ABOVE: Botha’s Lark champion Matthew Orolowitz checking a camera trap at a nest.

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A visit to Wakkerstroom is a rite of passage for any birder. The name of this little Highveld town, that most people have never even heard of, is known to birders all over the world. In fact, birding is intricately linked to the town’s economy. Guest houses and restaurants and guiding outfits all flourished thanks to the constant flow of avitourists.

And why do birders come to this little hamlet where Mpumalanga, KwaZulu-Natal and the Free State meet? Well, in a good morning you can tick off a host of Highveld specials: African Rock Pipit on the rocky slopes; Ground Woodpecker in the road cuttings; Southern Bald Ibis and Blue Korhaan in the fields; Yellow-breasted Pipit on the plateaus; and Bush Blackcap in the ouhout-choked ravines. And that’s just naming a few. But the first prize has always been two little LBJs. One named after an English mining magnate, and one named after a former South African prime minister. Rudd’s Lark and Botha’s Lark.

But as the years rolled by, birders began struggling to find these two quintessential Wakkerstroom specials. When I first visited Wakkers you could simply scan good-looking fields anywhere along the dirt roads to spot your quarry. But eventually the stakeouts became less and less reliable, until it became almost impossible to find the larks without employing an expert local guide. And then, by 2023, the sightings had all but dried up. Only three sightings were logged that year in SABAP2. And by December 2023, we were aware of only a single remaining pair. For understandable reasons, the location of this pair was kept top secret. A little flicker of hope sprang up when this hallowed pair started nesting, but was extinguished when they lost their clutch to predation.

Things looked bad. Economic pressures have driven significant shifts in land use. With maize offering more predictable returns than livestock under current market conditions, many farmers have converted former grazing areas to crops simply to keep their operations viable. At the same time, weak wool prices and the ongoing management burden of sheep, coupled with persistent stock theft, have pushed producers toward cattle. Cattle don’t graze grass as short as sheep – meaning that the habitat is far less suited to Botha’s Lark’s finicky tastes. On top of all this, there’s expanding settlements, soaring predation rates and climate change.

ABOVE: A study skin of a Botha’s Lark. This individual was collected by one Austin Roberts near Bethal, on 22 January 1937. Will museum specimens be the only way that our kids will be able to see Botha’s Lark?

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ABOVE: This is the map I did for the 2015 Red Data Book. Historically Botha’s Lark occurred throughout most of the Vaal River catchment and large parts of the Free State and probably Gauteng as well. You can see how the distribution has shrunk into a few core areas (dark shade).

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Worried birders began whispering the single most dreaded, evil and heart-breaking word in biology: extinct. Perhaps prematurely, but not by much. BirdLife South Africa was just as worried. If this species was indeed gone forever, that would mean this is the first African mainland extinction in living memory. Not only that, but we would have lost a South African endemic. A bird whose conservation is the sole responsibility of our country.

Running a conservation NGO is not a task I would wish on anyone. In a world that is cascading ever more rapidly down the slope to environmental collapse, they must decide which fire to fight first, with more and more flames springing up every day. Penguin court cases? Mass poisoning of vultures to mask rhino poaching? Wader numbers declining by two-thirds at coastal estuaries? And all of this while trying to balance public pressure and negotiate antiquated legislature and apathetic bureaucracy. Critical, critical conservation work—that has to be funded through donations.

But, as always, Birdlife South Africa launched into action immediately. They needed a champion. Someone who would stop whatever they were doing, whatever career plans or family life or personal goals they were chasing, and dedicate their whole being to saving this little LBJ. Fortunately, they knew of the perfect person. A persistent young man with a Lithuanian surname. A guy so passionate about conservation that he had applied to work for BirdLife not once or twice, but thirteen times! Apparently a record. Perhaps this all happened for a reason? Because now Botha’s Lark had its guardian. And thanks to generous support from Birding Ecotours, he was ready to launch into action at moment’s notice.

So, at the age of 29, Cape Town boy Matthew Orolowitz packed up all his belongings, put his furniture into storage at his folks’ house, and said his last goodbyes to the smell of the ocean and face of Table Mountain. Bucking the established semigration trend, he moved away from the Western Cape. For the foreseeable future, his new home would be the Highveld grasslands of Wakkerstroom. And ground zero is the  BirdLife South Africa Grasslands Conservation Centre just outside town, where Matthew moved into his new digs in September 2024.

This new living arrangement was not without challenges. Not long after his arrival, a violent thunderstorm took out the electricity, which also powered the pump of the borehole. So for a few days that meant collecting rainwater and showering in the rain! But Matt says the biggest challenge is the bitterly cold winter, where temperatures regularly fall below zero, freezing the water in the pipes and just making it generally miserable to go birding. But go out birding he certainly did!

By his side are colleagues Roy Robertson and Zoleka Mkhize. While Matthew focuses on research, they are responsible for biodiversity stewardship, engaging with landowners, herdsmen and communities, and building partnerships with other role-players like the Mpumalanga Tourism and Parks Authority and other NGOs. Roy also fulfils the role of overseeing the project and managing the BirdLife South Africa Grasslands Conservation Centre.

The team’s very first aim was to determine exactly how many Botha’s Larks remained—if any.

ABOVE: A team from BLSA and landscape ecologists affiliated with UKZN strategise on how best to safeguard this precious grassland endemic. Matthew Orolowitz is the one with the brown shirt. Photo: BirdLife South Africa.

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ABOVE: Arguably one of the best photos of a Botha’s Lark that has ever been taken. A spectacular individual in relatively fresh plumage, showing orange hints here and there and a pinkish bill (that is currently processing a grass seed). Photo by Francois du Plessis.

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ABOVE: Matthew Orolowitz at the most recent African Birdfair, where he pleaded Botha’s Lark’s case. Photo by BirdLife South Africa.

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So here we are. Matthew Orolowitz was about to set off into the Highveld grasslands, tasked with a near-impossible mission: to find out how many Botha’s Larks are left in the world, and to help figure out a way to save them.

Botha’s Lark likely evolved alongside the vast herds of nomadic grazers that once roamed the Highveld — Black Wildebeest, Springbok, Eland, Blesbuck, even Quagga. But those herds disappeared long ago, hunted out and replaced by agriculture. Fortunately, Botha’s Larks retained a foothold thanks to two other species of grazer: sheep and cattle.

The dramatic decline of these cheerful little larks is not entirely unexpected. In the early eighties it was reckoned that there may be around 20,000 remaining. By 1992 this had dwindled to a more pessimistic total of between 1,500 and 5,000 birds. And when I wrote the account for this species in the 2015 Red Data Book my best guess was 2,500 as an absolute max. But the problem is that all these guesses were just that—guesses. Accurately estimating the numbers of such a small, quiet, inconspicuous little LBJ is no small feat. But we urgently needed an idea of just how severe the situation was. How many are left?

Robin Colyn, a former employee of BirdLife South Africa, tackled this question, by undertaking 250 one-kilometer on-foot surveys to get an idea of the numbers. On average, 8% of his transects yielded sightings of Botha’s Lark. With some clever statistics, he extrapolated this to a total population of 340 birds (well, somewhere between 200 and 650). This means that almost overnight, the Botha’s Lark went from being an LBJ that no one had ever heard of, to being South Africa’s, and possibly Africa’s, most threatened bird. An apparent population decline of 86% over the past decade. Only a single decade! Since WhatsApp introduced “voice notes”, the number of Botha’s Larks left in the world has dwindled to 14%.

To put that into context: you could pack all the world’s remaining Botha’s Larks in a single small carry-on suitcase for an airplane. And still be under the weight limit.

ABOVE: Matthew Orolowitz, the Botha’s Lark defender, out for a stroll. Just 599 km to go.

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ABOVE: Botha’s Lark has a highly restricted and very specific habitat: gentle slopes and plateaus with closely cropped Highveld turf grassland, at altitudes of 1500-1900 m, in the Vaal River catchment. Image: BirdLife South Africa.

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ABOVE: This habitat suitability map shows the importance of the Daggakraal – Wakkerstroom – Volksrust area. Image: BirdLife South Africa.

With this meagre total in the back of his mind, Matt’s mission was to find additional populations.  But that’s easier said than done. It’s one thing to go to a pin and scan a field, or to rely on a local guide to point out the target. Quite another to find these little finch-like larks in vast, unexplored grassland landscapes. Where do you even begin to search?

To answer that question, Matthew relied on sophisticated habitat suitability models that consider all the predictors that may suggest Botha’s is around: elevation, soil type, aspect, climate, grass height, cover density and grazing pressure. He overlaid all of this over historical and citizen science records. Now he had some sort of roadmap for his ambitious adventure.

One of the great complications with Botha’s Lark is that its conservation lies wholly in the hands of private landowners. Which means that Matthew had a lot of farmers to meet, charm and ask for permission to access their land. And that prospect becomes infinitely more daunting if you can’t speak fluent Afrikaans! “Oom, kan ek maar bietjie soek vir voëltjies hierso op die plaas?”

Nevertheless, Matthew says that building relationships with the farmers turned out to be one of the highlights of his job. He met multi-generational farmers who had owned the land for centuries. Others were retired executives from Johannesburg, who craved the solitude and cold mountain air. Strangers soon became friends. And the passion for saving this special little lark was universal.

And once he got the green light, what was the next step? Literally take the next step, and the next, and the next. The only way to get an accurate, ground-truthed population estimate was to put one foot in front of the other. In a previous life, Matthew had worked with baboons, so he was no stranger to long hikes. But this was next level. Using his habitat suitability “treasure maps” Matthew walked more than 600 kilometres over the last two summers, notching up more than 200 hours spent surveying for larks. Thanks to Matthew’s efforts, plus the help of many landowners, volunteers, birders, field assistants, conservationists and colleagues, we now have a far more accurate idea of how many Botha’s are left and where they are.

Yes, the larks are still there, but barely. With ever-increasing habitat loss, range fragmentation and reduced gene flow, the danger is that the tiny remaining populations will dwindle into “exctinction debt”.  Will we see the first African mainland extinction in living memory? Is it possible to safeguard these little Highveld endemics for your kids to see once they get into birding? Will their heart-lifting songs still drift over the hills and plains next spring?

All of this leads to one simple question: what can we do, right now? An action plan has been drawn up to give Botha’s Lark a fighting chance. But it only works if we all help out. Farmers need to manage their land under beneficial burning and grazing schedules. Birders need to search and report. Communities need to be educated. Scientists need to monitor. Lawyers need to fight. And conservationists need to put all the strategies into on-the-ground actions. Urgently.

We want to help. So we’ve come up with a plan. And it involves dots.

ABOVE: The inspiration for this image was the beautiful sweeping grassland landscapes around Harrismith. Instead of a pristine nature-scape I decided to draw a rural settlement, with grazing cows. Botha’s Lark is often most reliable in the vicinity of such more disturbed habitats with high grazing pressure.

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ABOVE: Another surreal image by Francois du Plessis. Overall this bird is in very fresh plumage but you can see that its longest tertial still needs to be replaced (contrast with orange-sided upper tertial). You can even make out the diagnostic long hind-claw if you squint!

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ABOVE: The breeding cycle. Botha’s Lark nests are small, neat grassy cups, about the size of half-a-lemon sunk into the ground. The images shown here span about two weeks. Image: BirdLife South Africa.

If you look closely at any printed image (try looking with your binoculars the wrong way round), it is made up of dots. Hundreds of thousands. So I made a Botha’s Lark drawing, but I only used as many dots as there are larks remaining. As such, the image is made up of exactly 340 dots—one for each individual Botha’s Lark.

And here’s the best part. We will be turning this concept art into a giant physical artwork that we will erect at the BirdLife South Africa Grasslands Conservation Centre at Wakkerstroom, right in the heart of the species’ remaining stronghold. I will be traveling up to Wakkers to help put up the artwork, and I can’t wait to see this at 2×2 m size!

We are inviting / asking / imploring birders to buy a dot for R500. Your name (or whatever name you want) will then be added onto that dot, which will be displayed on the giant artwork. We will also send you a little digital something to say thank you. To be clear, 100% of the money goes to BirdLife South Africa’s Botha’s Lark work. You pay it directly into BirdLife South Africa’s bank account. We cover the costs associated with the project.

We figured five hundred bucks is relatively attainable for everyone. Even in the December craziness! Less than one family dinner at Spur. And wouldn’t this make the perfect Christmas present this year? Buying a Botha’s dot on behalf of someone. A birding buddy who you know will appreciate it, or a spouse that already has enough whimsical Christmas socks. Or maybe as some sort of ironic memento for dipping on Botha’s on your last trip? Or a grandchild that you hope will be able to see this species in the future.

So, instead of whatever soon-forgotten, mass-produced thing off Temu or Shein, why don’t you get a loved one a Botha’s Lark this Christmas? I will appreciate it. BirdLife South Africa will appreciate it. And Botha’s Lark will certainly appreciate it!

Simply click the blue button below to donate your R500.

And then come up to Wakkerstroom to see your name on your dot! And hopefully, for many years to come, a Botha’s Lark too!

ABOVE: This graphic is made up of exactly 340 dots – the same number as Botha’s Larks that remain. You can own one of these dots and help save this species from extinction!

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ABOVE: An AI-mockup of how the finished physical artwork will look, more or less.

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ABOVE: Some hypothetical names of individuals and businesses, to give you an idea of the idea.

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