Jackals

I wanted to learn about wild animals’ behaviour, yet I was well aware of the havoc that jackals caused. Still deep in thought on my way back to my village, Mhlotsheni, I remembered the cruel torture that our sheep and their young went through. Some of the dead sheep that the owners found in the grazing fields were brought back to the kraals as carcasses. Jackals also preyed at night while the sheep were resting in their camps. They would attack them, leaving their bellies ripped open, soaking the ground with fresh blood. 

My father, Msebenzi Jacob Mlandu, would never allow us boys, my cousin, Dalibunga and myself any rest, until all the sheep were safely herded back from the camp for the night. Whenever the sheep was missing, we were not allowed to sleep in the house that night. While my father sat silently and restlessly in his chair, stamping as he spoke, eyes bulging, piercing at us painfully, we would be asked to return to the grazing-fields and search until we found that lost sheep. 

On many such occasions we had no choice but to wait and hide until nightfall and only then, to return home. We then quietly tiptoed into our fenced yard and found ourselves a place to sleep for the night amongst the animals in the kraal, warming our hands and shoeless feet by digging into dry cow dung. We then waited for my mother, my grandfather, or one of my sisters, to bring us some blankets to warm us from the icy early night breeze. 

One afternoon five of my father’s young ewes, which were also in advanced stages of pregnancy, went missing from the kraal. As usual, we had to go back to the veld and search for them. We only found their carcasses. Frightened and shocked by this gruesome sight, we ran straight back home to tell our father.

After seeing his dead young ewes he remained speechless for the rest of that evening. Much later, still in silence, he started shaking his head and sighed, then whistled for a while. After that my father fell silent again for the rest of that evening. I felt sad. In my heart I grieved and cried for my father and his loss.

The remains of the unborn lambs that were scattered around their mothers’ carcasses showed that they were definitely no longer embryos but young lambs ready to be born. “Soga, my child,” my mother called me after this, “you will surely fail to look after your own sheep properly one day, when you are a man and heading your own house,” she continued, holding my hand tightly, “as you have failed to look after your father’s live-stock”.

I had never told her that I wanted to succeed in life, and that, I was also fully aware of my daily tasks at home. My parents never realized that I would not fail to prioritize our maize-fields and livestock, especially my father’s sheep, because the little wealth that our family possessed, enabled my parents to keep me in school to secure my dreams and future.

One of my father’s sheep, Bhefili, was a stubborn, proud and very aggressive ram which took orders from me and no one else. I had trained this ram from a young age to protect the flock from predators. Hence our sheep were never threatened by any kind of predator, especially jackals. 

We witnessed in amazement one morning proof of Bhefili’s courage when we found the remains of a jackal. The skull of this predator had been ripped apart and the brain scattered. Fresh blood covered the scene. Bhefili was grazing nearby happily and proudly. Blood was dripping from his head and horns. 

Jackals are very intelligent, sly animals with sharp instincts. They also possess multiple ways of escaping and surviving in the wild, and of achieving their plundering. Nature itself favoured them! Their far-range sense of smell and unique strong sight enable them to escape hunters and their howling dogs, by sniffing the air and following the direction of the wind. Jackals can accurately estimate the distance between them and their enemy. In addition to this, they play many cunning tricks when they are hunted-down by their enemies. 

For instance, when a jackal is being chased by a pack of hounds, securing a healthy distance between the dogs and herself, she would pass urine around a cluster of trees. The dogs then picked up and followed this strong sharp smell of urine around the trees, which delayed time. The dogs would sniff around in confusion while she sprinted away to her den, leaving the dogs behind. 

The cleverly planned location of a jackal’s den also makes it extremely difficult for hunting dogs and hunters to reach her. It is usually built and hidden in a very steep and slippery area between huge rocks, which makes the area very dangerous and difficult to reach. The den also consists of two holes; an entrance and an exit. While the dogs are fighting at the entrance, the jackal quickly exits through the back exit with her cubs to safety.

Jackals also possess very clever hunting tactics, which are shown especially when they are hunting. They carefully and silently approach their prey, standing on a hill, a distance away, their heads facing skywards. They then howl loudly and angrily. One of these howls is enough to leave sheep bewildered, shocked and frightened. As a result, the sheep would rise from their restful sleep and run away in many directions, terrified with panic, even to the area where the jackals are hiding, and waiting for them. The jackals then choose their prey at leisure and deal with it accordingly.

It is not simply bad luck that sheep have been chosen as targets and daily meal of jackals, as their first preference, leaving goats and smaller wild bucks to graze unharmed even though their sizes are comparable.

Sheep lack speed and are poor at running. With the exception of Bhefili, the ram, the rest of the flock cannot defend themselves by forming a group and lining up, just like the goats or wild bucks do sometimes, to stay safe against predators. 

Some years ago, in a late afternoon, Tata Koneli Qulu came back from the forest with a young jackal. He was one of the great stock owners at our village, Mhlotsheni. He tried to rear this wild animal with much tender love and patience. He even gave her a name. He called her Nonyamazana. 

The jackal grew up healthy and strong. Even the dogs accepted this tame wild animal as their cousin and part of their family. All seemed well and fine, but eventually, as Nonyamazana matured, problems started. Small live-stock, especially chickens and young lambs became Nonyamazana’s daily meal. Tata Qulu had to kill it.