PUDDLE HOPPING IN ZAMBIA
WET AND WILD
IN AN
AFRICAN EDEN
For six months commencing each November, it’s a time of plenty in Zambia, when big rains turn the land to an emerald sheen, birds appear in dazzling breeding plumage, animals give birth, and two of earth’s biggest mammal migrations are triggered by the rising waters. All this, and tourists are virtually non-existent.
It’s a time of plenty in Zambia, when big rains turn the land to an emerald sheen,birds appear in dazzling breeding plumage, animals give birth, and two of earth’s biggest mammal migrations are triggered by the rising waters. All this, and tourists are virtually non-existent.
It began with the bats. Each year, as the rains start sometime in October, little Kasanka National Park, north of Lusaka, fills with straw-coloured fruit bats, inbound from the Congo. With its nine lakes and network of streams, rivers and grassy **dombos** interspersed between red mahogany swamp and indigenous forests, Kasanka is a handsome location for what is – in terms of sheer numbers – the world’s largest mammal migration.
It’s estimated that by mid-November, some eight million of these creatures wing their way here, flying in to feed on the fruit of wild loquat (musuku) and waterberry trees. The bats roost in a patch of Mushitu forest along the Musola River. At dusk, we took guided walks to watch as they set out on their nocturnal flights. And at dawn we installed ourselves in a specially built tree hide, 18 metres up in a sprawling Mululu mahogany, from where we kept watch for sitatunga. It’s apparently the best spot in the world from which to observe these shy antelopes. We counted scores of them gathering in the Kapabi swamp below, while up above the sky darkened with the swirling mass of bats returning from the night’s feed.
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