r/FatTrips

Dorsia Travel, I would just love to hear your reaction to this nonsense.

Before I go anywhere on safari, I ask if there are any conservation projects near the camp. These are usually local conservation charities that need something paid for, in this case a collar, and as a visitor you get to ride along whilst they go about their job. It’s like being an unpaid intern, except you, the intern, pays. Oh, so when they do it it's fine, but when I offer people the chance to clean my gutters and pay me for the privilege, suddenly it’s “exploitation”.

In the last twelve months I’ve been there for a rhino relocation, rhino dehorning, elephant collaring and, now, my favourite animal, the African wild dog, sometimes known as the painted wolf. They’re one of the most underappreciated, endangered predators in Africa. I have far too many books on them, and one of my favourites opens with the view that if you set out to design the perfect animal — a ruthlessly efficient predator that has never attacked a person in the wild, good-looking, and devoted to its family — you’d be wasting your time, as it already exists. Facts.

Wild dogs cover enormous distances and have little interest in the difference between the reserve and your farm. When a pack wanders off, it’s dealing with roads, but more importantly, unhappy farmers and domestic dogs carrying rabies, distemper and god knows what. Have you seen what your dog is up to? Wild dogs are incredibly social, so once disease gets into one, it’s not unusual for the entire pack to die. A GPS collar lets the team know where the whole pack is, close to real time, so they can get there before a problem becomes a funeral.

Anywho, my prayers were answered when it came back that there was a pack near where I was staying that needed collaring. So one afternoon, off we went looking for them. Never before have I felt more manly than here. Testosterone levels reached eleven, I promise you. With a buffalo leg in the back of the truck in case it was needed to lure them out, and me standing on the back of the car as we drove around… for the first hour. Then the sun hit, and I slithered my way into the front seat.

After nearly three hours of trying, with all hope (and light) starting to fade, we found them, the vet darted one, and in "we" went. The moment the dart hits, the rest of the pack are spooked and run from the sound, and in less than a minute the heroic dog is down, having a nice snooze. The vet goes in, checks all is well, and then the work starts.

I “helped” lift up the pooch and screw in the collar, much like your three-year-old child “helps” you make dinner. They just made me feel good about not being a complete waste of space. But for around 40 minutes, whilst they worked their magic, it was an incredible experience to be there with Mr. Fluffles, as I have christened him. At the end, they trimmed the collar and gave me the offcut as a souvenir, which I have now stored in my wallet for the rest of my life, as those pictures of my family aren't really needed anymore.

These "activities" are always an honour; always a privilege.