Field Guide (NQF2) – Makuleke
My journey to becoming a Field Guide began at the northernmost tip of South Africa, where the mighty Limpopo River carves its way through the landscape, marking the border with Zimbabwe. It meets the Luvuvhu River in a dramatic confluence of waters at Crooks Corner, a place steeped in history and legend. This is Makuleke, a land of raw, unspoiled beauty, alive with nature’s symphony. Here, I took my first steps into wild Africa, ready to learn, explore, and embrace its untamed spirit.
Meanwhile, we’ve traded the familiar wilds of Makuleke for a different camp, located six hours south. Selati. We’re halfway through Field Guide Level 1 and as we settle into this new terrain, questions buzz in my mind like bees around a bloom: Where have all the birds flown? Where are the towering baobabs and the fever trees that once stood like sentinels of the Limpopo river banks?
I remember one of our last days in Makuleke. It was on a game drive, the sun hanging low in the sky when we crossed paths with a lodge vehicle brimming with guests fresh from Banyini Pan. Their eyes sparkled as they gushed about the „outstanding bird life“ they’d witnessed — the Tropical Boubou, the regal Saddle-billed Stork, and the sleek African Darter. We exchanged knowing smiles. These were no strangers to us; they were our neighbours, our daily companions in that wild paradise. The Tropical Boubou, our feathered camp herald, was a maestro of the dawn and dusk, his calls a symphony that announced the rhythm of life in Makuleke. His voice was a reminder to all — creatures and humans alike — that this land thrived with vitality. And then there were the nights, alive with the haunting howls of hyenas, their cries weaving through the darkness just beyond our camp. And these massive flocks of Red-billed Quelea, painting the skies above the Limpopo River, all set against the fiery canvas of an African sunset. It was nature’s poetry in motion.
Now, as I sit beneath a different sky, I feel the weight of what we’ve left behind. Makuleke wasn’t just a place; it was a part of me. Its sights, its sounds, its soul — they’ve etched themselves into my being. Only now do I realize how profoundly spoiled we were by its wonders. How I will miss it. Makuleke.
Challenged
The raptors have become a challenge on my quest to earn my stripes as a South African Field Guide. Usually glimpsed from afar, a distant silhouette against the vast African sky, identification can get tricky. Birds of prey are known for their monogamous nature. In this particular tumultuous relationship, it’s obvious that she wears the pants. Mrs. Brown shows no signs of letting her mate off the hook. Bad news for Mr. Brown, but great for us. Their intense focus on each other allows us to edge closer, hearts racing, as we marvel at the striking yellow eyes and powerful, bare legs that define the formidable Brown Snake Eagle.
Selati. No Tropical Boubou calls out at dawn, no ancient baobabs cast their shadows over the earth. Those magical walks through the Fever Tree Forest? They’ve become ghosts of memory, haunting me with their beauty as I step into this new, untamed chapter.
My first drive here felt like being swept up in a storm, a blur of dust and adrenaline. Thankfully, I wasn’t the one behind the wheel, attempting to identify trees as they raced past in a green-brown streak. A sobering truth settled over me: I am, without a doubt, the least capable member of this group. It’s not that I didn’t know. Yet now, realization hits me with renewed clarity. My past field observations have revealed my shortcomings — I possess few if any, remarkable skills. My one claim to expertise? A vague familiarity with „Trees“. After all, they don’t move. Or so I thought. Even that certainty has been uprooted.
Probably I should have studied harder in Makuleke. Maybe. Or maybe not. The truth is, after a week in camp, I had barely heard the comforting crackle of the campfire. Instead, I found myself stressed out over my books every evening, battling with my headlamp flickering and moths kamikaze-diving into my face. Astronomy, biology, geology, meteorology — the sheer volume of knowledge required to become a South African Field Guide in just 55 days is staggering. This isn’t a walk in the park; it’s the raw, unfiltered Africa, and it doesn’t care about your comfort zone.
I didn’t expect the studying to be this gruelling. I didn’t anticipate my English skills failing me when I needed them most. And my senses? They feel miserably inadequate. The legendary sixth sense of a seasoned Field Guide remains a distant dream. For now, I’m grateful my other five senses are more or less intact, even if they’re still learning to navigate this rugged terrain. I am here, ready to rise to the challenge. The wild has a way of revealing who we truly are — and I’m determined to prove I belong.
This is a once in a lifetime experience, so start enjoying it!
Nicole Mathesie
Forever changed
Nestled in the Pafuri Triangle, the Makuleke Concession is a land of raw, unbridled beauty. Rugged rock formations rise like ancient guards, their gorges plunging dramatically to the north and east, giving way to waterholes, river plains, and forests of fever trees that shimmer in the sunlight. Towering baobabs, their gnarled trunks etched with the passage of time, stand as silent witnesses to the wild rhythms of this extraordinary place. This is the land of the Makuleke people — a people who, after being displaced during the dark days of apartheid, reclaimed their ancestral home in 1994. Today, they’ve entrusted this pristine wilderness to just two lodges, ensuring it remains a sanctuary untouched by the masses. Covering a mere 240 square kilometres — just one per cent of Kruger National Park — this compact paradise is a powerhouse of biodiversity, home to an astonishing 75 per cent of all the park’s animal species. Here, time moves differently. Borders blur as animals roam freely, and the land feels greener, wilder, and more alive than anywhere else in Kruger.
For us, as aspiring Field Guides, Makuleke was more than a classroom — it was a gateway to the soul of the wild. We had the privilege of learning from some of the best guides in the most remote corner of Kruger, soaking up their wisdom like the dry earth drinks in the rain. Exams loomed, but aren’t they secondary to the wealth of knowledge and experience we were gaining? In just two months, I’d leave here knowing how to stand my ground when a breeding herd of elephants charges, understanding the critical roles of dung beetles, termites, and every tiny creature that keeps this ecosystem thriving. And I’d never forget the golden rule of game drives: Don’t you ever forget Ginger Nuts biscuits!
The floodplains around the Limpopo are home to waterholes like Banyini Pan, which serve as a vital habitat for the richest biodiversity found throughout Kruger. Our very first drive in Makuleke took us straight to Banyini Pan. Armed with binoculars, notebook, and a bird-watching app, we were all set for our first „birding“ lesson.
It took time to quiet my racing thoughts, to ease the weight I was placing on myself and truly breathe in the rhythm of the bush. But once I did, I found myself immersed in a world of campfire tales and star-strewn skies. The stress melted away, replaced by a sense of wonder and pure, unadulterated joy — and holy shit, did we have a blast! Before I knew it, four weeks in Makuleke had flown by, leaving me forever changed by its magic. This place isn’t just a destination — it’s a calling, a reminder of how small we are in the grand tapestry of nature, and how much there is to learn from the wild.
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