Bonfire

For the last couple of nights, a fire has been burning across the Lugenda River in the neighbouring block (L8). Mercifully tonight no red blaring light could be seen over the treetops. Fires happen naturally at this time of the year as most of the Reserve is bone dry ahead of the rains and they are also set by humans seeking to clear patches for cultivation and do other things such as flush animals to run into snares. Two senior colleagues arrived at the Conservancy for some critical discussions with our partner over the next few days. It was energising talking to them as since I left the UK around ten days ago, I've missed that constant interaction that I really bounce off.

No Bonfire Night treats here in Niassa as apples apparently cost one dollar each in the provincial capital of Lichinga, and any sugar goes into tea, not the making of toffee. The face-singeing feeling of being next to a roaring fire can be substituted by spending thirty seconds outside during the day and the sputtering of fireworks could be replaced by poachers' gunshots in the distance. Although I'm pleased to report that I haven't experienced the latter due to the strong performance of the project in its anti-poaching patrols. If I check my bird book I might be able to identify a call that sounds like the wheeze of a Catherine wheel.

Over dinner we talked about our close encounters with dangerous critters. Ali encountered a huge black mamba skin on a previous visit here and showers regularly harbour scorpions lurking in the dank plug area. Apparently scorpions also like the undersides of pillows, which is not somewhere I've habitually checked - until now. I am an avid checker of toilet seats after the film Arachnophobia, as well as the dark crevices of bedclothes, for biters that have gone in there to hide. My biggest nemesis remains the cockroach and I'm pleased to report they're off the radar in the deep bush.