Zululand unfiltered and unfenced
It was close to midnight when we stepped off the bakkie. The full moon was nearing its zenith allowing us to make out the silhouette of Manyoni Private Game Reserveʼs vegetation. ʻListen,ʼ reserve manager Karen Odendaal said. On the other side of the bushes came the sound of rustling, branches breaking and scraping so loudly it seemed almost reckless. ʻIs that the buffalo?ʼ I whispered. Weʼd encountered a disgruntled dagga boy moments before and there was a chance he was still wandering around. ʻNo,ʼ Karen said, ʻthatʼs the pangolin.ʼ The four of us sniggered at the absurdity of the sound, but also at the excitement of finally spotting this ancient animal for the first time.
Telemetry had taken us that
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