Bush lodges have bush problems. Despite all good intentions, if you choose to place your fancy lodge in the middle of the African wild then you will eventually have to deal with the local wildlife. Usually this is a good thing, resulting in amazing encounters with these incredible animals. Occasionally it is troublesome, like vervet monkeys become adept at dining table thievery. And other times, it is just stuff you couldn’t even foresee.

One such lodge in the Kruger region of South Africa had a problem with a kitchen thief. Now and then, some vegetables would go missing. It wasn’t regular enough to be monkeys, as animals like hyenas and honey badgers will tend to go for any rubbish left lying around. And, whilst doing so, destroy the bins you’d try to keep it in. But this instead was a sporadic crime. At no fixed interval, and without much fuss, small items would go missing. It started with some potatoes, the bag ripped open. It was so infrequent that it took a long time for the chef to even begin to question it. Was it a staff member taking some for a snack, or overcooking? No, that was all accounted for. Then some carrots went missing. A camera trap gathered no suspects at all, as the main culprits could always be seen hanging around, looking for a weakness in defences. This was a different sort of crime, a Lupin-esque master amongst a crowd of smash-and-grab robbers.

One night, after a particularly long evening entertaining guests, one guide stumbled back to his room in the staff quarters. He was lodged on the edge of the housing area, and only new to the camp. Before he came, this room had been empty for a little while. He made his way into his room, quickly showered and went straight to bed. As you’d expect with some assistance from the bar that evening, he soon fell fast asleep. At about 2 am, there was a loud noise from outside his room.

Africa at night makes noises. Hippos grunt, lions call, hyenas whoop. This was unlike any of that. This was almost a growl, a weird combination of deep breathing and the sound of bones crunching. He woke up immediately, and not wanting to ruin his night vision he left the lights off. Slowly, carefully, he made his way to where the noise came from.

The noise was originating from his front porch. This strange and frightening sound was, in fact, directly outside his front door. As he snuck up closer, any alcohol in his blood immediately evaporated and he was on high alert. It was terrifying. And then, reaching his little window he prepared himself for the beast outside. Peeking through the blinds, there was nothing large there. He couldn’t see anything at all. But eventually, the noise revealed its source.

It was a porcupine.

Or, more accurately, it was a porcupine dragging an entire bag of potatoes across his porch. The deep breathing noise and cracking of bones he heard was the sound of the bag being hefted along by a very determined porcupine, the bag crackling as it went. This was the potato thief, finally going for one big score.

He stared in disbelief as the porcupine made his way off his porch, across the dirt road and into the bush, the bag dragging behind him. The next morning he told his colleagues what he had seen, but rather than solve the mystery it raised more questions. Was this new guy sober? And if he was telling the truth, how did the porcupine get an entire bag of potatoes? And most importantly, what on earth would a porcupine want an entire bag of potatoes for?

The porcupine heists have decreased over the years. Maybe the porcupine got its fill that night. Maybe it decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Or, maybe the porcupine no longer has the spine(s) for high-stakes crimes.

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