Beauty, Fire, and the Cattle Crisis

The air was dry and thick, beneath us, the ground was begging for rain. In this landscape, only the truly resilient survive. Luckily, botanists are resilient. After tea we set out eagerly to see what we could find.

Cattle grazing Umtamvuna Nature Reserve

Our first flower of the day was Othonna natalensis (Natal geelbossie). The lovely fleshy grey-green leaves and bright yellow, radiate flowerheads were like beacons against the burnt earth. It is fortunately not palatable to cattle as it contains bitter compounds. Nearby, Pentanisia prunelloides (Broad-leaved pentanisia) had pushed out from the burnt earth. The noticeably hairy, ovate leaves lack petioles, but that’s not what caught our eye. It was the striking, clusters of tubular blue-lilac flowers. Another resilient survivor was Hypoxis hemerocallidea (African potato). Its hairy, strap-like leaves were just emerging, crowned by a brilliant, canary-yellow star-flower that practically glowed against the ash. Also shooting up immediately after the burn was Helichrysum nudifolium var. pilosellum (Boleba), topped with a flat, dense, rounded cluster of bright golden-yellow corymbs composed of tiny, button-like flower heads.

Othonna natalensis

Pentanisia prunelloides

Hypoxis hemerocallidea

Helichrysum nudifolium var. pilosellum

Standing out in stark contrast against the blackened landscape, all of these species perfectly demonstrate the evolutionary genius of Pondoland’s flora. They are “geophytic pyrophytes.” Their thick, woody underground rootstocks (the geophyte trait) protect them from the intense heat of veld fires, allowing them to act as ecological pioneers (the pyrophyte trait). By hiding safely beneath the soil line, they use the fresh ash nutrients and unfiltered sunlight to burst into bloom long before the dominant sourveld grasses can crowd them out.

Still waters mirror the rugged beauty of Umtamvuna

Leaving the charred area behind, we moved into a sweep of unburnt grassland and down toward a flowing stream. Adding a dramatic splash of scarlet was Erica cerinthoides (Fire heath). A delicate Wahlenbergia species caught our eye. A proud member of the Campanulaceae (bellflower) family, its perfect little star, with pale mauve petals balanced gracefully on an ultra-wiry stem.

Erica cerinthoides and pollinator

Wahlenbergia species

Our focus shifted to the damp stream banks where dense colonies of Disa tripetaloides (Pinkspot Disa) were clinging tightly to the edge. Their slender stems bore delicate white-and-pink flowers, intricately dotted with magenta spots. Firmly anchored by an extensive underground network of runners and stolons, these beautiful terrestrial orchids are so rewarding. Growing among the Disa orchids was Erica aspalathifolia; most of its delicate flowers had aged into a beautiful burnt orange, except for a few that were still a warm, creamy white.

Disa tripetaloides

Erica aspalathifolia

As we admired the Disa, a herd of 47 cattle came trotting down to the once-pristine stream. As we watched helplessly, the damage caused by these trespassing cattle was no longer to be ignored. Deep criss-cross cattle paths now scar the grassland like fresh lashes across living flesh. We feel every one of them. The banks of the stream are totally obliterated in areas, and where the cattle entered the stream to drink, the water turned muddy. Umtamvuna is bleeding!

Cattle in the stream

Umtamvuna Nature Reserve lies at the heart of the Pondoland Centre of Endemism. This is the very birthplace of one of the richest and most unique biodiversity hotspots on Earth. Many of the species found here exist nowhere else on the planet. That makes this place not just special, but irreplaceable.

Umtamvuna Nature Reserve the heart of the Pondoland Center of endemism

There seems to be no end to the illegal cattle grazing in the reserve. Year after year — and now week after week — the situation is getting worse. At times it feels like we don’t know whether to cry or to shout.

Devastating evidence of illegal cattle grazing

Damage done by the cattle

Across the stream, and with our backs turned toward the cattle, we hunted for Euphorbia bupleurifolia. Anne found a lone Euphorbia where there had once been a good population, highlighting yet another conservation crisis: plant poaching. But then, a Berkheya speciosa seemed to call us out of our melancholy. Its brilliant yellow ray florets gleamed against the winter sky.

Hunting for Euphorbia bupleurifolia

Euphorbia bupleurifolia

Berkheya speciosa

The day’s emotional rollercoaster took another sudden turn when Hillary called out in absolute triumph. She had found Eulophia parviflora! This slender terrestrial orchid was a magnificent reward—its yellow petals and purple-brown veined sepals standing proudly on a delicate stem. It was exactly the antidote we needed. It was a clear, defiant statement that despite the threats pressing in around us, Umtamvuna’s true magic still refuses to be erased.

Hillary beaming after finding the Eulophia parviflora

Eulophia parviflora

Between some rocks in a seep, the large, apple-green leaves of a Maesa lanceolata (False Assegai) were backlit by the winter sun, transforming the leaves into translucent green sheets. The pale midrib and intricate, net-like lateral veins glowed like fine golden filigree, revealing a hidden structural beauty that you completely miss from a distance.

Maesa lanceolata

Macaranga capensis (River Macaranga) is a fast-growing tree belonging to the spurge family, Euphorbiaceae. The large, heart-shaped leaves are especially striking, featuring a beautiful and unique palmate venation pattern with pale veins that radiate elegantly from the base. This architecture is emphasized by its peltate leaf attachment, where the long leaf stalk inserts directly into the underside of the blade, creating a beautiful shield-like appearance.

Macaranga capensis

Peltate leaf attachment of Macaranga capensis

We chose a rocky area on the side of a deep gully in the winter sun to eat lunch. To the right, growing out of the rock, was a Diospyros scabrida (Hard-leaved Monkey Plum). Its rigid, compact branches hugged the stone, sporting leathery leaves with an exceptionally glossy sheen. This particular shrub turned out to be a female specimen, proudly bearing solitary flowers emerging singly from the leaf axils. Each drooping, bell-shaped bloom was cradled by a large, distinctively hairy calyx. It is truly a dynamic shrub that adapts and thrives in varying conditions.

Diospyros scabrida

As we started to finish lunch, each of us began to explore the dry, rocky gully. Tracy’s eyes caught a tiny flash of movement on a nearby leaf—a flatid planthopper nymph. It was an astonishing little creature, completely coated in a powdery, white wax and sporting a dramatic, feather-like tail of extruded waxy filaments that looked like a miniature firework frozen mid-burst. It sat perfectly still, a master of eccentric defense, ready to sacrifice its brittle waxy tail to any predator foolish enough to strike.

Flatid planthopper nymph

Directly behind it, weaving through the undergrowth, a scrambling Behnia reticulata (Forest Smilax) vine bore the silent scars of a different insect encounter. Some of its leaves had been meticulously stripped down to their bare bones. Specialised leaf beetle larvae had eaten away every trace of the soft green mesophyll, leaving behind nothing but the stark, bleach-white skeletons of their parallel and net-like veins. The lacy, geometric lattices hung like fragile cobwebs in the winter light—a reminder that even in the shade of the gully, the relentless, quiet cycles of consumption and survival never pause. 

Behnia reticulata

Draped over a large boulder was a Plectranthus saccatus subsp. pondoensis. Perfectly adapted to this harsh, rocky microclimate, its highly succulent, fleshy green leaves clung to the rock while its long, trailing stems cascaded downward into the shadows. Sprays of mauve flowers nodded gently in the light.

Plectranthus saccatus subsp. pondoensis

Uschi was so elated to find, tucked into the steep gully wall, a specialized trio of ferns: Christella dentata, Blechnum punctulatum var. krebsii, and right next to it, Blechnum capense. As Anne, Alf, Hillary, Tracy, and Uschi ventured down the gully, they were met with a wonderful surprise. Growing on top of a large boulder was Clivia robusta, a true giant of the Pondoland flora. Its imposing, architectural fan of broad, dark green strap-shaped leaves gave rise to a dense umbel of pendulous, tubular flowers—their deep orange lobes tipped with distinct collars of pale green, glowing softly in the shadows of the gully canopy.

Specialized trio of ferns

Clivia robusta

Deciding to clamber up over the boulders and out of the gully brought them face-to-face with Mystacidium venosum. This tiny, stemless epiphyte is endemic to southern Africa. Its pure, crystal-white flowers resemble tiny, intricate snowflakes, and each star-shaped bloom features sharply pointed petals and a long, slender, backward-curving nectar spur.

Mystacidium venosum

Colonising the rocks and surrounds as we came out of the gully was Nephrolepis cordifolia (Tuberous Sword Fern) a highly aggressive Category 1b Invasive Species in KwaZulu-Natal. It is extremely difficult to eradicate because of its robust survival mechanisms. After spending some time removing and crushing the tubers we decided the rest was for another day. As we ambled along the edge of the gully our mood quickly turned back to one of frustration as we encountered the terrible damage done by the cattle.

Nephrolepis cordifolia tuber

Dorothy had started to walk back to the car. You might think that would be a swift walk, but in botany, it never is—there is always something more to see. Dorothy was lucky enough to spot Kohautia amatymbica (Tremble tops). Its specific epithet, amatymbica, serves as a rich cultural marker, named in honour of the AmaThembu people of the Eastern Cape. Right nearby was the low-growing dwarf shrub Searsia pondoensis, showing off its attractive, upright, feather-like leaves. Finally, the vibrant yellow Gazania krebsiana brought a radiant burst of colour to the fresh burn.

Kohautia amatymbica

Searsia pondoensis

Gazania krebsiana

Another beautiful pyrophyte shooting up after the burn was Indigofera rubroglandulosa, its vivid rose-pink pea flowers bright against the charred earth. As we headed back, the contrast of the day stayed with us. Umtamvuna is a paradise under siege—caught between the evolutionary genius of its ancient flora and the modern pressures of human encroachment. Yet, seeing its resilience firsthand reminds us exactly why we cannot stop fighting for it.

Indigofera rubroglandulosa

Chasing Spurges

We gathered at our usual spot for coffee, tea, and some homemade rusks—a typical warm, sunny winter’s day. This Thursday, however, was a little different. Gail was on a botanical quest. She had an assignment to locate, measure, and count a specific Erythrococca sp. nov.—a rather obscure genus of dioecious shrubs belonging to the spurge family.

A spectacular  spectrum over the gorge

The firebreak had been burnt recently, but there was nothing to see yet—just black, scorched earth. Fires are imperative for a grassland; they act as a rapid reset button, vaporising the dead mass. By pumping rich nutrients back into the soil and allowing sunlight and warmth to reach new shoots and seeds, the flames stimulate vital growth and germination.

Newly burned fire break

Gail had previously spotted a critically endangered Euphorbia bupleurifolia (Cycad Spurge) here, so we spread out, hoping against hope to find it again. While on the hunt, Tracy suddenly called out. She had spotted a Stangeria eriopus (Imfingo). This vulnerable plant belongs to a monotypic genus, meaning it is the absolute only species of its kind anywhere on Earth. It is mind-blowing, a stark reminder of how incredibly fortunate we were to be standing right there looking at it. Then—as if by magic, Gail found it again. There it was: the Euphorbia. How absolutely amazing it was to see this extraordinary little plant. Our hearts just skipped a beat.

Euphorbia bupleurifolia

Stangeria eriopus

As we walked through the sea of long, thick, dry winter grass, it whispered softly. Anne pointed out a fiery coral Pelargonium luridum leaf tightly curled inward against the drying winter wind.

Pelargonium luridum leaf

Before they knew it, Gail and Tracy stood alone at the top of the stairs zigzagging down into the gorge. Step by step, they carefully started to make their way down. It was hot on the side of the gorge; winter had temporarily forgotten them. They stopped partway down in the shade, to admire the coarsely toothed, distinctly discolorous leaves of Gymnanthemum corymbosum (Mountain bitter-tea), its pale, fluffy seed heads bursting from their stiff brown cups. Further down they spotted Helichrysum pannosum, showing off its golden everlasting flower heads and densely felted, grey woolly leaves.

Gymnanthemum corymbosum

Helichrysum pannosum

Once in the forest it was cool, and birds sang from the canopy high above. The lack of rain was telling—the sandstone wall, usually wet, was bone dry, patiently waiting for rain so the plants and moss could spring back to life. Tracy admired the bamboo-like Olyra latifolia scrambling through the undergrowth. Although it looked perfectly in place, it is not indigenous, and most likely arrived long ago through historic human movement and had since become naturalised. Growing along the forest floor nearby, they encountered a Rhoicissus species that is still being worked on.

Olyra latifolia

Rhoicissus species

Dorothy chose to stay at the top and explore the grassland. She found Diospyros villosa (Hairy Star-apple) covered in bronze hairs, giving it a velvety appearance. Winter-flowering Crassula perfoliata var. heterotricha, the white of the petals was just beginning to show on the closed buds. The papery golden-brown Helichrysum herbaceum (Monkey-tail Everlasting) was still holding strong alongside Helichrysum adenocarpum subsp. adenocarpum (Fairy everlasting). The grassland was full of Ctenium concinnum, locally known as Twirly-Whirly Grass. What makes it so fascinating is that as the seed head matures, it curls backward into a dramatic, rigid corkscrew spiral, like a pig's tail.

Diospyros villosa
Photo credit Dorothy

Crassula perfoliata var. heterotricha
Photo credit Dorothy

Helichrysum herbaceum
Photo credit Dorothy

Helichrysum adenocarpum subsp. adenocarpum
Photo credit Dorothy

Ctenium concinnum
Photo credit Dorothy

Venturing further into the forest, Gail found the first Erythrococca sp. nov.—she posed for a photograph to indicate the size. Alf, Anne, Hilary, and Uschi could be heard getting closer. Being quiet is not a requirement of botany; in fact, chatting and laughter are imperative. Gail reached into her pack and retrieved a bright pink measuring tape. Alf, Anne and Tracy measured while Gail made notes. While taking measurements, Tracy pointed out a fascinating example of inosculation, where a woody climber had twisted so tightly around a host stem that their tissues were starting to fuse into one. All done, we made our way towards the river for lunch. Right along the path edge where a gap in the high canopy let in a sliver of light, we noted a Triumfetta pilosa. Its broad, lance-shaped leaves were striking, defined by deeply set, prominent veins and sharply saw-toothed margins.

Gail with her charge Erythrococca sp. nov

Anne measuring the diameter

Tracy and Anne measuring the height while
Alf supervised and Uschi looking on in the background

Inosculation on a Erythrococca sp. nov. 

Triumfetta pilosa

Hilary was already at the river perched on top of a rock in the sun. She pointed out some prints left in the sand. While investigating the prints we spotted Crassocephalum crepidioides (Redflower ragleaf) with peach-red nodding capitula. It really is not at all spectacular. It is hard to believe that this modest weed is widely prized as a nutritious leafy green called ebolo, or that its sap is used traditionally to heal wounds and soothe ulcers—though you have to be careful, as it can be toxic if it isn't prepared correctly. Uschi had sat down next to the soft, herbaceous Christella dentata a resilient species of terrestrial fern in the family Thelypteridaceae. Tracy clambered over some rocks and returned with a "takkie" (a little specimen we carry back for closer inspection) that turned out to be Keetia gueinzii (Climbing Canthium)—a woody liana that roots in the dark forest floor and aggressively climbs its way up into the canopy to find the light.

Print left in the sand

Crassocephalum crepidioides

Christella dentata

Keetia gueinzii

As we climbed out of the river bed, Anne pointed out a Pseudosalacia streyi (Pondo rock lemon). A beautiful small tree with large, deep green, leathery leaves, and this particular specimen was showing off a few round, globose fruits. Seeing it in the wild is always a privilege; it is a highly localized rarity found only in a tiny 500-square-kilometer pocket of our coastline, with fewer than ten known wild groups.

Pseudosalacia streyi

Walking beneath the towering trees, you couldn’t help but feel completely at peace. We saw Ochna natalitia (Showy ochna) a highly ornamental deciduous shrub belonging to the Mickey Mouse bush family, Ochnaceae. Carissa bispinosa (Bosnoemnoem) was full of dainty peach flower buds quietly waiting to open. Buxus natalensis (Large-leaved box). This compact under-canopy shrub looked perfectly content in the deep shade, its shiny, dark green leaves catching what little light filtered down. Coming up the stairs out of the gorge was slow going. Tracy spotted another large Black mamba and was glad this time that it was a good distance away. It is special to see such large specimens. Once at the top we stopped for a breather.

Ochna natalitia

Carissa bispinosa

Buxus natalensis

Deciding to cut across the grass instead of returning on the trail, Hilary delighted in Muraltia lancifolia (Umahesaka-onsundu) clinging to the bank of the dry stream. It was a lovely find — low, woody tufts decorated with tiny pinkish-purple flowers tucked tightly against its spiky, lance-shaped leaves.

Muraltia lancifolia

It was impossible to ignore the showy Argyrella canescens (formerly Dissotis canescens, locally known as Imfeyenkala). The whole plant seemed to shout “look at me!” with its square reddish stems, velvety grey-tufted leaves, and striking magenta flowers featuring distinctive two-toned purple and yellow stamens.

Argyrella canescens

Nearby, a scrambling Helichrysum panduratum displayed its unique fiddle-shaped leaves with their snowy white-woolly undersides. In the same area we admired Hypoestes forskaolii (Ribbon bush), its flowers in delicate shades of pink and white — beautiful, yet a plant to treat with caution as it is highly toxic to livestock. 

Helichrysum panduratum

Hypoestes forskaolii white and pink colour variation

Hypoestes forskaolii white and pink colour variation

At that point, Hilary spotted another large Black mamba, this one busy with nuptials and completely oblivious to our presence. We gave it a respectful distance. The bright red flowers of Alberta magna (Natal flame bush) stood out boldly in the verdant forest, and our last push up the hill took us past a Psoralea glabra (Narrow-leaf Fountain-bush) and Pelargonium luridum (Waving Pelargonium) in flower.

Alberta magna

Psoralea glabra

Pelargonium luridum

Our last push up the hill

All back together Uschi presented Dorothy with a “takkie” she had carried up from the forest. Without hesitation Dorothy identified it as Olea woodiana (Forest olive). Not too shabby. Another successful day in the field — full of rare finds, quiet wonders, and plenty of smiles. Whether we’re chasing obscure spurges or simply soaking up the beauty of this remarkable landscape, that’s what we do. After all, we are the Pondoland Crew.

Olea woodiana

Pondoland CREW
Gail Bowers-winter, Tracy Taylor, Hilary Henderson, Dorothy McIntyre,
Anne Skelton, Uschi Teicher, Alf Hayter

Structural beauty of a funnel-web

Honeycomb (tafoni) on Msikaba sandstone

Praying mantis ootheca