Rhodesian Ridgeback Tribute


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		The weather poised on the cusp twixt winter and spring, warmer than some days past; a brisk westerly wind whisked words from my mouth as I called the dogs to walk with me (my personal pack of seven.. a Rhodesian Ridgeback, two German Shepherds, two Golden Retrievers and lastly the "springboks" of the pack, the hopping, bobbing Jack Russell Terriers - legs too short to navigate the long grass <g>).
		August is ‘windy’ season in these southern climes far below the equator, hopefully bringing long awaited spring rains after a dry, temperate winter.

		We tramped the veldt, moving from frost scorched grasses undulating in the wind where small birds and other creatures nest, through long ashened strips, burnt to provide protection against run-away fires that plague rural areas during dry winter months.

		Down across the rolling valley where cattle grazed the sweet vlei (marsh) grasses between the ponds, linked necklace-like precious jewels - gems spaced at irregular intervals.. Vagrant cows scattered as dogs ploughed among them, raucous barks of mischief urged stragglers to join their frolic.
		We turned, headed for the boundary, the Shepherds ran, floundered in the shallows of a pond.. dispersed ducks flew off furiously. Shaya (Rhodesian Ridgeback) plunged in, surprising me for I had never seen her swim before! I watched in amazement! (My previous RRs loathed water with a passion - "What me* swim?!! You MUST be kidding!!"* ) The Jack Russells hunted eagerly between the tussocks of short grass.. shunning the pond.. but bounced through thick black moist clay from tuft to tuft.
		I was keenly observed by seven pairs of eyes as I turned and headed up the hill to continue meandering across the veldt, storing vivid images in my brain forever.
		Shaya, an elegant thoroughbred of her breed, galloped across the veldt, unending effortless strides, weaving through the tall grasses, the rest of the pack lagging far behind. She bounded with joy and exuberance. Her sleek, sinuous body, moulded, sculpted, muscles rippled beneath her short red coat, sun-enhanced sheen burnished to copper as she raced through the long veldt grass, nose headed into the wind, ears flapping. Head balanced proudly on her graceful neck, she appeared to be seeking, sniffing the wind, her long tongue tasting it too! - for lion - her ancestors once proudly hunted on the wide African plains.
		Passed some remnants of a primitive, decaying village, red ant heap crumbling, slowly eroding.. for these were the hunting grounds of not only tribal folks long gone this millennium, but also of the world renowned "Mrs. Ples", the first hominid skull found on the South African sub continent more than 70 years ago, in the Sterkfontein Caves some 10 minutes away.. The area abounds with natural caves where they once dwelt, hunting sabre-toothed cats.. Today these ancient, primeval acres are home to private game parks catering to the whims of wealthy tourists ... (we need their $$$ for South Africa is an impoverished land <sigh>)
		The dogs spread about me as we approached the gates leading to the homestead, but veered off further into the distant burnt veldt. Explored a copse of thorn trees, seeking rabbits and meerkats (mongoose) to hunt. The stark, sparse landscape mesmerized, flooded my dulled senses with intense awareness of my surroundings. Beckoned, bewitched, drawn by the Magaliesberg, shrouded blue in the distance where leopards lie languorously in thickets of thorn trees guarding their prey and boisterous baboons take refuge in the kopjes and kranses as we hiked over fire ravaged fields.
		Light clouds danced in the heavens, where black eagles soared smoothly, high above the barren countryside awaiting the covenant of spring, riding thermals to better spot their prey.
		Plovers protested the dog’s presence angrily.
		Jack Russells turned greyish-white, ashes rubbed into their coats. The Retrievers, bedraggled long coats tangled with grass, seeds and ash.. still soaked from their swim.
		Shaya dried off quickly, her red coat bronzed by the sunlight. Muscles etched, strained, taut, undulating under her short sleek coat.. obvious.. A proud dog of Africa at home on the browned and blackened burnt African veldt.
		Walking further, we approached the far boundary where an almost forgotten country graveyard is tucked into a corner. Small granite headstones with weathered script lovingly engraved lay patiently basking under a warm African sun still garnering strength, the promise of summer, now not too far off.
		My thoughts had wandered.. I was standing pensive, hair blown about my face, covering my eyes - inhaling the smell of the veldt. A francolin flushed from the long, yellowed grass. It startled me. Further afield, I caught a glimpse of Shaya following the spoor of some veldt creature, nose avidly tracking. Rabbit, jackal, badger or some thing more exotic, yet a natural tenant of these grasslands - a civet?
		I whistled and knew perhaps they would not hear for the wind had strengthened to gusts. They watched, seemingly forlorn but followed as I turned my footsteps for home.
		Two hours had passed very quickly indeed!
		Their disappointment was short lived.
		An excited yip from a scavenging Jack Russell alerted the ‘pack’ of success of her labours. A rabbit was flushed. A bark shrieked excitement, immediately the pack scattered, eager to join the hunt. I scrambled up a pile of rocks, watched as they coursed and trailed a rabbit as it jinxed - safely avoiding them all.
		I stood motionless and waited for I knew there would be little chance of them heeding my call.
		At last, their hunt was done.
		Their heads turned in unison as I called them to return to the house. Thirsty, dry mouthed, tongues lolling, chests heaving from exertion - we headed back.
		Dogs tired, panting, slaked their thirst and looked for a cool place to rest.. I, to my ‘puter, to share the vivid, compelling images of our trek. I am renewed and revived.. and now, soon to be refreshed for there is a cold beer at my elbow.. :))
		Hope your day started as pleasantly as mine :))