Twelve years ago the SABC,sponsored by Total SA, ran a countrywide nature quiz on radio. Because I’d spent years in the bush, my friend Sarel Retief bullied me into entering and as a partner I dragged him along. Some 36 two-person teams of experts from around SA took part and competition was fierce. Sarel and I made a formidable team and made it to the final. We eventually won in a nail-biting finish. But unlike today’s huge TV competition prizes, our grand prize was a weekend in the then new Mopani camp of the Kruger National Park, as guests of the National Parks Board (now SANParks).
Luxury spoiling nature
So off we went to where the mopani trees lined the roads, but by then I’d developed too much love for the wilderness to enjoy all the luxury. I felt deprived of the freedom of the veld by having to rush back to camp at that wonderful time when the day makes way for the night. Even darkness had to be spent cooped up behind a fence, where there was no escape from people, and noisy air-conditioners made it impossible to hear the night sounds. Memories of what the park used to look like when I went there as a child haunted me. I remembered the open savannah and the hyenas that came into the camps at night. This had all changed, so for years I stayed away. I preferred to visit the parks in our neighbouring states where you can still camp in the veld. The contrasts I experienced sparked my interest in the Kruger Park’s history and the factors that have made it what it is. Few people who visit the Kruger today realise that in the last century not only the camps, but especially the landscape around them, have undergone a dramatic transformation.
Beauty back in the days
More than 100 years ago, on 25 July 1902, James Stevenson-Hamilton arrived at Bill Sanderson’s deserted homestead at Legogote near Pretorius Kop to take up his post as first warden of the newly proclaimed Sabi Game Reserve, which was to become the Kruger Park. The view then could hardly be more different than it is today – wide open savannah-grassveld interspersed with a few sparse trees. Two days later he travelled to Nelspruit which, apart from the railway station, consisted of only two corrugated iron buildings – the so-called Hansing “hotel” and Tom Lawrence’s trading store. In his book SA Eden, he described how the wagon road to Nelspruit “led across bare-looking country … there were hardly any trees”. In fact at White River, which later became the town where he regularly obtained his supplies, the biggest problem was the lack of firewood.
Shabeni is a granite hill near Pretorius Kop where Harry Wolhuter, who killed a lion with a knife, was stationed. In his young days these two hills stood in open country. Today they hardly protrude above a massive sea of bush. Game viewing is limited, the production capacity of the habitat is highly reduced and the biodiversity is low. The whole southern portion of the park is in this state or worse, and most other areas are moving towards it.
Mismanagement takes its toll
This did not just happen – it is the result of a century of mismanagement. The problem started with the war on all predators, fuelled by the sporting ethic of the time which favoured the preservation of antelope and the extermination of anything that preyed on them. This gave impala, which thrive on deteriorating veld and so multiplied by the thousands, the upper hand. Their overgrazing denuded the grassveld to the extent that scarcer species such as roan and sable found it harder to exist. Although impala had a greater overall effect on the vegetation than elephants did, their numbers were never controlled. This, and the failure to use fire correctly, has led to the bush encroachment we see today.
One can excuse the old pioneer managers for their mistakes as they lacked knowledge, but the Kruger is too precious to allow it to deteriorate to the point of no return. Rather than being the management embarrassment it is, it should be an example to game ranchers of how things should be done. The new management of SANParks will do well to combat the scourge of bush encroachment and conserve this unique habitat which, in contrast to the animals, can never be replaced. – Abré J Steyn
Contact Abré J Steyn on 083 253 4822. |fw
