Adventure into the Kruger Park after dark

There's nearly always some sighting to savour on game drives in Kruger National Park. Even without the Big Five, surprises can be just around the corner - athletic kudu sprinting across the road, a pack of wild dogs stretched out on a dry riverbed, even tiny chameleons bringing traffic to a standstill.

But sometimes - perhaps just once in a lifetime - a game drive comes along that is like no other.

My wife and I were staying at Kruger's lofty Olifants Camp and, instead of undertaking the usual late-afternoon game drive, we decided to book for the camp's Sunset Drive.
It was clear that nearly everyone with us in the packed open vehicle was a foreigner. You could tell from the hi-tech digital cameras, clothing far too skimpy for a sunset drive and wide-rimmed hats direct from the Skukuza curio shop.

And the questions directed at John, our ranger-cum-driver, also made it plain that most of our fellow passengers were new to the bush.

"What do they eat?" the Italian lady asked as we watched waterbuck grazing in the distance.

John clearly knew where he was heading as soon as we left Olifants. He set off for the Balule Bridge as if on a mission. And then we saw it. Drooped around a branch of a skeletal leadwood tree on the left hand side of the road was a magnificent cheetah, its long tail hung out to dry in the evening breeze.

Slowly, with the many digital cameras recording the action, the cheetah made his way down the tree while eight giraffe grazed contentedly just a few metres away. But the ranger kept on scouring the veld, as if there were more to see.

Then he picked them up in the grass on the other side of the road: two more magnificent cheetah, about 100 metres apart but with one unified gaze. Two pairs of eyes were focused unwaveringly at the intruding cheetah across the road.

My wife and I held our breath: this promised to be a night to remember. Suddenly, the silence was broken. "What do they eat?" asked the Italian lady loudly.

Although now at least 50 metres apart in the bush on the right-hand side of the road, the two territorial cheetah moved in complete unison, as if telepathically linked. Slow, slow paces, eyes still fixed on the newcomer opposite, who by now had adopted a similar frozen - if somewhat uncomfortable - stance.

Then, as if a starter's gun had gone off in their brains, the two land-possessing cheetah sprinted across the road at that famous record-breaking speed, launching into a horrific V-formed assault on the lone one facing them. It was time for a hasty retreat - and he ran for dear life.

The flight took all three cheetah virtually through the legs of the bewildered giraffe who decided that it was time to get the hell out of there. "Is there a zoo in Cape Town?" the Italian lady asked, making the ranger close a mouth that had hung open in amazement. He chose to ignore the question.

Slowly, the triumphant cheetah duo returned from their land-cleansing operation. They curiously sniffed the tree that had housed the intruder, pointed spotted posteriors to the heavens, lifted their tails and spouted high-pressure urine on to the tree trunk for at least five seconds.

Then they made their way back to their original domain and repeated the process on several trees there.

By now it was quite dark and John put the headlights on the cheetah pair as they ambled in front of our vehicle for some 500 metres until they found their overnight quarters at a pan near the bridge across the Balule.

The drama had lasted all of 25 minutes. It turned out that the ranger had encountered the pair regularly for the preceding six or seven nights.

"Spotting cheetah on night drives is not unusual," he told me later.

"But I had never seen a territorial skirmish like that before."

I suppose it was futile explaining the sheer magnitude of the moment to our fellow passengers. Yes, it was indeed a night to remember. Fortunate though we were, even more drama and pathos awaited us later on the drive.

We came across a group of baby zebra that sprinted away from our vehicle - all except for one little one that remained on the ground. Binoculars showed that one of its rear legs was twisted horrifically, obviously broken.

"Why don't you help it?" one of the passengers asked John.

The ranger explained the rules of the bush, survival of the fittest. He did not spell it out but I knew that, come morning, hyena would have put that adorable baby out of its misery.

Earlier on this particular visit to Kruger, we had sampled another sunset drive, from Berg-en-Dal camp, and, although nowhere nearly as dramatic, the drive had produced five different sightings of hyena, four different species of owl, spotted genet and the most quaint chorus of frogs you will ever hear.

So, when next in Kruger, do yourself a favour. Spend R100 or so and venture out with a ranger at sunset. There might be a once-in-a-lifetime thrill awaiting you out there in the dark.