Where the Okavango River flows from Angola, through Namibia, and into northwestern Botswana, it spreads out to form a vast wetland covering as much as 5800 square miles, before finally sinking into the sands of the Kalahari Desert. Five main channels cut through the Okavango Delta, and innumerable smaller waterways meander through the region. Pools form and dry up as the seasons change and flood waters swell and then recede. All this water amidst the dry lands nurtures a remarkable abundance of life, including extravagantly-colored birds and large and small animals of many sorts.

Craig and I just had the privilege of spending a week in the Delta, where we spent most of each day going out — in specially-equipped Toyota Land Cruisers, on safari boats, in traditional dugout-style canoes called mokoros (now made of fiberglass!), or on foot — to see “what Mother Nature has to show us,” as one of our guides phrased it. And She had a great deal to show! Every day we saw rare and marvelous creatures, gorgeous birds, and beautiful land- and waterscapes.

One last miraculous morning

On our last morning in the Delta, our guide, Kaizer, took us on a final boat ride. The day started early, and mornings can be chilly in wintertime, especially on the water. So we bundled up (especially Craig!) and set off.

Our route took us through narrow papyrus-lined channels, shallows covered in waterlilies, and wide, peaceful lagoons.

Birds! What’s not to love?

Along the way, we encountered birds we had not yet seen, including a shy squacco heron, a timid black crake, and a yellow-billed stork. I even managed to get a decent shot of a coppery-tailed coucal, a crow-sized and camera-shy bird with a knack for screening itself behind grasses or branches or reeds whenever I try for a photo.

Most thrilling was seeing a flock of more than fifty Southern carmine bee-eaters sunning themselves in the reeds.

Beware the hippopotamus!

Our destination was a pool where dozens of hippos cooled their toes, protecting their delicate skin from the sun and glaring balefully at us from across the water. They loudly grunted their disapproval when we ventured too near, and two of the largest displayed their admirable dentition in grim warning. 

I know hippos are very dangerous animals, but there’s nonetheless something comical about them. On an earlier outing, we spied a hippo rolling over in the water in sheer exuberance, stretching his four-toed feet to the sky. Hippos always make me think of the lines from Dylan Thomas’s A Child’s Christmas in Wales, which I listen to him read every year.

I would go out, my bright new boots squeaking, into the white world, on to the seaward hill, to call on Jim and Dan and Jack and to pad through the still streets, leaving huge footprints on the hidden pavements.
“I bet people will think there’s been hippos.”
“What would you do if you saw a hippo coming down our street?”
“I’d go like this, bang! I’d throw him over the railings and roll him down the hill and then I’d tickle him under the ear and he’d wag his tail.”
“What would you do if you saw two hippos?”

At the heronry

From the hippo pool we continued to a “heronry,” a long forested stretch of shoreline where thousands of waterbirds nest and raise their chicks. Different species gather here in noisy harmony: African spoonbills, white-breasted and great cormorants, African darters, great white egrets, open-billed storks, grey herons, black-crowned night herons and probably others that we didn’t identify.

Many chicks were still fuzzy nestlings. Others were fully fledged and trying out their wings — or at least hopping clumsily from branch to branch — while a patient and hopeful Nile crocodile glided beneath.

Kudos to Kaizer

Of course, none of this would have been possible without our guide, Kaizer. He piloted the boat, poled the mokoro, drove the Land Cruiser, and led the bush walk. And on every outing, he proved a genius at noticing animals that on our own we would have missed entirely. Those grey lumps under distant trees? A breeding herd of elephants! That quick flash of color flitting from the reeds beside our boat? A malachite kingfisher! That rustle in the grass over the way? A serval cat! A jackal! African wild dogs! He saw everything before we could even focus our binoculars.

Besides this super-power, Kaizer was endlessly patient with our endless questions, and very knowledgable about whatever piqued our curiosity. He spent much of his youth in the northern part of the Delta, where he learned about the natural environment from village elders. When he trained to be a guide, he found the subject matter easy — he already knew it all. The real challenge was learning to explain it in English! He is amazing, and we are grateful. Thank you, Kaizer!

Here’s to the guiding lights in our lives,
be they beacons, North stars, signposts —
or kind and helpful humans.
Thank you for shining a light, pointing the way,
and helping us to see clearly. 

Connections