In the northern reaches
of the Kruger National Park,
life depends on one thing -
water.
In a land burdened
by heat and drought,
A single ribbon
cuts its reliable course
through the wilderness.
It's a lifeline to all
creatures, great and small.
In the height of the dry season,
everything
must come to the river.
From dawn to dusk,
animals converge
on the banks of the Luvuvhu,
As it winds its way
through the many habitats
of an area known as Pafuri.
On a sandy riverbank
in the far north
of the world-famous
Kruger National Park,
a White-crowned lapwing
strides through its territory.
He and his mate control
half a mile of riverbank.
It's the height
of the dry season,
and the water level
is at its lowest -
the best time for nesting
on the sandy banks.
The lapwings' river
is called the Luvuvhu
and it flows through a very
special piece of wilderness
known as the Pafuri.
Situated in
the northeast of South Africa,
Kruger National Park covers some
7,500 square miles.
The Pafuri lies
in the most northerly reaches
of this expanse.
It's sandwiched
between two rivers -
the Limpopo to the north
and the Luvuvhu to the south.
When they break their banks
they nourish a great floodplain
that covers much of Pafuri.
Here lush lowlands
feed herds of grazers
and iconic forests
grow tall and green.
Where less water gathers,
hardier plants grow,
adding to Pafuri's
incredible biodiversity.
Although it makes up just 1
percent of Kruger's total area,
Pafuri is home to 75 percent of
all the greater park's species.
Among these,
some creatures stand out -
From species rarely seen
in the rest of the reserve,
To great herds
of its iconic characters.
But above all the others,
it's Pafuri's birds
that set this place apart.
More than 450 species
make their homes here -
the greatest diversity
anywhere in Kruger.
For many tropical
African species,
this is the most
southerly extent of their range.
It's mid-winter and the height
of the dry season.
After a protracted drought, the
great Limpopo river stands dry.
But the Luvuvhu still flows,
making it a busy watering point
for birds and animals alike.
And the lapwings have done well
to secure a spot on the banks.
For almost all wildlife,
each day
includes a trip to the river
during this trying time of year.
As morning dawns in Pafuri,
a herd of Waterbuck
grazes on the marshy floodplain.
With the males weighing
up to 550 pounds,
these are among Africa's
most heavyset antelope.
They fuel their bulk by feeding
on the most protein rich grasses
and herbs they can find,
and during the dry season, it's
the floodplain that provides.
All this protein
builds up a thirst,
and Waterbuck are among the most
water-dependent of all antelope.
As the day heats up,
they'll move down
to the Luvuvhu to drink.
If not for the river,
they couldn't survive here
through the dry season.
The river flows from west
to east across the park,
shaping the landscape
and attracting its wildlife.
Here in the west of Pafuri,
it's carved a deep canyon
through the rock.
Known as Lanner gorge,
it's testament to the Luvuvhu's
steady flow over the millennia.
Further downstream to the east,
the rocky sides give way
to sandy riverbed.
Here a young bull elephant
has arrived early
to quench his thirst.
Pafuri, with its perennial water
sources and green growth,
is famous for
its resident elephant herds.
But this bull has left his herd
and for now he leads
a more solitary existence.
Social contact is an integral
part of elephant life
and he will have spent
his first fifteen years
in the company of his mother,
siblings, aunts and cousins.
As he moves down the river
he smells the air for signs
of other elephants.
If he can find
a group of other bachelors
he may join them
for the sake of companionship.
But for now, he's on his own.
Just downstream,
another group of social
creatures makes their home.
White-fronted bee eaters
live in small families
consisting of a breeding pair,
and up to five related birds
that'll help them
raise their chicks.
In a few months, when
early summer brings the rains,
they'll dig more nests
like these into the riverbank
to lay their eggs.
The rain will trigger
a flush of insect life
and there'll be plenty of food
to feed their chicks.
For now, the adults
can support themselves
on the insects around the river.
The little water in the Luvuvhu
is enough to attract
a range of water birds
and each starts its day
by finding food in its own way.
A pair of African jacanas treads
delicately at the water's edge.
Their long toes
help distribute their weight
on floating plant life.
Together the pair controls a
territory along the bank
and it gives them
all the insects they need.
A pair of Egyptian geese
forages on aquatic plants
growing in the stream.
They get stuck in, reaching down
for the tastiest morsels.
A Hamerkop
takes a more measured approach.
He's after creatures living
among the river vegetation.
He prefers
a breakfast of tadpoles
but he snaps up aquatic
invertebrates too.
For a Three-banded plover,
it's all about covering ground.
He moves quickly along,
pecking at the water's surface
for insects and their larvae.
It'll take a lot of this tiny
prey to fill his belly.
While some are enjoying
the river's ample food supply,
a Great egret
is finding things trickier.
It's after fish and amphibians
but they're proving elusive.
Perhaps another spot
will be more productive.
It readies itself
for the strike,
but fails again.
With one last effort
he comes up with a morsel.
It's not much, but it's a start.
While most of the birds
feed on small life,
there are others here
looking for bigger prey.
The banks are lined with the
scaly bodies of Nile crocodiles
sunning themselves.
Since the Limpopo river
to the north dried up,
many of the resident crocs have
moved into the Luvuvhu.
Here the water still flows deep
enough to sustain them.
They're best known for ambushing
prey from beneath the surface,
but crocodiles
will feed on fish too.
They use their powerful tails to
pursue their prey underwater.
Despite their fearsome
appearance, many other creatures
seem comfortable in the presence
of the crocodiles.
A flutter of butterflies
cuts a sharp contrast
with the rugged reptiles.
They're gathered
to filter nutrients
from the bank's muddy puddles.
The winged gathering
attracts a crowd of its own -
Bee eaters.
The picky birds
scrape the wings from their prey
before devouring them.
The bee eater family will join
forces with neighboring families
to defend
their foraging territory
against other bee eaters.
The river's water is a magnet
to insects in the dry season,
and the bee eaters
can't risk sharing
their private food store.
For many animals,
Pafuri has lots to offer
beyond the Luvuvhu.
The teenage bull
leaves the river
to make his way through the
bush, looking for companions.
But he doesn't get far before
his stomach distracts him.
A full-grown elephant bull
can weigh up to five tons.
His dinner-plate sized feet
are specially evolved to support
this massive weight,
with thick cushions
of fatty and fibrous tissue
to absorb the pressure.
His trunk is the perfect tool
for reaching the best leaves,
high in the trees.
The riverside vegetation
is his first snack
on his day's quest for company.
Pafuri has other food reserves
in plenty for an elephant,
including one type of tree
in particular
that the park is famous for.
Known as Fever trees,
their smooth yellow-green bark
is unmistakable.
Early settlers found
that people traveling
or living near these trees
contracted terrible fevers.
They blamed the trees themselves
for the illness,
but the blame was misplaced.
Fever trees favor moist areas
and often grow near swamps;
the favorite breeding grounds
for the real culprits -
malaria-carrying mosquitoes.
The dense stands
of picturesque tall Fever trees
are icons of the Pafuri.
They thrive in the alluvial
soils of the floodplain,
and are regularly
inundated with water
when the rivers
break their banks.
These serene, shady forests
are a favorite feeding place
for many at this time of year.
A lone eland grazes quietly
on the undergrowth.
Not far away, a massive elephant
bull disturbs the peace.
He strides through the forest
in a foul mood.
And it soon becomes clear why.
He has a handicap
to his most powerful tool.
It's an old injury to his trunk
possibly caused
by a crocodile's jaws,
but more likely
a poacher's snare.
He can't fully extend it
vertically to reach leaves.
But like all elephants,
he has the strength
to bring them down to his level.
Once he chooses a tree,
his incredible power
takes care of the rest.
With the leaves at ground level,
he's finally able to satisfy
his agitating hunger.
Having eaten his fill, he moves
slowly off through the forest.
Beyond the fever trees,
a herd of African buffalo
grazes  out in the open.
The grasses grow tall
on the floodplain,
but they're dry and tough
at this time of year.
This doesn't phase
the buffaloes -
they prioritize
quantity over quality
and can subsist on coarser
fodder than most grazers.
The herd is a moving restaurant
for ox peckers
that pick away
at pests and parasites.
Despite the adults'
impressive horns,
the herd is wary of predators,
for the buffaloes
have youngsters with them.
Eventually they've had enough
time in the open
and head for the cover
of Mopane thicket.
These dense woodlands thrive
on Pafuri's higher ground
and add yet another habitat
to the park.
Mopane is well known
for its ability
to withstand dry conditions.
In the heat of the day,
the butterfly-like leaves
fold closed to reduce
the surface exposed to the sun,
and minimize water loss
from evaporation.
They're also fantastic source
of protein for Pafuri's animals.
But today
it's a Brown snake eagle
that makes best use
of the golden trees.
It could perch up here
for hours,
searching its surroundings
with piercing eyes
for its favorite prey of snakes.
When it spots one
it'll swoop down from its perch,
crush the snake's spine
and swallow it head first.
For now it stretches
its feathers leisurely,
and surveys the comings
and goings below.
With raptors like these around,
Pafuri's smaller inhabitants
must keep a careful eye out.
In the woodlands nearby,
a deserted termite mound is home
to a pack of Dwarf mongooses.
As the day heats up,
the adults emerge
from their burrow one by one.
A communal latrine
outside the entrance
gives a clear scent-sign
that this home is taken.
At less than 8 inches long
they have little defense
against predators,
but the family of fourteen
watches each other's backs.
Sentries take to high ground
to get the best
vantage point possible.
Vigilance is key -
There are pups to protect.
They're the offspring
of the dominant male and female
and they're
around six weeks old.
The whole pack
works together to raise them.
This includes the crucial tasks
of babysitting
and standing guard.
Subordinate females
help suckle the young,
some without ever having been
pregnant themselves.
The rest of the pack heads out
to scratch for prey
with their long claws.
In the undergrowth
of the dry woodland,
there's plenty of food
to be had.
A millipede, known locally
as a "shongololo",
would be a juicy snack.
Despite its many legs,
it's a slow mover.
It must make good its escape
before the mongooses
sniff it out.
The little hunters do most
of their foraging on the ground
and the millipede makes a lucky
choice
in climbing up a tree to safety.
While the mongooses carry out
their scuttling hunt,
others plod slowly and steadily
through the morning.
An elephant mother is
on the move with two youngsters.
They've drifted from the herd
to search the dry woodland
for good fodder.
Only the younger calf
is the cow's offspring.
It stays close to her
for safety at all times.
The whereabouts
of the other calf's mother
is difficult to tell,
but it's a sad possibility
that poachers have killed her
for her tusks.
The three must rejoin their
extended family soon -
there are lions in Pafuri,
and protection within the herd
is crucial for young elephants.
Away from the Luvuvhu,
a few small wetlands persist.
This pan formed
from runoff surface water
during the last rains
and there's enough here
to last the dry season.
It's attracted six big bulls.
Among them is the young bull
that was
in the river this morning -
the gathering at the water
offers him some company at last.
The heavyweight with
the injured trunk is here too.
Neither can compete with
the biggest of these bachelors.
He wears a tracking collar
and researchers
have been following him
for the last ten years.
He's now in his prime
at around forty-five,
and has picked up scars of his
own during his long life.
If all goes well he could live
to around sixty.
The other bulls
give him plenty of space
at the thirst-quenching water.
The bull with the wounded trunk
has learnt
to live with his handicap.
To get maximum suction
he dips his trunk
into the water at an angle.
This closes the wound
so he's not sucking in air.
But when he sprays it into
his mouth, it's a losing battle.
It's the elephant equivalent
of drinking
through a punctured straw.
With this constant impediment,
his agitated state
from earlier in the day
is easy to understand.
But nothing soothes an elephant
like a trip to water.
And it always involves
a good splashing.
A tree serves
as a favorite scratching post.
And a final layer of dust
will protect
against the hot afternoon sun.
When the elephants are done,
as ever,
it's Pafuri's birds
that make a splash.
Fork-tailed drongos
bathe themselves
by plunging briefly into
the water before flying off.
It's the epitome
of going for a quick dip.
A small herd of Impala
arrives for a quick drink.
They're vulnerable with
their heads down at the water,
and move swiftly on.
As the midday heat sets in,
many in Pafuri seek out water.
The afternoon is especially busy
on the banks of the Luvuvhu.
The river draws
all of Pafuri's diverse life -
including some that are rarely
seen elsewhere on the continent.
Nyala
are particularly shy antelope,
sticking to densely wooded
areas, usually near water.
The riverine forests here
are perfect habitat for them.
As thirsty as they may be,
they're cautious
around the water -
this is crocodile territory.
Across the river,
a female Nyala has arrived
with her two offspring.
They're just as cautious as
the males and for good reason.
The young croc is probably too
small to catch the mother,
but it might stand a chance
against the fawn
and they're not
taking any risks.
Downstream the shaggy Waterbuck
have arrived
with their young too.
Even in the winter, temperatures
can top 80 degrees Fahrenheit.
The soft moist sand
offers some cool relief.
Most at the water
come with company,
but an old buffalo bull
has arrived alone.
He's retired from
the competition of herd life
and no longer has to wait
for hundreds of herd mates
to quench their thirst
before he moves off.
He's not the only old male
on the banks.
The Warthog boar's huge facial
lumps are testament to his age.
Having quenched his thirst,
he turns his attention to food.
Green grass is hard to come by
this deep into the dry season
and the Warthogs seize
the opportunity for a good meal.
The riverside growth
is a valuable source of food.
For some, the banks provide
a special treat.
The seedpods of an acacia tree
are a favorite snack
for Chacma baboons.
With arms as long as their legs,
baboons have evolved
to walk on the ground
more than any other monkey.
But the youngsters
are completely comfortable
in the tree,
even as they pick
their way between the thorns.
For all the animals
the river offers food, water
and some relief
from the afternoon heat.
For the birds, the enduring flow
serves another crucial purpose.
Most birds must bathe
to keep their feathers
in tip-top condition for flying.
The river
is one of the few places they
can do so at this time of year.
And they take full advantage
of the cleansing flow.
A White-crowned lapwing indulges
in an afternoon bath.
Bathing isn't the only important
part of feather maintenance.
Others along the river preen
to remove dust and parasites
and carefully organize each
feather into its proper place.
A Woolly-necked stork
is one of the bigger birds
on the river today
but it's dwarfed by its cousin,
the Saddle-billed stork.
It towers at five feet tall.
Like all other creatures,
big birds are drawn to the
Luvuvhu by the allure of water.
An eleven pound
White-backed vulture
makes daily trips to water
to drink and bathe.
But among all of Pafuri's birds
one species rules the roost.
As their name suggests,
African fish eagles
specialize in catching fish.
Unlike the smaller birds,
the low-flowing river
offers them little
in the way of food here,
but the eagles are resourceful.
They prey
on a variety of smaller life,
including water birds.
They're also fearless thieves,
stealing prey from others as big
as the Saddle-billed stork.
All this makes them
formidable river mates
for the other species.
Like all here,
they too must drink.
The trickle of the river here
is enough
to satisfy the birds' needs,
but there is one resident
of Pafuri
whose demands are far greater.
Hippos need water deep enough
to submerge
their great bodies entirely.
During the dry season,
there are few places in Pafuri
where this exists.
Where the Luvuvhu meets
the dry bed of the Limpopo,
in Pafuri's easternmost corner,
it has formed a natural dam
deep enough for a pod of hippos.
These huge animals
have sensitive skins
and spend most of their days
submerged
to escape the heat of the sun.
This bull is in charge here.
Should he need
to assert his control,
he can open his jaw
to 150 degrees,
baring twenty-inch-long tusks.
For now, he relaxes in the cool
of the water with his pod.
At the end of the Luvuvhu,
the riverbed
of the great Limpopo
shines white
under the afternoon sun.
Known as Crook's corner,
this point forms the border
between three countries.
South Africa to the southwest,
Zimbabwe to the northeast,
and Mozambique to the east.
Here, the Luvuvhu river
reaches its end.
After flowing steadily eastward,
it meets a boundary
it cannot cross
in the broad sandy bed
of the Limpopo.
For the creatures of Pafuri
the Luvuvhu has done its job,
providing water
through another hot, dry day.
As evening sets in,
the Waterbuck are back,
grazing on the floodplain.
They enjoy the cool,
calm end to the day.
The young elephant mother and
her calf have found their herd,
as they emerge to cross the
plain for a drink in the river.
On the Luvuvhu's banks,
the baboon troop spends
a little time by the water
before heading into the treetops
to sleep.
The river is a picture of peace,
until the elephants get here.
The cool, soft sand is welcome
relief after the long hot day.
The Luvuvhu's banks
are the site of a reunion.
The older calf from earlier
has found its mother,
and enjoys the river
by her side.
The herd takes its time
to refuel with food and water.
As long as the Luvuvhu
continues to flow
through this special reserve,
Pafuri's creatures will thrive
despite the rigors
of the dry season.
Sooner or later
heavy rains will come.
The Limpopo will flow once more,
and floodwaters will inundate
the plains to spur new growth.
Until then, the elephants and
others will find all they need
along the banks of the Pafuri's
everlasting lifeline.
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