227 338
AFRICA
227
June14
T
he day starts at dawn, with
the two of us plus our Scottish
guide, Laura, sitting outside
the entrance, looking a bit like
groupies, and nervously awaiting the
appearance of a famous face. Only, this
entrance is not one to a hotel room or
a backstage area, but to a dirt burrow.
Just as Laura checks her watch, right
on cue the famous whiskered, fox-like
face appears: our first sighting. And
like all groupies, cameras are ready and
clicking away before our diva even fully
emerges. True star that she is, full of
confidence and nonchalance at finding
an audience right on her doorstep, she
emerges and yawns her way into the
start of her day.
Thus is our introduction to the first
member of the Uberkatz family, one of
several study groups at the Kalahari
Meerkat Project, near Vanzylsrus in
South Africa.
As it transpires, our first encounter
is not with the dominant female of
this matriarchal mob. She is the next
to emerge and easy to identify: Tina,
wearing a tiny radio collar.
Although we have been furnished with
a list of names and identifying marks for
each of the 13 mob members, we are
far too engrossed in the early-morning
antics of these endearing social animals
to tear our eyes away for a single
moment. We even refrain from moving
too much, and we whisper to each other
so as not to frighten these bundles of
energy – all for nothing, it turns out.
On the whole, the meerkats ignore us,
though they have been known to climb
onto visitors to use them as lookout
points. We are so close, my partner is
muttering curses at his wrong choice of
camera lens, and backs off.
Meanwhile, the entire group of animals
emerges in rapid succession, literally
popping out of the ground and pausing
at the top of themound, seeming to pose
for the camera, as stars are wont to do.
Balancing on a tripod of two legs
plus a tail, these entertaining creatures
really do line themselves up facing the
sun, in order to warm up after a night
underground, before beginning their
day of foraging for insects and other
invertebrates.
The five young who appear, and also
take very little notice of us, are only a
month or so old, and although they
belong to the dominant breeding pair
(Tina and her mate, Gump) they are
communally cared for by the entire group.
But first things first. As part of
the study, each animal is weighed
twice daily. A set of electronic scales
balancing a Tupperware container with
sand in it is placed on the ground and
each individual is enticed inside using
bribery. A tiny piece of boiled egg is
the treat – and it really must be such,
as several members try to get weighed
more than once.
Like human young, the juvenile
meerkats have no idea how to find food
or how to dispatch what they do find;
it’s up to the adults to educate them.
This leads to some hilarious antics,
with youngsters enthusiastically digging
up the desert in mimicry of the adults,
but all in a rather haphazard, messy
fashion and with very little success. Live
offerings, which are normally jealously
defended, are given to the young who
are then left to struggle with whatever
delicacy has been deposited before
them. I watch one who has an oversize
worm wriggling to escape, like a giant
piece of spaghetti slapping a child’s face
when sucked in fast. Sharp teeth and
determination make the little meerkat
the winner of this encounter, and to my
surprise he begs for more.
By now, there are meerkats scattered
in all directions and lively vocal contact is
maintained between all the individuals.
It’s hard to know where to look or which
one to follow, but thankfully they seem
completely unbothered by having us –
heffalumps by comparison – lumbering
amongst them.
Our presence also fails to prevent
them from undertaking their guard
duties. This is done with an air of intense
seriousness, as they peer fixedly beyond
the camera lens regardless of how close
we come. Alarm calls are given several
times and the response is immediate
– youngsters are protected either by
being straddled or surrounded, and at
one stage everyone hightails it (literally,
with tails pointing directly skyward) to
the nearest underground entrance.
After several hours, it is with great
reluctance that we leave this entertaining
group. Our only consolation is having a
return visit arranged for later that same
afternoon. Midday in theKalahari is toohot
for anyone, including resident meerkats,
and so “time out” is taken by all.
On our return, our guide is Seline
from Istanbul, who takes us to spend
time with the “Whiskers mob” – the real
stars of
Meerkat Manor
. This group is
smaller in number, has no youngsters
and is consequently a quieter group;
this, combined with the fact that it’s
still too hot at 5.30pm for much activity,
means we have to rely on modern
stalking methods (i.e., radio signals) to
locate them.
The group of six is found lying flat
like worn animal-skin mats beneath the
shade of a bush, blithely unconcerned
at our approach. Every few minutes
they move to a new cool spot and flop
down starfish-like in the shade, looking
decidedly hot and bothered.
As the sun begins to sink in the sky,
at some unknown signal they all begin
foraging and moving with purpose back
towards the current burrow in use. Being
fickle homeowners, meerkats do not dig
their own burrows but commandeer those
dug by ground squirrels, often sharing the
same space in relative harmony.
Unusually, this group has two pregnant
females (Rufio and Brea) due to give