The lion tracks are fresh. Though I’m only an amateur, even I know this because they’re sharp, each ghostly step a cleanly defined imprint on sand pitted by last night’s rain. Paco Morapedi, my guide, peers over the side of the car, uncertain. “They were moving around a lot, back and forth. It’s hard to follow where they went.”
It’s a sparkling morning in Botswana’s Moremi Game Reserve, a huge haven of open grasslands, floodplains currently waterlogged from seasonal rainfall, and perfumed forests where rutted Jeep tracks wind between mature ebony and mopane trees.
We’re following the confusion of pawprints more in hope than expectation, pausing occasionally to observe a pair of iridescent Burchell’s starlings flashing turquoise in the sunlight, or a yellow-billed stork motionless by a pond, when the radio crackles into life. Another guide has found something even better: African wild dogs.
Priorities immediately updated, Paco throws the Land Cruiser into gear and we speed towards the sighting, surfing over puddles as fast as the muddy road will allow.
What threats do African wild dogs face?
African wild dogs, also known as painted dogs, painted wolves or Cape hunting dogs, are notoriously hard to find. Listed as Endangered on the IUCN Red List, there are fewer than 6,000 left in Africa, with up to only 800 in Botswana, their numbers decimated by the four apocalyptic horsemen of habitat fragmentation, human-wildlife conflict, diseases caught from domestic dogs, and shrinking territories forcing them to compete with larger predators such as lions.
Space is their biggest battle. A single pack needs a territory of up to 1,500km² – the size of Greater London. As human activity spreads, that space is vanishing. And unlike lions, which usually stay within smaller areas, wild dogs are relentlessly on the move, crossing international borders and trespassing on to farmland where they are at risk of being shot, poisoned, caught in snares or hit by traffic.
First sighting
I of all people should know what a challenge it is to see them. This is my 10th safari and my third in Botswana, and despite a couple of near misses, I’ve never laid eyes on a painted dog.
Apparently, 10th time is a charm. When we catch up with the dogs – eight individuals, their coats daubed in splashes of cream, ochre, chocolate and black, each one unique and enchanting – they’re on a mission. Lean and long-limbed, they canter purposefully along the track, their satellite-dish ears pricked forwards, pausing occasionally to sniff the air or study a distant herd of impalas, who stare back and bark an alarm.
“Painted dogs are very cooperative,” explains Paco, as we watch them resting by a termite mound. “They live in packs typically numbering around six to 10 adults, led by a dominant male and female – literally the top dogs. In most cases it’s only the alpha pair that breeds, but every member of the pack helps raise the puppies.”
Pups are born in litters of up to 16, in underground dens that are often in abandoned aardvark or warthog burrows. For the first few weeks the infants are blind and vulnerable, and the pack works together to feed and care for them, from taking turns to babysit, to feeding them regurgitated meat after a hunt.
Problems arise when the dogs choose a den on farmland, where their need to hunt close to base brings them into conflict with farmers, who definitely don’t see these dogs as man’s best friend. Farmers have been known to dig up the pups or even poison the pack to protect their livestock.
African wild dogs vs domestic dogs: what's the difference?
Watching these sociable animals move through the pristine landscape, each one an individual work of art, it’s hard to imagine anyone wanting to hurt them. One rolls and splashes in a puddle like an excitable labrador on the beach. But African wild dogs are only distantly related to domestic dogs, belonging to a different genus – Lycaon, rather than Canis – that also includes wolves and jackals.
Unlike domestic dogs they have four toes instead of five and, rather than barking, they chatter in high-pitched chirrups or connect across distances with almost wolf-like ‘hoo’ calls. One study showed they also communicate by sneezing, using ‘audible rapid nasal exhalations’ to vote on whether or not to begin a hunt.
Tracking painted dogs
Back at camp, I pick up a flyer that’s been sitting unobtrusively on the desk since my arrival. “WANTED,” it announces in the style of a Wild West poster. “Have you seen any African wild dogs?”
The flyer is the work of a research team at Botswana Predator Conservation (BPC), working with the University of Zurich. I hop on a call with lead ecologist Gabriele Cozzi to find out why he’s asking random tourists to send him photos of their sightings.
“We’re studying how wild dogs disperse after they leave their birth packs,” explains Gabriele. “We want to see where they go, which routes they take, and how successful they are at settling in a new territory and raising pups.”
Since usually only the dominant pair in the pack breed, the puppies are siblings. At around one or two years old, the young brothers set out on their own, as do the sisters. When they meet another group of the opposite sex, they form a new pack.
Gabriele and his team have two ways of tracking their subjects: GPS collars on a handful of dogs, and photo identification. “The collars can only tell us where that dog goes, not who it’s with or what it’s doing,” he says. “So we also ask people to send in photos. Then we use AI to identify individuals by their unique coat patterns and learn about the other members of the pack, or whether there are puppies.”
By tracking the dogs’ movements across landscapes and borders, Gabriele and his team can understand the routes they take and the challenges they face, ultimately helping to inform policy decisions and ensure the dogs have safe passage across Africa’s fragmented landscapes. “The process is long,” he says, “but we’ve already identified key movement corridors, and passed that information to decision-makers.”
BPC is also attempting to prevent human-dog conflict by replicating scent-markings to create natural ‘keep out’ warnings. Like many predators, dogs use urine and faeces to mark their territories. By mimicking their chemical scent-marks and spreading them around farmland, scientists can create ‘virtual territorial packs’ and so deter real dogs from moving in, dramatically reducing livestock losses.
On the trail of African wild dogs
A week later, I’m back on the painted dog hunt. I’ve moved to Chief’s Island in the heart of Moremi Game Reserve, my surroundings a rich canvas of glossy fever-berry bushes and umbrella thorn acacias, overlooking a floodplain where lechwe graze and buffalo snort loudly outside my tent at night.
The morning’s rain has passed, leaving a glittering, washed-clean afternoon. Every blade of grass glows shocking green and the afternoon sun, finally piercing the heavy clouds, paints the landscape in colours so saturated they look AI-generated. Even the ungainly marabou storks, stretching their wings to dry in front of my veranda, look strangely beautiful, backlit with golden light.
It’s my first afternoon here and my guide, Emang, intends to set the bar high. “We had five wild dogs around camp this morning,” he announces proudly. “It’s been a hot day, so they’ve probably been resting. They won’t have gone far.”
To achieve not just my first sighting but also my second, on the same trip, seems impossible. But I’m swayed by Emang’s confidence and not too surprised when, after searching for an hour, we find the dogs – lean, hungry and on the move.
“They’re hunting,” whispers Emang, then suddenly, with a yell of, “Hold on!” puts his foot down as the dogs sprint off. We bounce over ruts and splash through muddy puddles, trying to keep up.
Pack animals
Wild dogs are Africa’s most efficient predators, with a hunting success rate of around 80 per cent. Unlike lions, whose ambush tactics succeed only about 30 per cent of the time, these ruthless hunters favour endurance over stealth, running their prey to exhaustion.
Once they’ve chosen a target – usually something like an impala or warthog – they launch into pursuit at speeds of more than 65kph, as fast as a greyhound, flowing like a well-rehearsed dance routine and seamlessly swapping positions to maintain momentum. The chase is a finely tuned assault of speed, stamina and teamwork that can cover more than a mile and last several minutes.
Somehow Emang manages not to lose the dogs completely in the maze of dense bush and flood patches but, by the time we catch up, a young impala has already been dispatched and mostly eaten. One dog still gnaws on the head, while the others mill about nearby, white-tipped tails wagging like flags at a parade, waiting to share the scraps.
Gabriele says that one of the things he loves about wild dogs is how cooperative they are. “Unlike lions, they don’t fight over food,” he explains. “Instead, there’s a hierarchy. The pups eat first, then the alpha dogs, then yearlings, then everyone else. In wild dog society they work together, even caring for the old and sick. Everything is done for the good of the pack, not the individual.”
We’re not the only guests at this particular picnic. As the daylight begins to fade, two hyenas slope onto the scene, chancing their luck in the hope of leftovers. But they’re outnumbered and the dogs swiftly chase them off.
“Hyenas may take the kill but lions are a wild dog’s biggest natural threat,” says Emang. “Not only will they steal the food, they can also kill the dogs.”
Conserving African wild dogs
It’s baffling to think that these charismatic animals were once considered vermin, even by some conservationists. In a dramatic PR turnaround, wild dogs today are one of Botswana’s icons and a poster child for the country’s conservation efforts. They’re also now included in the tourist ‘big seven’ or ‘super seven’, which adds cheetahs and dogs to the established ‘big five’ of lions, leopards, elephants, buffalos and rhinos.
Some animals command attention for their size or ferocity, but African wild dogs stand out for their quirky looks, their energy and their fascinating group dynamics. In a metaphorical dog-eat-dog world, it’s ironic that, of all predators, it’s dogs who are showing us that survival can be achieved by looking out for others.
In our ever more individualistic society, perhaps it’s a lesson we could do with learning ourselves.
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Top image: an African wild dog. Credit: Bella Falk
