Oribi Mom: Number Three 18 Months and The Next Phase

“I wonder if the next phase is going to be just as eventful?”

It seems impossible, but here we are. The youngest of the three Oribi farm boys in our house is already eighteen months old. He is running around, navigating steps, imitating the Samango calls and climbing antics, and eating mince by himself. Well, that last one is a ‘sort of’ by himself, because a lot of it still lands up on the floor for the two dogs or the two million ants that apparently live under our home.

Eighteen months ago, we were in NICU and unsure whether we would be going home with or without him. I don’t wish that on any mother or father. Now, here we are, a world away, and trying to keep up with the shoe sizes changing every few weeks. We’ve exchanged time standing still for weeks that fly by and make you wonder how on earth the pantry can be empty again. Didn’t we just go shopping? Weren’t there two full boxes of grapes in the fridge yesterday? Farm boys are hungry boys.

One at primary school, one at playschool, and one in nappies. Three that love tractors, trucks, TLBs, jigaduzas, and crop-spraying helicopters. One that’s allergic to penicillin. Another that’s allergic to being told ‘no’.

Time Waits For Nobody, So Enjoy It

We’re two-and-a-half years down the line from the rioting that had night watch duty, and four years on from the start of the global pandemic. Did we really wear masks and avoid malls and deplete the toilet paper stocks of every shop everywhere? What a crazy few years it’s been for these particular parents of very small children. It seems like the world has not only turned on its axis but also flipped upside down a few times. I suspect that many of you can relate, even if stinky nappies haven’t been part of your recent experience.

And life goes on. It is going on.
It feels a little overwhelming to speculate what a few more years could bring when the last seven for our family have been, well, let’s call it surprising. God isn’t surprised, no doubt. For the rest of us, it’s all a bit of a rollercoaster.

I wonder if the next phase is going to be just as eventful here in Oribi Gorge. Adventure awaits, I’m sure.

Published here.

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.”

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: Escape the World – Read!

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

 

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: Full Power of Tea Time and Toddlers

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

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.

Oribi Mom: Nice Neighbourhood for Nature’s Best

“Hopefully, I’ll still be running when my boys are big enough to join me in our beautiful part of the world here in Oribi Gorge.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAY 

October 11, 2023

I finally got back to managing a 10-kilometre jog the other day. My last one was about four years ago. That’s two babies ago, depending on how you look at it.

It’s amazing being able to run in my home neighbourhood with almost nothing but farmland, birds, and wildlife.
The occasional tractor and friendly farm worker pops up, too. But mostly, it’s just me and the sky, dotted with cane fire ash and gliding vultures.

The clouds sometimes blow way over my head faster than I’m jogging, which isn’t very fast. I even saw flying guineafowls this time after a taxi scared them out of the grass. Like the hadeda, they like to scratch around by the water catchments on the side of the road. I love their distinctive sounds and comical waddling.

Lots To See in This Wild Kind of Neighborhood

On a previous run, I’d seen about six hadeda ibises fly down from a pole and chase away a water mongoose. It ran off into the cane before I could get closer. They’re really huge, at least a metre long.

My quiet runs on the tar are quite different to the crunchy farm roads I usually use. You can actually feel the vehicles coming before you see them. There are vibrations, then a kind of whining sound, and then a whoosh as it zooms past.

The UGU bus is the scariest vehicle to have coming up behind you. It’s very loud. Though, the huge cane trucks can be, too. I always hope for the best as I try to jump to the side, praying that me stepping into the long grass isn’t going to be me stepping onto a puff adder. You never know, even in winter.

Jogging Alone? That’s Perfect for Now

My baby son is not at all interested in spending time with me out there in his pram. I’ve tried a few times. All I got as a thank you for the adventure was a screaming child.

At least running alone means not having to push the big pram up the steep parts. Maybe, when he’s big, he will run with me and try to catch the water mongoose and laugh at the doves giving the jackal buzzard the beady eye.

I’ll show him the monkeys stealing cane and the pairs of stone chats guarding their perches every few metres. Hopefully, I’ll still be running when my boys are big enough to join me in our beautiful part of the world here in Oribi Gorge.

Published here.

Oribi Mom: Trying To See the Light During Loadshedding

“Just another day in paradise.”

October 7, 2023 

It was just one of those days today. Work ran late, spanning through three loadshedding sessions. I crawled into bed at about 11.15pm after showering in the dark. My baby woke up for the third time, his snotty nose making the feeding difficult for him. I could see his grazed eye and face by the moonlight, where he had launched himself onto the concrete earlier. Learning to walk is hazardous.

Down the passage, one brother was snoring like an elephant and the other was coughing again. It was so loud it just about drowned out the Scops owls and nightjars that have been calling so loudly since spring came around. The annoying roof rats are even louder at the moment.

Sleep Isn’t Easy When the Kids Are Sick

I slept on and off, but the baby was restless and the brothers were too. Then, at 1am, the baby’s cough got a bit worse. He vomited all over himself and my feather duvet.

I was so tired at this point that I just stripped him, threw the duvet on the floor, and found a blanket to crawl under with him. I would have chucked everything into the washing machine, but what good would that have done without power for the next two hours.

Only, it wasn’t two hours, or the regular four hours we’ve been having; it never came on. We woke up still in the dark three hours later with the whole area without power. No morning rooibos. No explanation.

There’s Power and Comfort in Community Life

A few residents managed to log a call before 7am, which was when the next four hours of load shedding was due to start. That puke duvet was still on the floor with the clothes and the normal pile of washing.

The fridges were off. The cellphones were almost flat. And the work day had started with laptops and Wi-Fi routers that couldn’t charge.

The baby and his brothers are still snotty. And the baking we did for school (between load shedding stints) was left behind in the confusion of the morning. That meant a turnaround and a little person very late for school.

But we did get him to school.

The dogs and kids are fed.

The sun is out.

And a certain van for electricity repairs has been spotted in the area.

There are also a few baked goods left to reward us for enduring all our challenges this week. We’ll make it to the weekend.

Published here.

Oribi Mom: Mammal Watching Dreams That Could Come True

“When we came home to South Africa, it was like a warm hug, filled with hadeda and trumpeter hornbill cries, screeching francolins and twittering prinias.”

Did you know that mammal watching is now a thing in the world? Not the safari kind we’re so privileged to have as part of growing up in South Africa, but the cousin of bird watching with lists and databases and counts and tours.

I love birds, but I’m not technically a twitcher that’s accumulating species on my life list. I haven’t seen even 1,000 of the 11,000 bird species that we have on the globe. Maybe one day.

But, this mammal watching thing is another exciting discovery for me. There are around 6,000 mammal species on earth. Lots of them are hundreds of different rodents and bats, but many of the big ones are more well-known.

South African Birds and Game Reserves Are Truly Something  Special

I’ve always loved our trips to game reserves. It’s the one thing I sorely missed when we lived in South Korea for a few years.

Aside from the magpies that supposedly eat children’s teeth (apparently, the Tooth Mouse doesn’t know where Korea is), there wasn’t much going on in the way of wildlife in South Korea. Very few birds. One dead snake. A lot fewer insects than I’m used to seeing at home, too. It felt a little sterile at times, and not in a good way.

When we came home to South Africa, it was like a warm hug, filled with hadeda and trumpeter hornbill cries, screeching francolins, twittering prinias, and the boo-boo-boop of the beautiful bou bous that like to wake up my babies in the late afternoon.

I missed our butterflies and our funny-looking grasshoppers. I missed the duikers that graze on the pavements in the cities, and the knobly warthogs that zip around with their tails up through the farms. There’s so much life here.

All We Need To Do Is Start Looking Around

Investigating the mammal watching thing has also made it even more exciting to realise how many animals are right here. South Africa has a ubiquitous striped weasel. It’s everywhere but nobody sees them much because they’re shy. Just imagine what we could find in our slice of the gorge here with some heat sensors and very large camera zooms!

Aside from more large and venomous creatures than we might care to admit, there may just be hundreds of mammals all around us, hiding in plain sight. I’ll try to open my eyes a little more while I’m running or out with the dogs at the waterfall. I’ll listen for the rustling and look up when the puff backs chirp their alarm calls. That’s how they told us about a boomslang the other day.

I could see 6 000 species of mammals and 11 000 species of birds in my lifetime. How amazing! All I need is free time, a boatload of money for travel and equipment, and a bit of luck. But maybe I’ll start with a subscription to National Geographic or something. And some more walks down into the gorge forests below my house.

Published here.

Oribi Mom: It’s Heartwarming To See Honesty Boxes

“You put your money into the honesty box that’s on the table and then go home with your beautiful plant.”

When you drive up from the nature reserve, there’s a little table of plants in front of a polocrosse field. I often get strawberry plants and other little flowers from there to spruce up my garden. They have labels with a price or just a sign that says R10 or something. And you put your money into the honesty box that’s on the table and then go home with your beautiful plant.

The boys even bought a little strawberry plant the other day for a local Gogo’s birthday. Their dad helped them deliver it to her door, and the next week she had two fresh strawberries in her pot. They also bought me a blackberry bush so that we can grow our own sweet berries to eat. It’s very prickly and I haven’t found a good place for it yet. Didn’t Farmer McGregor have a blackberry hedge that Peter Rabbit hid behind? Maybe I’ll try that.

If I’m Honest, There’s So Much To See In Oribi Gorge

The honesty table even had a geocache by it a while ago! The boys were very excited to spend an afternoon doing that with their cousins and have found all sorts of little treasures in our area here.

Plus, if we drive slowly enough, we can see the ostriches that live at the polocrosse field, a sight that really excites little imaginations. They’re spectacular birds, though it seems odd to call them that.

They’re nothing like mannikins or the lovely sunbird that’s back making her nest on my porch this year again. They can’t soar over the deep gorge and farmlands like the majestic vulture colonies we adore here. And they don’t sit still in the shadows and blend in with the green like the gorgeous Narina trogons, either.

In any case, seeing ostriches in Oribi Gorge shouldn’t come as a surprise. It’s a place that takes your breath away for many reasons, including the beauty of still being able to have an honesty box in the neighbourhood.

Don’t forget your R10 notes next time you come up here. You might get a flower or shrub for your garden to remind you of this beautiful part of the world.

Published here.

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.”

 

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: Ever-Changing Gardens for Those Who Walk in Them

“It’s time to prune in order to grow.”

 

The thorn tip that attacked my wrist is finally out, and the scratched-up wrists and arms are almost healed already. This garden is thorny, and I’ve left it quite a long time to itself with small babies growing in me, and then being on my hip these last few years.

But this time of year is the final opportunity to get things chopped and pruned and weeded while everything is dry and dying. It’s easier to pull things out. It’s also easier to see into the dense bush and tree in case there are one of the many venomous snakes hiding. We have so many here.

Blood, Sweat, and Some Tears in Our Thorny Garden

So, bleeding arms, blisters, and cut up shins are just par for the course when trying to handle lantana and the many other thorny things I’m trying to get under control.

There’s even an extremely poisonous vine that pops up, with three pronged leaves. Apparently, there are a few species around. The ones with purple flowers are okay. The orange-flowered ones have poisonous fruit and leaves, so even pulling them out is a bit treacherous.

There’s always a bit of sadness, too, at seeing the gaping holes in the garden where the weeds were or where we chop it back. But come summer, that fills in rather quickly. I’m almost through the blackjacks here now. But the moon-shaped burrs are still going crazy. They’re much harder to pull out than blackjacks, too. We’ll get there.

Looking Back, It’s Worth It

If I look back at the garden we arrived to six years ago, or rather the dense, weed-filled bush that surrounded the house, a little bit of pride pops up at how far it’s come. It’s still bushy and rough, but it’s beautiful to me. It’s growing and changing. It’s thinning out here and there and showing some results for all my hours of work.

Like our family that is growing up faster than the weeds, it’s worth the struggles and the blood. And in twenty years or so, we might look back in wonder at all the progress. I hope so.

Published here.

Oribi Mom: Shells, Shells, and Shells

“We didn’t take any shells away from our travels in these magical places; that would be against the rules.”

 

There’s something about shells that has always fascinated me. Since I can remember, I’ve felt a calm descend as I walk slowly through the sand. I glance here and there to find the prettiest, most interesting shells the beach has to offer for the day.

Sometimes, you have to look for a tiny point sticking out among grains of sand before sticking your toe in and flipping it out to reveal what’s underneath. Sometimes, it’s just a piece. Other times, it’s an unexpected masterpiece that you can’t stop looking at in your hand.

Beaches Around the World Have Shells For Us To Find

When we were on the north coast in the school holidays, seeing old dried turtle eggs on the dunes was very exciting. It reminded me about the time we arrived at a beach in Kenya for a few days with family. It was raining. We jumped out of the car after a flight and a taxi ride from Nairobi. People were running to the beach to watch tiny hatchling green turtles emerging.

Only God could have timed that for us.

Those little turtles were awe-inspiring. Working with all their might to get out from their deep nest under the sand and poking out their heads into the rainy afternoon. They were absolutely covered in sand and moving their flippers constantly to try and move forward. Slow, awkward moments made their path a long one. but they kept going until they reached the shoreline. They’re so fast once they’re in the water; unbelievably fast after watching them struggle on the beach!

Another Fantastic Beach – The Tip of the Dog’s Ear in Borneo

Two years before that, we’d spent a month in Malaysia Borneo. My Number One favourite memory was diving in to snorkel in the Coral Triangle, the same area as the world-famous dive site Sipadan. The turquoise sea is stunning when you’re on the little speed boat. But once you dip the mask down into the salty water, it’s indescribable.

Incredible.

Paradise.

Colours as you’ve never seen them and moving things everywhere you look. The mantis shrimps shimmered next to blue spotted rays and parrot fish and thousands of other creatures going about their day.

But seeing the turtles was just magical. Huge green turtles you could ride on if you could catch them – you can’t, they’re too fast! – and munching on sea grass or zipping by in the current. Hawksbill turtles, too if we were lucky, big and small.

Thankfully, the military shells around Sipadan weren’t in action while we were in the area, though we did hear shots and explosions every now and then. Apparently, it was just a normal thing and we were told to ignore the sounds and rather focus on remembering to put on sun-cream.

Don’t Take Shells, Just Memories

We didn’t take any shells away from our travels in these magical places; that would be against the rules. But we did take a big cowrie home from our favourite North Coast beach. It was one that my then-boyfriend snorkelled to find deep in the reef so that he could use it as a ring holder. But that story, involving secret sibling setups and too-long walks that almost ruined the proposal, is for another day. And we still have the shell.

Published here.

Onwards and upwards