Seeing the ‘big five,’ plus one

BAGGING the “big five” at a game park in South Africa usually means seeing lions, leopards, buffaloes, rhinos and elephants. But for a different breed of animal lover, it’s about catching sight of frogs -- the painted reed, banded rubber, Natal sand, foam nest and snoring puddle.

To them little is big. The Frog Prince tops the Lion King every time. And nothing could be more delightful than hunting for frogs in the dark on a fetid body of water where crocodiles wallow.

About 130 of the roughly 5,000 frog species that have been identified in the world can be found in South Africa, and they come out in biblical plague force after a summer downpour. On a single river bend or puddle, thousands congregate, calling to prospective mates at volumes sometimes approaching 100 decibels -- louder than a chain saw.

Last year, Alwyn Wentzel, manager of AmaKhosi Lodge, on the 34,000-acre AmaZulu Private Game Reserve in northern Zululand, started offering frog safaris in the summer rainy season, from December to March. I read about his program in a magazine and e-mailed for more information.

“AmaKhosi is on a beautiful reserve with plenty of big game and about 28 species of frogs,” he said. “We decided to offer something new to our guests that does not revolve around observing big game, but rather around the smaller things one often misses when chasing lions and elephants.”

His eloquence hooked me. Then too, I wasn’t opposed to spotting a few lions and elephants along with the frogs. So I reserved a chalet at AmaKhosi for three nights in late February. The rates -- $680 a night, single occupancy, or $450 a night, per person, double occupancy -- include accommodations, meals, beverages, bush walks and two guided game drives a day. For “froggers,” the price also covers late-night expeditions to wetlands around the reserve, accompanied by Alwyn.

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Out-of-the-way location

GETTING to AmaKhosi is something of a challenge. It is at the edge of KwaZulu Natal province, about four hours north of Durban. Some guests rent vehicles and drive here, but carjacking is all too common, so I booked a van transfer to the lodge.

After an overnight flight from Paris to Durban, my driver, Joseph, met me at the airport baggage claim. As we headed north on the N2 highway, the city’s raw, sprawling suburbs quickly gave way to sugar cane fields and eucalyptus groves. Women selling pineapples and papayas clustered around the van when we slowed down for a highway construction team.

In the hamlet of Pongola, we turned west, crossing hills that looked like mounds of green whipped cream. Joseph pointed out the electric fencing, erected to keep big game animals inside the many private reserves. As soon as we entered AmaKhosi’s first gate we started spotting animals most people see only in zoos: skittering monkeys, families of snorting wart hogs, clownish wildebeests, loopy ostriches and graceful impalas.

AmaKhosi’s climate, terrain and wildlife are similar to that of renowned 5-million-acre Kruger National Park on South Africa’s border with Zimbabwe and Mozambique. It doesn’t have Kruger’s thick herds of animals, but its smaller size tends to concentrate the big game, virtually assuring visitors of sightings.

You have to go through several gates to reach the lodge, an island encircled by another electric fence inside the one that surrounds the preserve. Passing through the last barrier you suddenly realize that at an African game park the rules of a zoo are reversed: You’re in the cage, and the wild animals are around you.

Sometimes they came right up to the electrified wires around the lodge. One morning from my bed at AmaKhosi, I saw two nyala antelopes foraging by the fence under my chalet. In the dry season, Alwyn told me, herds of elephants pass along the Mkuze River just below the lodge, and he once had to remove a Mozambique spitting cobra from the dining terrace.

When I reached the lodge, a young woman in a floor-length African print caftan offered me a drink and a warm, moist cotton towel. Half wondering whether I had ended up at a Ritz-Carlton, I sat down in the airy lounge, decorated with deep leather armchairs and couches, African fabrics, masks and baskets.

The rambling building opened onto a wide wooden terrace where meals were served and there was a small swimming pool surrounded by giant ferns and impatiens. You could perch in a chair by the far railing, watching for animals that come to drink at the river and identifying them with the help of game charts posted nearby.

On either side of the lodge, manicured paths meandered toward the guest chalets, each with a parlor and bedroom, air conditioning, a well-stocked mini-bar, private terrace and dramatically peaked grass roof inspired by traditional Zulu dwellings, or kraals. My big, sybaritic bathroom had a separate shower, double tub, mounds of fresh towels, candles, soaps and lotions, and a laundry basket for dirty clothes, which the staff washed daily.

At first I thought I would never have time to fully enjoy such luxury, with so much to see in the bush. But gradually I grew accustomed to the different rhythm of life at AmaKhosi, dictated by the habits of the animals on the reserve, which are most active -- and visible -- in the early morning and late afternoon. Thus, there are two four-hour game drives a day, the first starting around 5 a.m., the second around dusk. In between, guests cocoon in their kraals.

Meals are scheduled to accommodate the game drives. Strong hot coffee and tea are available on the terrace before you leave in the morning, and snacks are provided along the way. After you return, brunch is served, starting with fresh guava, pineapple and orange juice, homemade pastries and yogurt parfaits. Next comes the hot course, which could be an omelet or eggs Florentine, accompanied by venison sausage and bacon.

Before the afternoon foray, guests assemble on the terrace for high tea while one platter after another appears, loaded with ostrich samosas, fried chicken drumsticks, finger sandwiches, pasta salad, cookies and chocolate cake. After you return and clean up, dinner awaits: an elegant, candle-lighted, multi-course affair, accompanied by free-flowing South African wines.

I would have been happy there even without the wild animals. But the first morning’s game drive, in an open-air Land Rover with four rows of seats in graduated heights for maximum visibility, the guide at the wheel and a tracker in front, put everything in perspective. The attractions of clean sheets and king-size beds faded compared with the beauty of a South African dawn, the sun rising in a creamy pink puddle, the air fresh and cool, the bush smelling of spice, dirt and ripeness.

The game reserve’s varied terrains include grass meadows, forests, wetlands and hills, from about 1,000 feet at the Mkuze River to about 2,300 feet. Before the preserve was established, the land was devoted to sugar cane, and predatory animals were eradicated. The first lions were reintroduced in 1996 and thrived, thanks to careful management. Now there are 20 lions in two prides, each one able to eat 75 pounds of meat after a kill and requiring a territory of at least 1,000 acres.

The sinewy, suntanned guide and tracker set out after the big cats right away, pleasing my fellow game viewers, a young Norwegian couple with three fair-haired boys ages 3, 6 and 11. Along the way, the guide pointed out toxic trees, snake tracks and greater kudus, while keeping in touch with the other AmaKhosi vehicle by radio.

We came upon juvenile brother and sister lions in the bush on the far side of the river, about 10 yards ahead of the vehicle. We took pictures but mostly sat there, hushed and enraptured, in slow time, as the big cats yawned and flicked away flies. They looked so easy and unconcerned, as if in a peaceable kingdom sampler, that the guide had to remind us about their dangerous speed, power and unpredictability.

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Off to the frog ponds

ON the afternoon drive, we tracked a sleek, solitary cheetah. When we stopped for cocktails in the bush at sunset, Alwyn arrived in another Land Rover to pick me up for our first frogging foray. He had friends with him, a South African husband and wife team who specialize in transporting big game from one preserve to another.

While telling us about frog habitats and life cycles, Alwyn kitted us out in rubber boots and headlamps.

He grew up near Kruger National Park and started studying frogs after scoring unimpressively on the amphibian section of a game warden test. Now he’s passionate about the little croakers and can identify them by their calls, which -- together with his knowledge of the bush and a big rifle -- makes him an excellent frogging guide.

When he stopped the Land Rover, got out and signaled for us to advance, I wondered why in the world I was about to wade into a buggy pan of stagnant water surrounded by swampy undergrowth. But then I remembered the wonder of frogs.

On the planet for about 350 million years, they predate dinosaurs and evolved into a marvelous multitude of species, including yet unnamed specimens discovered during a recent scientific expedition in the Foja Mountains of western New Guinea.

I’ve loved them since the age of 8, when I found tadpoles on a suspiciously murky creek and watched them gradually lose their gills, sprout legs and start hopping out of the water. A teacher later explained the miraculous process of metamorphosis, wherein aquatic tadpoles change completely inside and out in preparation for their terrestrial future as full-grown frogs. Later in biology class, I squeamishly dissected a frog, then so common as to seem expendable.

But about 25 years ago, people started to notice that frogs were disappearing from streams and ponds in North America. Scientists say their thin, permeable skin makes them particularly vulnerable to climate change, disease and pollution. Around the world, a third of frog species are threatened with extinction. So it’s no exaggeration to call them environmental bellwethers.

Fortunately, that night on the pan we found lots of frogs tucked in the tall grass. All we had to do was follow the croaking. When we spotted one, Alwyn was usually quick enough to catch it. Then he held it up to the light, revealing a delicate creature small enough to fit in a teaspoon. We identified streak-backed banded rubber frogs, snoring puddle frogs and sharp-nosed grass frogs calling in high-pitched trills.

Then we moved to a swamp, where Alwyn’s friend had to stay in the vehicle with a flood light trained on crocodiles and rhinos about 100 yards away. I followed Alwyn into the chest-deep water, where we were rewarded with his first sighting of a hospital-green tinker reed frog, named for its call, which sounds like the tapping of a hammer on metal.

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Big-time game

THE next day I had more adventures, including close encounters with giraffes, elephants, black rhinos, dazzling zebras and African buffaloes, which earn their place in the big five because they are strong and fast enough to kill lions.

And then it rained, bringing a frog symphony to the ornamental pool at the entrance of the lodge.

I had just settled down to dinner when Alwyn appeared and handed me waders, saying it was prime time to see painted reed frogs below the lodge on the banks of the muddy Mkuze. To gain access to the river, he turned off the lodge’s electric fence, and we broached it like children playing hooky from school. He carried a gun above his head, and I followed closely, each foot sinking into muck as we crossed the river.

In the tall grass on the far bank we found pretty painted reed frogs aplenty, defending their turf -- sometimes as small as a single frond -- by kicking away interlopers. Their inner legs are red and flash when they jump to confuse predators.

When I got back to my kraal, I was soggy and dirty, but I found something interesting there -- a dear little guttural toad, its belly stuck between the wooden slats of the terrace and its legs sticking up in the air. Gently, I dislodged it, sending it home again to croak by the river.

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(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX)

Warts and all

GETTING THERE:

From LAX, to Johannesburg, South Africa, Air France, Singapore, Cathay Pacific, American and Delta have connecting service (change of plane). Restricted round-trip fares begin at $1,830 round trip.

To Durban, South Africa, American, Air France and Delta have connecting service. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $2,381.

Pongola, the closest town to the AmaKhosi Lodge, is a five-hour drive from Johannesburg and a 4 1/2 -hour drive from Durban.

Golf & Game Safari Co., 011-27-31-2017600, www.golfandgame.co.za, provides van transfers from Durban to AmaKhosi Lodge for about $500 per person round trip.

General Airways, 011-27-12-5675020, www.generalairways.co.za, offers air transfers from Johannesburg to the airstrip at AmaKhosi starting at $4,420 per person, round trip.

THE LODGE:

AmaKhosi Lodge, P.O. Box 354, Pongola, 3170 South Africa; 011-27-34-4141157, www.amakhosi.com, has a small pool, wide terrace and six two-room suites decorated with Zulu art, overlooking the Mkuze River. Rates $335-$450, per person, double occupancy, including all meals and beverages, laundry service, bush walks and morning and afternoon game drives, near the northeastern border of South Africa in KwaZulu Natal province.

TO LEARN MORE:

South African Tourism, (800) 593-1318, www.southafrica.net.

-- Susan Spano