What the desert learned from the bush

We published this article in issue 5 of ThisWildEarth. Get more content like this by exploring our other publications.

Consulting on the Protection Plan for the King Salman Abdulaziz Royal Reserve (KSRNR) in Saudi Arabia was shaped by both circumstances and intent. Although more than 6 000 kilometres apart South Africa and the Arabian Peninsula, despite cultural and language differences, share a conservation objective, writes Otch Otto.

The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia’s Vision 2030 represents a shift away from total reliance on oil and towards a diversified economy that includes ecotourism. As part of the vision, more than 20 protected areas have been proclaimed. Among them, KSRNR stands out, both for its scale and ambition. At roughly six times the size of South Africa’s Kruger National Park, it presents challenges that are vast, complex, and urgent. This is where South Africa's expertise became relevant.

South Africa brings over a century of conservation experience to the table. From early reserve creation to modern-day challenges around poaching, community engagement, ranger safety, and sustainable tourism, almost every conceivable mistake has already been made. It therefore made sense for Saudi Arabia to accelerate its conservation development by drawing directly on South Africa’s long, and often hard-earned, conservation experience. It was against this backdrop that practical collaboration began.

Dr Fahad Alnasser, a key figure involved in shaping the protection strategy for KSRNR, travelled to South Africa and the Kruger National Park. His visit was timed perfectly. Late October, after winter and before the first summer rains, is one of the periods for observing fauna. The bush looks harsh and depleted, yet the ecology is functioning exactly as it should, with excellent visibility through leafless trees, sparse shrubs, and patchy grass. This was the landscape awaiting our guest.

I collected Alnasser in Johannesburg, and we drove into the Kruger at Phabeni Gate. From the outset, the wildlife proved distracting. Every impala, giraffe, elephant, and mongoose demanded attention, photographs, and questions. Alnasser’s enthusiasm was infectious.

At Skukuza, I introduced Alnasser to the operational heart of the park. At the Operations Management Centre, he learned about ranger support and surveillance technologies, and toured the Air Wing. Most importantly, I introduced him to the park’s chief ranger, Cathy Dreyer, whose schedule is perpetually overloaded, yet she remains consistently generous with her time and insight.

The core purpose of our visit, however, lay further north. We drove from Skukuza through the park via Tshokwane, Satara and Orpen to Hoedspruit to formalise a partnership with the Southern African Wildlife College. The focus was ranger capacitation training. I wanted to emphasise that whether in the African savannah or the Arabian desert, conservation requires fieldwork in harsh conditions – not from air-conditioned comfort.

Alnasser experienced this first-hand. He was booked into a tent with a weak fan, 80km from the nearest shop. It was a deliberate choice. Conservation leadership must understand the realities those on the ground face. In Hoedspruit Alnasser was also introduced to a crime data analysis support service (C-DASS) that strengthens intelligence-led conservation. We discussed training for operations coordinators and intelligence analysts in detail, along with the systems to make that intelligence actionable.

We balanced every serious discussion with time in the field. But by the final day, one absence remained; Alnasser had not seen a single big cat. His itinerary would soon take him to Cape Town to finalise a proven conservation management system focused on movement, access, location, and area control. But leaving Kruger without seeing a lion felt unfinished.

On the last scorching afternoon, Alnasser wanted to retreat to a Hotel in Hoedspruit with an air conditioner. I countered with the promise of one last attempt. A cat and a large buffalo herd, I argued, were all that was missing. Reluctantly, he agreed.

We took the Orpen-Satara road and turned south. We saw a small fountain that attracted birds. I joked that if we were lucky, we might see a small cat there. Alnasser, focused and alert, scanned the reeds intensely. Then he called it.

A young lion stood up in the distance.

I placed us at a vantage point as the lion pride rose from their afternoon nap, stretching, rubbing, and playing around. When Alnasser began photographing, I opened the window. His panic was immediate. I insisted. Moments like this should not be captured through glass and glare.

As the light softened, the lions moved towards an eroded bank near the waterhole and assembled perfectly, as if on cue. It was, without question, the finest lion sighting I have experienced, even after years of working in the park.

Returning to our now cooler tents just before dark, we never got to see a large buffalo herd. However, trust had been built, understanding deepened, and a shared belief in joint success firmly established.

ThisWildEarth

Click to read more in our latest issue.