NOT much can top a trip to the Berg for town folk like me who don’t get outdoors enough.
However, interacting unexpectedly with some of the local animals did provide some amusing and hair-raising moments.
It seems I was the only one who spotted a buck running through the trees and into the shrubbery, but no one believed me.
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After that things spiced up a bit.
My son got a little close to a protective mother hen and it flapped frantically in his direction.
He’s only six, so it scared him enough that he learnt some new respect.
Now if he could just apply this same respect when it comes to listening to his own mother.
At some point my daughter, aged four, raced around the side of the house, chasing chickens, yelling in delight.
A few seconds later, she hit reverse, having spotted a rooster (of about the same height) and came running back the other way, screaming in fright.
During a visit to the nearby resort, mom, kids, aunty and cousins went to the goat cage.
You’re allowed in, but the goats are not allowed out.
“Rookies” they must have thought as three of four squeezed out and headed for the freedom of the mountains.
Fortunately, mom had decided to sit on the grass outside.
She immediately transformed into a matador of sorts, using her jersey as a cape to (eventually) herd them back in.
Aunty, who came running to help when she heard the commotion, didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She chose laughter.
Back at the cottage, and finally able to relax a bit, my wife spotted a big rock out the corner of her eye.
Then it moved.
It was a hungry baboon, hunting for scraps, and plenty big enough to raise the alarm.
It sauntered off soon enough, not too fussed by the fear it induced.
Will we go back? Yes, absolutely.
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