Frozen Moments

Whish, unch, unch, unch, is the only sound I can distinguish amongst the long swaying grasses.  He has slowly been grazing towards us without any idea of the human surprise that lurks less than ten feet away. I concentrate on remaining calm while trying to predict and prepare for our next move.  Will he charge us?  If he does, how am I going to utilize his poor eyesight to save my life?  My guide, crouching beside me, cups his hands together while vocalizing a high pitched ‘err-row’ sound in hopes of changing its direction.  A few tense moments later and my guide emerges from the grasses to a standing position.  A moment later he gestures the shoot sign.  I slowly emerge from the grasses, place my viewfinder to my eye and press the shutter button.

Twenty minutes later, we arrive back at the truck. I anxiously pull back the Velcro on my sandals to relive the pressure of the burrs now digging into my feet before heading to the cooler.  Clearly, my narrow focus of avoiding snakes needs to be expanded upon. I catch my guide rolling his eyes while suggestin

g that I try going barefoot next time.  Funny, ha, ha I think as I open my mouth for a sarcastic rebuttal but think the better of it. Attitudes aside, Mr. Crocodile Dundee of Zimbabwe will help improve my stalking skills in my quest to capture inspiring wildlife photographs.

As we continue on with our journey, we are startled when Andy, our guide, abruptly hits the break to avoid a Leopard turtle.  Seizing the opportunity, I exit the jeep, position my Nikon D2X and its 200-400 VR lens to turtle eye-level by laying flat on my stomach in the middle of the dirt roadway.  As I lay there waiting for the shot, I think of my girlfriends enjoying lunch at my favorite sushi restaurant and how they would question my sanity if they saw me at this very moment.

Having traveled through various African countries, I have learned to expect diversity.  This extends beyond the people and the land. Safari drivers have to comply with various regulations on when and how they can conduct their activities.  In some areas, jeeps are confined to carved out roadways, while in others they are free to roam wherever their jeep can take them.   Hwange National Park in Zimbabwe restricts vehicles to designated roadways during daylight hours.  However, unlike other safaris, Andy has an unexpected twist.  On our second day, with some Sable a fair distance away, we explain our photographic need to be closer.  Andy grabs his gun, exits the jeep and says ‘let’s go’. In all of my safari experiences, I have never been presented with a lesson on stalking African wildlife on foot.

Needless to say, our first attempts were less than successful.  By the time we managed to prepare our cameras and exit the jeep, the wildlife had run off. Several attempts later, we would make it to them middle of the field before they left.  It quickly became evident that an animal’s eyesight was a real part of the equation.  As any wildlife photographer knows, research is always the first step in understanding your subject.  Unfortunately, I never thought to memorize the explicit details of each animal’s visual perception. Now, in the middle of Zimbabwe, I cannot stop at a convenience store to pick up a copy of Animal Eyesight 1-0-1. So with Andy’s expertise and the fields as our classroom I quickly build my own mental database. Waterbucks would not take their eyes off of us the moment they saw the jeep, while Impala’s were less trusting and would generally leap into action. It quickly became apparent that the animals on the lower end of the food chain were more skittish than those higher up.  After all, Impalas are referred to as Big Mac’s of the Kalahari for a reason.

One afternoon, while taking a break, I noticed some Baboons and asked Andy if I could test my stalking skills. Andy snickered and responded with a ‘crack on’.  I strategize my approach to move in a slight ‘c’ curve, to follow existing pathways with several large trees to hide my presence.  This time, a combination of a Nikon 70-200 VR and a 1.7 teleconverter is mounted on my Nikon D2X.  My flexible soled sandals allow me to touch down with the tips of my toes in a steady flowing manner; all the while I am avoid

ing any items that might alarm my furry friend.  Each time the guard looks the other way, I run in a low, crouched position.  When he glances back, I stop dead in my tracks and then slowly continue with my approach.  Once I reach my target tree, I look back towards Andy who gives me the thumbs up.  I do a little dance behind the tree, line up my shot and when the Baboon turns, I press the shutter button.  A few moments later, the Baboon alarms the pack.  I look around trying to figure out why, only to see a male colleague heading back on the path I used only minutes before.  Not all is lost; I managed to get a few shots and also earned some respect from Andy.

With that one success I was hooked.  Waterbucks, Antelopes, Zebras, and Impalas, I went without fear.  My apprehension of snakes diminished, not because they were not there, but because I had experienced how quickly they moved to avoid me.  While, I still had issues with stalking larger, more formable forces such as elephants and rhinoceros. By the end of my visit in Hwange National Park my stalking skills and confidence are at an all time high.

Later that evening as I enter the dining area, I am confronted with a variety of “Did you bring your rhino shots?” from other guests and staff.  I reply with an excitable “you saw a rhinoceros today?” and then slowly pull out my Epson P-4000 photo viewer from its case.  Word of our experience has obviously spread around camp and others are waiting for the results.  As people crowd around with full knowledge of how close we were to the White Rhinoceros they are delighted with my images.  A few weeks later, I join some friends for sushi and share a few stories.  My girlfriends howl at the thought of me lying flat in the middle of a dirt road capturing a wearisome tortoise.