Wildlife Beyond the Lens

Or: The One Where I Go Looking for Birds, Get Raisined, and Develop an Emotional Connection with a Stilt

My only previous birding expedition that even vaguely compares to this one was at the lagoon in Walvis Bay. Now, if you’ve ever been to Walvis Bay, you’ll know it’s the kind of place that gives off strong “why am I here” energy—until you hit the lagoon. That part, as it turns out, is actually a Ramsar site.

At the time, I had no idea what that meant. Thought it was just a fancy way of saying “bird puddle.” But for those of you who enjoy posh explanations: a Ramsar site is a wetland area declared internationally important under the Ramsar Convention on Wetlands. Basically, it’s a big deal in the bird world. Very VIP. The Met Gala of mud flats. They’re protected areas meant to conserve biodiversity and all the squishy, wading creatures that rely on them.

It also happened to be one of the greatest days of birding I’d had since I started this absurdity of bushwhacking through reeds in 2023 looking for feathery things that don’t want to be seen.

Pelicans – Walvis Bay Laggoon, Namibia

Fast forward to the tail end of my Cape Town trip, and I found myself in Langebaan for a couple of days visiting some friends. Socialising was, let’s say, abundant—fun, yes, but a bit much. The sort of weekend where your liver files a formal complaint. Thankfully, I had a shining light ahead of me: West Coast National Park. Another Ramsar-accredited feather wonderland. This time, I knew exactly what I was in for—and I was excited.

And it delivered. Oh boy, did it deliver.

Geelbek – West Coast National Park, Langebaan

I woke up on Saturday morning feeling ever-so-slightly desiccated, like someone had left a grape in the sun too long. But in the true spirit of birding perseverance (and caffeine dependency), I set off to the park.

First impressions? Solid. The place is managed by SANParks, which in this case meant friendly staff, spotless bathrooms, and a general lack of bureaucratic despair. Driving in, I got some immediate Polo Vivo PTSD from my Namibia adventures—same terrain, same tyre-unfriendly optimism.

The very first turnoff was to a bird hide. Naturally, I went in. A hide on the beach. Within the first five minutes—flamingoes. Just standing there. Casual. Also countless African Oystercatchers and some other birding delights. I walked out of that hide with three new lifers in fifteen minutes. That’s like walking into a shop and walking out with gold bars just for showing up.

African Oystercatcher – West Coast National Park, Langebaan

But that’s what this place is like. The kind of reserve where you just know it’s going to be a good time. Unfortunately, I had only a few hours before I had to return to the more civilised chaos of human social activity. And West Coast National Park, as it turns out, is deceptively large. Like “you’ll need three days and hiking boots and maybe a spirit guide” large. Which is probably why they offer overnight accommodation—because sane people need time to do it properly.

I headed off toward my second and final major stop: Geelbek. A lovely old farmhouse with a coffee shop and multiple hides overlooking the lagoon’s salty portion. Right in the centre of the park, prime location, looked like something out of a Lord of the Rings film if Frodo had a spotting scope.

And again—another three lifers (photos pending). Sadly, no blue cranes this time, but I’ve had the joy of seeing them in the wild before, so my ego remains mostly intact. My first ever pied avocet. An absolutely charming, silly little bird that looks like it was drawn by a five-year-old with a love for swooshes. Yes, they occur in many other places, but getting them to pose? That’s a different game entirely.

Pied Avocet – West Coast National Park, Langebaan

I also finally got proper photos of a black-winged stilt strutting about in the shallows like it owned the place. Perfect light, perfect reflections, and—for once—it didn’t disappear the moment I even thought about reaching for my camera. A miracle.

Black Winged Stilt – West Coast National Park, Langebaan

Oh, and the coffee shop? Way above average. Like, unexpectedly fancy flat white in the middle of a bird park kind of above average.

It was, in short, a brilliant morning. One of those rare outings that makes the effort worth it, the socialising tolerable, and the hangover vaguely justifiable. I will definitely be coming back here. With more time. And probably a better game plan that doesn’t involve rushing back to life.

Now, of course, it’s Sunday. Which means recovery mode, and also trying to figure out how the hell I’m getting back to Pretoria. One of South Africa’s major airlines is currently having a squabble with their pilots, which has resulted in a strike—and me, a stroke.

Meanwhile, back in the Pilanesberg, things are going absolutely ballistic. The WhatsApp groups are ablaze with sightings, and I’m getting serious FOMO. Apparently, everything that wasn’t happening last month is now suddenly happening all at once. Lions, leopards, baby cheetahs—you name it. But not to worry. After a brief detour to Sandton for a function (because life is balance, or something), I’ll be back in the bush soon enough.

Now that we’ve made it through the coldest bit of winter, the timing couldn’t be better. So if you want to go on safari, take some stunning leopard photos, or maybe sit with a pride of lions while questioning your life choices—go visit my website and fill in the form. We’ll make it happen.

Enough birding for now. Let’s go find some spots and stripes.

Catch you in the next one—where I’ll most likely be having a meltdown under a tree because a leopard has just disappeared five seconds before I got there. Standard.