This month hasn’t so much been a change of seasons as it has been nature pressing the “fast forward” button. One minute the landscape looked like it was politely considering spring, and the next it was full-blown summer — the kind that makes you wonder if Pilanesberg’s thermostat was tampered with by a bored intern. Forget gentle transitions; we went from cool evenings to midday scorchers so quickly that the wildlife are still looking confused.
Of course, summer isn’t all bad news. The air hums with cicadas that seem to believe they’re auditioning for a rock concert, the lodge pool has suddenly upgraded from ornamental feature to life-support system, and the sunsets have returned to their dramatic, postcard-selling selves. It’s less “African idyll” and more “survival with a spectacular view,” but that’s part of the charm.
Now, onto the real show: the trees. This month they’ve been the true headline grabbers, and in spectacular fashion.
First up: the Wild Pear, or as it’s affectionately (and somewhat unfairly) known in Afrikaans — the Drol Peer (Stinky Pear). Now, here’s where it gets interesting. Contrary to local legend, the tree’s flowers itself does not smell like your neighbour’s compost heap. The myth probably began because when the bark gets injured, it secretes a healing sap. And that sap does have a strong whiff — less “farmyard disaster” and more Elizabeth Arden 5th Avenue if the quality control team had taken a long lunch. Word of advice: never tell your spouse they smell like a Drol Peer — it might be detrimental to your health. No newsletter in the world can save you from that mistake.
Next, a surprise act: the Monkey Thorn trees. These usually keep their flowers to themselves, but this year they’ve exploded into bloom all across the Wilderness area. Why now? Nobody really knows. Some blame last year’s record-breaking rains, others whisper about hidden reserves underground. I suspect it’s because they’ve finally noticed the elephants get all the attention and decided, “Right, it’s our turn.”
And finally, the Buffalo Thorn — living up to its name in style. Everywhere you look, these trees are bursting in fluorescent green, as though someone cranked up the saturation dial and forgot to turn it back. Around the lodge, it’s had one rather obvious side effect: elephants treating them like a brand-new drive-through. No menu, no patience, no subtlety. One minute you’re admiring the foliage, the next it’s being hoovered up by six tonnes of grey impatience that couldn’t care less about your landscaping ambitions. It’s not “fresh bread for all”; it’s more like a supermarket opening day sale — elbows out, no refunds, and definitely no loitering.
So yes, summer is here, in all its dusty, dazzling, perfumed, occasionally misleading glory. The dams are still surprisingly full, streams still trickling, and the grass holding on after last year’s rain miracle — which means that even without new showers, the bush is alive but just short of thriving.
And if you needed further convincing to visit: four brand-new lion cubs have been spotted in the park this month, melting hearts on cue. Add to that the looming impala baby boom, and the next few months promise a highlight reel of cuteness, chaos, and the occasional awkward chase scene.
As October looms, we’re hoping for rain — not only to keep the fire risk down, but also to settle the dust and nudge the grass toward something resembling green. Until then, the visibility is excellent, the cats are out and about, and summer has officially announced itself without bothering to knock.
Until the next one,
The Buffalo Thorn Team