A Nail-biting Morning On Safari In The Kalahari

The morning air of the Kalahari was crisp, a cold front pushing in from Cape Town, bringing with it an unusual chill. We set out early, hoping to catch sight of the wild dogs. Our first stop was the den, the likely starting point of the pack’s morning hunt. 

As we arrived, we spotted the alpha female. Her pups were safely hidden within the underground den, and another female stood guard. But as our vehicle approached, she rose and began to move. The rest of the pack, we surmised, must have already set off. We had to leave the den site, not wanting to disturb the area, and drove onto the main access road, hoping to find tracks that would lead us to the rest of the pack. 

While navigating the sandy roads, we came across fresh black rhino tracks, crossing in from the opposite direction. I mused aloud how surreal it would be if the dogs were chasing the rhino. We continued our search, circling the block, eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the dogs. The wind was picking up, carrying with it fine Kalahari dust that swirled in the distance, back towards the den. 

Returning to the den site, we noticed the cloud of dust growing closer. Something was happening. We retraced our steps to a better vantage point for off-roading and plunged into the bush. And then we saw her—a female black rhino. We were in awe. But it wasn’t just her; there was a tiny calf at her side, and not far behind, the dogs. 

The wild dogs had surrounded the mother and her calf, cautiously closing in, then retreating, testing their limits. The mother, ever vigilant, kept her calf close, its small frame pressed tightly against her belly, a shield from the predators. Time and again, the dogs darted in, forcing the mother to push them back, each time pulling away and returning to her calf.  

We watched this tense standoff from a respectful distance, understanding the fragile balance of the moment. Black rhinos are notoriously wary of humans, and we knew that our presence could tip the scales, perhaps even provoke a charge. At one point, the tension became too much. The mother, sensing our presence, turned her gaze towards us. We quickly retreated, giving her the space she needed. 

For over an hour, we witnessed this dance of survival—the mother defending her calf, the calf huddling close, and the pack of wild dogs testing their resolve. Eventually, the dogs decided to abandon their pursuit. They retreated back to the den, where the pups emerged to greet them.  

We stayed a while longer, sipping our coffee and enjoying a snack as the pack settled down. The pups played under the watchful eyes of the adults, the family regurgitating food for the little ones. In that quiet moment, with the Kalahari sun warming our backs and a cold breeze ruffling through the grass, we felt the magic of the place. Twenty-five wild dogs, including ten playful puppies, basked in the morning light—a rare and unforgettable glimpse into the wild heart of the Kalahari.