The Heart of Pondoland is Burning

Thursday arrived again and the whole Pondoland CREW was back together. We sat in the sun under a dilapidated roof drinking tea, dunking rusks and chatting away. Then we headed to Western Heights, the largest plateau grassland within the Umtamvuna Nature Reserve. Geographically, it sits elevated on the inland, north-western side, running right up against the sheer 240-metre cliffs that overlook the deep Umtamvuna River Gorge. Our mood was jovial but apprehensive. We were on our way to botanise, but we knew we wouldn't be alone. The cattle would have beaten us there. No doubt, some never left.

Just one of the many herds of cattle

With each step it became more apparent the cattle are destroying these precious grasslands. It was not a day for celebration—the time for quiet contemplation is no longer.

Finding cattle deeper and deeper in the reserve
Photo credit Gail

Where rolling grasslands once exploded in a riot of colour after fire — delicate orchids, fire-adapted geophytes, and hundreds of plants found nowhere else on Earth — now lie scarred grasslands. The grass is mowed to stubble. The soil lies bare and black. Fresh green shoots promise a quick meal for cattle, but this is no renewal. It is slow-motion destruction.

A scene that has become all to common

Despite the heavy grazing pressure, the Pondoland CREW managed to find a few survivors pushing through the ash, though they were heartbreakingly few and scattered. Bright Gazania krebsiana daisy faces hugged the ground under the harsh winter sun, while isolated clusters of golden everlasting Helichrysum aureum provided a glimmer of colour against the blackened earth.

Gazania krebsiana

Helichrysum aureum

Out of the side of a sandstone boulder, a leafless Erythrina lysistemon tree stood out, defiantly pushing out intense scarlet flower spikes. Beautiful Polystachya pubescens and Crassula perfoliata var. heterotricha were flourishing directly on top of massive sandstone boulders, sitting safely out of reach where they could neither be eaten nor trampled under heavy hooves. Similarly, the unique brush-like white flowers of Haemanthus albiflos were growing deep in shaded, inaccessible rock crevices.

Erythrina lysistemon

Polystachya pubescens

Dorothy and Alf admiring Polystachya pubescens

Crassula perfoliata var. heterotricha

Haemanthus albiflos

Gail, our very own Euphorbia hound, spotted Euphorbia bupleurifolia. Growing along a seasonal stream was a magnificent Alberta magna—a member of the Rubiaceae family luckily not palatable to cattle. The reflexed thorns of Putterlickia retrospinosa and the hooked thorns of Smilax anceps make both of these safe from grazing as well. The Tricalysia capensis var. capensis shrubs were full of buds, with some getting a head start on pollination; and, you guessed it, they are also highly unpalatable to cattle.

Euphorbia bupleurifolia
Photo credit Gail

Alberta magna

Putterlickia retrospinosa

Smilax anceps

Tricalysia capensis var. capensis

Near the moist drop-offs into the stream were a couple of river-loving Psoralea glabra shrubs and Ochna serrulata bushes. Heading back up from traversing the edge, the amazing star-shaped bracts of Brachylaena glabra drew us in, and there were a few small Tulbaghia acutiloba.

Psoralea glabra

Ochna serrulata

Brachylaena glabra

Hilary and Uschi climbing back up

Tulbaghia acutiloba

We found a few more resilient species holding the line. The low-growing daisy Ursinia tenuiloba popped with bright yellow post-fire growth, while scattered Protea roupelliae trees stood tough against the ash, protected by their thick, fire-resistant bark. Meanwhile, hidden away from heavy hooves in the sandstone fissures, the grass-like fronds of Vittaria isoetifolia clung safely to the shaded rock faces. 

Ursinia tenuiloba
Photo credit Dorothy

Protea roupelliae
Photo credit Dorothy

Vittaria isoetifolia

Photo credit Uschi

This is Umtamvuna Nature Reserve, the crown jewel of the Pondoland Centre of Endemism. Part of the Maputaland-Pondoland-Albany Biodiversity Hotspot — one of only two global biodiversity hotspots in South Africa and one of only 36 worldwide — this area is internationally recognised for its extraordinary plant diversity. Towering gorges, coastal scarp forests, and sandstone grasslands support Cape vultures, rare trees, and insects found nowhere else. It is a living museum of evolutionary wonder — and it is being picked apart.

Deep tracks mark the grassland

Broken fences. Lack of support for rangers and management. Desperate herders driving cattle through gaps to graze on protected land. Arson fires lit out of season. Snare lines and hunting dogs finishing off what little wildlife remains. Cattle trampling through sensitive seeps leave deep, lasting scars — compacting soil, destroying delicate wetland vegetation, and accelerating erosion. These grasslands also form part of the region’s natural water infrastructure. Their deep root systems trap sediment, filter and purify rainwater, and regulate its slow release into rivers and aquifers. When repeatedly burnt and trampled, this living sponge collapses. Erosion accelerates. Sedimentation rises. Water quality deteriorates. The foundation of long-term water security is being choked.

Muddy pools along once prestine streams

This is not abstract conservation. This small but exceptional grassland reserve is every bit as important as the larger, more famous game reserves in South Africa’s bigger picture. It safeguards irreplaceable environmental diversity and raw natural beauty that cannot be found anywhere else. These ecosystems purify our water, prevent catastrophic erosion on fragile cliffs, store carbon, and hold the key to future resilience in a changing climate. Instead, they are being turned into impoverished pasture.

Cattle left to wonder and graze freely

The grassland is being degraded before it has a chance to rejuvenate

The situation is serious and frustrating, especially with chronic resource constraints — but it is far from hopeless. We cannot remain silent. Not speaking is siding with the cattle herders who are dismantling the reserve piece by piece. The fight for Umtamvuna is the fight for Pondoland’s soul. With urgent funding, repaired boundaries, genuine community partnerships, and enforced fire management, this reserve can still recover and bloom — with spectacular post-fire displays, and cliffs alive with endemic colour.

But time is running out.

Every cow in the ashes is another warning. Every broken fence is another surrender. Being silent is not an option. The Pondoland Centre of Endemism is crying for help.

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