I am sitting at a waterhole near Namutoni in Etosha National Park. It is the dry season and in the distance the clouds of smoke from veld fires rise up to where at this time of year we normally hope to see plump rain clouds. It is bone dry in the park. The only green are a lone Shepherd’s Tree or the green reeds at a natural spring. It is the season when the park normally would be bustling with visitors in buses, overland trucks, self-drive vehicles and game viewers. At the waterholes the spectacle is glorious at the end of winter and all you have to do is watch the animal parade from your car. Normally you share this pleasure with game viewers packed with day visitors from lodges around the park.

But this year, because of COVID, the park is almost empty. Hardly another soul in sight, not a car on the road. Let alone an audience of people who travel from all over the world to enjoy the abundance of wild creatures on the plains, at the waterholes or resting under trees in the heat of the day. Thousands of animals on their way to or from food and water form a constant procession in this century-old park.

If you find action at a waterhole, with the parking area at the right angle for the sun and the season and you are first to park, you can actually stay there for the entire day. That is, if you are a photographer or with a photographer and if you can change your position as the sun moves. When we arrived at Chudop in the late afternoon there were thousands of doves. They were perched on the seemingly dry branches of thorn trees, looking like exotic Christmas decorations silhouetted against the sun. From the trees they fly to the edge of the water to drink and then back to their perch. This constant movement was eagerly observed for hours by opportunistic jackals which actually succeeded in catching a few doves for a late breakfast. Less successful were the two tawny eagles trying in vain to snatch a dove in flight. Their efforts, though, made for beautiful photographs and great excitement.

Never before have I seen so many hyenas coming to drink at a waterhole. Not in a pack, but one by one slouching through the yellow grass down to the natural fountain as springbok, black-faced impalas, kudus and giraffes sprint away. It never before crossed my mind that hyenas would go right into the water and actually try to catch a fish. Never imagined something edible would be hiding in the dark mud.

At the same natural spring early the next morning we were so glad the hyenas came to drink the day before, because now a baby springbok was stuck in the mud. Hyenas feasting on a baby springbok is definitely not a sight we wanted to see. It was fascinating to observe how the kudu cows and the black-faced impalas, even an eland cow, came close up as if to check on the little one in need. There was nothing any of them could do. Only when three old bull elephants arrived I thought at least they would be able to help pull it out with their trunks. But of course they were bulls. And elephants. For all my “don’t interfere with nature” principles I did consider some intervention. If only one were allowed to get out of the vehicle.