1) The document describes a kayaking trip down the Ngotwane River in Botswana, where the narrator encounters various wildlife such as monkeys, birds, and is warned of the presence of crocodiles in the river. 2) While kayaking, the group spots a large crocodile basking in the reeds along the riverbank, which startles and plunges into the water as they approach. 3) Moments later, the kayak feels heavy, as if something large is swimming beneath it, causing the narrator to remain silent and contemplative about his position in the food chain.

1. CCAANNOOEEIISSTT July 2003
38
‘There are no crocs around here,’ said a
smiling bartender. I think the warlord
Mzilikazi must have had a similar smile while
raiding the Bahurutshe, not far from where I
dropped my paddle into the river.
Before it joins waters with the Matabele’s
iliMphopho, the river of rapid rising and falling,
known to the rest of the world as the ‘great,
grey, green, greasy Limpopo’ of Rudyard
Kipling’s writings, the Ngotwane River
marks the boundary line between Botswana
and South Africa. Overgrown by bush
willows (Combretum), its banks are lush green
as a stark contrast to surrounding yellow-
brown palette of an arid Acacia savanna (sands
of the Kalahari, ‘backbone of the world’ as David
Livingstone described it, beginning only 20 or
so miles from here).
While entering our double kayak I asked
Andrew Hester, a local bird expert, if
bilharzia is present in the shallows of the
Ngotwane Dam, further down the river.
A rather unpleasant disease, it is transmitted
by the parasites living in African freshwater
snails and if anyone knows how to avoid
touching the water with a kayak paddle in
hand I’d be happy to find out. Parasites
penetrate the skin, travel through the blood
vessels and finally (if you’re lucky) settle in
the urinary tract where they happily breed,
doing irreversible damage to it (and if you’re
less lucky they might get confused and settle
inside your spinal cord or even your brain).
Andrew’s laconic answer was ‘No, I don’t
think so. There could be bilharzia in the
water but I have paddled here quite often and
never got it. On the other hand there are
crocodiles in the river.’
‘I’m not worried over crocs unless you
capsize the kayak!’
Oh, my big mouth! I have read canoeing
articles from Africa and knew that the Nile
crocodile (Crocodilus niloticus) pays no
attention to the boat and, in theory, as long as
I’m inside I’m safe. On the other hand a croc
might be tempted to grab a piece of meat that
hangs low over the water and where do you
think my paddle holding hand will be? Well,
if anyone knows how to avoid having my
hand low over the water while paddling I’d
be happy to find out.
Anyway, since the only croc I had seen in
Africa until then was the five foot chap in a
jacana (Actophilornis africana) with its chestnut
body, white breast and face and blue beak and
‘shield’.
Walking away from us was the Nile
monitor (Varanus niloticus), Southern Africa’s
largest lizard. It readily digs up unguarded
crocodile nests, creating havoc in no time. It
can grow up to more than six feet but this
one was only a third of that length.
To complete the scene the African fish
eagle (Haliaeetus vocifer) was circling above us,
yelping a triumphant high-pitched ‘Kyow-
kow-kow!’
‘By the way, how large are those crocs
here?’
It was getting really hot… Perhaps the
temperature had something to do with my
inability to keep my big
mouth shot.
‘Huge,’ Andrew
answered. ‘I know one as
big as this canoe. Some 13
or 14 feet, I guess.’
‘Huh, you sound like
you can show me that
one?’
‘I’ll try. I know where it
usually basks.’
Whatever happened
afterward, I could not blame
Andrew. I asked for it.
I remember a conversation with the
bartender in the local yacht club some time
ago. I was sipping an ice cold Windhoek
Light (unlike South African, Namibian beers
are highly recommendable), watching a vast
expanse of the Gaborone Dam (starting a few
miles down the river from my current
position) and enquiring about the warning
signs at the entrance.
‘Crocs?’ he said. ‘No, there are no crocs
around here. I never saw one. I don’t know
anyone who can honestly claim he did.’
Perhaps he was worried that the signs might
be scaring his customers away but, being
assured there was no crocodile to be seen, I
decided there was no reason to return to his
bar.
Later I met some trustworthy people. The
lady living on a farm by the Gaborone Dam
said ‘I saw a croc taking an egret.’
Her husband, a diving instructor, said ‘I
wouldn’t dive in this lake.’
pool by the near by restaurant I desired to see
one in its natural surroundings. An ultimate
freshwater predator that for 100 million years
felt no need to evolve any further, the Nile
crocodile is the largest African reptile by far.
It grows up to more than 20 ft and more than
2,000 lbs, it lives up to 150 years and it can
survive a year and a half without food; no
wonder I am fascinated with it. How can I
not be?
A few paddle strokes down the river and
on the right bank there were four impala
antelopes (Aepyceros melampus). A male with
finely twisted horns was watching us
suspiciously while females of his harem were
drinking.
All around us were
kingfishers, insect eating
woodland and brown hooded
kingfishers (Halcyon
senegalensis, H albiventris) and
fish eating pied kingfishers
(Ceryle rudis).
In front of us a black
egret (Egretta ardesiaca) was
fishing under the umbrella
formed by its outstretched
wings, cutting off the glare
from the water surface and perhaps even
attracting the fish into the ‘safety’ of the
shade. Among 60 heron species in the world
this is the only one using this peculiar fishing
technique. Like a ritualized dance, it unfolds
its wings, takes a peek, folds them and moves
a few steps, then unfolds again…
I would not have minded having some
shade myself. It was January and here in the
southern hemisphere January is the hottest of
summer months.
South of the dam wall there was a shallow
bay where branches of the flooded acacias
reached toward the sky. They were decorated
with bee eaters using them as a high
viewpoint to hunt dragonflies. Despite its
name, the blue cheeked bee eater (Merops
persicus) is almost entirely bright green while
the carmine bee eater’s (M nubicoides) vivid
plumage fits the description perfectly.
The surface was covered by floating leaves
of the blue water lily (Nymphaea nouchali), its
large pinkish-white flowers reaching 25cm in
diameter. Walking on the leaves with its
elongated toes was the lily trotter, the African
What happens when you put a naturalist
in a kayak, adrift in Africa?
‘ THERE ARE NO
CROCS AROUND
HERE
2003.7 03/6/12 1:16 PM Page 38

2. Dragan V Simic is an environmental and
travel freelance journalist who turned to canoeing
twelve years ago after a climbing accident left
him a paraplegic. Some readers may still
remember his articles published in Canoeist
(March and June 1999). Originally from
Belgrade, Serbia, which he left during the
NATO bombing (and after his editor was shot
in the head in broad daylight), he has been
living in Botswana ever since. He has just
finished writing his practical guide Birding for
Beginners (in Serbo-Croat) and he plans to
return to Belgrade. You may reach him at
goingbirding@yahoo.com.
The gentleman living on a farm by the
Ngotwane Dam said ‘A croc took my dog, right
there!’
We were now paddling upstream where
riverbanks narrowed to 40 - 50 feet. Tree
crowns were swaying, branches rocking; a
troop of vervet monkeys (Cercopithecus
aethiops) was on the move and we were
reaching for our binoculars.
The leader of the troop was sitting in a fork
of a tree, barking at us angrily, warning his
troop to stop moving. Vervets are highly
vocal, using more than 36 different calls to
indicate different dangers. How dangerous
can a life be?
A female with a young hanging on her
belly was caught in the mid jump from one
bush willow to another, balancing with her
long tail, but the rest of the troop slowed
down, waiting for the danger, us, to pass.
Still, one juvenile had a seat on a branch,
dangling its legs on one side of it and its tail
on the other side, disregarding the authority
of the leader and watching us curiously.
There was something irresistibly childish in its
curiosity. With such an attitude it might not
make it to adulthood but I am sure it had a
higher IQ than the rest of the troop.
Bright yellow European golden orioles
(Oriolus oriolus) led us further up the river.
‘Over there, in that reedbed,’ Andrew
pointed toward an eroded left bank where a
Boer camp stood a century ago. ‘That’s where
that croc’s usually basking in the sun.’
One more stroke and the reed was
swaying, breaking, bursting;
something large was moving quickly.
Swoosh, a heavy body was gliding
down the high bank, splash, falling
into the water and disappearing
under the surface.
‘Which way did he go?’ I asked
Andrew while the kayak was rocking
on the waves made by the crocodile.
‘Don’t know. Anywhere but here.
He’s huge!’
Then our kayak froze in the water.
You know that feeling of heaviness,
like when you lean on a submerged
tree stump…
…or Andrew was repositioning
himself in his seat…
…or a croc was swimming right
under the bottom of the kayak…
Contemplating the food chain and
my position in it, I kept my big
mouth shut.
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39CCAANNOOEEIISSTT July 2003
2003.7 03/6/12 1:18 PM Page 39