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Rhino Poachers Arrested In The Kruger National Park

Eight suspected poachers arrested.. Follow the link for the full story http://www.sanparks.org/about/news/default.php?id=55516

Quiz Question For the Day..

What colour are cheetah Cubs?

*Grey
*Tan
*White
*Black

Photos While On Safari



Herd of baffalo in the water



Cheetah walking in the bush



Zebra's on the road



More Amazing Photo's From The Kruger National Park

Male Lion Having A Drink

Cheetah's Walking In The Bush

Elephant Charge

Photos from The Kruger National Park

Cheetah walking across the road

Buffalo having their meal

Elephants walking in the road



 

Birds Of The Kruger National Park Part 2

Brown Snake Eagle

Vultures

Tawny Eagle





 

Animals Of The Kruger National Park

Elephant Walking Across The Road

Giraffe Standing In The Bush

African Fish Eagle



 

Hippos Fighting for Dominance - 21 November 2012 - Latest Sightings

Jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick (Chapter 25)( Page 5 ) Our Last Hunt

I was still laughing at him, when he stopped and turning sharply round made a snap at his side; and a few seconds later he did it again.  Then there was a thin sing of insect wings; and I knew that the Tsetse fly were on us. The only thought then was for Jock, who was still working busily round the sable.  For some minutes I sat with him between my legs, wisping away the flies with a small branch and wondering what to do.  It soon became clear that there was nothing to be gained by waiting: instead of passing away the fly became more numerous, and there was not a moment's peace or comfort to be had, for they were tackling me on the neck, arms, and legs, where the thorn-ripped pants left them bare to the knees; so, slinging the rifle over my shoulder, I picked Jock up, greatly to his discomfort, and carried him off in my arms at the best pace possible under the circumstances.  Half a mile of that was enough, however: the weight, the awkwardness of the position, the effort to screen him, and the difficulty of picking my way in very rough country at the same time, were too much for me.  A tumble into a grass-hidden hole laid us both out sprawling, and I sat down again to rest and think, swishing the flies off as before. Then an idea came which, in spite of all the anxiety, made me laugh, and ended in putting poor old Jock in quite the most undignified and ridiculous plight he had known since the days of his puppyhood when his head stuck in the bully-beef tin or the hen pecked him on the nose.  I ripped off as much of my shirt as was not needed to protect me against the flies, and making holes in it for his legs and tail fitted him out with a home-made suit in about five minutes.  Time was everything; it was impossible to run with him in my arms, but we could run together until we got out of the fly belt, and there was not much risk of being bitten as long as we kept up the running in the long grass.  It was a long spell, and what with the rough country and the uncontrollable laughter at the sight of Jock, I was pretty well done by the time we were safely out of the `fly.'  We pulled up when the country began to fall away sharply towards the river, and there, to Jock's evident satisfaction, I took off his suit--by that time very much tattered and awry. It was there, lying between two rocks in the shade of a marula tree, that I got one of those chances to see game at close quarters of which most men only hear or dream.  There were no snapshot cameras then! We had been lying there it may be for half an hour or more, Jock asleep and I spread out on my back, when a slight but distinct click, as of a hoof against a stone, made me turn quietly over on my side and listen. The rock beside me was about four feet high, and on the other side of it a buck of some kind, and a big one too, was walking with easy stride towards the river.  Every footstep was perfectly clear; the walk was firm and confident: evidently there was not the least suspicion of danger.  It was only a matter of yards between us, and what little breeze there was drifted across his course towards me, as he too made for the river, holding a course parallel with the two long rocks between which we were lying.  The footsteps came abreast of us and then stopped, just as I was expecting him to walk on past the rock and down the hill in front of me.  The sudden halt seemed to mean that some warning instinct had arrested him, or some least taint upon the pure air softly eddying between the rocks had reached him.  I could hear his sniffs, and pictured him looking about, silent but alarmed, before deciding which way to make his rush. I raised myself by inches, close to the rock, until I could see over it. A magnificent waterbuck bull, full-grown and in perfect coat and condition, was standing less than five yards away and a little to the right, having already passed me when he came to a stop: he was so close that I could see the waves and partings in his heavy coat; the rise and fall in his flanks as he breathed; the ruff on his shaggy bearded throat, that gave such an air of grandeur to the head; the noble carriage, as with head held high and slightly turned to windward he sniffed the breeze from the valley; the nostrils, mobile and sensitive, searching for the least hint of danger; and the eye, large and full and soft, luminous with watchful intelligence, and yet mild and calm--so free was it from all trace of a disturbing thought.  And yet I was so close, it seemed almost possible to reach out and touch him.  There was no thought of shooting: it was a moment of supreme enjoyment.  Just to watch him: that was enough.

Jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick (Chapter 24)( Page 5 ) The Last Trek

Then came one black day as we crawled slowly along the river bank, which is not to be  forgotten.  In one of the cross-spruits cutting sharply down to the river the second waggon stuck: the poor tired-out cattle were too weak and dispirited to pull it out.  Being short of drivers and leaders it was necessary to do the work in turns, that is, after getting one waggon through a bad place, to go back for another.  We had to double-span this waggon, taking the span from the front waggon back to hook on in front of the other; and on this occasion I led the span while Jim drove.  We were all tired out by the work and heat, and I lay down in the dusty road in front of the oxen to rest while the chains were being coupled up.  I looked up into old Zwaartland's eyes, deep, placid, constant, dark grey eyes--the ox-eyes of which so many speak and write and so few really know.  There was trouble in them; he looked anxious and hunted; and it made me heart-sick to see it. When the pull came, the back span, already disheartened and out of hand, swayed and turned every way, straining the front oxen to the utmost; yet Zwaartland took the strain and pulled.  For a few moments both front oxen stood firm; then his mate cut it and turned; the team swung away with a rush, and the old fellow was jerked backwards and rolled over on his side.  He struggled gamely, but it was some minutes before he could rise; and then his eye looked wilder and more despairing; his legs were planted apart to balance him, and his flanks were Jim straightened up the double span again.  Zwaartland leaned forward once more, and the others followed his lead; the waggon moved a little and they managed to pull it out.  But I, walking in front, felt the brave old fellow stagger, and saw him, with head lowered, plod blindly like one stricken to death. We outspanned on the rise, and I told Jim to leave the reim on Zwaartland's head.  Many a good turn from him deserved one more from me--the last.  I sent Jim for the rifle, and led the old front ox to the edge of the donga where a bleached tree lay across it...  He dropped into the donga under the dead tree; and I packed the dry branches over him and set fire to the pile.  It looks absurd now; but to leave him to the wolf and the jackal seemed like going back on a friend; and the queer looks of the boys, and what they would think of me, were easier to bear.  Jim watched, but said nothing: with a single grunt and a shrug of his shoulders he stalked back to the waggons. The talk that night at the boys' fire went on in lo -pitched tones--not a single word audible to me; but I knew what it was about.  As Jim stood up to get his blanket off the waggon, he stretched himself and closed off the evening's talk with his Zulu click and the remark that "All white men are mad, in some way." So we crawled on until we reached the turn where the road turned between the mountain range and the river and where the railway runs to-day. There, where afterwards Cassidy did his work, we outspanned one day when the heat became so great that it was no longer possible to go on.  For weeks the storm-clouds had gathered, threatened, and dispersed; thunder had come half-heartedly, little spots of rain enough to pock-mark the dust; but there had been no break in the drought.

Some Video Clips taken while on a day safari in the Kruger National Park

Above are some video clips that have been put together in a short video of what a visitor can experience while on safari with "Nhongo Safaris". This video was taken from the start of the day when leaving camp and was ended by the mid afternoon of the same day. In the video one can see just how close we can get to these animals as they just carry on with there daily lives of living in an African National Park.

If any of you are thinking of visiting the Kruger National Park in the near future, please take a look at our website for details of our safaris and how we can make your visit to the Kruger National Park a success.