In his memoir, Whatever You Do, Don’t Run, Botswana safari guide Peter Allison
tells the story of Badge, a honey badger that adopted Allison’s camp as its
home and became the unofficial camp “pet.” Despite their arguably cute,
snub-nosed faces and a name that implies a sweet demeanor, honey badgers are
anything but. Armed with long, sharp claws they can cause serious injury and
are scared of nothing. They earn their namesake by plunging head first into
beehives to feed on fresh honey, ignoring the swarming, stinging bees. They also fight cobras – and win.
So imagine Allison’s shock when one
night, sitting at the dining table with the camp’s guests, when Badge
decided to introduce himself by jumping up in the middle of the table, helping
himself to leftovers. After that night, Badge was a regular in camp and while
the staff maintained a healthy and necessary fear of him, they grew quite fond
of his presence.
I couldn’t help but relate to this
story when I read it; we too have our own version of camp “pets” that, like
Badge, bring comic relief to our daily routines.
In Serena, our most frequent
visitors here are dwarf mongooses. They usually show up all at once,
announcing their arrival with chirps and squeaks, barreling down the path in a
blur of orange fur. Scurrying and chattering, they search the underbrush for
insects; sometimes the braver ones will risk a few steps up onto our tarp
before realizing we’re there and make a hasty retreat. They have a den by our
choo as well, so they sometimes keep us company while we’re taking care of
business (which will never cease to amuse me).
We also have resident warthogs who,
despite their potential to be quite dangerous, are surprisingly docile and barely
give us notice, completely absorbed in their grazing when we walk past. Tuftless,
a warthog that has lost the fluffy end of his tail, visits camp quite often and
is quickly becoming one of my favorites.
The most recent addition to our
animal friends is Bartok, a leaf-nosed bat, who was discovered hanging
upside-down above our lab tent one day.
Birds also like to hang around, mostly a group of noisy arrow-marked babblers, who hop boisterously
across our floor tarp. They also seem to enjoy serenading us with their raspy “kwhaa kwhaa” chorus; let’s just say
they could use some singing lessons. My favorite of the group is Rumpy – a
babbler missing his entire tail but still seems to fly just fine.
At night, we often have slightly
larger, more “interesting” visitors. Elephants like to graze in the bordering
woods and will sometimes wander into camp. Now I love elephants and everything
about them. But when a 1-ton animal is trumpeting and breaking branches close
enough to your tent that you can hear them swallow with only a sheet of canvas as
protection at 2AM, you wake up pretty fast. In the morning, we emerge from our
tents to find tree branches scattered all over camp, evidence of the
pachyderms’ overnight feast.
Hippos also
love to graze here at night, making their presence known with what sounds just like
helicopter rotors: defecating while flinging their tails so that poop flies in
various directions. The good news is that they favor the opposite side of camp
from my tent (sorry Erin!).
We all miss
the companionship of the furry friends we left behind at home, so seeing
familiar faces in camp throughout the day brings an element of comfort and
homeyness to life here. While I never expected to share my front “lawn” with a
warthog, I’m so glad I do and have grown increasingly fond of our numerous
FisiCamp mascots. We may not have a “pet” honey badger, but I think we’re all
quite ok with that!
 |
| Current RA pets! Top row, left to right: Luke, Nola, Rocky, Jax Bottom row: Oreo ("the amazing furious chihuahua"), Roscoe, Binx, Sparkie |
Referenced book: Allison, P. (2008). Whatever
you do, don’t run: True tales of a Botswana safari guide. Guilford, CT: The
Lyons Press.
Photos: Personal photos from Emily Ronis, Ciara S.G. Main, Jared Grimmer, Spencer Freeman, and Erin Person (thanks guys!)
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