cluster-leaf,’ he said. ‘These trees are tall and straight and just right.’Reeds pressed in around us as Kagiso eased us along. The pole slid gracefully through his hands. Then, with the slightest grunt at each stroke, he drove the mokoro through the water. A rippling arrow creased the afternoon’s reflections.
We were enveloped in a cocoon of peace, gliding through water that mirrored the sky, brushing past reeds that were home to brightly coloured frogs. We approached an elephant, ear deep in the water and happily munching reeds. He gave us a mighty shake of the head, then carried on eating.
The birdlife was amazing. I had fortunately packed my long lens and photographing the birds from the waterline was a delight. We glided silently up to cranes, egrets, darters, geese and ducks. At one point, we came to a heronry packed with sacred ibises, marabou and yellow-billed storks. Many were perched on nests, feeding their little ones and kicking up a delightful racket. Others were industriously building new apartments in the treetops.
‘The water in the Okavango is actually a kind of a flood,’ said Kagiso as we negotiated a narrow channel through the reeds. ‘Arriving from Angola after seasonal rains, the water level rises through the winter months. During the
peak of the flood, between May and September, water stretches as far as the eye can see.’
‘Stranded within this marshy expanse are many islands, which shrink and expand with the changing water level. Some islands are small enough to host only a single palm tree, others are nearly 1,000 square kilometres in size.’
Our mokoro skirted a pod of hippo. We drifted up against the bank a safe distance away and watched for a while before drinks were passed around. It was the perfect evening in the delta with the sounds of sunset serenading us. I was watching one of the hippo as it circled the boat. Suddenly, it dived under the water. A few moments later, it burst to the surface about 40m from us, honking loudly.
Kagiso decided to move away, giving the grumpy fellow a wide berth and poling us back towards camp in the golden light. Just then, a fish eagle loosed its haunting cry, which echoed across the water to us. It sent a shiver down my spine: the iconic call of the African wilderness.
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BELOW: Don't forget to appreciate the smaller critters on safari, like frogs.
OPPOSITE: Legend has it that there are more elephant than people in Botswana.