Where Summer Arrives With Buckets, Buckets, and… More Buckets
November has been wet. Not gentle, romantic, drizzle-on-your-window wet — no, no. This year the rainy season arrived like an overenthusiastic stagehand who misread the script and dumped the entire water tank at once. We’ve had soggy game drives, roads doing their best impression of temporary rivers, and the kind of mud that grabs hold of your tyres with all the enthusiasm of a toddler gripping a snack.
But the sightings? Nothing short of superb.
There’s an undeniable charm to summer in the bush — even if it comes with an insect population that triples overnight and the occasional game drive that has to be paused so everyone can put on rain gear that claims to be “waterproof” but absolutely is not. Still, the trade-offs are glorious: greener landscapes, longer days, slow afternoons by the pool, and those sunsets that set the sky ablaze in full burnished red.
Add the orchestra of frogs that erupts after dark and the unmistakable scent of a thatch roof cooling under the rain, and suddenly you remember why people romanticize Africa. It’s not the weather. It’s the atmosphere.
The rainy season also brings that delightful ecological paradox: with water and food everywhere, the animals wander more, not less. Yes, the bush gets thicker — a kind of seasonal curtain designed to keep guides humble — but the sightings you do get are exceptional. Quality over quantity, as the documentary people say right before a lion inexplicably walks behind a bush for the rest of the episode.
This month’s leopard sightings have been nothing short of cinematic. Gosebo — the male who’s recently extended his territory from the Pilanesberg onto our concession — treated us to a scene straight out of a BBC special. There he was, perched on top of a termite mound, barely 15 metres from the road, posing in the kind of afternoon light photographers would willingly trade their favourite lens for.
We also had the young male Olebile making appearances in the wilderness area, plus several other spotted royalty throughout the park. A very respectable month for the most elusive creatures in the bush.
The lions have been equally cooperative. The entire central pride was found one afternoon delicately sipping from a newly formed puddle in the road — because why use a dam when the rain helpfully deposits a personalized lion-sized drinking station right in front of your game drive vehicle?
And then there are the cheetahs, casually posing on rocks like the paid models they absolutely are. Every time we think they can’t get more dramatic, they select yet another elevated backdrop just to prove a point.
See, every season has its signature. Winter gives you distance and clarity. Summer gives you drama, vibrance, and unpredictability. One is a chess match; the other is a musical. Both spectacular for different reasons.
With impala baby season now underway — a time affectionately known as Leopard Festive Season — we’re expecting even more big-cat magic next month. There is nothing quite like a wobbly, overconfident impala lamb learning how legs work while a leopard observes from the bushes like a patient accountant reviewing paperwork.
If you haven’t made your plans yet, we hope to welcome you soon. And to those who joined us throughout the year — thank you. Your visits, laughter, questions, and shared memories are what make this place more than just a landscape.
See you in the next one,
The Buffalo Thorn Team