News - February 2009CONTACT US:
"HOUSE PROUD" Dear All For so many years Zimbabweans have faced challenges we could never have imagined, and through it all we have been sustained by hope. The latest political developments give us tentative reason to believe there are happier times ahead, for the people of this country, and for the animals who make it such a beautiful and unique place and who have suffered so terribly for so long. At the Bally Vaughan Sanctuary it has always been our mission to protect and nurture our beloved family of animals and birds in the belief that there is a better future ahead for us all. In the days ahead we will once again watch the history of this country unfold and hope for peace and stability at last. In the meantime, each day at the Sanctuary brings new experiences, challenges, joy and sorrow. A day may start with a veterinary crisis as we struggle across the swollen river in torrential rain to treat a donkey bitten by a cobra. A baby baboon comes in, his little face creased and furrowed with fear that changes to relief as he snuggles onto a hot water bottle with 3 new baby vervet friends. Barkley the brown dog, an irresistable lure for calamity, is attacked by a massive python in the dam and escapes unscathed. One of the staff needs stitches after Mac the lion slams an iron gate on his fingers. A tranquil hour passes picking grapes in a lush garden for the marmosets, accompanied by the fattest Jack Russell puppy I ever saw. The cook is summoned to the local police station to answer an assault charge and the mongooses break into the kitchen and eat a tray of eggs. The sun goes down and the lions rise in one fluid feline stretch to roar into the approaching night as the moon rises fat and golden over the water. Well, power-sharing may have come to the Zimbabwean Government, but it most certainly is not happening in my house! On Saturday night I made the grave mistake of allowing Smeegal the Serval to sleep in the guest bedroom. I ushered him in under cover of darkness after I saw him crouched miserably outside in a thunderstorm, and the next morning I thought I had spirited him away without my caracals seeing him. I should have been warned by the distinct froideur displayed by Harry, the Godfather of caracals, when I offered him his breakfast (gently warmed egg and milk, in a china bowl, to be held beneath his chin while he laps languidly, without raising his head from the pillow...). I normally have to get dressed on top of my bed, making absolutely sure no body parts appear over the edge of the mattress otherwise Arthur the caracal will shred them with one nonchalent flick of his razor-sharp claws. On this day, however, he simply lay in a motionless, menacing mass under the bed. Even endearing, social Twala, the only girl, didn't accompany me into the bathroom to skid about on the bathmat and wash her paws in the toilet. I should have known..... Several hours later I returned home and thought my house had been broken into. Broken glass lay in wickedly sharp shards across the floor, mixed with jagged chunks of china and wood and scraps of paper. A table was up-ended, a bottle of tea tree oil shattered in an pungent puddle, my diary lying open with an account of life at the Bally Vaughan Sanctuary bleeding indecipherably off the pages and into a pool of water. A palette of makeup was smashed and smeared into an iridescent rainbow across the floor. The wooden blind at the bedroom window, still attached by one screw, allowed flashes of sunlight into the room that illuminated the chaos like arc lights at a crime scene. I picked my way over the splintered frame of a large mirror, its fragmented glass reflecting back tiny portions of my shell-shocked face and it was only when I saw the raw grooves dug into the wood of the dressing table that I realised what had happened . . . . caracals' claws had left their signature. They had climbed onto the dressing table in search of some sort of mischief, knocked the mirror off the wall and in the resulting chaos of smashing wood and glass, had left a massive trail of destruction behind them as they bolted. It was very hard not to see this vandalising of my bedroom as some sort of revenge for sneaking an interloper into their territory. I set about the mammoth task of cleaning up, simply second nature to me after years of living with wild animals. It wasn't as bad as the day the lion cubs ate a kilogram of green soap and then used my guest bedroom as a giant litter tray (the thought of that clean-up exercise still brings tears to my eyes and I will NEVER have fitted carpets ever again), but it was worse than the day the serval kittens got into my makeup bag and I discovered that Bobbi Brown's Sun-Kissed Bronzer turns predators' feet yellow, permanently, and that it is impossible to get Mandy's Instant Leg Wax Strips off the walls. Eventually order was restored and I went back to work. When I came home that evening I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There were tiny shreds of toilet paper everywhere - mashed into the carpet, dissolving in puddles of water on the bathroom floor, floating in the air like the Zimbabwean version of confetti (grey, single ply, uneven). Lolling contentedly on the bathmat, soaking wet and also covered in toilet paper like a first-time shaver was Smeegal the Serval. Emboldened by his nocturnal sojourn in the house, he had returned, and set about a six pack of toilet rolls whilst apparently bathing in the toilet if the fur and mud smeared all over the toilet seat was anything to go by. My bathrooms in various houses over the years seem to attract wild animals for some reason. What visitor could ever forget Squirrel Nutkin, an orpaned squirrel with despotic tendencies who ruled the bathroom from a large tree we installed in the shower for him and who would leap from its branches like a ninja and savage anyone who touched the soap. Or Savanna the Serval, who used to hide in the laundry basket and arise like a cobra before a snake charmer at the most vital moment of peoples' communications with nature. Or the nightape who used to crouch malignantly on the deodorant block in the toilet bowl and gaze up at you as if to say "Just try it...". Khan the leopard loved to bath when he was a cub and would spend happy hours submerging himself completely under water in search of old shampoo bottles filled with water. He liked his bath warm, with bubbles and he had to have me in sight at all times (in case of sharks). Yet another fearless super-predator in the making..... For some reason I have a problem getting domestic help. The last lady I bribed with a ridiculous amount of hard currency to help in the house refused to come back after Harry the caracal secreted himself in the broom cupboard and leapt out at her with a sinister hiss and bared claws as she opened the door. The strident screams of "Amai! Amai!" could be heard from one end of the Sanctuary to the other and as we all rushed to the rescue, she passed us at speed, feather duster still in hand, heading for home. My wonderful friend Mel Phillips arranged for the purchase of a vacuum cleaner after this - a massive electronic beast apparently specifically designed for pet owners. Well, all I can say is that Russell Hobbs did not take caracals into account when they did their research. First of all there was the horrible incident of the hair extension....I have now learnt that it is unwise to attach a hair extension in the presence of a predator. The sudden sprouting of extraneous and unexplained pelt will result in said cosmetic accessory being torn from your head immediately and ripped apart, leaving a large bald patch which totally defeats the object of the exercise, and blowing up the vacuum cleaner when it blocks the filter. The vacuum cleaner cannot pick up caracal whiskers, no matter how many times you may try, and it is also unable to ingest glass eyes, fluffy toy stuffing (in bulk) and grasshopper wings. I have discussed these issues at length with Dr Ramlaul but he feels that whilst I am fully within my consumer rights to complain to the manufacturer, I should not expect a mass recall of the product as a result of my particular experiences. Rising costs in U.S dollar-terms in Zimbabwe present a huge challenge to Sanctuary operations. When something breaks, it is a financial catastrophe because of the exhorbitant price of absolutely everything, from a tiny washer to fix a leaking tap to a bag of cement to a new gearbox for our truck. As always, it is our friends who keep us going. An appeal for 'couriers' for a huge donation of baby formula and veterinary medicines from Clare Gover of the Australia Zoo brought in over 300 responses, from Zimbabweans world-wide who were either visiting Australia themselves or had friends or family prepared to bring these desperately needed goods home for us, often leaving behind some of their own luggage to accomodate the heavy tins of formula so urgently needed for our orphans. Heartfelt thanks to everyone who has helped with this appeal, and especially to Clare Gover who not only arranged this donation but covered the cost of posting packages all over Australia to our couriers. If there is anyone who still has a package in need of collection by us, kindly contact us on the telephone numbers below. Our vehicles are an essential part of Sanctuary operations - every day at least one vehicle is on the road in our endless search for food for the animals. We are truly grateful to Larry Moore and Vinay Ramlaul, to Rob Follet-Smith of Alro Shipping, and to Rodney Beckley at Smooth Runnings for their generous assistance with keeping our vehicles running. The rainy season in Zimbabwe brings its own particular set of challenges. With our deteriorating infrastructure, a violent thunderstorm doesn't just mean an impressive display of light and sound - it accelerates the spread of cholera, brings further crumbling destruction to our patchwork of pot-holed roads and as power lines fall with predictable regularity, power failures plunge us into darkness. As our entire focus is on caring for our animal family and ensuring they enjoy a varied and plentiful supply of food, we have deep freezers dotted all over the Sanctuary, joined by a complicated web of cables and adaptors, full to bursting with chickens, beef, pork, game meat and milk. A prolonged power cut means an endless process of ferrying our generator from one location to the other to keep the freezers cold; the heavy stink of diesel fumes hanging in the damp air and the invasive, insistent roar of the motor a constant background to everything we do. The rains also bring spectacular amounts of mud, which leads to equally spectacular mishaps in various vehicles as we go about our daily business. Heading off blithely to fetch a load of granadillas for the monkeys from a nearby farm turned into an entire day of adventure when our vehicle sank, swiftly and irrevocably, into a massive water-filled rut. Our efforts to free it, staggering about in the gelatinous morass with enormous rocks to shove under the wheels, had no effect apart from encrusting us and the vehicle in a chocolate-brown carapace (so not a good look...). Eventually we had to walk several kilometres to the farm house for help, a journey enlivened by the fact that I was trying to communicate with one of my staff who had gone off to buy yet another deep freezer, and had found himself in a den of thieves in a tin shack in Epworth who were trying to persuade him to part with $500 for a freezer that didn't belong to them, and didn't work. His increasingly desperate voice shrilled and faded in incomprehensible static bursts as I ran round in circles in a field of mealies trying to find a better signal. His final frantic message said "I am turning back! Something fishy I suspect!!" which made me think that Zimbabwe Broadcasting Services has been showing old Nancy Drew mysteries again. Once at the farm, stopping en route to rescue a hinge-backed tortoise found hanging from a piece of string out of a window, we were ignomiously loaded onto a tractor trailer, with the granadillas, about fifty farm workers, several babies, bundles of firewood and what seemed to be the oldest woman in the world who sat next to me and settled her fabulously gnarled bare feet beside mine in a companionable fashion. Note to self: never sit in the front of a tractor trailer - within minutes I was covered in yet another layer of mud, thrown up by the massive wheels of the tractor as it roared along the farm road. Our vehicle was yanked unceromoniously from the mud and we returned home. Tractors dont always save the day though. One of our neighbours' tractor's broke down recently and the driver asked if he could push it into the Sanctuary grounds for safe-keeping. A few hours later we saw another tractor coming to the rescue, at speed, down our road. Suddenly the driver convulsed wildly in his seat, screamed piercingly, threw his arms up in the air and leapt from the moving vehicle into the undergrowth, leaving the tractor to careen wildly into the pig pen where it fell with a great crash on its side. We raced to the driver's assistance as he babbled and trembled in the bushes, and were eventually able to ascertain that as he came down our road, our gigantic lions had ambushed him from the top of their anthill, and as he was new in the area and had no idea we even had lions, or that they were enclosed by fences, he had thought he was under attack from a pride of giant man-eaters. So, we now had 2 disabled tractors to contend with, and a driver who was so traumatised that he was weeping uncontrollably for his mother, watched with clinical interest by the lions who had caused all the trouble in the first place. A third tractor was dispatched, and this time the driver simply drove off the road into the swampy ground beside the river, and sank with a great belch of diesel fumes into the mud. The owner of all 3 tractors then arrived and, understandably perhaps, lost his temper. A fist fight ensued, in the mud and both drivers were fired, and then re-hired because no one else could drive the tractors home. As I was now literally paralytic with laughter and of no help to anyone whatsoever, I simply joined the crowd of donkeys, zebras, ducks and chickens who had gathered to watch the spectacle. Many hours later all 3 tractors were removed and tranquility was restored. Our predators enjoy sumptuous meals every day at 4pm. We have never missed a day despite the daunting lengths it is sometimes necessary to go to in order to acquire the food. Constant harrasment at police roadblocks delays us for hours at a time so that we frequently have to cut and pack carcasses in the dark and of course the rainy season means sometimes getting stuck in the mud with massive loads of meat on the back of the truck. Our regular donors provide us with fresh carcasses that are usually easily accessible but sometimes we do a retrieval in the rural areas where the roads are non-existent, antbear holes and termite mounds abound and the directions are vague at best (driving through head-high grass across a vast open plain, we stopped to ask a man the way and he told us "Next left". We never did find that dead cow.) On behalf of our sleek and happy predators we thank Stoff Hawgood, Hannes Cruger, Neil Derby, Dennis and Liz Lapham, Koala Park Butchery and Steve Curle. Thanks also to the Gent family who have been such wonderful friends to Kadiki the lioness, John and Joan Langerman, Vicky Campion, the Techamneys who so generously sponsored Khan the Leopard, Oscar and Annabelle Gritz, Daire Cullen, Emma Robinson and Phil Barclay who have been long-standing sponsors of the terrible Cruella the Caracal, the Walker family who give Harry the caracal the means to live the life he knows he is entitled to, Benedict le Breton who sponsors Mac the lion and whose family are true friends of the Sanctuary, Rose and Rogan McClean who sponsor our beautiful hyenas Blossom and Kylie. More baby monkeys, tortoises, geese and rabbits joined the Sanctuary family recently. Theodore the vervet monkey has turned the Sanctuary on its head with his spectacular tantrums and emotional issues. As dusk gathers each evening and I am still standing with neck cricked and congealing banana clutched in my hand, trying to persuade Theodore down from the highest tree in the Sanctuary so he can be put to bed in the nursery, I swear there will be a terrible retribution when I get my hands on him. By the time he has scampered down and snuggled into bed with his fingers in his mouth and his huge eyes gazing at me over the edge of his teddy, all is forgiven, until the next day. We also rescued and released two Rock Pythons from a nearby chicken farm where they were causing chaos amongst a thousand panic-stricken chickens. Our free-ranging banded mongoose family continues to thrive; the babies born at Christmas are now foraging with the adults all over the Sanctuary and are much loved by visitors. Constantly in vocal contact with each other and racing across open spaces tightly bunched together, they exist as a tight-knit, extremely efficient unit. Number IV, as the matriach is known, is such an engaging, affectionate little creature - when she was very heavily pregnant with her 6 babies, she would waddle up to me each day and request a cuddle. I had to lift her up on to my lap as she was too gravitationally challenged to jump up herself, and she would settle herself contentedly on my knee with her bulging little belly resting in the palm of my hand so that I could feel the little babies wriggling about beneath the tight pink drum of her tummy. A contented half hour would pass, with girl talk and a bit of grooming, before she would heave herself up and return to her family. The feeling of trust and tranquility during those special times is unforgettable. The mongooses have a wonderful life - they climb out from under their quilt in the stock feed shed once the sun has risen and they are sure the weather is suitable (on a cold or rainy day they often dont appear till mid-morning) and spend happy days roaming the Sanctuary grounds, digging with their immensely strong claws for insects and worms, checking out the kitchen and the restaurant as they pass, occasionally pick-pocketing a handbag left unattended, stopping to spit insults at the lions and chase the dogs, enjoying a midday siesta in a convenient anthill, and then gradually making their way back home for a chicken dinner and playtime before bed. They are always in bed at dusk and I can hear the shrill squeals and screeches from the shed as the adults try to get the babies settled for the night - the mongoose version of "Five more minutes and then the wooden spoon comes out.....". *As I write this, we have discovered a further 3 babies just born - blind and helpless at this early stage, they are being reared with meticulous care by the entire mongoose family. How wonderful to know that these little creatures feel secure and content enough to raise 2 litters in one year at the Sanctuary. A tiny Steebok we named Tish was rescued after her mother was killed by hunting dogs. Tish was brought to the Sanctuary tied up with wire, by two men wanting to sell her, after they had eaten her mother. A heated confrontation ensued and we removed her and tended to her wounds and reported the incident to the Parks Authority. For two days Tish seemed to be responding to treatment but then simply went to sleep on the second night and did not wake up. Shock and physical trauma had taken their toll on her tiny body and her fleeting life was over. Our farm animal rescue project to save abandoned and abused animals left behind in the violence and terror of farm invasions was inspired by the actions of Meryl Harrison, the bravest and most principled person I know. The story of her mission to save animals during the actual invasions, "Innocent Victims", written by Cathy Buckle, has been now been published and is available at www.merlinunwin.co.uk. It is a story that needs to be told, and deserves to be read. The Sanctuary is full of former pets left behind by families who have had to leave Zimbabwe. These animals are a reminder every day of the shattered lives of so many Zimbabweans. Harry the caracal was absolutely thrilled to receive not one, but two replacements for his toy lion Furfax! My mom, Sylvia, bought Furfax II on a recent trip to South Africa. Complete with mane, whiskers AND a roar, Furfax II was immediately subjected to major surgery by the caracals. His feet were removed first, followed by a day long operation to extricate his roar (a little plastic box sewn into his tummy). Sadly Furfax II did not make it and was buried without ceremony in the vegetable garden by Harry. Thank goodness Furfax III arrived a few days later, sent by Meryl Harrison. As she also sent chocolate, it was a very happy day at the Sanctuary. Furfax III is currently undergoing rigorous quality contol tests that have included prolonged immersion in the bath and vigorous and so far unsuccesful attempts to behead and disembowel him. The litter of genet kittens we were supplement-feeding at the Sanctuary have now been weaned and are heading off, wonderfully sleek and healthy, to start their adult lives. They are free to go where they choose - we leave food out for them each evening but will leave these secretive little predators to choose their own destinies. Our sincere thanks to Rob Follet- Smith and family, the SAVE Foundation of Australia, Chinanga Safaris and Leanne Byrom, Ellen Ciampi, Jan Prinsloo of Avondale Veterinary Surgery, Marti Brits and family, Mike and Nikki Kellow, Sue Roberts, Angie Neighbour, Mel Kenchington, Heather and Dave Israel, Meryl Harrison, Mr and Mrs Berry, Thomas Wicke, Avani Mooljee, Melissa Langridge, Kelly Anne Hendricks, Nicky Gibbs, Cherith and Ross Bingley, Heather Guild of Valley Fresh, the Cullen family, Tracy and Russell Turnbull, Pearl McCullum, Marina Swann, Green Park, Sharon Gascoigne, Clive McClean, Joe Leese, Vera Taylor and the Key Den in Newlands for making it possible for our primates, small predators, Zsa Zsa the Zebra, the donkeys and other farm animals and our duikers to thrive on a healthy, varied diet and to receive the very best care at the Sanctuary. Special thanks to Johnny and Cheryl Rodrigues of the Zimbabwe Conservation Task Force for donating desperately needed, high quality game cubes to our Endangered Blue Duiker Project, and for being such good friends to the Sanctuary. As always thanks to the Bally Vaughan Volunteers who put so much time into helping the Sanctuary in so many ways: Sylvia Carter, Carol Hobbs, Leanne Freel, Dianne Twiggs, Lesley Ives, Kelvin Lindup, Mandy Sim and Sharon Nichols. Dr Vinay Ramlaul makes life better for all of us, in so many ways - many of the animals at the Sanctuary owe their lives to him and his veterinary team at the Twenty Four Hour Veterinary Surgery. The feeding programme for the plains game in the Enterprise Area is continueing - sable, zebra and impala who lost their home when it was ploughed under to plant maize are at serious risk from packs of hunting dogs and poachers, and 3 of the zebras very nearly lost their lives just before Christmas when there was an attempt to shoot them for 'ration meat'. I was woken at 4am by franctic banging on my gate - the game scout who monitors the animals reported that 10 men with rifles were looking for the zebras. We have put so much time, effort and money into preserving these animals and keeping them safe that the thought of them being butchered now was horrific. A mad dash through the bush in the darkness and pouring rain found the zebras still safe but panic-stricken, having run miles from the hunters. We are very much hoping that the remainder of these animals will be moved soon and we will continue to provide food and care for them until then. We are so grateful to David Behr of Z.O.L for donating the fuel required, Steve Watt, Scott Parker, Hayley Sebborn, Angus Melrose of Net Trade (who so kindly donated 3 tons of bran and delivered it to the Sanctuary), Round Table No 1 and S & P Logistics who donated several hundred kilos of mealie meal sweepings, Audra Turner and Scott Parker. Richard Lombard, whose company produces the stunning Ultimate Diaries made an extremely generous donation of diaries and desk calendars to the Sanctuary and the sale of these has also contributed greatly to this project. For months the Sanctuary had no running water because our water system was not functioning. Endless hours each day were spent lugging buckets of waters to provide the animals with clean drinking water and clean enclosures. We had to turn away desperately-needed business because of the water situation, and morale at the Sanctuary was low. Nicholas Duncan of the SAVE Foundation of Australia presented the Sanctuary with a donation from Bev Poor and Allan Thomson to solve our water woes - months of stress and worry, resolved by two kind-hearted and generous friends who had visited the Sanctuary with SAVE and then offered such vital assistance had me in tears with relief and gratitude. I hope that all of you who help us, in any way, realise what a difference you make to the Sanctuary. It is not just the financial and practical support that you give; it is the essential foundations of friendship and belief in our aims and ideals that keeps us going, that makes us feel that we are not on our own and that no matter what challenges we face, it is worth it. I am very proud to call all these people friends, and I am thankful every single day for your support. I was extremely touched by the number of families who visited the Sanctuary over Christmas, many of you bringing essentials for the animals, all of you giving us the means to carry on, and I thank you for this, on behalf of the birds and animals who wake up every day to good food and clean water and spacious enclosures and care and, most importantly, love. Our thanks to Tim and Eleanor Moore for the donation of a palatial dog kennel for our rescue dogs. The kennel is big enough to sleep several Rottweilers but it has been taken over by our own Eleanor (a tiny, ferocious Chihuahua cross French Bulldog who disguises a will of iron behind her charming facade), leaving poor Barkley the Brown Dog outside in the cold. Thank you to Carol Hobbs for solving this problem (along with so many other problems!) by donating yet another kennel! Our four rescue dogs, who also include Princess Fiona - a former guard dog to whom the word 'curmudgeon' applies in every respect, and Kevin the Greyhound, are a hugely rewarding and dearly loved part of our family. All victims of appalling abuse and cruelty, they are a motley crew; Fiona is 12 years old and totally deaf, Barkley lost part of his femur after being hit by a car and not receiving treatment for 3 months, and Kevin bounds about on 3 legs, skinny as a super model but far more cheerful. As they chase lizards and swim and sunbathe and snooze in the sunshine they really are living the very best of a dog's life at the Sanctuary! Our thanks to Catherine and Iris for sponsoring Kevin the Greyhound. We have started a library for the children in our area as with the education system in chaos, these children are either not attending school at all, or learning very little when they do go. Fiona Long made a donation of nearly 200 childrens' books to this project - thank you from us all, and thank you to everyone else, including the Beziedenhouts, who left books for collection at the Veterinary Surgery or dropped them off at the Sanctuary -( please leave contact details when you leave goods for the Sanctuary so that we can thank you personally.) Every Friday the children assemble in our Gazebo to choose a book for the week - there is much excitement as not only do they take home a book to read, but they get to see our animals too! We choose an animal each week to talk to the children about and hope that this interaction will give the next generation some awareness of our unique wildlife heritage and the importance of preserving it. Thank you to everyone who passes on this newsletter. Our mailing list grows and grows and I love to hear back from people all over the world who contact us after receiving this. Thanks to Ailsa Smith, Samir Shasha of Dipleague and Rhonnie of the C.F.U for so kindly posting the newsletter and our adverts, and to Scotch Macaskill for posting pictures and the newsletter on his excellent blog www.wildlife-pictures-online.com/wildlife-blog.html and to Gavin St Leger, the editor of Wildlife Photographer magazine who will features some photograpsh of life at the Sanctuary in the magazine to raise awareness of our work. Thank you to Yo-Africa and to Webdev for continued support. CONTACT US: www.ballyvaughan.co.zw and our facebook site THE BALLY VAUGHAN GROUP EMAIL: sarah@ballyvaughan.co.zw. You can also contact us at carol@powerspeed.co.zw or ramlaulv@gmail. Our contact telephone numbers are: 263 912 592 942 or 4 , 263 912 264 160 , 263 11 601 131 , 263 11 214 007 263 4 497588 263 4 303518 or 9. PLEASE NOTE: OUR ONLY COLLECTION CENTRE IS THE TWENTY FOUR HOUR VETERINARY SURGERY, CORNER UPPER EAST ROAD AND SECOND STREET, AVONDALE *Please use this address ONLY to ensure that we receive your donations and can acknowledge them. Kindly leave contact details! Thank you! The Bally Vaughan Sanctuary functions because we have the support of our friends. The animals are happy, well-fed and cared for, thanks to you. So many people who visit the Sanctuary remark upon the contentment shown by our animals and on the fact that they are so obviously loved. This is what we are here for. This is what we do every day, and will continue to do, no matter what. Thank you for making this possible. With love Sarah and all at the Bally Vaughan Sanctuary
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