Fieldwork in the Bush of Otjiwarongo

Feb 10

I’ve been doing field research for almost ten years - painting crawfish in streams, electrofishing in fast flowing rivers, counting bird species by call (although I’m out of practice with this one), mapping invasive plants to save native ones — the list goes on. But this particular day will be in my memory bank forever.

3:45 AM – The alarm goes off. I get up to ensure I’m packed for a 14+ hour day in the field. Temperatures will range between 30 degrees F and 80 degrees F throughout the day. It’s pitch black, but the research team starts packing into a field truck, nine people – four seats. Four of us climb into the truck bed; it’s covered. I’m the last one climbing in, and the truck starts slowly rolling down the hill with the driver in the kitchen. He has no idea this is happening. People start screaming, so my fight or flight mode kicks in. I dove out of the truck, ran to the driver side door where one researcher was trying to get her hand on the break from the passenger side. I slammed my foot down, but my other foot was still on the ground outside. Just as the truck comes to a stop, the driver walks over calmly with a cup of coffee in hand and says in his South African accent, “Yeah, this thing is a piece of shit.”

After a long drive, about an hour or so, we dropped two researchers off at their blind - the farthest one out from base camp and in rhino territory. They had to climb a tree and wait until the sun came up, cross a stream, climb a ladder, and get into their blind for the day.

The driver hops back in the car, but he didn’t secure the truck bed or cover door. It’s wide open with me, another researcher, and everyone’s backpacks, food, and water for the day. He hits the gas and everything flies towards the (open) door. Keep in mind, these are not paved roads, these are dirt paths in the middle of the Namibian bush. I can barely keep my eyes open because of the sand being blown in our faces, but through the dirt cloud, and holding on to everyone’s belongings, we spot the sun beginning to rise over the Waterburg Plateau. A sight that I will never forget and a moment that I will never experience again. We laugh with tears in our eyes, tears from the wind and sand, and tears from this moment.

I don’t know how long it was, but we were the last to be dropped off at our blind. It was the farthest one away in the opposite direction. The sun is in the process of waking up, so it was still slightly dark. We could see our waterhole and a troop of approximately 60 baboons right beside it. Just before he left, our driver says,

“This too is rhino territory, we saw four here last week. If they come through, climb this tree here. Yeah, this is a good rhino tree. Oh, and don’t mess with the baboons. They are inquisitive, but safe, as safe as baboons can be. Alright? See ya!”

This was our blind. We were the only group out of 19 researchers to not have a roof or be closed in. We were out in the open and at ground level.

Our job for the next 12 hours was to count, age, and sex wildlife, record this information on our data sheets, and repeat. We set up our space and sat down in wobbly, white plastic chairs. We began watching, counting - quietly. The rest of the day went by pretty fast, and there really were too many little things that happened to go through it all. So for now, I will keep it with me.

We recorded hundreds of animals over the 12+ hours at our waterhole. Some of the visitors throughout the day apart from the baboons were oryx, kudu, steenbok, jackal, mongoose, warthog, and a variety of birds.