LIFE OF A WATERHOLE

Picture the scene. It’s mid-morning in mid-summer at a small waterhole in the African bush. On the foreshore, a hamerkop pursues frogs among the hoof prints. In the water, a dragonfly alights on a log-basking terrapin. In the background, a warthog trots down towards the water while impala, their thirst already slaked, nibble the greenery. It’s a veritable oasis: all life seems to be here.

Picture the same location a few months later, deep into the dry season. The water has shrunk to a muddy puddle. The surrounding ground is cracked, rutted and denuded of greenery. There are no frogs, dragonflies, terrapins or water birds. The warthog and impala still turn up for a few final sips, but soon the water will be gone entirely and even these regulars will have moved