Vrystaat

There I was chatting to Jane and she happened to mention the super moon.  Closest it's been in 69 years - seem to remember there's something about that number, it's on the tip of my tongue........... Was just staggering to the bathroom and boom there it was in all it's glory.  Can you see how big it was?

The following morning it was time to move on to the fair city of Bloemfontein, actually 20 k's north of it to the Riviera - and you thought it was on the Med.  It was there I learned that the biggest joke on the planet had been elected POTUS.  Reckon they deserve him.

Bloemfontein has spread around Naval Hill but it is still a 190 ha game reserve, albeit without much game.

What it does have is a planetarium (closed for renovations) and a dirty great statue of Nelson.

Have to assume that this is his satellite dish.

Lots of pretty little Wahlenbergia's, the local version of blue-bells in flower, not sure of the species..

Speaking of satellite dishes, sometimes 'n boer moet net a plan maak.  I'd had all sorts of problems getting hooked up on the first site I tried so planned to move to one slightly higher up.  I hitched up using the Beast's magic mover's but when I tried to reverse the bugger wouldn't budge.  One of the drive wheels refused to disengage, not matter what.  Fortunately the owner, Jacques, knew where the local Caravan & Camping workshop was so I shot into town.  They were unable to come to my assistance but very kindly told me how to back it off manually, which involves twiddling a knob for about 10 minutes - something I now have a lot of experience in!  When I finally got to the new site I still couldn't get the signal so had to call in the cavalry in the form of Jacques who had offered to help.  After about an hour of mucking about still no luck so we gave up and had a couple of brandies instead.  He promised to return next morning with enough cable to connect to an existing dish on one of the cottages, but I fiddled around a bit before he got there and this was the result.  Nearly took it down again after watching the Boks at Twickenham.

Went out next morning to find this beauty had popped open, believe it to be Ammocharis but not sure which species.

Next stop was a place Jo and I had enjoyed before, Aldam Resort overlooking the Allemanskraal Dam, massive 100 site camp, just how I like it - empty.

Camp scroungers include, would you believe WHITE-BROWED Sparrow-weavers, though they don't weave at all well, there nests are merely untidy bundles of grass, the inside is quite neat though.

The men's ablutions have been claimed by a pair of Greater-striped Swallows - not so much because they have smaller stripes then their Lesser-striped cousins, but are physically greater in stature.  A thunder storm soon after I arrived saw them collecting mud for the upside-down igloos they build under the eaves.  Having been in the Cape for so long I wasn't prepared for the ferocity of Highveld storms and one of those monumental flash-bangs had me leaping out of bed and slamming windows.

This was taken just before the crowds started arriving for the weekend, the spit of land on the left was a popular launch site and quite a number of people camped there as well.  On Sunday evening I did the sun-downer thing and indulged in one of my favourite past-times, watching other people work.  There was a massive storm front moving in and most of the crowd were packed and ready to leave when the heavens opened.  There's always one - though in this case four.  I'd watched them take the flysheet off the tent and assumed the rest would follow shortly but the two men were involved with what-ever and the ladies just stood and watched.  Even when the first drops started to fall there was no action but when the full torrent hit they were galvanized - into getting their boat out of the water!  A couple of huge gusts flattened the tent and the last I saw was the ladies, still in their bikinis, hauling sopping bedding out of the carnage

While atlassing some of the pentad outside the resort I stumbled upon a group of one of my all time favourites.  As a child I had an aviary and used to trap some of the local seed-eaters to stock it.  My friends all thought me mad to have such dull creatures, but just look at that face.  Here they're known as Baardmannetjies (bearded men) which I think suits a lot better than Scaley-feathered Finches.

As with most dams in RSA, after two years of drought this one is only half full but never-the-less covers a massive area.  The Freestate area in general is looking a lot greener than the rest of the country I've been through recently.

The nearby Willem Pretorious NR beckoned and one of the first things on show was another of my favourites, Sable Antelope.  Not quite sure what had grabbed their attention though as there are no predators in the reserve.

At one of the look-out points it's evident how flat most of the countryside around here is.

I saw a small bird fly into a tree and stopping to try and find it noticed a large bird.  A Brown Snake-eagle, several hundred kilometers out of it's normal range, which resulted in a Provincial Rarity Form landing in my in-box as soon as I submitted an atlas card.  And not more than a half a kilometer further along the road..............

.......... a File snake lying so still I thought it was dead.  It then slid under the bakkie and I had to get out to make sure I didn't run over it - missed opportunity there Mr Eagle.  No they are not venomous and this is only the third I've ever seen, so a real treat.

As mentioned most of the surrounding area is flat but there are a few hills in the reserve and most of them contain the ruins of iron age dwellings and kraals made purely from stone.  One of the few remaining corbelled huts has been restored and either they were very small or slept sitting upright.  I could barely get my head through the door.

Found this old fellow - they get darker with age - slowly walking back from the dam but it was so far away I couldn't make out what the white collar was all about.  Could be natural I suppose.

The camp filled up over the weekend and to escape the crush I took sun-downers to the edge of the dam and just sat remembering how Jo used to rave about Africanf sunsets.

In the last blog was a picture of a rather splendid poppy and currently in the Freestate our local, but not quite as gaudy versions are plentiful.  Papaver aculeatum or the (extremely original) Orange Poppy is only about 50 mm in diameter but still quite eye-catching.

Once you've sorted all the bright and colourful birds, it's time to tackle the Little Brown Jobs.  One that gave me an enormous headache is the Melodious Lark and I eventually renamed it the Malodious Lark.  I recall a least three trips to various parts of the country with Jo in tow to places where I was assured there were dozens, but never found one.  After Jo died I went to Kruger on a fruitless chase for a Madagascar Cuckoo and overnighted twice at Chelmsford, where I was bound to find them.  Two more trips to the highveld failed and finally, Niall Perrins gave me GPS co-ordinates for a stake-out near Pretoria.  On arriving at the place I could hear the bird, but it was a black speck in the sky doing a display flight.  20 minutes of neck craning finally saw it drop - straight into the grass.  Though I chased it for another half-hour I never got more than a glimpse.  Driving through a huge expanse of grassland the other morning I caught sight of a chubby little budgie sitting on a fence and no sooner had I locked bins on it, it's beak opened and off it went on a display.  That was immediately followed by a call just behind my right ear and backing up slowly - bingo!  And he just sat, singing his heart out not 5 m away.  Not very Melodious by the way but a lot better than his cousin the Monotonous Lark.  Finally a hesitant tick went to a big, fat firm one - better than a lifer actually.

Also around were Ant-eating Chats and this one positively demanded that his portrait be taken. Pretty dull until they fly and the white on the wings, which you can see a vestige of here, becomes visible, but top marks for posture, my old RSM would be proud.