African wild dogs: a brief encounter in Botswana with the elusive apex predators under threat from h

We soar above eagles, yet stay low enough to be able to make out the shapes of elephants cooling off in the mud. Some 45 minutes later, we land at a remote airstrip in the delta’s upper reaches, where the new Duke’s Camp is located.

Alighting from the plane, I am immediately whisked off on a game drive instead of heading to camp to freshen up; the elusive creatures I’ve travelled halfway around the globe to see have been spotted and there’s no time to lose.

In the late afternoon heat, Chaba, my guide and driver, races to catch them. We rattle across bristling grasslands and sparkling floodplains, while antelope, wildebeest, zebra and warthog eye us nervously.

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As the sun dips low and the sky blazes orange, flashes of fur hurtle past the Land Cruiser before disappearing behind prickly thickets of acacia.

Wild dogs are on the hunt, and I have arrived in time to see them in action. These are no ordinary canines, however; African wild dogs are among the most successful apex predators on the planet, with kill rates that put the big cats to shame.

Sadly, they are also endangered, with fewer than 7,000 remaining in southern Africa. Hundreds of thousands once roamed the continent.

Sometimes referred to as painted wolves because of their mottled black, white and tan fur, they are neither dogs nor wolves, but a genus of their own: Lycaon pictus.

In addition to their distinctive markings, wild dogs are distinguished by their rounded ears, slender bodies, long legs and white-tipped tails that double as location markers.

When hunting, “wild dogs don’t try to sneak up on anything, they just chase”, explains Chaba. “But experience matters, and the best know to hide in the grass while the others are in pursuit, ready to pounce on the prey when it passes.”

Having lost sight of the dogs, he stops the car and tries to pick up the trail again.

“When there are no rules, you never know what will happen,” he says, surveying the land and listening for telltale sounds. Minutes later, an anguished cry carries across the savannah, and we head towards it.

We find the dogs in a clearing – a dozen pups, just months old, rumble playfully. A dozen or so adults emerge from the bush, bloodied and matted, carrying the carcass of a pregnant lechwe antelope.

The pups stream past our vehicle towards their dinner, chittering and squealing in anticipation of the feast they are about to receive.

“The spoils are shared, there is no fighting, and priority is given to the growing pups,” says Chaba.

Before long, we are surrounded by carnage. The puppies, adorable moments ago, are tugging and tearing at the antelope’s carcass. In a gory illustration of the circle of life, an unborn calf is pulled from the mother’s stomach and made short work of by the hungry youngsters.

Adding to the surreal scene, Chaba breaks out sundowners and pours our small group of three pink gin and tonics, while whispering commentary.

We learn that wild dogs are highly intelligent and social animals. They can sprint at up to 70km/h (43.5mph) and are up to three times more successful at kills than lions.

Packs are led by an alpha female and male. Dogs greet each other in the morning, take votes by sneezing, and look after their young, sick and elderly. As I digest this information, a pup crunches into the tiny head of the calf.

That night, beside a crackling fire under the boughs of leadwood trees back at Duke’s Camp, I swap tales of adventure with fellow guests before retiring to my tent in anticipation of seeing the dogs the next day.

Alas, the pack is gone, not to be seen again for the duration of my stay.

Wild dogs elude me at the next camp, Tuludi, a luxurious seven-tent lodging in a 200,000-hectare (494,000 acre) private reserve thick with mopane scrub, camel thorn and sausage and leadwood trees.

My guide, KG, goes out of his way to soften the disappointment, and mostly succeeds with sightings of leopards mating at dusk and lionesses shepherding their cubs to safety at dawn.

One morning, we set off early and settle into an underground hide beside a watering hole. Eventually, hulking bull elephants approach to slake their thirst, feet and trunks splashing a short distance from me.

On the way back to Tuludi, we see more astonishing scenes at another watering hole: about 100 elephants, including the cutest babies, are bathing and frolicking while a lone hippo harrumphs in annoyance. It’s an encounter so joyful that I forget about wild dogs for a day.

My fascination with wild dogs began a decade ago. I was on my inaugural safari in South Africa, and like most first-timers, I was there to tick off the Big Five – elephants, lions, leopards, rhinos and buffalo.

Speaking to guides about their favourite animal, however, one I knew nothing about – wild dogs – repeatedly came up.

A pack was seen roaming the reserve at one of the camps I was staying at and, with a guide and spotter in the vehicle, the chances of a sighting seemed high. Yet over three days’ searching, they never appeared.

The dogs simply vanished like ghosts each time we found their tracks, to the frustration of my guide.

Luck and timing were on my side on another safari in Botswana during the denning months of June and July.

With young pups to look after, the pack didn’t stray far from their protective dens, allowing me to observe them up close. Once pups find their feet, however, wild dog packs can cover huge distances, the reason they are so elusive.

Dr John “Tico” McNutt recalls seeing wild dogs in their natural habitat for the first time in 1989, saying: “I was entranced with their beauty and their graceful gaits as they moved away as a pack into the bush, looking as though they barely touched the ground.”

He has since dedicated much of his career to studying and protecting them.

The researcher and co-founder of Wild Entrust, a non-profit organisation dedicated to promoting and protecting threatened predator species, is keen to correct misconceptions that contribute to the needless eradication of wild dogs.

He says that “the most common myth is that they are dangerous and will kill people. In fact, there are no credible records of any person ever being attacked by African wild dogs”.

According to McNutt, human-wildlife conflict poses the greatest threat to their survival. The problem is exacerbated as human populations continue to expand and encroach on the natural habitats of wildlife, bringing with them domestic dog diseases such as distemper and rabies, which can wipe out entire packs.

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In efforts to mitigate the threat, Wild Entrust is engaged in the BioBoundary research project. It is a complex trial that involves replicating the chemical signals used by wild dogs to mark their territorial boundaries and prevent them from straying into areas that could bring them into contact with humans and livestock.

“African wild dogs are the most endangered and an important member of the apex predator guild in Africa. Like all apex predators, they are critical to ecosystem health and maintenance of biodiversity,” says McNutt.

The project is a work in progress, though it may one day help secure the future of these unsung but incredible heroes of the bush.

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