JUST HOW COLD CAN A WITCHES TIT GET??

We are all agree that this winter has been hard, usually a fairly balmy affair with short spasms of cold lasting a couple of days, not this endless remorseless bitter wind bringing ice and death in its wake.
I love winter on my mountain. The world is blue and gold, the aloes are red and the sunbirds think it is Christmas in the middle of the year. The days are sunny and bright even if the nights are bitter, but not this year.
Well I think it is nasty but I have been assured, by the old and grumpy in the village, that this is nothing as the diesel in the motors has yet to freeze, the mind boggles.
As well as the cold, this wind from the North, has blown disquieting neighbors into my world, bringing with them a world of troubles.
From the East came the call about the Wildebeest that had escaped through an opened gate, opened by I suspect the very people who were complaining about these peaceful souls. I cannot actually bust them but I just know, you know?
They now claimed that they were threatening the mans livelihood and the well being of his children, wife and cattle, with he claimed their propensity to infect cattle. (See fat boring piles of inbred grass to protein converters, with no redeeming feature other than to make meat), with something called ‘snot sickness’ and they had to be destroyed, shot, murdered.
The man was really quite insistent even getting his wife to call.
It is one of the less appealing sides to country life, this propensity to dispense death with nary a thought as to the spiritual and sweeter side.
Down I went and had a look at the situation that was not very hopeful. The beasties would react to logic and good sense not to mention life saving attention with the distrust and suspicion that only thousands of years of persecution can instill.
In short the second they saw any two-legged monkeys running around they fled with great vigor. I fobbed off the insistent pleas for their death with mock charges into the field with friends,guns and bikes, to show willing in the hope that a season would go by and they would be spared.
My good intentions which seemed to be working, as young Boet Jan seemed to have overcome his fears and seemed satisfied at my intentionally futile efforts, but other country eyes, less romantic than mine were also watching, and they were hungry and had dogs.
And have I mentioned it is bloody cold!
The situation was getting out of hand, we now had the local lads hunting them with their nasty skinny hounds, and they eventually tore one to pieces.
My pleas and protestations were met with stoic indifference.
I was in a spot, even reporting them to nature conservation, had little impact, none in fact, their persecution continued unabated but the NC officers did give me the number of ‘Nicko’ who they said could come and dart them and thus save them, yea!
The darter man however was less than enthusiastic to come and do the deed, as he could see little profit in the enterprise for himself, but when after many fruitless calls I sensed that he was a man with Zebra to sell, and being a man who lusts for the same a deal was struck. He arrived pronto and shot them just after selling me the stripy ones, ahh well winter is hard.
I did get a moment of hope that something positive might come out of all this, as we caught the baby but she also died…bummer.
Add to this Chloe the donkey and a baby Haartebeest that also passed this is turning into a dark season indeed, winter is not the time to be old or young.
But nothing stands still, the world rolls remorselessly and brings joys with every disaster, and we now have 8 very nice zebra, my other tiresome neighbors have decided to throw in the towel and we are buying their land with it's many wonders and the opportunity to expand the trail into a 5 day marvel of the world.

ORIBI GIRLS AND WINTER with its sadness ARRIVE’S

Some time ago I was informed the ‘Oribi Wildlife Preservation Society” was to grace our area. Their task, to help concerned landowners to deal with this scarce buck. We were fed and watered at a neighboring estate before the inevitable process of ‘death by power point’ was imposed on us.
We learnt little and offered less. My impression was that they wanted to take control of our land; we would none-the-less do the work and put in the money too!
This on the basis of a tedious and lengthy presentation that told us nothing of real value to the day to day process of living in the bundu or to what to do about the stupid ungulates they were so concerned about either. So I was dubious about entertaining another.
A intense very young blond who should have been wearing an outfit with epaulets but was not, which I complained about, arrived in a large pick-up with logo’s all over it advertising ‘green’ activities but clearly identified as being paid for by those actively involved in the destruction of the planet, an oxymoron made flesh.
She was devoted to her little bokkies and all things great and small, she wanted to help, she would personally give her all in the cause, but thankfully I was spared her pitch as my Inkulu’s old lady passed and the news arrived on her heels which naturally made all plans redundant.
A death in a staff member’s family, no matter how distant, requires some considerable expense and aggravation for me. I am required by some very convenient cultural thing to give over dosh, help with transport and supply a whole lot of firewood, which I reluctantly do.
This required the entire estate to drop tools and spring to, to get this all together, and Oribi girl and I had long drive with weeping ladies clinging on to the back of the wood laden bakkie which I had to negotiate down tracks to huts in the wilderness. We were then embroiled in some dark African family disagreement over the arrangements. Drunken faces peered into our space ship to eagerly explain the wickedness that was being enacted. All quite captivating though completely incomprehensible.
We took some pictures of this strange world and departed, dumping a forlorn and troubled old man to wander into the bush to lay his woman in the ground, very poignant, sad.
We live here in this vast continent and really we can only hope to be informed visitors, the endlessness and cruelty of this land is beyond our ken.