A bush walk in Kruger National Park must rank among the finest of nature experiences. At Berg-en-Dal rest camp, you can enjoy all the excitement of hiking in the wild without leaving the camp.
Berg-en-Dal's Rhino Trail is about 2km. After leaving the picturesque Berg-en-Dal dam and its viewing sites, it hugs the perimeter of the camp, passing different vegetation, scenery, and vantage points for game-watching. On a recent visit to what is my favourite camp in Kruger, I traversed this trail repeatedly - and every outing brought a new experience.
After the good rains, the dam is expansive. The waters have created a wide vlei, filled with water birds, hippo and crocodiles, all of which can be studied at close quarters through the Rhino Trail's fence. I had not enjoyed close encounters with many of the bird species on offer so it was fascinating to get to know the African jacana, for example.
There's much more to the jacana than its quaint chestnut/blue/white costume. For a start, it can walk on water like few other birds - those huge "feet" and claws make moving around on water lily leaves and floating vegetation a piece of cake.
On the Rhino Trail, I was lucky enough to see three chicks - still blandly coloured for maximum camouflage - following what I thought was their mother over the lily leaves.
"No, it's the father," said a friendly fellow hiker (you meet and chat to so many strangers on the trail). And indeed he was right: the jacana is polyandrous.
For those readers who missed the travel editor's recent thoughts on the subject in The Star, and even here in Zumaland still do not know what polyandering means, let's put it simply: it's having more than one spouse at a time.
So, in the jacana's case, the hapless and ever-faithful male not only has to incubate his lady love's eggs but also tend the chicks while she is off flirting for another husband or three.
It was fascinating to see how the jacana dad crouches down with his wings spread and how the furry chicks (barely the size of a chicken egg) instinctively know to shift under the wings to be lifted. I felt sorry for the hardworking father. It should have taken a leaf from our president's book: male polyandering is so much better.
But then Kruger does funny things to people. One morning, it even made me rise before dawn. This idea (which led to much inner turmoil) came because I wanted to experience the Rhino Trail at sunrise. Setting off in the gloom, the skulls of various game species placed along the trail looked decidedly foreboding, but the trio of francolin ahead seemed unperturbed so I forged ahead as, in words poetic, Africa awoke.
If birds need time to rub the sand out of their eyes before starting their day, the sandpipers and white-faced duck on the other side of the water seemed to be doing just that. Standing motionless, it looked as if they had put their alarms on "snooze" for just a few precious minutes more.
The dam itself was a picture of beauty that time of the morning - as the sun rose its still waters reflected the hills around like a gigantic mirror. In a far-off corner, a bold jacana nonchalantly walked on top of an enormous hippo, which did not seem to mind. Perhaps it was a polyandering female looking for a man at sunrise?
A lady in slippers joined me, carrying a cup of coffee. "My family's still asleep. I love the dam this time of the morning, don't you?" she asked. I heartily agreed, as if being up at 5.45am was old hat for me.
Later that day, the Rhino Trail produced unusual drama. A fairly large water leguan must have somehow found a hole in the fence and was trying to remember where the opening was, frantically bashing at fence gaps not much bigger than its head to get back to the water as hikers approached.
The sight of this slithering dragon was clearly offputting to some overseas walkers, who were not entirely convinced by my assurance that it would be safe to pass.
Summer brings the wonderful woodland kingfishers to Kruger and a slow walk along the Rhino Trail is almost guaranteed to produce a glimpse of that shimmering turquoise vision flying overhead.
The lilting, continuous "yimp-trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" call will stay with you long after you return to suburbia.
I was also fortunate enough to spend time with a pair of colourful purple-crested touracos (louries), watched a beautiful oriole gobbling up a worm, accidentally chased a lovely tree squirrel up a tree, and was warmed by the domestic bliss of a pair of Egyptian geese, the bird world's most conspicuous monogamists (the till-death-do-us-part opposite of polyanderers).
One exciting afternoon, the Rhino Trail produced two elephants. First, a bull making his way close to the fence, obviously revelling in the lush green vegetation around the dam; and later another solitary bull coming down to drink from the dam itself. I was at the fence photographing the first elephant, no more than 10m away, when a sudden eruption of sound at the fence made me jump.
Five waterbuck, faced with an enormous ellie to their left, and a not so enormous man on their right, decided to pass close to the latter. Later I saw them blissfully enjoying the waters and grazing - bull's eye bums protruding from the grass.
Berg-en-Dal's Rhino Trail has its places of pathos: the commemorative plaque erected by a family for their young ranger son killed by a leopard, the bench erected by the family of an old couple who lived for Kruger.
The first part of the trail is wheelchair friendly and the informative signs along the walk are also in Braille. However, I think it's time the sponsors of the signs, the Lions movement, raised some more funds to revamp the fast-fading words before the soccer crowds arrive.
Berg-en-Dal is delightfully different. Apart from the superior accommodation (here you can really enjoy privacy), it's a camp where just about every staff member smiles and goes out of their way to provide top service.
My lasting vision of the camp is that of our waitress at breakfast, armed with an old pellet gun and looking like a bush Annie Get Your Gun, trying to scare the monkeys away from her domain. "It's broken, it can't shoot," she assured some overseas guests who seemed a bit taken aback. "But the monkeys are scared of it and run away," she added. And indeed they did.
But they will be back. Who would want to leave paradise?
