Pongola, South Africa – Bagging the “big five” at a game park in South Africa usually means seeing lions, leopards, buffaloes, rhinos and elephants. But for a different breed of animal lover, it’s about catching sight of frogs – the painted reed, banded rubber, Natal sand, foam nest and snoring puddle.
About 130 of the roughly 5,000 frog species that have been identified in the world can be found in South Africa, and they come out in biblical plague force after a summer downpour. On a single river bend or puddle, thousands congregate, calling to prospective mates at volumes approaching 100 decibels – louder than a chain saw.
Last year, Alwyn Wentzel, manager of AmaKhosi Lodge, on the 34,000-acre AmaZulu Private Game Reserve in northern Zululand, started offering frog safaris in the summer rainy season, from December to March.
“AmaKhosi is on a beautiful reserve with plenty of big game and about 28 species of frogs,” Wentzel said. “We decided to offer something new to our guests that does not revolve around observing big game, but rather around the smaller things one often misses when chasing lions and elephants.”
So I reserved a chalet at AmaKhosi for three nights in late February. The rates – $680 a night, single occupancy, or $450 a night, per person, double occupancy – include accommodations, meals, beverages, bush walks and two guided game drives a day. Getting to AmaKhosi is a challenge. It is at the edge of KwaZulu Natal province, about four hours north of Durban. Some guests rent vehicles and drive, but carjacking is common, so I booked a van transfer to the lodge.
After an overnight flight from Paris to Durban, my driver, Joseph, met me at the airport. As we headed north, the city’s sprawling suburbs gave way to sugar cane fields and eucalyptus groves.
As soon as we entered AmaKhosi’s first gate we spotted animals many people see only in zoos: monkeys, snorting wart hogs, wildebeests, ostriches and impalas.
AmaKhosi’s climate, terrain and wildlife are similar to that of 5-million-acre Kruger National Park on South Africa’s border with Zim-
babwe and Mozambique. It doesn’t have Kruger’s thick herds of animals, but its smaller size concentrates the big game, virtually assuring visitors of sightings.
You go through several gates to reach the lodge. Passing through the last barrier you suddenly realize that at an African game park the rules are reversed: You’re in the cage, and the wild animals are around you.
A drink and a towel
When I reached the lodge, a young woman in a floor-length African print caftan offered me a drink and a warm, moist cotton towel. I sat down in the airy lounge, decorated with leather armchairs and couches, African fabrics, masks and baskets.
The rambling building opened onto a wide wooden terrace where meals were served and there was a small swimming pool surrounded by giant ferns and impatiens. You could perch in a chair, watching for animals that come to drink at the river and identifying them with the help of game charts posted nearby.
On either side of the lodge, manicured paths meandered toward the guest chalets, each with a parlor and bedroom, air conditioning, mini-bar, private terrace and peaked grass roof inspired by traditional Zulu dwellings, or “kraals.” My bathroom had a separate shower, double tub, mounds of fresh towels, candles, soaps and lotions, and a laundry basket for dirty clothes, which the staff washed daily.
At first I thought I would never have time to enjoy such luxury, with so much to see in the bush. But I grew accustomed to the different rhythm of life at AmaKhosi, dictated by the habits of the animals on the reserve, which are most active – and visible – in the early morning and late afternoon. Thus, there are two four-hour game drives a day, the first starting around 5 a.m., the second around dusk. In between, guests cocoon in their kraals.
Meals are scheduled around the game drives. Strong hot coffee and tea are available on the terrace before you leave in the morning, and snacks are provided along the way. After you return, brunch is served – guava, pineapple and orange juices, homemade pastries and yogurt parfaits, an omelet or eggs Florentine, and venison sausage and bacon.
Before the afternoon drive, guests assemble for high tea while platters appear, loaded with ostrich samosas, fried chicken drumsticks, finger sandwiches, pasta salad, cookies and chocolate cake. After the drive, dinner awaits: an elegant, candle-lit, multicourse affair, accompanied by free-flowing South African wines.
But the first morning’s game drive, in an open-air Land Rover with maximum visibility, the guide at the wheel and a tracker in front, put everything in perspective. The attractions of the lodge faded compared with the beauty of a South African dawn, the sun rising in a creamy pink puddle, the air fresh and cool, the bush smelling of spice and ripeness.
The game reserve’s terrains include meadows, forests, wetlands and hills, from about 1,000 feet at the Mkuze River to about 2,300 feet. Before the preserve was established, the land was devoted to sugar cane, and predatory animals were eradicated. The first lions were reintroduced in 1996 and thrived, thanks to careful management.
When we stopped for cocktails in the bush at sunset, Wentzel arrived to pick me up for our first frog foray. He had friends with him, a South African husband and wife team who specialize in transporting game from one preserve to another. While telling us about frog habitats and life cycles, Wentzel gave us rubber boots and headlamps.
Environmental bellwethers
Wentzel grew up near Kruger National Park and started studying frogs after scoring unimpressively on the amphibian section of a game warden test. Now he’s passionate about the little croakers and can identify them by their calls.
On the planet for about 350 million years, frogs predated dinosaurs and evolved into a multitude of species.
But about 25 years ago, people noticed that frogs were disappearing from streams and ponds in North America. Scientists say their thin, permeable skin makes them vulnerable to climate change, disease and pollution. Worldwide extinction threatens a third of frog species.
Fortunately, that night we found lots of frogs in the tall grass. All we had to do was follow the croaking. When we spotted one, Wentzel was quick to catch it. Then he held it up to the light, revealing a delicate creature small enough to fit in a teaspoon. We identified streak-backed banded rubber frogs, snoring puddle frogs and sharp-nosed grass frogs calling in high-pitched trills.
Then we moved to a swamp, where Wentzel’s friend stayed in the vehicle with a floodlight trained on crocodiles and rhinos about 100 yards away. I followed Wentzel into chest-deep water, where we were rewarded with his first sighting of a green tinker reed frog, named for its call, which sounds like the tapping of a hammer on metal.
Then it rained, bringing a frog symphony to the pool at the entrance of the lodge.
Wentzel appeared and handed me waders, saying it was prime time to see painted reed frogs below the lodge on the banks of the muddy Mkuze. He turned off the lodge’s electric fence and carried a gun above his head. I followed closely, each foot sinking into muck as we crossed the river.
In the tall grass on the far bank we found painted reed frogs aplenty. Their inner legs are red and flash when they jump to confuse predators.
When I got back to my kraal, I was soggy and dirty, but I found something interesting – a dear little guttural toad, its belly stuck between the wooden slats of the terrace and its legs sticking up in the air.
Gently, I dislodged it, and sent it home to croak by the river again.
