Tag Archives: south africa

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: Crazy Amount of Growth

The author said it’s crazy how quickly things change from season to season when you think about it.

Everything seems to grow quickly in Oribi Gorge.

April 14, 2025

That’s crazy! I was looking at a picture of when we first moved to this little farm. There was a long drive to the little house, absolutely filled with invasive lantana and triffid weed, not to mention the bugweed, wattles, and various kinds of burrs.

The ‘garden’ wasn’t much different and only had a handful of baby trees in it. No shade. Plenty of snakes, birds, and wildlife, though.

Weeds Galore!

I don’t know the right names for all the burrs, except for black jack. There are flat, half-moon shaped ones we call sweethearts. Then, there are very sticky green balls that are almost impossible to get off you whole; it takes some time.

There are things like devil thorns, which is why our children have always worn gumboots in the garden since they could walk. I might have also had snakes and scorpions in the back of my mind when sending them out onto the rough lawn in boots. I also think gumboots on tiny toddlers are the cutest.

Of course, now they’re way too farm boy-ish and hardy to wear gumboots while they play, run, climb, and dig outside. At least I saved their baby feet a bit from all the scratchy, prickly things we have growing here.

Growth Is Always Happening

The pictures from 2017 seem like a whole other world when I look out over my garden now. There’s still a long, long way to go, to be sure, but the progress is undeniable. There are now actual trees growing, still small, but getting there. There are some flower beds and paths. There are shrubs, hedges, grape vines, and flowers.

When it feels like I’m just not winning against the sweethearts and blackjacks, despite constant weeding, all I need to do is to look back at a photo from a few years ago and see how stark it was before. There’s always growth happening. There’s always progress to see.

It’s crazy how quickly things change from season to season when you think about it – including the growing boys who are fast outgrowing their shoes and their sand pit. Maybe I’ll make that sand pit into another flower bed soon. There’s no rush.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: An Ancient Artist’s Palette in an Unlikely Place

There is beauty all around.

 PHOTO BY PIXABAYMarch 4, 2025

There’s a tree I love on the highway between Harrismith and Ladysmith. I have seen it since I was a little girl, travelling home. I lived in Northern Natal for a little while and played sports sometimes in Harrismith. Even after that, we’ve made trips up to Joburg to see family, embark on planes, or visit game reserves.

Every time we come back from the highveld to the lowveld, there’s a spark. I see that big flat mountain in Harrismith and feel a tingle. Then, I see the ‘Racing Car’ mountain, which my children insist on calling ‘Hippo Mountain’, where I look for bald ibises. The little spark of joy grows because I know the descent is coming.

You have to go super slow down Van Reenen’s. Driving at 60km/h feels like trudging through clay after a few hours at 120km/h. The police assure us it’s not meant as a lesson in patience; they want us to arrive alive. Before you get to Smelly-Truck-Brake Pass, though, there’s this beautiful tree. It’s huge compared to everything else in that location, so it stands out. It’s also right next to the road.

Look Closer at the Tree As You Come To This Ancient Place

I have no idea how this tree is still standing. For 30-plus years, I’ve taped it as absolutely ancient. It hasn’t changed. The tree of my childhood memories looks just the same. It’s a gum tree, but let’s skip over the part about it being invasive and water-guzzling. It’s dazzling. It stands straight up, towering above you as you come up the hill. You can see it from quite a long way off, and as you get closer, it touches the sky.

You can’t help but notice the phenomenal composition its stripped bark reveals layer upon layer. It’s like a bored artist has taken their palette and tried to get every colour there is onto one tree trunk – pinks, greens, yellow, blues, greys, oranges, and all the fancy colour names in between that I don’t know. ‘Rainbow’ would not even come close to it.

The ibises, cranes, and ducks get to enjoy it every day. I just catch a glimpse of it when I’m coming home. Is that why it’s so captivating? I hope to ask my grandchildren one day. Will they be coming home to beautiful KZN, too? To me, home is colours on a tree and the promise of the ocean.

What’s it to you?

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom

The “Oribi Mom” Column

Newspaper Column Regularly Featured in the South Coast Herald

Since 2020, this little newspaper column has become a standard feature in the Lind household. It’s an actual newspaper – the kind that rubs off black onto your fingers – publishing our comings and goings here in Oribi Gorge.

Part of the motivation behind it was to give the Lind children something in black and white one day after we get old and don’t remember all the details. The local community here also seems to have enjoyed the offering, which tries to share our story 400 words at a time. A few neighbours and friends have appreciated some of the humour, relatability, family drama, and close encounters with nature. International readers just gasp, wondering why we choose to live in a place where Black Mambas do.

Why Oribi Mom Started

Ambitions to be a journalist in the teen years were short-lived. If you’d asked then whether we’d like to just blog for a local newspaper whenever inspiration hit, it would have seemed inferior to “real” journalism. What a crazy idea.

Fast-forward to about a month before the entire world shut down because of the COVID-19 pandemic, and the need to share our experiences felt overwhelming. At eight months pregnant, South Africa’s hard lockdown had cancelled just about everything. Things got complicated, including the smooth, quick route needed to reach the hospital three hours away.

Instead of calming soundtracks and earphones, we had to remember to pack our eldest child’s birth certificate in the hospital bag — just in case. What if the police stopped us on the highway to ask why we were out of our home when the government had expressly told everyone to stay put. We’d even rehearsed the speech to say in between contractions. “Yes, he’s our son. Yes, we had to bring him with us. No, there’s nobody to look after him at home. No, we couldn’t go to another hospital because the doctor is at the one three hours away (another long story).”

We hadn’t found much online about going through a late-stage pregnancy during a global pandemic. Nobody else crazy enough to try it? So, we wrote one. And we’ve never looked back.

Thanks for reading!

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Seven Birds a Week Challenge 2024 – Still Twitching

“Seeing a fantastic golden-breasted bunting two weeks in a row on our farm would normally have been amazing, but I can only log it once!”

Little Oribi bird watcher.

June 13, 2024

For about 20 weeks, I’ve been all self-important because my kind brother-in-law invited me into a very exclusive birding challenge. Me?

A committed non-twitcher who doesn’t really have time to devote to such whimsies right now? I said yes without hesitation because, well, I’m a bit competitive.

Enter the Birding Competition

It’s a WhatsApp group. It started with about 29 people from vastly different backgrounds – another mom, PhD students who live in the Kruger, a certain famous ex-weatherman, someone in Holland, stats enthusiasts, and so on.

All of us started together on January 1, united in one goal – find seven new birds every week that you haven’t seen yet this year. That’s one new bird every day. You can’t list the bird a second time in the year. Also, you have to have actually seen the bird in the week that you submit it.

For example, if you happen to see nine cool birds this week, you can only submit seven of them. To use the other two, you’d have to see them again the following week.

Easy, right?

Doesn’t Oribi Gorge have 250+ bird species listed? That’s at least three-quarters of the year I can stay in this challenge.

Wrong.

Stay Alive By Birding, Birding, Birding

The limit of being able to list only seven birds in a week and having no carry-overs makes this a lot harder to do.

Also, January is in South African summer, when there’s an abundance of birds on hand daily. By April or so, those birds have often migrated over to another country.

The group had submitted manually and tried to police themselves with not repeating birds. The integrity has been impressive.

My bird-loving brother-in-law has also committed time to do this admin every week, so he’s keeping things going in spreadsheets and automated bird lists.

Someone also added a stats site so that we can see cool figures, like the number of unique species logged by the group (750+ already).

I like birds. I like stats. I like travellers. I like competing. It’s fun.

But my time is almost up with not being able to travel out to birding sites. I’m too busy at home. Seeing a fantastic golden-breasted bunting two weeks in a row on our farm would normally have been amazing, but I can only log it once!

How long will I last in the 7 Birds a Week group? Stay tuned.

Still, what a way to spend these last five months. I’ve intentionally looked out of my busy life and noticed what’s out there under my nose – daily. It’s rather beautiful.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Dark-backed Weaver Friends Are Everywhere You Know

“They’ve been right there in front of us the whole time, waiting for the sun.”

Dark-backed weaver. Photo Derek Keats/Wikipedia

June 5, 2024

Have you ever heard the dark-backed weaver sing? That’s not a book title. They really have the most melodic singing you can hear for miles. It might be Oribi Dad’s favourite bird sound. Maybe because it took us a good long while to identify what bird it was coming out of when we first moved to the farm.

They’re tricky from far, especially in Echo Valley. You think it’s one tune, but when the bird flits closer, it sounds a bit different. It rises and falls, and then ends in this buzzing sort of noise, like a phone vibrating on a table. You also hardly see them in the thick bushes they sing from or if their backs are turned to you. Yet from the front and in the sun, they’re the brightest yellow – rivalling orioles and African emerald cuckoos. Against the dry winter brush, it’s really quite stunning.

Isn’t that so like some people we know? We meet them, masked in their dark brown coats with faces turned away from us. We hear their names but don’t remember. We wonder what others see in them at all. Then, one day, we hear their song and it makes us pay attention. Where is that coming from? We want to know more.

Sometimes, it takes us a while to figure out how this brown-coated interesting figure can produce such a clear and beautiful sound in the first place. Did we hear wrong? No, we think, as we hear that melody ring out a few more times. There’s something there worth discovering.

One day, we might even hear that voice and catch the owner turning to face us, just as the sun hits from over the gorge cliffs to the east. The sparkling yellow seems to light up the whole valley as the song rings loud and captivating from that tiny black beak. What a sight! What a talented package this is. How could we have missed that mesmerising beauty for so long?

It feels like that’s how friends are made sometimes. We see each other, really see each other. And we hear a song we can’t ignore any longer. Then, once we’ve seen and heard it, we suddenly start to see that person’s influence and worth everywhere we look. How could we possibly have missed it before? They’ve been right there in front of us the whole time, waiting for the sun.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Live Each Day To Its Fullest

SCH Local News | “You have the right to stay in bed even if you don’t exercise it.”

Another bright and beautiful morning in Oribi Gorge. PHOTO BY HEATHER LIND

April 14, 2024 

‘Storms to persist’ the headlines said for Human Rights Day 2024. I looked outside and confirmed that the weatherman was indeed correct about the bleak outlook for today.

The first day of the school holidays was just a normal workday for me as a freelancer. There had been a lot of questions about my rights floating around my brain that week.

The Right To Just Be Left Alone?

A potential prospector has been scuttling around our beloved part of Oribi Gorge. The notice cited lithium, and a few other things, that a big yellow demarcated area on the map is assuming might be under the ground. As if we needed yet another hard thing in our lives after losing a beloved brother recently. Grief must wait apparently for community objections to said prospectors and lots of research about the area that we don’t have time to fit into already full schedules.

Three noisy boys running around and asking for food isn’t a great environment to be reading complicated 158-page documents about mining and laws and stuff is it?

“Pay attention to the details, brain.”

If I missed something about a loophole or water use license, would we lose our home in a few years’ time? What about the animals and birds and plants? What about the endangered oribi I admired in our little field of baby macadamia trees last month? Will those trees bear fruit in five years as they should, or will the dust from an open-cast lithium mine have ended their prospects?

It’s dramatic, I know. But that’s how it feels. Storms persist. They leave for a while, but there’s always another one. That’s life.

The Right To Continue to Live Freely? Maybe

What a privilege seven years in Oribi Gorge has been. I pray there will be 70 more, with children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren too.

We are born and we die, but in between is so much life to live and so much wonder to experience. Right then, on the rainy day during which our country was celebrating human rights, it felt hard to get on board with hope and freedom. Still, the Samangos were calling in the forest just 50 metres away to remind me that I didn’t get to feel sorry for myself in bed that day or any other day that would come after it.

Miners may come. Precious species may go extinct. Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. But today is the day to get up and be human about it and to hope.

It’s our right and our joy to live each day to its fullest.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Rose Bush Is Free of Triumphant Vine

“The vine branches are the same colour and thickness as the rose branches, minus the spiny thorns that go right into tender fingers or arms.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

March 2, 2024 

That vine has come up again. The one with big leaves that grow right over my rambling rose. It twists and clings, dropping new roots as it goes. If I leave it any longer, it’s going to get those seed pods again, which is the reason it came up again this year, I’m sure.

Today, when I looked out of the kitchen window for the umpteenth time to admire my little pink roses, I couldn’t even see the bush! The vine looked triumphant. So, I left the housework, the children, the paid work, and the tea and marched outside to collect my boots, slasher and gloves. I’d had enough of that old vine.

Don the Gloves and Go For It

The gloves are an essential feature for me in this thorny, hand-slicing garden of mine. There are all sorts of stinging things, too. One day I felt something tickle my leg and swiped a bit. As I looked down there was just blood. I thought I’d squashed the fly, but it was my own blood that the nasty fly was apparently having for lunch [insert horrified emoji here]. The scar stuck around for two weeks.

The boots look ridiculous, but they’re for the night adders. Rather, I like to think of them for the night adders and not think about all the other, much worse, slithery things my feet might step on while I’m knee-deep in grass or blackjacks.

Watch Out For the Spikes and Fangs

Careful of what you grab onto. Vine snakes look like branches, and so do female boomslangs. Actually, a lot of snakes look just like branches, or leaves, or the pesky weeds that grow long tendrils over everything and push my poor plants flat down on the ground. I’m constantly pulling those out. They get little white flowers with a purple centre that are actually quite pretty, but don’t let them fool you; they take over in a matter of weeks.

With my trusty boots and gloves on, I dealt with the vine. My rose is free, though it didn’t thank me. The vine branches are the same colour and thickness as the rose branches, minus the spiny thorns that go right into tender fingers or arms. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you. At least I can see the pink blooms again.

Summer is almost over already, and the green beauty will soon disappear for a few months. Next season, hopefully, I’ll be a little more proactive about that vine earlier in the season so that I don’t have to spend an hour in the rain getting eaten by horseflies. Or maybe I’ll just have tea on the porch instead.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Slow Jogs By the Mzimkulu

“They say these birds sit in one spot for hours or even days to hunt before moving on to another prime location.”

 PHOTO BY PIXABAY

January 15, 2024

Have there been two, or maybe four, sunny days up in Oribi Gorge and Paddock since October? I’m not sure. I’ve done quite a number of runs in the rain now, which is often a squelchy, slippery experience to start the day. The distinct advantage of getting outside in this type of weather is the creatures and birds you see up close, of course.

Yesterday, I ran against a side wind with a cap to keep the drizzle out of my eyes. The mighty Mzimkulu was still all wrapped up in its fluffy cloud duvet.

First, I chased some hadedas out of the wet grass. I definitely think I got more of a fright at the four of them suddenly bursting out of the wet grass and shouting at me while they flapped furiously. When it’s rainy like this, the jog also involves continuously jumping over slugs on the road. There was even a black, tarry ‘present’ to jump over that looked like a baboon had dumped it there.

Jogging Up Close to Nature Just Sitting in the Rain

As I came up to the one section, I spotted a small silver bird on the wire. It was bigger than a dove but not nearly as big as the pair of buzzards that sit there every day. I got closer, expecting it to fly away. It didn’t. It seemed to be stretching after waking up from a nap. Maybe it wasn’t an early bird like me.

I got right under it, and saw it was a beautiful black-shouldered kite. We get them here, but not as much as I used to see when we travelled to Harrismith or Underberg. It looked so clean and fresh, probably thanks to all this rain. I considered trying to snap a photo with my very inadequate cellphone, but that would’ve scared it away I think. So, I just kept moving. It didn’t budge.

Birds and Animals Are Normal To See in Oribi Gorge If You Know Where To Look

On the way back, it was still in its spot, looking out over the field in search of breakfast. It looked more awake but didn’t fly away. They say these birds sit in one spot for hours or even days to hunt before moving on to another prime location.

I wonder what the resident jackal buzzard thinks of this feisty little competitor for dormouse, cane rat, and four-striped fieldmouse? It’s only here for some of the year, so maybe they don’t mind. I would ask the hadedas, guineafowls, and Natal spurfowls if they weren’t so loudly protesting my presence.

Published here.

Oribi Mom, Travelinds

Oribi Mom: Escape the World – Read!

“Read wherever you can, even if it’s pouring with rain.”

The privilege of reading in a campsite next to Lake Navaisha, Kenya. Photo By: Heather Lind

 

November 2, 2023

There’s not much time to read these days. It used to be easy, grabbing a book in the evenings after a day of teaching or reading a quick few pages on the subway as we travelled up to Seoul or Pyeongtaek for various reasons. The ultimate relaxation was lying on a rickety lounger or a colourful towel with salt spray in my face. I’d fliick though an old, yellowed novel that I’d found on a resort’s shelf nearby or swapped with another traveller.

A Winter Escape With Piles of Books

There was one winter holiday where we had a few days off and couldn’t stand to be in -10 degrees for another second more than necessary. So, we hopped onto the cheapest flight we could find and headed south to The Philippines. In that case, it was to an island called Virac. The flights were cheap because it was the rainy season in that area, but who cares.

We took rain jackets, quick-drying shorts, and waterproof hand luggage. It absolutely poured when we arrived, and continued to do so for the whole week we were there. Since we needed rest more than adventure for those few days, we made full use of the hut on stilts we slept in with bamboo floors and a big mozzie net. And then we found the books.

Without much Wi-Fi around, even Oribi Dad got stuck into the whodunnits, corporate thrillers, and spies on offer. Days and days and days of reading, interspersed by meals of freshly caught crayfish… I mean who can really complain about a little bit of torrential rain?

Travelling To Tropical Islands Just To Read Books? Why Not

That happened to be a world-famous surfing beach with a festival of hundreds of people in July. But in January, we saw one other family arrive the entire time we were there.

The family who owned the five huts at our ‘resort’ seemed confused about why we were there. They kept apologising for the big box of books that were still wet from flooding before we arrived. We were glad that we could contribute to their income while getting a holiday out of it ourselves. And they made the most delicious crayfish and fresh fish meals for us every day.

When I pick up a book back at home, that’s the memory it triggers. Well, that, and the many other places I’ve been privileged enough to read books in. May there be many more in this lifetime!

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Full Power of Tea Time and Toddlers

“Time to watch the sunbird and sip on a cup of hot tea.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

October 22, 2023 

I made the grave mistake of saying, “Turn the vacuum to full power please.” I immediately recognised the error of my ways. My rambunctious three-year-old’s eyes widened, sparkled, and then started to look around for something he could use to enter the roleplay.

“Full power!” “Let’s go, go, go!” “Ready?” “Full power!” “C’mon guys, it’s time to fly.” “Time to fix!” “Leeeeet’s do this!” And every other line he knows from kids’ shows, songs, and stories. It’s all about adventure, construction, transport, rescues and emergency situations these days.

A Not So Quiet Cup of Tea Among Superheroes

My quiet cup of tea that morning was to the sound of the weed eater outside backed up by the sound of the vacuum cleaner on the inside. The weed eater droned and sputtered along in a pleasant sort of way that promised shorter grass and a neater garden. The vacuum cleaner buzzed as little fingers flicked switches, vacuumed up toys for fun, and continuously turned the power up and down, up and down, up and down.

I’m always grateful that a cup of hot rooibos with lemon has such a calming effect on my senses. It’s a lifeline to have a sensory overload solution handy for these kinds of days. I know I’ll miss these loud, hands-on hours with my boys. One day, they’ll be stoic teenagers staring at their feet instead of willingly getting on with household cleaning tasks.

Will we still be able to enjoy our lovely weekend mornings on the porch? The sun comes up over the ridge, just enough to warm the seats and dry off the dew on the balustrade. Then it rises high up over the roof in the heat of the day so that you can sit in the shade and look for birds or buck in the forest, gorge and macadamia groves beyond.

Love the Quiet Moments With the Not-So-Quiet Ones

The vacuum cleaner game didn’t last too long and the weed eater faded off into the far side of the property. The mommy Amethyst sunbird that’s built her nest on the wire fish finally braved coming to feed the hatchlings again. I’ve lost count of how many broods she’s raised on our porch now. It’s nice to have another mommy close by who’s also got responsibilities.

The boys moved the roleplaying to the sandpit, and started emptying the rain tank again. But now that the lounge is relatively clean after a vacuum, there’s more time to watch the sunbird … and sip on another cup of hot tea.

Published here.