It has been Bone Dry in the Lowveld. By this time last year, we were well into our second month of Borneo-style rainfall, but thus far about 10drops have landed. The bush is like a tinder-box, with frequent fires in Kruger Park lighting up the horizon. Farts are a fire hazard and when you live with three boys, I feel like we should have a firebreak burnt around our house.
The rivers in Kampersrus have been reduced to occasional puddles high up in the forested ravines. Which for kids’ equal tadpoles!!
I must go back a little though.
A few weeks ago while eating dinner and watching tv, Ben suddenly announced to me with urgency – “Mom – I LOVE big lizards!!!”.
In case you were wondering, we were not watching anything even remotely related to lizards, dinosaurs or even animals. It was probably tennis, which bores Ben and would explain his mind wandering to what is clearly a favourite topic of his. Ben harbours a higher-than-average fascination with dinosaurs, which usually peaks at about 4years old, but we are well into his 12th year of this love. And since he cannot own a dinosaur, his “I love Big Lizards” statement merged straight into reasoning why he should acquire a large reptile as a pet.
I was highly amused by this mid-dinner, impassioned statement and the research he then presented on the keeping of such a Big Lizard in a terrarium at home, however I have become somewhat cagey about the acquisition of pets. And since most pets become My Pets, I feel that it is fair that as a bare minimum, I should not be afraid of said pet. And I am very afraid of most reptiles and unless it is a tortoise, I have absolutely no desire to handle them.
So I skilfully redirected the conversation to tadpoles and the idea of a “tera-quarium”.
Not even I could have predicted how popular this idea would become, or the ultimate stress it would cause.
Filing boxes were immediately emptied, soil excavated from the bucket that was clearly being prepared on the sly for a lizard to move in, and I resigned myself to the fact that a second shower was going to be needed before bedtime.
The next day the boys skidded out of school, grabbed every possible bucket and deep enough Tupperware (no lids to be found) and headed to the stream 100m away from the house. My standard cautionary instructions of “wear shoes (snakes & scorpions), look out for each other (I can always hope) and be back before Leopard-o-clock” were called after their retreating backs.
Leopard-o-clock is not a set time, but it’s basically “before dusk” when these nocturnal animals generally start to prowl around.
My kids have no concept of Stranger Danger, but they can identify most snakes and know to be home before the leopard come out. They move between our house & the friends in the road freely, know the shortcuts through the river to the next road and walk to the school to kick the rugby ball when they feel like it.
They do not know how lucky they are.
About a week after the original tadpole-catching, the status quo needed redressing. Most of the tadpoles had died, the water boatmen been eaten by the water scorpions, one of which was found half way across the lounge floor, having escaped the tera-quarium. Stocks were low and this needed action.
Ben & Charlie set off for the river at 5pm – probably 30min of good light left, and since the river is so close all was fine – roll with it I told myself. By 5:30pm there was no sign of them, but I really didn’t want to be a kill-joy, so I left it and carried on working.
Who am I kidding – I sat at my desk, staring down the driveway, checking the time every 30seconds. By 5:45pm I couldn’t take it anymore and delegated Andrew to go and retrieve them as he knows the river & where they catch tadpoles.
He returned 10min later in the near dark, with no kids and told me “Do not panic!!!”.
I want to say that it was unequivocally way Too Late for that. Just that very day a message had gone out on the Farmwatch group saying a leopard was seen walking up one of the residential streets lower down in town, so please be aware of children. And Mom-of-the-Year over here let hers go roaming at the river ON THEIR OWN!!
Too bloody right I was panicking!
Andrew grabbed a strong torch to head back to the river reiterating that panic was to be avoided and I swung my car out the driveway (“not panicking…not panicking…”) as two little figures came scurrying into my headlights. Each clutching two buckets slopping water everywhere, red in the face and dripping sweat. They had not gone to the river 100m away – they had gone all the way to the river by the school. One kilometre away at 5pm in the evening and were “catching so many tadpoles Mom it was Crazy and we lost track of time and then we realised and it was nearly dark and we knew we were in trouble and we ran all the way back home.”
My wine that evening was purely medicinal. I am in no way endorsing this as a healthy way to process “not-panicking”, but since being angry with the kids (who were clearly so full of remorse for what they had done and joy at their restocked tera-quarium) was not an option, I needed an outlet for my tension.
Just recently the boys had friends over and they spent HOURS crafting fish-, crab- & tadpole-traps. Finally, they were ready to head to the river. You can bet I was with them the entire time, even though it was the middle of the day! The Dog even got involved, though his input as protection and attempted frog-impersonation didn’t seem to be appreciated!
In other pet news, the dogs & cat are overdue for their annual vaccinations. After last years exciting experience, I have sent my car in for a precautionary service so that we don’t lose any parts along the way.
And I might just quietly enquire about keeping lizards…