Jessie was the first to come across the unicorn in a clearing. She’d been hiking out front in a ruggedly scenic canyon of South Africa’s Drakensberg and spied what she thought was a rock, until the rock moved. Greg was next in line on the trail, but he only saw Jessie’s silent hand motions at first until he too spotted the moving rock. Mesmerized, they stood and watched as the unicorn moved their way without signs of fear.
I was third in the line of trail travelers, but was lagging behind because as a photographer I am quite slow and usually am towards the back of any group I travel in. Photographing bamboo and gnarled trees set against the backdrop of 1500-foot sandstone cliffs weathered into fairy-tale castle spires, I was focused on taking pictures and not paying attention to the mythical beast whose gaze had captured my hiking companions. So when I saw Greg and Jessie waving their arms at me about a hundred yards up, I waved back in acknowledgement and went on to take more images. I looked up again, and the waving had not ceased. Puzzled, I looked back behind me to see where Mark was at, thinking that they were concerned that he had fallen too far behind. Mark hadn’t appeared around the canyon bend yet so I simply shrugged at them exaggeratedly so they could see me at a distance.
This did not settle anything. Now both Jessie and Greg were making dramatic arm motions like semaphore flag wavers on an airport runway. This completely perplexed me, so I looked back to see if Mark was coming along yet, and when he wasn’t, I again waved back and shrugged. This made Greg hold up his hands to his forehead like a pair of horns and paw at the ground like a crazed bull in Pamplona. Then both of them motioned for me to come towards them. As I walked down the trail and gained a bit of elevation, I finally saw what the frantic activity was about and understood the purpose of all the silent commotion. The unicorn netted me with its magical presence as well. Eventually Mark appeared and was reeled into the experience as well.
P.S. It was a huge bull eland.
Male eland sometimes lose their horns while sparring with other males. This one appears to also have suffered some damage to his ear and his cheek, possibly from the horns of another male. He was a big guy, probably at least 800 lbs (350+ kilos).
Jessie was thrilled to find her first elandicorn.
Cabbage tree (Cussonia spicata) and eroded sandstone spires line the deep canyon were were hiking in.
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Here are a few additional scenes from the Drakensberg, or Dragon Mountains, of eastern South Africa. Most of the highest peaks rise to 9,500 – 10,000 feet (3200 – 3400 meters) and see hard freezes and snow in winter. Made of sandstone, they are ancient and rugged and extremely beautiful with a wealth of rare plants.
The grasslands have a number of unusual bulbs and low perennials interspersed throughout the mat of grass species. The russet and gold colors are beautiful in early spring, turning to verdant green in summer.
A fire lily (Cyrtanthus sp) sprouts out of a recently burned grassland as Rhino Horn Peak looms in the background. The grasslands are burned every few years under controlled conditions to manage fire threats as well as maintain high species diversity, since many of the plants here depend upon periodic fires to enable their best growth, such as the fire lily shown here.
The large-leaved bulbs (part green, part reddish brown) are a species of Watsonia, a showy bulb related to gladiolus. They must be gorgeous in bloom!