Well, it was Tuesday when it was so. First to the wolves. We’ve all been confused about wolves in Africa and now we know that confusion was warranted. There are no wolves in Africa. The wolves at the Wolf Sanctuary are rescues from North America. I did ask how they got to South Africa but our guide didn’t hear me and the conversation went in another direction. On the way back to Dana Bay, I want to stop by and ask the question again. Most of the wolves had been “pets” and then the people realized that they couldn’t keep them. It is always astounding to me the number of numbnuts there are in the world who are willing to ruin animals’ lives either so they can have an exotic pet or because they think they are rescuing them. Far from rescue, they doom them to a live behind bars. All of the places we’ve been around Plett are rescue places, sanctuaries. At the wolf sanctuary, there are more wolf dogs than wolves, but they do have pure wolves, including timber wolves (I think four; can’t remember). We couldn’t go in with them, but we got to go in with the other packs. Interestingly, most of their wolves and wolf dogs are male. Another question I didn’t get the answer to: why? Also interestingly, they can’t neuter the males because they’d never be able to be alphas or betas if they were. There are two pairs of wolf-wolf dog with young, one with two males about a year old and the other with six puppies about three months old. So cute! Oh, yeah, we didn’t get to go into them either because they didn’t want to disturb them. But the mother, a wolf dog, came to the fence to be petted. All the cages are fairly big, with enough room to run, but they are in the process of building the new family a much, much bigger place. We played with a wolf-wolf dog pair who were both quite friendly and gregarious; generally the wolves were more reserved, as you might expect. Most of the wolf dogs’ dogness is Huskie, though the have at least one that is probably part german shepard. Interesting to feel the difference in the coats; wolves’ coarser, of course.
After the wolves, on the way back to Plett, we stopped at a restaurant for lunch. Odd place. There is the restaurant that only serves breakfast; there is the Cheese Man, obvious what it is, but also some other items; there is a garden shop and nursery with beautiful plants; the Radical Raptors sanctuary; and two home decor stores that have some of the most beautiful furniture and textiles I’ve seen in SA. NOEKIE, if you haven’t stopped there on your many, too many trips to and from Port Elizabeth, you really must. They have some beautiful wood swings (with and without backs, with and without the hanging supports) and concrete-made-to-look-like-carved-stone garden seats that would look wonderful on the farm, or even out by Castalina’s pool.
We went to Radical Raptors, Laird eagerly, me just to please him, but it was wonderful! Again, these are all rescued birds, most from people who took them as chicks. Those can never be returned to the wild because they don’t know how to BE wild, or they had their wings clipped or, in one case, the bird was kept in a cage too small for it so it could not even open its wings all the way so now it will never be strong enough to wild fly. It can fly, but not far or long. This should make you cry: these birds do not know that they are birds. They think they are human. They get other birds people bring in who are wild but damaged somehow and they rehabilitate them and send them back out to the wild. Those birds are not on display, of course, because they want to keep them wild. Mark, whose brother owns the place, showed off a kestral, a Harris hawk (not indigenous to South Africa), a great horned owl [LAIRD fill in the South African name, please, along with the jakel’s buzzard or whatever it was. GALAXY, you would have really liked the place! And, then, the BEST PART. Mark’s dog, Gustav! What a wonderful, magnificent dog he is! As black as the Formosa Bay bunnies, he’s a Gernan wirehaired terrier (?) and lab mix. He LOVES golf balls, to hunt and to chew. Depending on the command Mark gives him after loosing the ball, he either stalks it or hunts it. He’s amazing to watch him “hunt”. If you throw the ball way away when he can’t see the throw, he has a very organized hunting pattern he follows to sniff out or see the ball. The last time the ball was thrown, Mark had put his hat over Gustav’s eyes and kept blowing into his face before releasing him. Between that, the wind and the golf ball’s smell from other throws, the poor sweetie pie was having to go through pattern after pattern after pattern over and over again. Laird, who had thrown the ball, said he thought it might have gone in a hole, so finally Mark walked out to see and help Gustav.
Today is going to the Big Tree, a 1,000 year old yellowwood tree. We dedicate today to Marita, who LOVES the Big Tree!
I’m publishing this, but come back to it after Laird has a chance to correct my mistakes. Since I’ve lost entries TWICE, I’m afraid to get out without publishing! Laird is doing the laundry (talk about the best kind of husband!) and there is wi-fi only in reception and the restaurant and I’m not about to leave my computer to go to the laundry or our chalet.
Predatorily yours, jm and lg
lairdandjonelle 
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