Mashatu Game Reserve in Botswana: Experience the fauna of Africa

It is still dark when we set off from Mashatu Lodge in the Landcruiser. This time, however, it’s not a game drive, but rather a direct route to the Matebole Hide. Already, in the early morning, the air is heavy with the scent of wild sage, which is typical of the savannah landscape in the Tuli block in southeast Botswana, very close to the border with South Africa. The “Hide” is a shipping container recessed into the floor with a large, unglazed slot on the front. Through this you can look at the artificial waterhole that was created here at ground level. Because there are very few such photo hiding places in Africa, the Matebole Hide magically attracts nature and animal photographers from all over the world.

We reach the inside of the container via steep steps and close the flap while the off-road vehicle drives back to the lodge. It feels a bit like boarding a submarine – which doesn’t seem very desirable since the Titan imploded. However, there is no time for claustrophobia. The sandbags on which to place the lenses are already ready, and a young man with dreadlocks pours steaming coffee into enamel cups. In a whisper, he explains how best to position yourself and which camera settings promise great photo booty. Alone: ​​The fauna can still be asked and doesn’t seem to be getting out of bed. Speaking of which: the feathered savannah residents are the first to come to the waterhole for their morning toilet and to drink.

A Francolin mother carefully scans the surroundings before leading her chicks, no bigger than tennis balls, to the artificial pool. A jackal would be only too happy to eat her offspring for breakfast. When it becomes clear that the air is clear, guinea fowls, wattlebirds, black-throated finches and northern lapwings follow. The birdies present themselves to us just a few meters away. Sometimes they are so close that the telephoto lens has to be replaced with a wide angle lens. The golden-billed parrots and the red-nosed green pigeons make for particularly spectacular photos when they use the waterhole as a natural wellness center and organize real splashing orgies so that the cool water splashes.

Suddenly everyone is exposed. A kudu bull, a species of forest antelope with impressively large, curved horns, approaches. He also has to be careful here and watch out for big cats. Only after a careful check of the area does he bend down to drink. His antlers and his body are reflected in the water. You can see how the tongue greedily licks up the wet. We have never observed animals from this perspective and from such close proximity. Click, click – the cameras won’t stop shooting. And the constant fire continues, because now it’s time to raise the curtain for zebras and wildebeests. The latter get down on their knees to drink, and you are undecided whether you should find it awkward or elegant. With zebras, however, it’s all about hierarchy: stallions drink first. And if teenagers don’t accept this, the hooves are kicked out hard. Ouch! At such a close distance, the dull noise sounds twice as brutal and you think you can feel the pain yourself.

Then there is a break on TV Savanne. And that’s time to let Shem Compion tell you how he came up with the idea for this brilliant hiding place. The South African was a guide with safari guests in Botswana for many years. He was particularly fond of the game-rich Tuli reserve in the easternmost tip of the country. The region is called the “Land of the Giants” because here extra-large herds of elephants roam the savannah and Methuselah-old baobab trees stretch their bare branches into the African sky. Bizarre rocky landscapes made of rust-red sandstone and basalt offer spectacular views. There are several privately owned protected areas here. The sparkling diamond is the Mashatu Game Reserve, one of the best addresses in Africa for leopard sightings. The big cats are often found on the broad-crowned Mashatu trees, which gave the reserve its name and are called Nyala berries in German. Mashatu, around 30,000 hectares in size, belonged to the South African philanthropist David Rattray, a good friend of Britain’s King Charles. When Rattray was murdered on his farm in the South African province of Kwa-Zulu-Natal in 2007, the Mashatu family sold to British billionaire Stephen Lansdown, who, among other things, is the owner of the Bristol City football club.

“I was never really satisfied with the pictures my guests took from the safari vehicle,” says Shem Compion. “You sit too high, you’re too far away from the action.” A hiding place that allows ground-level views would solve these problems. But where exactly should I build this? It quickly became clear that Mashatu would be chosen. Compion offered photo workshops here for the first time in 2005. And his guests were thrilled by the density of game right from the start. Professional photographers also came more and more often, and Mashatu reliably earned them awards for their work. “We looked for the best location for a long time,” remembers Compion. It should be located at the transition from mopane forest to open savanna in order to attract as many species of birds and mammals as possible. Another plus: Elephants come here every day in the dry season as they move north, where the best food is available. “They have no objection to a drink at our waterhole.” However, the South African was convinced that they would remain loyal even in the rainy season. He had observed in the Okavango Delta that birds and pachyderms really appreciate fresh groundwater that is brought to the surface with a pump, even in this “green” season. How well would that work in Mashatu, where it is very dry and it doesn’t rain 93 percent of the days of the year?

Compion sat down at a table with experienced safari guides and photographers. Together they worked out the design for the hide. It quickly became clear that a shipping container would be the first choice. They found it in a friend’s garden in the village of Oodi, near the capital Gaborone. And: Contrary to expectations, there were even talented welders who transformed the container into a waterproof photo hiding place. The tin box then began its journey of more than 500 kilometers to Mashatu. The special trip on a truck lasted two full days. And then the box had to be buried. The crane promptly collapsed, but at some point the hiding place was ready for use. What was now missing was the artificial water hole, for which a 1.2 kilometer long pipeline had to be laid from the actual well to the hiding place. When it was time to “let the water go,” it quickly became clear that the ground was far too porous. Everything wet seeped away and it would take months to fill the hole. So clay was needed to line and seal the floor. “All in all, it was a pretty hard piece of work,” says Compion, summing up his pioneering work.

However, one that was worth it. In the meantime several kudus have gathered at the waterhole. An impala has mingled among them and naturally acts as if it belongs to this much larger species. The others think it’s pretty cheeky, their looks reveal it. The impressive eland antelopes are much more cautious. They approach very carefully, step by step. Remain in motion, probe the mopane bush. Because they know: Every time you quench your thirst, you endanger your life. The mongooses and ground squirrels primarily look up before they come to the waterhole. Because their enemies circle in the air. Vervet monkeys and baboons are much more relaxed. Their groups of up to a hundred animals feel like family and convey security.

“Elephants,” our British container neighbor is now whispering. Yes, we actually feel a bit like the participants of the trash RTL format “Big Brother”, in which we voluntarily allowed ourselves to be locked in a television studio and fought for a prize. But this show is on a much higher level. In contrast to the smaller mammals, the pachyderms know that no one can harm them, not even lions or leopards. Accordingly, they head towards the waterhole with determination. Yes, they are actually running, as if they had an important appointment today. Dust swirls and the ground shakes like a slight earthquake. 20 meters, ten meters, five meters. Just don’t panic now! Shem Compion had assured us that the container was so sturdy that a whole herd could picnic on it. In fact, the gray giants are very sensitive. Knowing full well that we are watching them, but that they pose no threat. Nevertheless, the pulse shoots up when a trunk appears right next to a viewing window on the side and a fountain blows water into our box. Just pull the camera away quickly enough!

Little by little we get to know the whole herd: mothers with their baby fans, aunts and cousins, young teenagers gather around the waterhole. We have never seen the planet’s largest land mammals so close and from this mole’s perspective. How delicate they are! Without binoculars we can see the fine eyelashes above the dark eyes, the bristles on the trunk, the wrinkles in the wrinkled skin. Big, massive bodies that smell of wet earth, like a summer thunderstorm. And: They all have their own character. Some calves know how to get their short trunks into the water. Others act a bit clumsy and almost fall headfirst into the artificial pool. You could watch them for hours. But as quickly as the herd came, it moved on.

She will come back tomorrow. We will come back too.