Buy the book from Bookshop or Amazon.  

About the book:

            When a young river otter sneaks into a zoo, she wonders if she should be more like some of the other animals she meets. She wants a trunk like the elephant or to be loud like the gorilla… By imitating and comparing herself to these other animals she learns to appreciate herself. Educational components are woven throughout this fun, read-aloud story, and sidebar information complements and extends the learning, making it a perfect book for a wide variety of ages.

What inspired you to write River Otter’s Adventure? 

            Since I was a child, I’ve always thought of river otters as the children of the animal world–they genuinely love to play! As I learned more about them, I discovered so many fascinating things about them, it became a book begging to be written!   

Past

Were you a reader as a kid? If so, what did you like to read?

            Not until I was in the third grade and I discovered informational fiction, which I loved.

Interesting. I wasn’t a reader as a kid, either, and that seems unusual for many kidlit authors.

Did you write when you were a kid?

            Nope. I grew up in a family of 4 kids and we each kind of “chose” our own, separate thing. My sister was a writer. I became an artist.

How did you get started writing as an adult?

            I was raising 2 busy boys and I spent a lot of time away from home waiting on them while they did sports. I needed a take-along hobby, which I didn’t have, so I picked up a pen and a spiral bound notebook and started writing a novel for them. It took me 2.5 years, since I only worked on it in my spare time (and what mom has spare time!). During that time, I fell in love with writing. It was a great escape from the troubles of real life!

Present

What’s been the biggest surprise of your career and the projects you’ve undertaken?

            Can’t talk about that one, Jen.

He-he-he. Yeah, I guess I know that.

            So I’ll give you the second biggest surprise: I was invited to write grade-leveled, STEM-correlated comic books for children in Pakistan. I didn’t see this coming! Pakistan has one of the lowest literacy rates in the world, and I was told there’s a dearth of fun reading material for kids, so I was hired to help create that. What an honor to be a part of that!

River Otter’s Adventure launched last month, but normal book-launch activities aren’t possible with covid-19. What are you doing instead?

            This has been so hard! My husband and I have decided to be as cautious as humanly possible during this time, so that means no visits to stores or other locations, even with masks, unless absolutely necessary.

I think this is smart and considerate.

            But this poses great limitations on promoting a new book, which usually involves visits to bookstores and schools. Instead, I decided that social media was the way to go. Since my book is about river otters, I found about 30 royalty-free photos of river otters, and Photoshopped my book into it—usually in the corner of the frame, but sometimes I made it look like the little guy was holding it. It was pretty fun, and I hope cute and playful enough that my followers won’t mind seeing a new one every day for a month. Sometimes I added a funny saying, and other times I added a factoid about river otters. Since I’m active on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, that’s where I’ve posted, with an occasional “day off” to give my followers a break.

These have been great!

            I also think that inexpensive, easy-to-mail giveaways can work right now. I’ll be sending some bookmarks in time. I have a colleague who is releasing a book about teeth. I suggested that she buy some fossilized shark’s teeth through the internet, and do a contest to get a copy of her book and a tooth. What kid wouldn’t want a shark’s tooth? Unfortunately, I can’t seem to source river otters for a giveaway! Lol.

            And of course, there are still virtual school visits, which I plan to do. However, right now with school just beginning in its many forms throughout the country, I think that’s a hard one to orchestrate. I hope in November to nail some of those down, once teachers have a chance to get their feet under them and get things rolling.

Future

What is a project you’d like to create at this stage of your career, and what is a subject you’d like to write about?

            I have a never-ending passion for wildlife and conservation, so those are topics I’ll always want to write about. But I would also like to go back to that first book I wrote—the one that made me fall in love with writing, and rewrite that story, now that I am a better writer, and see if it can be published.

You have a website, and you mentioned social media. Where else can we find you on the Web?

           Last winter, I started a YouTube channel for children’s writers called “Linda Writes for Kids.” There, I share things I’ve learned over the years of being in this business. I have to confess, I fell off the posting wagon once the pandemic struck–it just took so much of my energy, dealing with that. I do look forward to getting back to it, though, and welcome people’s questions to help guide me in what topics to cover.

Tip

What one piece of advice would you offer someone interested in writing?

            Persist. Keep reading and writing. You get better by doing both. Writers often have a serious issue with “imposter syndrome,” that feeling that they aren’t really a writer because they haven’t _______ (fill in the blank–been published yet, taken certain courses, or whatever.) In truth, if you write with serious intent, you are a writer. You have every right to be here, to be working at your craft, and to be submitting your work out into the world. So persist. Work hard, and don’t give up. We all get rejection letters. That’s just part of the game. It doesn’t mean you aren’t good enough. It only means that you haven’t landed the right manuscript on the right editor’s desk.

Rapid-fire Round (Don’t think too hard about these.)

Do you eat or drink while you write? If so, what?

            Coffee, tea, and water for drinks. I don’t eat anything in particular while writing—just whatever meal it’s time for.

We’re sending a collection of art into space with the hope that aliens will someday discover it. What do you contribute and why?

             Goodness Jen. I have no idea. What comes to mind is Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Don’t ask me why, other than it’s stunning.

A book (not one of yours—or mine) you enjoyed recently:

            Recently I bought a handful of National Geographic’s “So Cool!” and “So Cute!” books—their shark, leopard, koala and panda books. These little nonfiction books ROCK! They are so clever and playful, with fun graphics, all while imparting quite a lot of facts in them. So well done!

You must write a story about something edible. What do you choose and why?

            Well, I once wrote a story about a can of green beans. Does that count?

Absolutely!

            I guess I could write about a field of wild strawberries and all the creatures that visit it. When I was growing up, there was a field behind our house, and in that field, there were huge patches of wild strawberries—the sweetest strawberries in the world. I have very fond memories of that.

If you were not a writer, what would you be?

            I’d work at the zoo in the ambassador animals program.

It’s Freaky Friday and you’re swapping bodies/lives with an animal for a week. What animal do you swap with and why?

            A cheetah. Why? I could see Africa (my little part of it anyway) and I could run like the wind.

Describe your ideal writing space:

            A mosquito-free outdoor space where there are no people talking. I’ve spent my entire summer writing on my screened patio space, and have loved every second of it!

A new-to-you activity you would like to try: 

            Batik. I tried it I high school art class, but I’d like to retry it as an adult.

You’re going on tour with a piece of performance art for River Otter’s Adventure. Describe the piece.

            Everywhere she goes, the baby otter tries to imitate the actions of the animal she’s visiting. I suppose I’d act out some of those—and I guarantee I’d invite the kids in the audience to do the same.

I can say with authority that this would be super fun and educational. While doing joint school visits with Linda in OH a few years ago, I wanted to create a moose performance piece but wasn’t sure how to execute such a thing. Linda designed a fabulous activity that conveyed the size of a moose to kids that had never seen one. It was unforgettable!

I hope you will check out the delightful River Otter’s Adventure as well as Linda’s other award-winning books.

Buy River Otter’s Adventure from Bookshop or Amazon.

Heads up! Book links are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you make a purchase through one of them. The price you pay is the same as you’d pay through any other link or going directly to the site. Thank you!

The post River Otter’s Adventure, by Linda Stanek appeared first on Jen Funk Weber.

Twelve carefully curated photos from the first half of Day 9 in the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park.

That’s right, this day is too big to contain in a single post. Even I, the heartless 12-photos-per-post-only dictator, cannot in good conscience dismiss 53 of the 65 awwwwww-inspiring and HA!-inspiring photos Mike has pulled from the collection of hundreds.

We’ll see if I can eliminate 41 of the 65.

I will also point out that this one day contains two of my Top-10 Trip Experiences.

See what I’m up against?!

Fun, Right Out of the Gate . . . or Driveway

We were hardly out of the campground—I hadn’t gotten the cameras out and situated yet—when a springbok raced away over a ridge as though its life depended on it. We looked in the direction from whence it came.

Cheetah!

And not the same cheetah we’d seen last night in this same area. She had three cubs. This cheetah had a single, larger cub who was hunting with her. They were not in hot pursuit of the speeding springbok, but they soon disappeared over the ridge, too.

Before cresting the ridge, Mama cheetah sniffed a tree, turned her butt toward it, and sprayed urine backward, surprisingly high on the trunk.

Good morning, Africa!

Foxy Silhouettes

Nearby, on the opposite side of the road, three young cape foxes played keep-away on a ridge with some coveted comestible. As the sun was just rising, it made for some lovely silhouettes.

That thick, bushy tail is something I use to distinguish foxes from jackals at a glance. Jackal tails are skinny and even scraggly.

Our Bat-eared Fox Friends

We stopped by the bat-eared fox den that is near the Rooiputs campground. Since discovering the den, we always stop by for a peek on our way out and in.

Today, one adult was lying outside the den. As we sat quietly and watched, one, two, three, then four kits popped up and out of the holes to look at us and romp around.

They wobbled and bounced on clumsy legs, chased and bit each other and various insects, rolled, and tumbled into their den holes. And of course they loved and harassed the adult while s/he dutifully kept watch.

A springbok grazed through the den site. The foxes didn’t mind.

All at once, the adult fox was on its feet. The springbok and kits turned toward the ridge, their backs to us. They froze, watching, listening.

The springbok bolted. Two kits darted down holes; the other two moved closer to a hole, ready to dive to safety.

Soon, a second adult bat-eared fox appeared on the ridge and came slowly—cautiously?—down the slope.

The adult at the den went out to meet it. The kits stayed put.

The adults approached each other slowly. The new arrival lowered its head and torso in what I would call a submissive posture. When s/he got within a few feet, s/he hurried the final distance, lying down at the resident fox’s feet. The resident fox greeted the new arrival warmly, lying down next to it, licking and nibbling its head and ears and back.

After a brief moment, one kit approached cautiously, then excitedly, quickly latching onto the new arrival to nurse.

It was such a sweet scene! And would you believe that Mike had the wherewithal to click the video button on his camera quite early, catching what lasted only a minute or two before the kits interrupted? That means you get to see this awwwwwwsome moment, too! The video is less than two minutes long. You can watch it here or over at YouTube.

Now we knew who was whom, and how they all fit together. The attentive and gentle caretaker we’d been watching was Papa.

A second kit, watching from the den, soon followed the first to Mama. Eventually, all four hung beneath her, pawing her belly.

Adult time was over. Mama was home.

The one-ear photo cracks me up. Note how torn up Papa’s visible ear is: a big notch is ripped out of the side. The invisible ear matches. Compare that to Mama’s mostly smooth ears above. This is how we can tell Papa from Mama. It also tells us Papa is scrappy.

Mama, I guessed, had been out hunting during the night, while Papa took care of the den and kits. Remember, these animals are nocturnal. Until we came here to KTP, we’d never seen them in the light of day.

Though Mama had had time off from the kits, she was nonetheless exhausted from hunting, still in need of a break. Papa, having been on duty at home, was hungry. He scratched at the hillside behind the den, scrounging an insect meal for himself before heading back into the den for a day’s rest.

When Mama ignored the kits’ requests to play and nurse more, insisting on some rest, they joined Papa, digging and hunting and playing on the hillside. He parented like a champ.

By this time, a bunch of cars had joined us, so we wound our way out of the crowd and continued on.

One of the Top 10

Not only had we enjoyed daylight views of bat-eared foxes, now we had some behavior, too— warm, fuzzy family behavior, at that. This experience is number 5 on my Top 10 list of wildlife experiences for this trip.

So far, of the Top 10, you’ve seen the following:

1. XXX
2. Lions in camp
3. XXX
4. XXX
5. Bat-eared fox family interactions
6. XXX
7. Maybe saving a scops owl adult
8. XXX
9. New species sightings: brown hyena, cape fox, cheetahs
10. XXX (Hmm. Not sure I can share this one here.)

On the Dunes

We drove over the dunes to the Auob River valley. High in the dry dunes we saw the obligatory gemsbok and steenbok.

Look at that gorgeous face: the enormous eyes framed in long black lashes, the dainty nose and black-lipsticked mouth highlighted by the white muzzle, and those gigantic furry ears with a couture branching design like leaf veins. The steenbok is one gorgeous antelope.

It is also solitary or part of a pair, an independent soul, which further endears it to me.

Along the Auob

Ground Agama

A ground agama hugs its stick. What you can’t see is the falcon in the tree above this brave fellow.

Cape Hare

It was 99°F by 10:30 am. It was going to be a scorcher. This cape hare had found shade by the road and wasn’t budging, unwilling to give up that precious commodity. Note the ruthless flies around this fellow’s nose. Ay yi yi!

Okay, who’s read Watership Down? That’s Bigwig, no? (Affiliate link alert!)

If you haven’t read Watership Down, what’s the matter with you?

Swallow-tailed Bee Eaters

Bee eaters are contenders for my favorite African birds. They come in a variety of vibrant colors. They fly fast, swooping and darting to catch insects, including bees, on the wing—as opposed to, say, stomping or pecking at them on the ground. They whack their prey on branches to kill it before gulping it down. They snuggle together on branches at night to sleep.

And look how they pop against a blue-sky background.

Ground Squirrel

And then there is the endlessly hardworking ground squirrel. Out in the cruel sun, gathering food and digging burrows that meerkats will likely steal.

To deal with the sun, they turn their backs to it, unfurl their parasol tails overhead, and flare the hairs to make a squirrel-sized bit of shade. I think this is a brilliant adaptation.

We have a running joke about Mike’s Ground Squirrel Tours because we can pretty much guarantee seeing a bunch of them, and they can be fun and interesting. Sadly, they are overlooked and underappreciated.

Moving from Rooiputs to Two Rivers

Because we were moving from the Rooiputs campground to the Two Rivers campground, we headed back to set up camp, get showers, and do some laundry. Coming up next are photos from our “evening” game drive, which include another Top 10 event—number 3, in fact. Stay tuned!

So, tell me, would you enjoy a Ground Squirrel Tour?

The post Bat-eared Fox Family Time appeared first on Jen Funk Weber.

I’m moving my website to a new host, and just like moving in real life, it’s a bit overwhelming and . . . well . . . messy. I’ve been here a looooong time—since 2006!—and I’ve accumulated a lot of stuff.

Doh! I’m so confused!

If you are getting this blog post or a notification of it via email, and you want to continue getting such emails, you need to resubscribe with a new system. I’m going to try to make it super simple for you (and for me, for that matter), but I don’t really know what I’m doing, so . . . let’s see if this works.

Do you see a form below? Fill it out and click “subscribe”!

You’re Not Done Yet

You will now receive a confirmation email, and you have to click the button in that email to finalize your subscription. I think the button says “Confirm Follow.” Whatever it says, click it.

Please do this now because after hemming and hawing and whining and dragging my feet and hiding under the bed for a month, I have finally screwed up my courage and will make the move soon, before I get scared again.

I think that’s it.

That should keep you subscribed to the blog via email after I move it.

If you don’t see a form, or if I just don’t have this right at all, rest assured I’m still here, temporarily untethered in the Web perhaps, but here. Give it a week or so and type JenFunkWeber into a search engine, and you’ll find me. The site will look different—but still with this awesome screaming-bright wallpaper because I’ve got priorities. I’m not really going anywhere; this is a virtual move only. And, yes, not especially good timing, as I’m in the middle of posting our latest Africa adventure.

I know.

Actually, maybe that’s a good ploy to keep subscribers. Maybe I’m brilliant!

Seriously, you won’t believe what happens next in Africa. It’s another first, and it’s in my Top 10 experiences for the trip. Actually, as I look at the text (gotta do pics and video, see), the next day has not one but TWO events that make my Top 10, numbers 3 and 5 in that list. It’s a good one! Stay tuned.

The post For JenFunkWeber Blog Subscribers appeared first on Jen Funk Weber.

Twelve carefully curated photos of Day 8 in the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park.

Day #8 Prequel: Dark Night #7

Last night, during a spell when we thought the lions may have moved off (they had not, but it wasn’t like we were wandering away from the truck based on that guess) we had a new eye shine down at the waterhole.

Imagine a pair of shining eyes on a black background bouncing across lyrics to a song as the song is being sung. That’s pretty much what we saw: shiny bouncing eyeballs. Can you guess what it was?

A springhare!

That’s part of why we thought the lions had gone; would a springhare risk a journey to the waterhole with lions so close? Apparently, yes. Maybe springhare, like humans, aren’t on the standard lion menu. Maybe they’re tough to catch.

We enjoyed our best-ever view of the crazy, hopping creature thanks to the tiny spotlight and binoculars. Sorry, no pics. We didn’t even try, what with the overwhelming complications of a fast, bouncing creature, tiny spotlight, inadequate camera equipment, and general ignorance about night photography.

While the springhare was springing about, two barn owls flew around the campsite, screeching.

Lions, springhare, owls . . . it was a good night!

Day 8 in KTP

Today’s wildlife drive takes us from Rooiputs up to Nossob and back. It’s a long drive.

Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park Map, from the Official Information Guide put out by South African National Parks

A Family of Night Creatures

Just out of the campground, in the earth-warming sunrise light, we discovered a family of bat-eared foxes congregated outside their den: one adult and four kits.

Bat-eared fox kits with adult, outside den, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

The kits are old enough to play outside the den, but young enough to be wobbly and uncoordinated, falling over each other and themselves. They scurried between three holes, tumbling into one and popping out another. One sought a nuzzle from the adult and was lovingly indulged. They explored tufts of grass, shrubs, and mysterious things in the dirt. It all seemed new and interesting to them.

We Interfere in a Battle

Farther down the road, I caught a glimpse of movement: a b-bop, just off the ground, talons outstretched, grasping at a smaller bird.

“Are those goshawks attacking an owl?!” I stammered, a bit panicked, sensing more than seeing what was happening.

Mike backed up the truck. He agreed with my assessment of the scene.

Two pale chanting goshawks had a small wide-eyed owl surrounded on the ground. The owl’s unpacked wings drooped by its sides. Ready to fly? Ready to swat defensively? Injured?

Pale chanting goshawk standoff with white-faced scops owl, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

One goshawk flew away the moment we stopped by the action. Now it was one-on-one. Had we leveled the playing field? The goshawk was still way bigger.

Clearly, we were interfering with nature. Most of the time, I don’t want to do that, but in this case, I did. I rationalize that I’m part of nature, too, and I was prepared to flap my own wings and make some noise or even throw a pebble to discourage the goshawks. It was their bad luck to hunt in the vicinity of me. They might be super hungry, but too bad, so sad; I was not in the mood to watch a wide-eyed owl die a vicious death.

The goshawk and owl are both hunters, i.e., killers of innocents. Why should I side with one over the other?

Well, look at those eyes.

Those eyes! White-faced scops owl. Photo by Mike Weber.

I know I’m projecting and anthropomorphizing, but those enormous eyes look pleading to my human sensibilities. And I’m a softie for the underdog. I know I’m not alone.

The goshawk and the owl stood and stared at each other and at us. Mike marked the spot on the GPS, calling it “doomed owl.” Mike was convinced the smaller animal was a goner. I . . . hoped it wasn’t. Hopelessly hopeful, perhaps, but so it was.

Eventually, the more determined hawk gave up and flew to a nearby tree, joining its mate. Still, the owl seemed stunned, maybe injured, or otherwise in a bad way. We waited.

Wonder of wonders, the little owl shoved off the ground and winged it to a nearby shrubby tree with super-thick thorny branches, some sort of acacia. It disappeared into the protective cover, and we quietly cheered, glad to have interfered. Although, maybe the owl was fine defending itself. Maybe it was winning.

But I doubt it.

Now, remember this owl. It reappears in our story later.

Another Rare Sight

Wildebeest, springbok, jackals, and ostriches hung about the Kij Kij waterhole. Farther ahead, both Barb and Mike spotted something light-colored dart into another thick, thorny bush. With so many herbivores in need of nourishment, plants have to do something to protect themselves. Almost every plant, it seems, has thorns.

Naturally, we set about finding the hiding animal. We searched and searched. Though the bush was only a few feet away, I used binoculars to look “inside” it, changing the focal length to see cross sections.

Nothing.

Behind some thick grass and under a different nearby bush, a wild cat had a good laugh at outsmarting us.

African wild cat, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

We are nothing if not persistent, though.

This one was less striped than the others we’ve seen, and in some light, it was more buff than gray, which is also a bit different.

It did, however, wear the arm band.

African wild cat in the sun, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

Once spotted, it crossed the road in front of us and got comfy in an old, fallen tree trunk right beside the road. Even with its head exposed, the chances of anyone in a passing car seeing it were slim. It seemed like a nice shady place to spend a day.

The Dry Stretch

Cruising along the sand road, during a stretch with little wildlife, when we got accustomed to our slow, relaxing speed, and maybe got a little lazy, I called out, “owl.” We stopped and rolled back.

While enjoying the adult spotted eagle owl, we eventually noticed two fluffy juveniles, tucked away in thicker parts of the tree, well hidden. As often happens, stopping to look closer revealed more and more.

Spotted eagle owl, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

We also stopped for a Kalahari tent tortoise (aka Serrated tortoise) making his/her way to shade under a thick bush,

Kalahari tent tortoise or serrated tortoise, in search of shade. Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

and a striped mouse. I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: we are seeing a ton of tiny, not-the-usual-suspects animals here. Oodles of rodents. It’s remarkable, and so I’m remarking, and will probably do so again.

Striped mouse with fly sipping from its eye, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

Note the fly sipping from the mouse’s eye. It makes my own eye twitch, and I want to flick it away. I remember constantly swinging my bandana headband back and forth across my face in Australia, warding off the flies that would land on my mouth, nose, and eyes the instant I stopped. I remember talking to Australian residents who had given up that fight, fellow campers that didn’t flinch at the flies walking along their lips and poking into their mouths.

It’s the same here in Africa, as lots of insects seek moisture and nourishment from liquids produced by other animals. It gets worse: caribou in Alaska wish they only had to deal with moisture-seeking insects rather than those plus ones that bore under their skin.

There’s a word for tear sipping: lachryphagy. I don’t know if it also applies to snot sipping and spit sipping, but I do know that insects do those things as well.

Wonky-horned Gemsbok

After our picnic lunch in Nossob, where we bought water and discovered a dead bat on the ground beneath a flag pole (had it flown into the pole?!), we started the long journey back. Not far from Nossob, we came upon a huge springbok herd, with a couple of female kudu and some gemsbok mixed in.

Where was this herd on our way north?

How do you hide a whole herd of antelope?

Sheesh!

One of the gemsbok had a wonky horn.

Wonky-horn gemsbok, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

I tend to like wonky horns, a nice reminder that nothing’s perfect, but I don’t like this one. It hugs the side of the gemsbok’s face like a microphone. When it was smaller, that was probably fine. Interesting, maybe even cute. Now, however, it’s a problem. It has grown beyond this fellow’s mouth so that it hits the ground before his mouth does, preventing him from grazing normally. Now, he has to turn his head to the side and crop grass with his side teeth. During the dry season, when grass is sparse, gemsbok browse, but they are primarily grazers.

This guy looks healthy, so he’s managing, but I can’t help but want to interfere again and saw off that wonky horn.

I didn’t, though.

White-faced Scops Owl, Part 2

Remember the wide-eyed owl that escaped the two goshawks early this morning? Remember that Mike marked the spot “doomed owl” on the GPS?

Well, on the way home, we stopped at the thick acacia tree where the owl had flown. Knock-knock, is there an owl here?

First of all, what are the chances the owl would still be there, 12 hours later? Second of all, good luck with that! Leaves and thorns wrapped the tree in a thick, protective coat.

As if that would stop us. Ha!

Barb was the first to see something feathery. She couldn’t make out what kind of feathers, though, whether they were head, tail, chest, or something-else feathers, and she couldn’t get more of the bird, but it gave me hope.

I zoomed in with the binoculars and slowly shifted the focus to see different cross sections of the tree. I’m a finder; it was a treasure hunt.

I found the base of a tail, but branches and leaves concealed the rest of the bird. I tried describing the location, “Do you see the branch with three fingers and a giant thorn between the two on the right?” Uhhhhh, no.

I tried taking a photo so I could point out precisely what I was seeing and where, but it’s terribly hard to get the digital camera to focus on something behind many layers of other things. It didn’t work.

Mike was bored and frying in the brutal sun.

But I couldn’t stop. I asked him to roll the truck forward a few feet.

“Eyes! I see eyes!”

Honestly, you’d think I’d just discovered the Grand Unified Theory.

Those huge, round, yellow, seemingly pleading eyes stared at me. I snapped a picture.

Scops owl acacia tree, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park

See it?

Lucky for us all, Mike finally did. Sitting along the same line as Barb, he was able to direct her to it, and he got a better picture.

See???? White-faced scops owl in thick, thorny tree, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber, Jen Funk Weber

Then I saw movement, down and to the right of the owl.

Criminey! A second, smaller, fluffy, sweet owlet perched beneath the adult. Ohmygoodness, I about exploded with glee. Had we saved a mama from the goshawks? Had the adult swooped in to save the young one, possibly sacrificing herself? If the mama hadn’t been spared, would the young one have died as well?

Of course, we’ll never know any of this, but it made my day to not only find the owl we may have helped out, but then to also discover more of its story, that it had a young one.

Mike, still sitting in the sun, was more liquid than solid at this point, and I was finally full-up with satisfaction, so we wished the owls well and headed home.

That would make a nice end to the day, but this is Africa, and Africa doesn’t stop.

Spotting Spots

As we approached the drive into the Rooiputs campground, we noticed a collection of cars parked all over the road just beyond the turn.

Well, what do you expect us to do?

We checked it out.

It took some looking, but I eventually found a spotted animal on the side of a ridge. I couldn’t tell immediately if it was a cheetah or a leopard, but the head was looking away, and it didn’t seem pea sized, so I hoped it might be a leopard. We have seen twice as many cheetahs as leopards in our lives now.

But it was a cheetah. Darn, right? Ha! Not just one cheetah, either, but a mama with three cubs, not teeny-tiny, but still fluffy.

It was relatively early yet, and the sun continued to rage. We’d already had a 12-hour game drive, and Mike was melted, looking forward to a cool shower. So we decided we’d pop back to camp and return to this spot around 7 PM. By then, everyone camped at Twee Rivieren—which would be almost everybody—would have to leave to make it back by curfew. Since we were camped nearby, we could spend that time watching the cheetahs sans the crowd, assuming, of course, the cheetahs stuck around. We might miss something exciting, but so be it. We’d take our chances.

At Camp

When we went back to camp, two things happened.

First, we found a group of people setting up in our campsite, #5, the crappy campsite with the great waterhole. Turns out the reservation printout listed our second campsite before our third. The dates were correct, but the latter campsite was listed first. The first and fourth campsites we had in the park bookended the middle two as one would expect. Confused? Yeah, me, too! In other words, the printout listed our 4 campsites in this order: 1, 3, 2, 4. And I just now noticed.

Tonight, we were scheduled to be in campsite 3, not 5 with the waterhole and lions, brown hyena, and springhare.

Big-time bummer! When we first moved to site #5, we were disappointed to leave #3. Now we were disappointed to move back to #3. Some people just can’t be satisfied!

I went to explain my mistake to the new residents and apologize as Mike and Barb retrieved our chairs and stuff in the A-frame. The new folks didn’t mind at all, what with being normal, sociable people. Also, they were setting up in the flat area under the trees, rather than the uneven, sun-blasted soft sand around the A-frame, far from the ablutions. Our stuff wasn’t in their way.

I felt compelled to give them a heads up about the lions, and the news didn’t thrill them. They started looking around more, which was, of course, a good idea.

We moved to site #3, which had a lovely sunset view but was mostly lionless . . . and the whole place was covered with hand-sized cat tracks!

I said two things happened at camp.

Second, a jackal and a cape hare appeared in the center of the ring of campsites. They stared at each other briefly, and then the chase was on—right around and through campsite #3. This was real: full-speed, life-and-perhaps-death chasing. Quite thrilling, to be honest, though I didn’t know who to root for.

Jackal kept up with Hare, who didn’t do any sudden turning to throw the chaser off.

They disappeared over a little hill at the edge of our campsite, which suited me fine. The end was left to my imagination, and this is how I wrapped up the scene: Jackal enjoyed a nice meal, and Hare escaped. Hooray for both of them!

Return to the Cheetahs

As planned, we headed back out at 7 PM. We got lucky. The cheetahs were still there, and it was just us and two other cars to watch.

Cheetah sitting in the setting sun, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

Mama crossed a ridge, actively hunting. She even ran a little. Not a full-on speediest-animal-on-earth run, just a getting-there run. The kittens followed at a distance. Mama looked back for them now and then, but her focus was ahead.

Three cheetah cubs, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

How do cubs know what to do? How do they know they need to follow but not get in the way? Will they step in and help at some point? How often do they ruin a hunt for Mama?

Every now and then, I thought I heard vocalizations, but I was never sure.

They all crossed the road in front of us, and at 7:25 (curfew’s at 7:30) disappeared over a ridge, out of our sight.

Time to return to camp. Six nights in the Rooiputs campground, and this is the only night we’re in the right campsite. Whoops.

The post It’s the Little Things appeared first on Jen Funk Weber.

Twelve carefully curated photos of Day 7 in the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park.

When you have an exceptional lion experience in camp first thing in the morning, or stare them down at the outhouse, how do you continue with your day? What can possibly top that?

Well, maybe nothing, but you carry on anyway because cool experiences are everywhere, and you just never know.

Half-and-Half Tree

Half-and-half tree, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

How’s that for an image to illustrate the lions and after-lions split in the day? It’s not to say that the rest of the day was dead, however.

We’re seeing a bunch of trees like this, where half is dead, but then the tree sprouts a new section and carries on.

The Usual Suspects

Big cheers to the cape fox and four jackals that followed the lions—figuratively, in this case. The show must go on, and these unsung heroes, the minor actors in the African Safari show, didn’t miss a beat.

Two jackals yipped and watched a ridge intently. Two other jackals hung around nearby, seemingly uninvolved with the yipping jackals. Were the jackals yipping about a nearby kill, calling others, or warning them off, or trying unsuccessfully to act nonchalantly? We’ve seen that yipping-at-a-kill behavior before, but here we saw no predators, no kill, no eating, no vultures.

We drove up the road to the ridge—there happened to be a road here—as near to where the jackals seemed to be looking as we could get.

Nothing.

When we drove back down, all the jackals were curled up, little furballs on the plain, snoozing in the morning sun. Finished? Waiting? Go figure.

We moved on, but a bit later, a young jackal appeared with a couple of adults in the same area. Maybe the jackals had stashed a pup prior to hunting and were yipping to bring it to them. That’s all I’ve got; that’s my best guess.

Nope, these pictures didn’t make the cut. See what I mean about unsung heroes?

Wildebeests

Not far from the jackals, a group of wildebeests and springbok grazed very near the road. We pulled over to hang out with them. So far, the wildebeests have been standoffish, and we hoped they’d ignore us and wander even closer.

Well, hello there!

They did!

Several grazed near the truck, some skirted around it in their wanderings, and some stopped and took a good, long look.

Time for wildebeest close-ups: horns, hooves, that wonderful mohawk, the weird gland below their eyes, neck stripes.

I think it’s smiling. What do you think? Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

That convex profile.

Beyond the Wildebeests

While we’re hanging with the wildebeests and the sun is rising, Mike spots something shiny on the low ridge to the right. He points it out, and we all have a look, passing around binoculars, guessing what it might be, waiting for it to move (it never did), taking photos and zooming in on the results.

Our conclusion: a space helmet.

Boring, right? Well, as we watched and evaluated the space helmet, something moved nearby. Ah-HA! A bat-eared fox! It was too far away for great photos, so you don’t get any, but it was fun to see.

When Mike got tired of looking to the right, he looked to the left, to the ridge beyond the wildebeests and springbok, where he spots something digging, under a bush, behind clumps of tall grass. Really, all that’s visible at first is a bit of moving tail.

Distant honey badger, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park. No one wants credit for this photo!

It’s a honey badger! (Tammy V., this one’s for you!)

We watched that thing trot around and dig-dig-dig all over that dune ridge, in and out of sight. That tail reminded me of warthog tails: it often stood up like a bike flag.

The lions were exciting, but dag nabbit, so are the space helmet, distant bat-eared fox, and distant honey badger, not to mention the wildebeest chewing cud within spitting distance, staring at me.

She’s Late, She’s Late for a Very Important Date?

Mike’s on fire, keyed in to all movement, near, far, and really far. He spots something way up ahead, trotting at a good clip down the narrow river valley, right toward the front of the truck and our multi-species herd. The antelope spot it, too. Some bolt out of potential harm’s way. Two wildebeests step even closer to the truck, opting to wait and see what the hasty interloper wants before expending energy.

It wants nothing here. It zips on by without slowing or looking around. Mike tracked it with his camera and managed to snap these shots, despite being on the “wrong” side of the vehicle:

No worries. She’s just playing through, mate.

Hyena in a hurry, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

Where is it going in such a determined hurry? The Kij Kij waterhole is down that way. Maybe it’s a mama who is making a quick jaunt for sustenance—or because the pups are driving her bonkers and she needs a break.

Or maybe it’s a boy.

Maybe I have an active imagination.

Looking back, I wish we had followed it, but we didn’t. We were having a good time sitting right there. Plus, we would have disturbed several wildebeests who were trusting us to be calm and cool.

B-Bops

Nature and wildlife stuff is happening all the time. We are all three nature noticers, but I don’t doubt we miss tons. This morning, in the barely light hour, this guy probably witnessed the lion scene as we did:

Pygmy falcon in the early morning, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

Initially, we believed this to be a young pygmy falcon because it looks downy, but our book informs us that adults commonly sit in bare branches of dead trees with feathers puffed out in the morning. Huh. So they do.

Young pale chanting goshawk, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

This is a hawk. We see heaps of hawks here, mostly a species called “pale chanting goshawk.” I’m lousy at identifying hawks—though I can identify the pale chanting goshawk, provided I have a decent view—so I generally fall back on “b-bop,” my own word for all such birds, meaning “black or brown bird-of-prey.”

This was simply a b-bop until birding friends in Botswana told us this is a young pale chanting goshawk. Well, I can identify the adults, anyway.

I call them pale enchanting goshawks, which my imagination loves.

Another Under-appreciated Bit Player in the African Safari Show

Whose favorite African animal—or we can even narrow it down to favorite African bird—is the ostrich?

Yeah. Not mine, either, but they are crazy interesting.

Handsome fellow, photo by Mike Weber

Those drumsticks in pink or blue tights. Those toes. Those tu-tus. Ostriches are spectacular birds.

We saw several today, including a pair with nineteen chicks! How is that possible?

Naturally, I looked it up. It’s the result of a communal nest. Those might have been the dominant male and female. Though I tend to divide ostriches into pairs, they live in groups. A dominant female will lay 8–10 eggs in the nest made by the dominant male, and subordinate females will lay eggs around the outer edge of the dominant female’s, to the tune of some 50 or 60 eggs in some cases.

We don’t have a shot of all the chicks, but we do have this, which I think is adorable:

Male ostrich with chicks, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

Those chicks will grow about a foot a month.

Speaking of Adorable . . .

Meerkat (suricate) glamour shot, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

We discovered a meerkat (suricate) colony with several members hanging out around holes right by the road. At the last colony, we caught them during the digging hour. This was the grooming hour. We witnessed some social grooming, as well as meerkatly side-by-side grooming:

Adorable AND hilarious! Photo by Mike Weber.

I think I’ll stop here and leave you with that image.

Except I can’t.

Lions, Again

I mentioned in the lion post that when we returned to our campsite that evening, we had our eyes peeled for lions. Sure enough, they’re rule followers, too, and returned to camp just before curfew.

Remember this pic?

Lions arrive in the evening, just as we return – Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

Sigh.

We needed to set up the tents, and it would be dark soon. The lions got drinks and laid down—not on the far side of the waterhole, but between us and the waterhole, some 30 or 40 feet away, maybe. Mama didn’t pay any attention to us, but the two young boys actively watched us, alert, maybe curious.

Mike figured we should carry on and set up tents while it was still light, better to do it while we could see them than when we couldn’t.

I had reservations. I had some faith in Mama, but the curious youngsters gave me pause.

Barb thought we should stay in the truck.

So . . . Mike got out, left his door open, and tested the youngsters. They watched, but didn’t budge. In time, I got out to help, leaving my door open, as well. Barb stayed in the truck and didn’t take her eyes off the lions. When Mike asked her to do something else, she and I both said, “NO!” She was already busy doing the single most important job.

The boys behaved very well. They moved once, probably a wee bit closer, if one were to measure, but it was just a getting-comfortable shift.

In the Wee Hours

In the early morning hours of what is technically Day 8 in KTP, I woke to shuffling and breathing sounds just outside our rooftop tents.

I woke Mike.

He was tempted to shine a light, but I discouraged it, and after his face-to-face not quite 24 hours earlier, I won. We just watched and listened.

As I’ve mentioned, seeing through the tent screens isn’t easy, but we could make out a lion shape at the base of Barb’s tent ladder. I could hear breathing and footsteps, too.

Through the side screen, I could see another lion shape lying six to eight feet in front of the truck. I guessed the boys were checking out the neighbors. I saw no signs of a third lion.

The lion at Barb’s ladder strolled to the front of the truck, and a bone-vibrating roar erupted.

Ohmygoodness, that was cooooool! That sound. So close! We didn’t just hear it; we felt the vibration of it.

Mike was a bit concerned, but, honestly, I was more thrilled. Setting up the tents under watchful lion eyes concerned me. This did not. I figured the roar was the result of brothers playing or one ticking off the other. I was convinced it had nothing to do with us. They were checking out this sleeping metal creature, and they were fine with it. It didn’t bother them, and they didn’t bother it.

All the same, no one was getting out of the tents at this point, so we laid back down to sleep for another hour or so. Mike worried he might snore, but I whispered that I didn’t think it was a problem: that sound is natural, like the tent flaps blowing in a breeze; it’s just the normal sound this big, white, metal animal makes.

I went back to sleep. When we woke up in the barely light morning, the lions appeared to be gone.

The post After the Lions: The Rest of the Day appeared first on Jen Funk Weber.

Allow me to interrupt Jen’s irregularly scheduled blog to relate my side of an experience that, for me, will go down as the single most vivid one of this trip. I’ll preface it by saying that one of the most common ways to see big cats in the wild (other than spotting them sleeping in the shade during the day, which is the most common way, by far) is to find them on or near a recent kill. The killing mostly happens at night, but the consuming often stretches into the morning and beyond. We’ve seen a number of lions, cheetahs, and leopards on kills over the years, savagely tearing away at some poor antelope, with bloody faces, paws and fur. So…that’s an image that’s sort of always in the back of my mind.

On this particular morning we woke early, as usual, to hit the road as soon as park rules allowed. Also as usual, I was the first to the outhouse, walking the 50 or so yards from our truck to the facilities in the morning twilight. Those facilities consist of a single pit toilet, surrounded by a circular wall of 7’ vertical wooden slats. There is no roof or door. That will figure prominently very soon.

So I do what I came to do and step out of the outhouse to return to camp. I look up… and I’m staring at a lion. And the lion is staring at me.

Lioness – Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

There is nothing between us but air and 30’ of sand. Did I mention this was a wild lion? This is where those images of lions tearing at bloody carcasses come in. I was startled, to put it very, very mildly, but luckily so was the lion. We both froze, our eyes locked for a few seconds (seemed like a lot longer), then, to my immense relief, she slowly moved off towards camp.

All well and good, but she was immediately replaced by another lion, who stopped in the same spot to look me over. By this time my brain was frantically running through escape scenarios.

Young male lion – Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

I couldn’t shut the door. There was no door. I couldn’t climb on the roof. There was no roof. I thought about climbing the wall and balancing on top, and even began searching for hand and foot holds. But, honestly, a lion could have easily reached me there. I thought I just might be able to climb over the wall and run for the neighboring campsite, which was much closer than ours. Nothing gave me much comfort.

While all this was happening, the second lion moved off. And was replaced by a third! He also stopped to check me out.

Now, I’ve stared down bears before, while hiking and camping in Alaska, but while they will occasionally hunt and kill large mammals, they mostly eat vegetation, or carrion, or small mammals like squirrels. Lions are exclusively meat eaters and regularly take down animals the size of oh, let’s say, me. Since I am now writing this story, you may have guessed that in the end, I was not, in fact, killed by hungry lions. Certainly in my mind, it was touch and go for a few seconds there, though.

Like the others, the third lion eventually turned and walked toward camp. Everything happened in no more than a minute or two, but with my mind racing, it seemed much longer. At this point I began to think about Jen and Barb back at camp, and how I could warn them of the approaching danger. I had my headlight, which has a strobe feature, so I climbed the wall and flashed my light back toward the truck. To my great relief, almost immediately I saw a flashing signal in return. Jen can now pick up the tale and explain why she was so quick to respond to my warning. Turns out her mind had been racing a bit, too.

She Says

Uh . . . yeah! A little bit!

Truth be told, I don’t love it when Mike heads off alone in dim light. I listen and look a little harder while he’s gone.

Barb and I carried on at camp. I tidied the bedding, removed everything that shouldn’t get squashed in the folded bed sandwich, and zipped up our tent. I had another glance around before coming down the ladder, but it’s hard to see through the screens on the tent, so the only good view is the roughly 180 degrees out front. And, remember, it’s twilight. Mike has a headlamp—we all have headlamps—and I shined mine around. I also had a little spotlight in my pocket, having removed it from the tent in preparation for packing.

Barb was not yet ready to hand down her pillow and sundries from her tent, so I decided I’d move our chairs to the A-frame where they would spend the day while we were gone. No point having them rattling around in the back of the truck.

As I approached the first chair by the driver’s door, I noticed eye shine bouncing back to me in the light from my headlamp. Because it’s twilight, not dark, I can also make out a face, and four legs, and a whole second lion behind the first, a short distance from the front of the truck.

Enter: adrenaline.

I was on high alert, but I wasn’t panicked. I felt safe being right by the truck. Well, I felt safe after I had a quick glance behind me. Although, I did discover a third lion ahead of these two, nearing the waterhole. I’d missed it walking by.

But there were two people who didn’t know what I knew, and it was up to me to keep them safe. My brain zipped through several thoughts at once:

Alert Barb.

Did she have her hearing aids in yet? No point whispering; the lions knew I was there.

“Barb, stay in your tent. There are lions in camp.”

“Where?” (Yep, she had ’em in.)

“In front of the truck.”

Protect Mike.

Were there more than these three lions I had in my sights? Had Mike seen them? Were there more between here and the outhouse consuming his carcass already? I hadn’t heard any shouting, growling, roaring, or tussling.

If the lions showed interest, I’d lay on the (admittedly wimpy) horn because that’s what I’d do with bears. If that didn’t dissuade them, it would at least roust the neighbors. Maybe they’d help.

Did Mike leave the truck key? (Yes.) If I had to, I’d break the still-set-up tents and barrel this truck down to the outhouse, screaming and blasting the squeaky horn. Barb would have to hang on. Hopefully, she was sitting above the truck, not sitting above the plywood overhang. She’d figure it out.

Would it be enough to save Mike?

My hyper-alert brain processed all those thoughts in about three seconds. Seriously, that thinking speed may be what dazzles me most about this experience. I was all over it, DON’TMESSWITHME,LIONS!

I had the driver’s door open, ready to do whatever I deemed necessary. When I glanced toward the ablution block, I saw Mike’s headlamp flashing a signal that I interpreted as “I’m safe” because it was accompanied by silence and because I didn’t see any movement between me and the outhouse.

I clicked the button on my headlamp three times, activating the strobe setting to return Mike’s signal, and I shined the spotlight—which, remember, I had in my pocket—on the two lions so Mike could see where they were. I lighted their way past the campsite down to the waterhole. Mike was back soon after.

All was well. The lions behaved precisely as they should.

It seems incredible, but just last night, I posed this question aloud: “Why is there a strobe setting on these lights? It’s just a pain. I hate it!”

I am not making this up. I’ve always hated the strobe. It’s a pain to always have to click past it to turn the light off. I’ve never ever used it before.

He Says

Whose story is this?

She Says

Sorry. But isn’t it funny that I asked about the strobe just last night?! It’s one of those crazy coincidences.

He Says

Yes.

Are you finished?

She Says

Yes. For now.

He Says

Having survived the experience I can say it was quite a thrill. There’s nothing like being face to face with something that very well might kill and eat you on the spot. It’s very elemental. Intellectually, I know that lions and other big cats are almost exclusively focused on their preferred prey, i.e. the various antelope they see every day. I’d guess human-eating lions are rare. But when you’re standing in the open door of an outhouse in the early morning, staring at three lions who are also staring at you, intellect is not what takes over.

After the Fact

Mike did not, in fact, take his camera to the outhouse. It was too dark for photos anyway. The lions in the photos so far are actors, not the actual lions that performed this story. However, we took photos when it got a bit lighter and recorded the scene after the fact. These are the real-deal photos.

When Mike returned to camp, and all was well, we sat in the chairs and watched the new campground arrivals.

Watching lions – Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

The lions really are in the photos above and below, but you can’t see them at this resolution, with the focus on us.

Watching lions move away – Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

Let’s zoom in on the lions. These are the real lions from the story:

Lioness and young male lion, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

They didn’t stick around very long:

Campsite lions, moving on – Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

When the lions were gone, we revisited the scene and took photos.

This photo is from inside the outhouse. Barb and I are standing on two of the lions’ tracks.

The view from the outhouse; Jen and Barb standing on lion tracks – Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

This is how the lions viewed Mike:

Mike in the outhouse door; lion tracks at the bottom of the image – Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo NOT by Mike Weber

This is the path they all took. Those are the neighbors behind the ablutions. They’re much closer to them than we are.

Lion tracks coming from the ablution block – Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

How big are those tracks, anyway?

Lion paw track compared to my hand, Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

Barb and I are standing on the tracks where I discovered the lions, passing in front of the truck:

Where the lions passed the truck – Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber,

The lions’ perspective, looking back at me.

Where the lions passed in front of the truck – Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

Well, the morning’s excitement is over, time to break camp and start our day of exploration and fun.

Are we sure there aren’t any more lions lurking about?

Watching for lions while breaking down tents – Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

The End, Not the End

Next up is Day 7 in KTP, but that’s another post. Say goodbye to the lions . . . for now.

When we returned to our campsite after Day 7, so did the they. Can you see the two lions in this picture? Those may be fence posts, but there is no fence.

Lions arrive in the evening, just as we return – Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, photo by Mike Weber

See, Mom? Nothing to worry about!

The post Safari Story: Lions, Up Close appeared first on Jen Funk Weber.