Tag Archives: buck

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: The Bike and the Buck

Sneaking up to a buck on a bicycle shouldn’t be this easy.

An example of a reedbuck common to the region. PHOTO WIKIPEDIA

 

May 10, 2025

It was very loud and quite startling. I was alone on a bike and quite near the edge of the gorge. I had come to find a few vultures but the thermals weren’t playing ball so early yet and I didn’t want to linger, just explore a bit. I like taking detours every now and then and I know the neighbours don’t mind too much if I leave only bike tracks behind.

I had just flicked off a tick trying to crawl up my leg because the grass can be wild here. Sometimes, when you explore, you have to bundu bash a bit. I don’t like cycling on grass that isn’t actually a dirt road, but there isn’t always a choice if you’re going off the beaten track.

The main reason I like to see dirt under the tyres is for visibility. Bike wheels aren’t very high if it’s a mamba you’re meeting all of a sudden. I only imagine this, of course, because I haven’t had that terrifying experience yet and hope never to find out how fast I can ride if one ever sticks its head up out of the grass in front of me!

Anyway, this sound I heard almost made me fall off my bike. I happened to be cycling up a grassy sugar cane contour and making hardly any noise. The large reedbuck in front of me hadn’t noticed me yet. It was casually walking up the same contour in front of me and I think if I was a hunter, it would have been dead already.

I got to about 10m from it. Suddenly, it realized I was coming. Just then, I was concentrating on seeing how fast I could go towards it, so hearing a very loud shriek was an absolute shock. I thought the buck was also scared, as it had bounded further ahead. Then, I heard it again as the buck looked at me, screamed, and started running again.

Did you know that reedbucks make that high-pitched whistling, shrieking sound? I do now. I feel quite bad for sneaking up on it, but I guess both of us benefited from a little adrenaline rush to keep us on our toes. Hopefully, it’ll be wiser now so that I can see it again sometime.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Up Close and Personal With Nature

“How wonderful that we get to see these creatures right here at home, sharing this space with us.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

 

September 18, 2023

How close have you stood to a buck? Could you see the roughness of its coat shimmering in the sun as it twitched its nose at you? Could you see the concern in its bright black eyes at your proximity? I’m always surprised at how big some of them are.

The other day, I was running through the macadamias. I was on a little detour from my usual route, just on a whim. Why not? The sun was out.

A Surprise Encounter Could Have Gone Either Way

A few kilometres further, I was following the fire break’s very uneven path. It made it hard to run fast, but at least the cliffs and river made for gorgeous views. I was trying to find my way back to the main farm road to head home. I knew the general direction but it’s not easy to see over hills and around big trees for grass tracks.

Going up one steep, I had my head down. Admittedly, I was puffing and panting a bit at that point. So, I didn’t see the huge reedbuck in the bracken right next to me. It must have been lying down. And suddenly, about two metres from me, it jumped up and charged, thankfully in the other direction.

As its hooves thundered, all I could think of was how grateful I was that it wasn’t a bushbuck. Those charge at you – ask one of our neighbours who landed up in hospital!

The Antelope’s Size Up Close Is Breathtaking

I remember being in the Drakensberg as a child and suddenly finding myself at very close range to a few eland grazing by a little stream. The beasts were absolutely gigantic. I was standing near enough to see their ears flicking the flies away and the ticks on their rumps.

As an adult, I’d be standing quite a bit further away I think. Those horns and heavy bodies aren’t worth a selfie. But they’re so beautiful. I see them down the road here every now and again, but always at a distance on this game reserve’s hills.

How wonderful that we get to see these creatures right here at home, sharing this space with us. I think it might be a good idea to stick to the main roads on most other days, though. ‘Trampled’ isn’t something I hoped to have on my tombstone.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Not so secret visitors feasting in the macadamias

They’re fighting against crazy odds to survive as their natural habitat gets smaller.

Nyala bull. PHOTO WIKIPEDIA

July 15, 2023

It’s the third day in a row I’ve seen them. Three shining hazel-coloured coats with white stripes dazzling in the morning sun. They stand there in the macadamia grove, hoping we won’t see them.

Maybe if they stand dead still, we’ll pass by quickly. But they forget that their flopsy, large ears flick away the bugs all the time. And the shape of them stands out very clearly against the backdrop of natural forest that drops off sharply below them.

Somehow, they find their way up through the cliffs and forest and steep gorge slopes. They follow paths the rest of us might not even recognise as throughways, pushing past thick bush and sharp prickles and over loose rocks to get to where they’re going. They’re brazen about chomping baby mac trees, but how can they pass on such succulent treats? They’re planted neatly in rows and cleared of long grass. It’s like a smorgas board as winter dries up the natural vegetation a little in the valley below.

Longtime Residents of Oribi Gorge and Other Wild Places

Nyalas are, by far, our most beautiful natural antelope here. The bulls have the most impressive curling horns with bright orange legs sticking out beneath the dark, hairy coats.

The males are called bulls because their impressive size competes with eland and kudu and all these much larger animals. But the dainty females are called ewes, not cows. They’re not big enough to classify in the upper category like their male counterparts. At least, that’s what the game rangers have told me on trips up to Hluhluwe.

Lessons From Antelope? I’ll Take Them

Even if that’s a tall tale, I’m entranced to have these beautiful nyalas right here at home. They’re just a stone’s throw away from me, a human female who needs regular reminders that how others classify me is no concern of mine. It shouldn’t be, anyway.

These ewes-not-cows are still incredibly beautiful. They’re good mommies to the baby nyalas we see every season. And they’re fighting against crazy odds to survive as their natural habitat gets smaller and smaller thanks to development, mines, and yes, farming.

So, they can nibble our mac trees (Sssh, don’t tell the farmers!) if it means I can still watch them. Let them shining in the sunshine in fifty years’ time with the oribis, duikers, warthogs, reedbuck, and everything else.

Published here.