Mala Mala, South Africa— Our mischievous rangers convinced some in our safari group of an old “African tradition” while out walking in the bush. It is a competition to see who can spit impala droppings the farthest. I was horrified to see first one sister,
then another,
select a hard bead of deer doodoo from the ground and place it on her tongue. Who cares how far they spit it? Two of my sisters voluntarily put animal dung in their mouths! Granted, it was hard and dry, but it was on the ground! These two squeamish ones are the type who avoid touching banisters and public doorknobs.
Meanwhile, we all ate caterpillar droppings,
which seasoned our alfresco breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. The stuff fell so steadily from the trees it was useless to fight it. It lodged in hair, tickled down shirts, filled pockets, and sunk to the bottom of our coffee.
“It’s just digested leaves,” our entomologist uncle soothed. Look at the dung beetle: it lives on pre-digested food. Here it works hard to roll perfect balls of fresh elephant dung for later consumption.
Just back from safari in South Africa—21 of us on a family trip. My sister Shari wrote this report:
We’re driving along a dirt road at Mala Mala and our ranger says…”smell that?” No. was our answer. We kept driving and then saw vultures. He smelled death again. Then we see a hyena. Just one. We follow it off road in the jeep. It doesn’t even care. Eventually it lays down in the tall grass as though it’s saying ok, that’s enough. I’m not going to lead you to MY food. By then the smell is intolerable. Some of us thought it was the fact that we were parked in a grove of rhino shit. But our guide said that’s the least of it. It was definitely carcass.
Seven or eight hyenas fought over this meal of buffalo.
We keep driving in our land rover, just mowing down trees. We stop and shut down the engine. Our ranger says, “hear that.” No. was our answer. He follows the sound and stops again. “Hear that. They’re chewing and ripping.” Yes! we hear it. He keeps on going and eventually finds a small covered cove where three hyenas are chowing down on a buffalo carcass. It’s evening. The light is getting dim. We’re snapping photos, videotaping and even using flash. Then one jumps up and away. And we hear all kinds of hyena growling and howling. Another hyena wanted to join the feast, but there is a ritual, and the newcomer has to ask permission. We stayed quite awhile for a bit more action, more of the pack joining, and a little scuffle, etc. Amazing…and stinky.
 More than a dozen lions frolic after dark, and don't mind being in the spotlight.
We then drive to an open meadow where a pride of lions are lounging. By now is pitch black. We drive right up to them. We’re in an open jeep. We’re in a wide open meadow. We are among at least two mothers, one father, seven cubs and five teens. It is DARK. We shine spotlights right on them. They lounge, they wrestle. But they weren’t hungry. They never left to hunt, but it was great to see, to be right among them. We were just four yards from some of them.
 A magnificent lion at Mala Mala.
Last night we arrived in Singita, our new place. It was a 15 minute plane ride, and the topography is completely different. We are in a privately run portion of Kruger National Park. This portion is many thousands of acres that are only accessible to the lodge guests (which is only our group of 21 family members.) However, although privately managed, they still have to follow some of the National Park’s rules and we are not as free to just hightail it off road any time we please. They are only allowed off-road to track “the big five.” Kruger National Park is the size of Massachusetts.
 The sound of hippos was a constant backdrop. More than one is a raft.
We stopped at the side of the dirt road and took a short walk to the end of some craggy rocks on the edge of a green river filled with hippos. At least 17. We could have watched them do their hippo thing…which is nothing…for hours. I caught one with it’s mouth wide open. I hope it’s not blurry. They’re surprisingly, loudly, vocal (and we hear them all night from our rooms above the river). Later that night, on our way back to the lodge, we saw two hippos out of the water. They look like giant pigs. They’re shy. They ran away fairly quickly. We felt lucky to see them, because they’re in water most of the time.
 Glass box aerie has an outdoor shower and netted bed on back deck.
This lodge is amazing. You should look it up! We’re in Singita at Lebombo lodge. The entire place is built on stilts above ground, and can be completely dismantled and taken away in 30 days, leaving only a few patches of bare ground. Not to piss you off, but it’s one of the top in world. We count ourselves lucky—very lucky—to be here.
Golden silk orb weaver spider, 4-5 inches toe-to-toe.
Mala Mala and Kruger National Park, South Africa— Spiders were an everpresant danger to a number of our safari group, to the extent that they’d rather lose a leopard we were tracking than drive through the web of a golden silk orb weaver spider. Conversely, other members of the group designated one of our four Range Rovers “the bug car,” devoting significant time to examining insect and reptile life under rocks and logs.
The golden silk orb weaver spider
The golden silk orb weaver spider spins its web between two trees or shrubs—seemingly every two trees or shrubs in the bush. So plowing through its webs was unavoidable on our off-road hunts. Our vehicles, lacking windshields, had only an antenna to break the webs—and our faces, of course.
Female weaver's web catches a praying mantis. Male comes running...for dinner? Good example of sexual dimorphism: large female, small male.
The screams and wails of the fearful ones were a contrast to their calm excitement five feet from hungry lions, a yard from a hunting leopard. One of the arachnophobes easily handled a six-inch millipede, and tasted a fried grub. I guess for some, spiders are just directly hot-wired to the ick response, and no logic applies.
The golden orb spider is a large, striking arachnid that spins an impressive web of strong yellow silk. Its main bridge line can span 30 or more feet, and feels like fishing line. African kids wrap and roll it into yellow rope bracelets.
Red bill quilia trapped in a golden orb web.
Twice, we came upon a bird caught in a web, flapping helplessly. Caving in to pleas from some of our group, our rangers, two different ones, freed the birds. Yes, they’d otherwise be spider dinner.
The web is so strong and sticky that fishermen use it to make nets. They bend a branch into a teardrop shape and wave it back and forth through the golden silk orb weaver’s web.
Despite those who scream eek, we drove through hundreds of webs. Only a few spiders got into the vehicle. None clamped onto anyone’s face. None climbed into anyone’s shirt. Etc.
Instead, most of the victimized spiders ran into the shrubs at one end of their bridge lines. They would then eat the silk of their ruined webs and spin new ones with recycled material within hours.
Spiders seeming to hang in mid-air. The webs are easy to walk into.Photo by Josh OakleyStrong, sticky, yellow web silk.Scariness in proportion to size.
