On the trail of the diamond dogs

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Issue 36

With Mickey Mouse ears, supermodel legs and swirling dark, milk and white chocolate coats, African wild dogs are among the continent’s most charismatic flagship species. Endangered and hard to see in the wild, only around 450 remain in South Africa, along with small pockets in Tanzania, Botswana, Namibia, Zambia and Zimbabwe. In a move to boost wild dogs’ chances of survival, a new ecotourism initiative in South Africa’s Limpopo province is allowing visitors to go behind the scenes of a special monitoring and conservation project. Ann and Steve Toon joined the project’s researchers on patrol, tracking a pack of radio-collared wild dogs though the bush. The Land Rover comes to an abrupt halt at the edge of a dried riverbed lined with dense thorn bushes and tall shade trees. Cradling our camera gear nervously we attempt to regain our balance, and some degree of composure, after what seems like an age of bumping along rough dirt tracks, our spines jolted and our arms and faces whipped by stray thorn-branches. Suddenly everything is quiet and still. Scanning around excitedly we’re not sure quite why we’ve stopped, or in which direction we’re supposed to be looking. Richard Selamolela, our driver and guide, points to the sloping riverbank opposite us. He knows this terrain better than the back of his hand. “Over there.” We can’t see anything, but he assures us that it was just here he picked up the pack’s signal again this morning – some eight kilometres or so from where we’d left them last night. We’d had to give up our chase then due to the growing darkness and the fact our quarry had led us deeper and deeper into thick mopane bush which looked hopelessly impenetrable in the fading light. Now it’s late afternoon, and after resting up during the middle of the day, one of the African continent’s most endangered large carnivores is ready to go hunting once again. We’re on the trail of a special pack of 17 ‘diamond dogs’. This wild dog pack has been established on the De Beers Venetia Limpopo nature reserve near the company’s Venetia diamond mine in northeast South Africa, close to the border with Zimbabwe and Botswana and right next to South Africa’s new Mapungubwe National Park. Richard and researcher Katherine Potgieter are discussing the best way to approach the snoozing wild dogs we still can’t get a visual on, over on the opposite bank. She throws us each a ripe marula fruit to quench our thirst in the afternoon heat. The flesh tastes citrussy and refreshing. Marula fruit are packed with vitamin C, and understandably popular with elephants and a raiding baboon troop back at our lodge. “We’re going to drive up the bank and try to get closer to the pack,” says Katherine, tossing back her blonde dreadlocks. Richard skilfully negotiates first the sandy riverbed, then the steep-sided bank and pulls up close to a group of densely-packed thorn bushes. “There!” he gestures. At first we don’t see the sleeping wild dogs in the heavily-dappled shade. Their marble-patterned flanks blend seamlessly into these surroundings. But squinting into the sunshine it’s possible to make out the group huddled together under the branches like a pile of coats at a party. We’re just 15 metres away. The unmistakable odour of wild dog fills our nostrils – dog-bed crossed with durian fruit. “It’s the pups,” says Katherine, explaining how these rather unruly six month olds like to sit apart from the adults like a bunch of aloof teenagers. “There’s Carat.” We’re excited to be able to ID one of the pups we encountered yesterday. Carat is one of the dogs with a diamond-themed name. Others bear a mixed bag of monikers, the fruits of a successful puppy naming and adoption scheme. There’s been a Colonel, a Koda, a Woody and even a Trevor and a Sheila. Identifying individual pack members isn’t difficult; each coat pattern is unique, so even inexperienced visitors like ourselves can assist in the research work. Data collected on these tracking trips is used to determine pack dynamics, to study hunting and denning behaviour, and to research other measures of pack viability. The wild dogs glance up momentarily at the research vehicle, then flop down again sleepily. These young dogs have grown up under the watchful gaze of Richard and Katherine and barely turn a hair when the vehicle is around. It’s possible to get extremely close without disturbing the dogs’ natural behaviour patterns. Shuffling sounds coming from the direction of another bush some fifteen metres away pinpoint the whereabouts of the remaining pack members and Richard kills the engine so we can watch and wait. It will be interesting to see how the pack behaves and interacts today. Apart from one sub-adult, all of the females were recently captured and are being held in a large enclosure, called a boma. Pattern, the alpha female, is among them. The original members of the Venetia wild dog pack were introduced to the reserve in 2002 as part of a new approach to wild dog conservation in South Africa. Wild dogs are very wide-ranging predators and need huge spaces for survival. In Kruger National Park, home to the country’s only naturally viable population (about 150 dogs), the average home range of a pack is more than 500 square kilometres. In order to build up wild dog numbers outside Kruger, conservationists have established several sub-populations on a network of small reserves that individually could not support naturally viable populations. These sub-groups are being managed as a single ‘metapopulation’. This approach relies on intensive conservation management under which wild dogs from the sub-groups are translocated between reserves to mimic their natural dispersal over huge distances in the wild, helping to refresh the gene pool and ensure against the dangers of inbreeding. It’s as part of this management programme that the Venetia females have been captured. Ringo, the pack’s alpha male, is getting on a bit, and there’s concern that when he dies the only possible replacement as top dog will be one of Pattern and Ringo’s sons. To avoid inbreeding, Pattern and the other females are to be moved to another reserve and replaced with fresh blood from elsewhere in the metapopulation. Leading the wild dog project at Venetia is Harriet Davies-Mostert, whose husband Warwick manages the reserve. The project is an initiative of the Carnivore Conservation Group of South Africa’s Endangered Wildlife Trust, which Harriet now heads up, together with Oxford University’s Wildlife Conservation Research Unit. According to Harriet, South Africa is already seeing big benefits from the metapopulation management approach. “The number of wild dogs in protected areas outside Kruger has now quadrupled and there are currently more dogs in the metapopulation than there are in Kruger. Our challenge is now to maintain this population by moving wild dogs between reserves,” she says. “We’re hoping to start a genetic study next year to help further guide our management decisions in this.” “The ecotourism at Venetia helps our work in two ways by increasing public awareness of the plight of wild dogs and by providing some economic return for the huge outlays required to conserve the species in small, fenced reserves,” she continues. “If we can demonstrate that wild dog tourism can be a financial benefit this will help the future of wild dog conservation,” adds Warwick. Back in the river bed, the wild dogs begin their fascinating and elaborate pre-hunting rituals, apparently unconcerned about the absence of the females. Carat is first to get up, but is soon followed by some of the other sub-adults, yawning lazily and stretching their long, slender legs. These youngsters already accompany adult pack members on hunts and seem keen to rouse the rest of the pack to get on with it. They begin rushing about excitedly with heads low, ears back and tongues rolling. An ear-splitting chorus of intense, bird-like twittering noises breaks out. This ‘yittering’, explains Katherine, acts as a rallying call to the others to prepare for the hunt. A ritualised greeting of pack members begins, with much sniffing and licking of muzzles. Wild dogs are extremely social animals and the daily monitoring patrols at Venetia frequently provide high-quality close encounters of key wild dog behaviour like this. Suddenly several young males ambush one unsuspecting sub-adult, which results in energetic play-fighting, until the sub-adult female steps in to check that the victim’s OK. As if sharpening their teeth in readiness, some of the younger wild dogs begin chewing branches aggressively until suddenly, as if on some silent signal, the whole pack heads off purposefully into the bush. Richard starts up the engine. We hang back, following the pack’s progress through open terrain as the dogs trot through the low scrub. Two of the younger dogs briefly try resuming their play-fight, rearing up on hind quarters, while attempting to keep up with the more experienced pack members at the same time. The dogs look eager, energetic, alert and full of running. We have no way of predicting which direction they will head in and only one trick up our sleeve when we finally lose sight of them in thick bush. Katherine reaches for her telemetry equipment. Some of the dogs are radio-collared, which allows her to pick up and follow their signal when it’s difficult to get a visual on the pack. Radio-tracking collars are a huge help to the researchers – because these animals cover such huge distances they’ve always been a difficult species to study. Visitors joining the daily patrols have the opportunity to learn how to use this equipment, interact with researchers on their scientific projects and generally get involved locating and tracking the pack. Richard thinks the dogs may be headed west and stops the vehicle, allowing Katherine to lift the receiver high above her head. Although the signal is faint she reckons the dogs are moving through the mopane somewhere up ahead to the left. Richard, points out a fresh rhino track in the sand, then suggests we head into the mopane along one of the reserve’s narrow management tracks to see if we can get a visual on the dogs. As he starts up the engine a small duiker darts out in front of us and just as quickly disappears again. We plough up and down the tracks that criss-cross the mopane like supermarket shopping aisles. It feels like we’re stuck in a maze and we’re beginning to give up hope of ever finding anything. The signal’s been weak for a while and we begin chatting to Katherine about the python she found last night under her pillow. The late afternoon light is turning the mopane a vivid gold. Katherine suddenly sounds excited. “Signal – straight – one bar.” Richard responds and picks up the pace. The pack is close now and from the strength and direction of the signals the dogs appear to be moving quite purposefully just ahead of us. Are they on the trail of something? Our hearts beat faster. Although chances of seeing an actual kill are pretty slim, visitors witness the pack feeding on a kill on around 20 per cent of tracking trips. Katherine spots three of the wild dogs, including Ringo, fanned out in the dense undergrowth. For some inexplicable reason we both glance behind. Firmly planting one paw in front of the other on the sandy trail, just metres behind the Landy and looking for the world as if he is tracking us, is Carat. Richard stops to allow him to trot past and join the others before we continue to follow the pack through the mopane thickets. It’s getting dark quite quickly now, however, and the dogs are spreading out through the bush in a wide arc. They hunt as a single unit, combing the bush on the lookout for prey. Richard explains that the pack often tries to flush prey in the direction of the reserve’s fenceline, where it has nowhere else to run. We follow Carat and his pack through the mopane for as long as the light allows, as the signal’s bleeps rises and fades until we can no longer make out the white tufts of the dogs’ tails up ahead of us. Reluctantly we agree to call it a night. We may not have seen a chase, but we’ve had some of our most rewarding wildlife encounters with these special animals – Limpopo’s painted ambassadors for Africa’s few remaining wild dogs.

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