The sun had dipped below the horizon and the sky was filtered ochre red, a by-product of the fine dust from the Kalahari deserts hundreds of miles to the west. Ron and I had the spotting scope trained on a white smudge on the cliff facing us; 'the mutes below an Augur Buzzard's nest' explained Ron. By this time we had already quaffed the 2 beers allocated for the traditional African 'Sun Downer'. It was the last evening that we would spend on the edge of the gorge. Suddenly a shape flashed around the headland to our right and shot past us within 30 feet! so close I could see the rufous breast and dark gleaming eye above the typical malar moustache of a falcon. In an instant it had disappeared around the next headland. Ron let out an excited cry of 'Taita!' 'Taita!'

It was for this privilege of seeing one of the world's most beautiful, diminutive and rare falcons in the wild that I found myself sitting with my friend Ron Hartley, the chief representative of The Peregrine Fund in Southern Africa, our legs dangling over the edge of a 1000-foot cliff, listening to the roar of the Zambezi river echoing from the Batoka Gorge below.

5 Million years ago huge fissures ruptured the surface of ancient Africa and vast flows of basalt poured over the landscape. So vast were these outpourings that in some areas they filled valleys with deposits almost 9km thick. Over the next few millions of years a mighty river weathered away at these Stormberg layers. The Limpopo was a river so mighty that it may easily have matched todays Mississipi. With a catchment area two and a half thousand km across. Laying claim to the early Chambeshi and sprawling west over the plains of the Kafue to the Liuwa and on up to touch the forests of the Congo. But two million years ago the earth slowly began to rise, pushed upwards into undulating ridges by tectonic rumblings below. These ridges were sufficient to suffocate the flow of the Limpopo from its northern reaches. In its stead a vast lake formed, spread over 100,000 square km. Today all that is left of its old center are the salt filled despressions of Botswanas Makadikadi Salt pans. But it was the vast volume of water flowing into this lake that was its eventual demise. It rose so high that it crept to the edge of the old Limpopo catchment area.

It must have been on a late afternoon in early April that an influx of water, from rain which had fallen months before, far to the north, reached the lake. At the same time west winds were accelerated across the lake by the hot afternoon air, pushing in their progress waves up to two meters high! The waves rushed up the beach and the spent water slipped over the crest and trickled on into a tributary of an insignificant young water-course that had worked its way slowly up from the coastal plain of eastern Africa. The trickle became a stream, which became a rush and then a thunder. A gigantic breach was made and the lake began to spill and roar across the flat basalt. It has never stopped thundering! 'Mosi oa Tunya - the smoke that thunders' It roared so quickly that it had no time to work broad sweeping valleys - but instead it ground and cut its way through the rock to create huge crevases 1000' deep. Thus the Batoka Gorge was born and at its head the magnificent Victoria falls. With the overflow of the lake todays mighty Zambezi was also born. The fledgling eastern river had captured the lake and soon it would capture the Kafue and the rest of the old Limpopo sources. The gap, only 2km wide, where the Kafue used to flow south to the Limpopo can still be seen near its sudden eastward swing at its point of capture.

Today the cutting continues - but with the volume of water from the lake spent the cutting proceeds at a slower pace. It was the rumble at my feet as I sat on the edge of the cliff. This gorge is now host to one of the most concentrated populations of avian raptors in the world. Including some of the rarest - the African Taita Falcon.

The Taitas are such efficient hunters that they do not have to spend much time each day in actual pursuit of prey. They generally spend hours perched on a favorite roost tucked into the side of a cliff and simply observe the happenings in their domain. During the breeding season they are much more visible as the pair will engage in aerial courtship. They also have to spend more time hunting to feed a hungry brood. However it was not yet the breeding season and Ron had determined that the best chance we would have to glimpse a Taita was while it was hunting in the twilight of early morning or dusk. Our schedule was to rise before dawn, brew up a cup of coffee and head out in the darkness to vantage points along the edge of the gorge. Here we would sit quietly, sometimes above a known nesting site, and scour the cliffs with binoculars and a spotting scope, waiting for signs of these rare and elusive birds. Slowly the surrounding topography would emerge out of the blackness to reveal the flat gorge perimeter which dropped off into the steep cliff faces dotted with bushes, aloes and wild figs. The feet of the cliffs were covered with a jumble of rock scree which harbored a canopy of thick riparian bush.

The vertical separation of space provides a multitude of eco systems in close proximity, which is one reason the Batoka Gorge is one of the richest raptor areas in the world.

As the sun rose higher each morning, an African Goshawk finished clicking during its wringing morning flight and we would head back for a makeshift brunch. With the thermals now rising in the hot air we could watch for other raptors such as Black Eagles or a Black Breasted Snake Eagle. My few days at the Gorge with Ron served as a fascinating introduction to the home of the Taita Falcon below the Victoria Falls. Like all good introductions it whet my appetite for more. I vowed to return again to the world of the Taita Falcon in the not too distant future. But maybe next time to continue to other even more remote and less explored areas where the Taita may be found - perhaps the Muchinga Escarpment on the edge of Zambia's Luangwa Valley.

Next - The Bat Hawks Nest