Relatively fierce

Ever since, as a teenager, I caught my first sighting of a family of badgers frolicking together in the last rays of a late summer evening, I have had a soft spot for these nocturnal and secretive mammals.

Last month, I was reminded that European badgers are part of a larger family. There are eight different species of badgers around the world, although our own is the largest and most widespread.

I came across one of the others – the honey badger – during a trip to Namibia in South West Africa. This badger is the most ferocious of the family. It thinks nothing of killing and eating a three-metre long python. Even the venom of a puff adder (which would kill a man) has little effect on it. Not that I knew any of this on the day I spotted a pair and followed them through the African night trying to get a good enough photograph to paint from. I had had a very busy day, driving from one camp in Etosha National Park to another, seeing more than 150 elephants en route and rattling off several thousand photographs.

My wife and I, our two-year-old daughter and friends and travelling companions, Ged and Lucy, had settled into our new camp shortly before dark. We lit up the barbecue for a quick supper before heading to bed at 8pm, keen to get some sleep before our 5am safari start the next morning.

But no sooner had my head touched the pillow, when I heard a racket outside the bush chalet we had hired. I got up to investigate. I was slightly uneasy about opening the door. But our chalet had a stable door and I was brave enough to open the top section.

As I flicked the outside lights on, I saw a honey badger standing calmly astride our barbecue. It was licking all the juices off the grid, which had obviously just cooled enough. This was quite a surprise, as it is rare to see honey badgers. They have been persecuted for years and are now endangered across most of Africa.

I heard some chittering coming from around the corner of the chalet and moments later a second badger appeared and deftly leapt up on to the chair that I had occupied during supper. It rested its paws on the table a metre from where I was hiding and munched on a scrap of salami. As it chewed, it turned and put its paws on the back of my chair and sniffed my scent. Thankfully, honey badgers, like their European counterparts, have notoriously bad sight.

With their stocky build, lack of external ears, broad muscular back and bowlegged front legs, they look very comical. They are jet black except for a grey mantle, separated by a white stripe, extending from the crown to the base of the tail. Looking back on the events that were to unfold that evening, I ought to have paid closer heed to those black and white danger markings. But these animals move with such a humorous jog-trot that any sighting of them feels a bit like watching a cartoon.

The first badger cleaned off the barbecue and then looked in the direction our box of provisions. Feeling slightly vulnerable in my pyjamas, I gave the bottom section of the door a bit of a slam. They looked up and scarpered, only to stop a short distance away and visit the next chalet.

Hooked, the next night I stayed up, ready to photograph the pair. This time I was equipped with head torch and camera. From my experience of the previous night it was obvious that they were not afraid of humans and were taking advantage of any leftover food scraps.

Sure enough, they appeared at the next door hut shortly after lights out and attempted to climb into a dustbin. I grabbed my camera and set off after them, followed closely by our friends Lucy and Ged. My wife and daughter followed at a sensibly lengthy distance.

As I approached the badgers, one quite unexpectedly ran towards me. At first I thought it was used to being fed by tourists. But it quickly became apparent that this was an aggressive posture – its hackles were up and tail was pointed up in the air.

I stood my ground. It is not a good idea to turn and run from any animal unless you know you can outrun it. I later learned that a honey badger is capable of running at up to 20mph, and so it clearly had the advantage.

After a brief stand-off it lost interest in me and spotted Lucy, the smallest of our party and promptly ran at her. She screamed, turned and fled. I cried out, "For goodness sake stay still I am trying to

get a photograph", which didn't go down very well.

The badger appeared to be enjoying the chase, but Lucy and her husband quickly retired to the safety of their room. There they got out their wildlife book and began to read up about this rather cheeky species of badger.

I continued to follow the pair through camp as they raided room after room. If I got too close they ran at me, but it soon became increasingly difficult to keep track of both of them in the dark. I crouched down on one occasion to photograph one and the other rushed up behind me which made me feel very uncomfortable – it was like trying to keep an eye on two

wild pit bull terriers in the dark. Mean-while, Ged and Lucy had discovered in their wildlife book just how ferocious these badgers are and were beginning to wonder what was taking me so long.

In one room, I heard pots clanking and plates smashing and then a badger appeared with a toilet roll in its mouth. It charged at me again, chittering with its tail aloft. I was relieved that it already had something in its mouth this time – better than, say, my leg.

Little did I know how a honey badger's jaw locks when it bites, until either the badger itself or its opponent dies.

It dropped the toilet roll at my feet. I kicked it to divert the badger away. Sure enough the badger ran after it and caught it, before running off into the darkness.

It was a bit like playing with my dog back home. But this was no Andrex puppy I was dealing with, as Ged and Lucy were finding out. They had discovered that honey badgers have a pugnacious reputation and even the most dangerous predators give them a wide berth. They have been recorded eating alongside lions on a carcass and even ripping the genitalia off hyenas. As well as a crushing bite, they are well armed with formidable four-centimetre fore claws that are so powerful that a 30lb badger can bury itself underground in minutes. And on top of all this, it can emit a spray from its rear so putrid that it would make a skunk's seem like rose petals. After nearly an hour of following the pair they gave me the slip and disappeared into a thicket of bushes and so I headed for home.

Everyone was relieved to see me back in one piece. Over a cup of tea they took delight in telling me that the honey badger is mentioned in the 2002 Guinness Book of Records as "the most fearless animal in the world".

Type in "honey badger" on YouTube and you'll see what I mean.

www.robertefuller.com

YP MAG 18/9/10