Carol’s Column

Deep throat puts spring in the jump of an intruder

Home security is a massive problem. Just look around and observe all the high walls, razor wire, electric fencing, security gates and windows, armed guards, burglar bars and electronic alarms to realise how we're living under siege. It really is frightening.

A few weeks ago, I discovered the ideal, if unusual, security solution. Simple, compact and inexpensive, it works like a charm.

I know the creators of this commodity did not intend it to be used for security purposes, but when installed and operational, it is highly effective.

Okay, you're wondering what it could be. Simple. It's a CD disc entitled Wildlife Sounds of the African Bush at a Waterhole in South Africa.

Produced by radio broadcaster Isidor Davis of old Springbok Radio fame, with the collaboration of many of South Africa's top wildlife conservationists, it is a gem. Almost every animal and bird found in our game reserves visits the waterhole and there their calls are vividly recorded.

If you have ever heard the sound of a full-throated male lion roar then you will know it is spine chilling. If you have heard the loud trumpeting or piercing shriek of an elephant, you will appreciate that these are rumbustious explosions of noise.

As for hippos, usually docile creatures, when enraged their growling, grunting and reverberating bellowing will cause your stomach to drop to your kneecaps in fear. Baboons can be unbelievably raucous and often sound like angry lions.

A few evenings back, sometime round about midnight, I heard strange bangings in the garden. The dogs, fast asleep on their soft duvet mattresses in the kitchen, didn't flicker an eyelash let alone a tail. Neither did my husband who would sleep through Mount Etna, erupting without twitching a nostril.

Attempts at waking the slumbering trio were in vain. I peered from the window and observed a two-legged shadow flitting between the bushes. Now I know that the intelligent thing to do would have been to phone the police, but then again I understand that our valiant crime-busting upholders of the law are overworked, chronically understaffed and, more likely than not, would take at least an hour to answer my call.

I placed the CD player beside the window, put on Wildlife Sounds, set it for the lion roar and switched it to full volume. It was awesome.

Never before have I seen anyone jump over a three-metre security gate at such speed. That intruder would have made the Olympic high-jump team with ease. Almost instantly, the darkened street brightened as neighbours' lights were switched on. The dogs stirred and growled so I opened the kitchen door but they rejected venturing outside.

Meanwhile, upstairs, my somnolent spouse slumbered on obliviously. Next morning, he did mutter that he'd dreamt about the Kruger Park.

The point of this story is that Wildlife Sounds, besides being a symphonic and joyous experience when played for enjoyment, doubles as a superb security and other deterrent.

For instance, the aggressive twang of a forktailed drongo will drive anyone to drink, the continuous throaty tweeting of a monotonous lark is a fearsome irritant and as for the cheeky chattering of the redbilled buffalo weaver, it shuts up the noisiest of neighbours. But it's the lions which instantly frighten off unwanted intruders and others.

Ever since our neighbour at the rear knocked down our wall and took a year to pay for the damage, relationships have been strained. Yesterday, I discovered their house (in which they've lived for only a year) is for sale. Could it be that a lion roar goes a long way?

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