realized it had been a mock charge and I was just thinking, okay, kitty, don’t worry about me, I’m no threat, look, I can’t even move, good kitty, good kitty…

  And what can I say about Tcori? The man faced down the king of beasts and saved my life. He’s my hero!

  Anyway, having just survived this whole crazy ordeal, I’m thinking the worst is behind us. I mean, it has to be! Then again, when you’re in the bush, I guess you can never be certain of anything.

  PART III

  THE MOST DANGEROUS PREDATOR OF ALL

  GANNON

  LATE AT NIGHT

  Trekking through the delta, it’s real easy to overlook the one species that’s way more dangerous than a rhino or hippo or a leopard or even a lion. The species I’m talking about is humans.

  As we came to the top of a bluff, Chocs spotted a small camp hidden in the forest.

  “Stay low and move quietly,” he said. “We’re going in for a closer look.”

  My stomach was in knots as we crept through the bush like soldiers approaching an enemy encampment. Chocs was in the lead with his rifle drawn and cocked and ready for whatever we might encounter. It wasn’t easy moving through that thick brush and my clothes kept getting caught in the bushes and my face and hands were getting all scraped up.

  When we came to the edge of the bushes, we could see the camp clearly just ahead of us. There was a green tarp stretched between two trees and a fire pit had been dug in the dirt and inside the pit, embers were still smoldering. Obviously, someone was in the camp, or very close by. Chocs ordered us all to get down on our stomachs and we waited for what seemed like years, just lying there in the dirt, watching for any sign of life. But we didn’t see anything or anyone and I quietly hoped that Chocs and Tcori could take in all they needed to see from where we were and that we could get the heck out of there pronto, but, of course, that didn’t happen. They decided that we should take a closer look around and told Wyatt and me to follow them.

  There was a terrible stench in the camp, the stench of death. I pulled my shirt up over my nose it was so bad. There was no doubt about it: This was the poacher’s camp!

  We uncovered all kinds of awful things that had been hidden from view—there was a pile of elephant tusks buried under some brush and a leopard skin hidden in the shrubs, but most gruesome of all were the bloody rhino horns that Chocs discovered in a shallow pit. We had only one thing to be positive about. There were no dead lions, so we still had a chance to save the lioness and her cubs.

  As I walked around camp, I couldn’t help but think of the poor animals that had been killed by this evil person and wondered how in the world someone could do such a thing and I suddenly felt really, really sad, just thinking about these beautiful animals that had recently been roaming the delta with their families, free, the way they should be, and now they were dead. That kind of cruelty is just beyond me and the more I thought about it the more my sadness turned to anger. Something had to be done. This man needed to be punished for his terrible deeds and it was up to us to stop him before he killed again.

  We knew we didn’t have much time. The poacher could return at any moment, so we worked quickly to take down his camp. Wyatt went to work with his GPS and once he had the camp’s coordinates, Chocs radioed them to Jubjub, who then sent the information to the authorities. Next we took all of the tusks, skins, and horns, loaded them onto a tarp and dragged them away from the camp. We purposely traveled over shrubs and grass, avoiding the sand so our footprints would be less obvious. It was hard work, and once we were about a quarter mile or so from camp we hid everything under a pile of shrubs. We decided that taking these things might keep the lions safe for a while because the poacher would obviously be irate when he found his camp ransacked and instead of hunting the lioness he would hunt the people who had taken his remains.

  Just after we hid the last of the tusks, we saw a flashlight moving in the distance. We quickly shut off our own lights and took cover but apparently not soon enough. The poacher had spotted us and immediately opened fire. There was a rapid series of explosions. I dove to the ground and covered my ears
. It was almost completely dark out, but the poacher’s bullets were landing close. One even splintered a tree branch right next to me. I was terrified and buried my face in the dirt, trying to get as low to the ground as I possibly could. Bullets tore through the shrubs all around us. I thought we were goners for sure.

  Chocs told us to follow him and stay low and we crawled on our stomachs through thick mud, slithering like snakes as bullets whizzed overhead. Just past a dune, the land sloped into a dry riverbed and we slid down the backside into a protected area where we could stand up and run for safety. One thing’s for sure: I’ve never run so fast in my life! Fortunately, the poacher didn’t follow.

  We continued on through the brush and tried to stay low and navigate the dark without the use of our flashlights. We did this for what felt like several hours, the only help in our navigation being the pale light of the moon. Finally, we stopped for the night. We’re hiding in a small clearing that’s surrounded on all sides by thick bushes.

  “Sorry, my friends,” Chocs said, after we’d all collapsed on the ground from exhaustion. “No tents or campfire tonight. We must stay out of sight. It’s likely that the poacher is tracking us. Try to get some sleep. We’re moving out before sunrise.”

  It’s safe to say that I will not sleep at all tonight. Don’t know what time it is. Don’t want to know. Just want morning to come. That’s why I took out my journal in the first place, to pass time. Sitting in these bushes, most of the moonlight is blocked and I can hardly see what I’m writing, but aside from flicking away the bugs that are crawling all over me, there isn’t a whole lot else to do.

  I’m trying to keep my spirits up, and that’s a tall order. Morale is definitely low. And we’re hungry. My stomach growls just at the thought of food. Wyatt told me the human body can survive up to six weeks without eating, but I can hardly go six hours without feeling like I’m on the brink of starvation. I think I’ll try to relax and focus on the sounds that echo through the bush at night. It’s beautiful, the sound of Africa at night. The animals and insects create a natural symphony. So peaceful … if only we weren’t being hunted by a poacher.