Somewhere in the shadows a barn owl screeches, and we can just make out the dark shapes of bats crisscrossing the jet-black sky. Suddenly, the area in front of our hide is bathed in light, much like a spotlight illuminating an empty stage. Before our eyes have had a chance to adjust, a black-backed jackal enters from stage left. There’s just something businesslike about his jaunty, trotting gait as he skips along swiftly to take up position centre stage. He’s soon joined under the spotlight by his accompanying cast: several other jackals, each seeming equally purposeful. We settle back expectantly with our beers. The nightly ballet is about to begin…

It’s really not surprising that jackals are one of our all-time favourite animals. You see, when lions and leopards are out for the count, when rhinos are proving elusive and when huge herds of buffaloes and elephants appear to have been swallowed up whole by the bush, you can always count on a jackal or two for entertainment. So as tempting as it might be to drive past one of them in search of larger quarry or something seeming to be a little bit more exciting, you should stay put and watch. We’ve found that it usually won’t be long until the amusing antics start, whether it’s cunningly raiding a swallow-tailed bee-eater’s nest to grab a quick bite, wrestling with a snake, play-fighting with siblings, hunting doves at a waterhole, frantically digging out mouse holes, squabbling noisily over scraps it’s scavenged, investigating its first ever terrapin, fearlessly biting the tail of a feeding cheetah to drive it off its kill, or simply jaywalking through the undergrowth with an eye for adventure. Even when they are not in sight, they often entertain – the doleful howling chorus of black-backed jackals, echoing into the distance after dark, is one of the most memorable sounds of any visit to the bush.

Groups of jackals are especially enjoyable, as they will routinely use a range of vocal calls and facial grimaces. You’ll also likely witness ritualised dominance and submission displays that play out like an endlessly absorbing soap opera.

Supremely adaptable and consummate survivors, jackals exploit any opportunity for food wherever they may find it – as witnessed at the Cape Cross fur seal colony on Namibia’s Skeleton coast during the breeding season. There they’ve learned to silently stalk and snatch lost, weak or abandoned seal cubs from in amongst the thronging colony of protective adults. We’ve even seen a determined male take down a large, but sickly female springbok single-handedly at one Kalahari waterhole. And on a lighter note, the plastic sides of our cheese grater still bear the teeth marks of one cheeky chappie who came into camp at dinner time and stole it from right under our noses. We managed to track the item down the next morning across the other side of the rest camp where it had been abandoned, along with someone’s half-chewed trainer, licked clean and obviously no longer of any interest.

It’s not just the entertainment factor that makes them worthy of reappraisal. While long thought of as simply scavengers, jackals actually acquire only ten per cent of their diet by this means. Their curved canines are brilliantly adapted for hunting, helping to make them particularly skilful at taking small prey (anything up to the size of a small antelope calf). That said, their role as scavengers is still vital, working with other carrion-eaters like hyenas and vultures to reduce disease by cleaning-up corpses across the savannah. Willing to eat almost anything – insects, berries, birds, rodents, antelopes, fruit etc – their daily diet is usually filled with whatever is easiest to get hold of.

When you study them closely, jackals are not bad on the eye either. They make great photographic subjects, quite simply because they’re so active, always found doing something new. Look at them through the viewfinder of your camera and you’ll see how their watchful eyes, forever keen, curious and interested, can easily become the focal point of a picture. Their slender, elongated bodies, their long, lean, agile-looking legs (designed for stamina and speed – jackals are excellent runners) and their thick, black-tipped bushy tail are all also worthy of admiration. Black-backed jackals, of all the related species, are beautifully marked too. Their coats are quite colourful, with a broad, dark band streaked with white on their back that contrasts appealingly with their reddish fur.

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Although primarily on the move at night, jackals are often also seen during the day, which is a great reason to like them – encountering other nocturnal species active during daylight hours on safari is rare. Other admirable aspects include their keen sense of smell and a well-developed sense of hearing. Jackals’ eyesight is pretty good too, enabling them to spot dinner from some distance away, whether it’s live prey or a far-flung carcass being circled by vultures. One ability that impresses us is their ability stealthily to surround their next serving of food – we’re often amazed when they suddenly spring into view the instant a cheetah or lion pride moves off a kill, the scene quickly turning into a mass of yelping, spitting and hissing.

Neatly, each of the three jackal species tends to favour a different type of habitat, largely occupying its own geographic niche: the golden jackal is found mainly on open plains and in arid habitats; the side-striped jackals prefer woodland habitat and riverine forest; and the black-backed jackal likes grasslands and acacia woodland, though it does also overlap slightly with the environments of the other two.

Generally jackals are territorial creatures, with each realm being defended by a breeding pair. These pairs are monogamous, and the two cooperate in sharing several important duties: territory defence, hunting, food sharing and caring for their young. Unlike many species, the dominant male plays a hands-on part in rearing his offspring, as well as providing provisions for his partner when she’s confined to the den.

An interesting feature of jackal social structure is that the previous year’s litter will often stay behind to act as helpers in raising the current season’s offspring. The advantage of this arrangement is that it’s easier for the parents to get food if there’s extra help at hand, plus the pups get greater protection at the den, increasing their chances of survival. The helpers will not only guard youngsters at the den site, but will also regurgitate food for them. This may seem a selfless act, but there is a pay off – the parenting experience gained in this way may increase the helpers’ own chances of successful pup rearing in the future.

Back at the hide, next to Nossob Camp in the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, the nightly dance of the jackals is now underway. With pirouettes, skips, high leaps and sudden switchbacks, the jackals jump to catch the many insects swarming the floodlight. From time to time the pace varies as they deftly paw the earth and pounce on other tasty morsels such as beetles, who are meeting their unfortunate end due to trekking across the sandy dance floor. Although completely intent on sneaking yet another airborne snack, the jackals skilfully sidestep each other, neatly retracing their footwork, each time repeating their masterful moves with expert timing, grace and precision. The nimble dance appears as carefully choreographed as any ballroom sequence. Some animals will do anything for a free meal…

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