Is camera trapping a ‘non-intrusive’ way of monitoring wildlife? We thought it was relatively un-interfering… until recently. Quite bizarre video footage along with an even more bizarre story emerged during wildlife camera trapping activities we were doing in the Great Fish River Reserve recently.
We went to retrieve one of our camera traps which had been left out in the field for a few days (as part of our coordination of the Wildlands Studies educational field course). Due to a lack of trees in the semi-degraded thicket (bushveld), we had tightly wrapped the lightweight camera trap around the dead shrubbery of a small bush (not best practice camera trapping, we admit) – and switched the setting to “30 seconds video”.
Upon our return to collect the trap we found, to our dismay, that the camera trap had disappeared. It was not where we had strappef it. We had heard baboons nearby that morning and immediately blamed them…as we already have plenty of photos and film footage of baboons playing with camera traps. We anxiously searched for the camera trap for about 15 minutes and, with relief, finally located it about 7 metres from the bush. And even more of a relief was that the camera appeared to still be functional despite being muddied and filled with moisture. So then came the excitement: what was captured on camera?
We never expected the footage…and furthermore – as you can see – the mystery remains unsolved.
View the camera footage below:
For those who cannot view the video clip, here’s the summary: the final video clip captured shows only a hartebeest (a grassland African antelope: Alcelaphus buselaphus) finally emerge into view. It stops, stares at the camera and then gingerly takes a few steps forward. However, the video clip from three minutes earlier is more revealing. A hartebeest is walking past the camera when it clearly notices it, moves forward, then creeps forward again…and then jolts and takes a few paces back, peers curiously around the camera…and then finally sniffs. When the nose touches the camera, the hartebeest leaps back in fright…and stares toward the camera. The 30 seconds expires.
By putting the pieces of the jigsaw together, we believe that the hartebeest took issue with this “intrusion” and maybe the unwanted presence of the camera. And we think it proceeded to go around the rear of the camera and flick it off the shrub with its horns (under the straps) . We think the final captured footage is of another hartebeest watching his friend about to commit this manoeuvre. Of course, we’ll never know….since the 30 seconds expired before we get to see how the camera ended up on the ground 7 metres away. On one hand, we were kicking ourselves for not setting the video capture time to 45 seconds or 60 or more. On the other hand, the enduring mystery of nature deepens one’s curiosity and excitement. Was the hartebeest actually capable of ‘hooking’ the straps of the camera trap and flinging it off the bush? Certainly, we noticed that the bush was somewhat trampled with broken twigs and snapped stems.
We can only speculate…
These images of the hartebeest were during the day when the automatic infrared function was not in use. Below is another video (at a different location) captured of a kudu (Tragelaphus strepsiceros) during the night. The infrared was in use on this occasion. The footage clearly shows the kudu tentatively weaving and ducking and peeking its head around the ‘infrared beam.’ And then when browsing close to the camera, suddenly spots it and bolts away in fright. So I still need to research whether it is a sound, sight, infrared or a combination of all which piques the curiosity of the antelope. But it is nevertheless something which should be taken into account for budding camera trappers and wildlife researchers.
Watch the kudu clip:
