Nightfall and Night Calls

I adjust my binoculars toward a bird spotted by a guest — slender, pipit-like, and larger than expected. The pink throat and underparts give it away — a rosy-throated longclaw! And so, our night safari begins as we head to the Mnara viewing deck for sundowners and bitings.   

Between conversations, we hear a loud 'Wa-hoo! Wa-hoo!' —  the alarm call of yellow baboons. A predator is near. Suspecting our resident lions are on the move, we jump into action to follow the sound. An open field stretches out next to the Fever Tree forest, where the baboons are perched and calling.

A territorial wildebeest snorts, rutting impalas grunt, and giraffes stare silently in one direction. I follow their gaze, and holy smokes! Motonyi, daughter of Meshanani, is elegantly standing and scans the horizon with keen amber eyes.   

A cheetah sighting at Kimana Sanctuary can be fleeting. Slender and built for speed, they favour flight over fight. We watch her fluid movement and see as she spots the foals among Grant’s gazelles.   

Motonyi crouches low, eyes fixed like a missile, ready to launch like SpaceX. But she doesn’t. She stays, still, waiting. A cheetah won’t waste energy. She'll strike only when the timing is perfect. I talk to guests about patience and the precision of a cheetah’s hunt.    

Darkness creeps in. Though not typically nocturnal, cheetahs may hunt at night to avoid losing kills to hyenas, though that does risk lions snatching their kill.  

Herbivores gather in the open field for safety, with sharp eyes on alert. But they’ve forgotten the cheetah lurking in the dark.    

I hand out blankets, give a night drive briefing and introduce the filtered spotlight. Suddenly, Motonyi springs up and jets towards the foals. The herds scatter. One is too slow and proves no match against the cheetah's strength.

Leaving nature to its balance, we move on, hoping she keeps the kill.    

Hopeful for more nocturnal sightings — aardvark, honey badgers, caracals — we head towards the airstrip. A runway by day, and an animal lodging by night. Wildebeests, impalas, gazelles, and zebras occupy the stretch. We spot bat-eared foxes and spring hares.   

Near the hyena dens, a porcupine darts past, revealing hyena cubs metres away from the den. Curled up and cuddling, as the distant call of a pearl-spotted owlet echoes.   

At Giraffe Hill, we search termite mounds for aardvark. Nightjars enjoy the warm road, crickets chirp, a marsh owl appears, and a lone gnu rests.   

The wind is low, the air calm, and the stars are awakening. As we near the lodge, two faint figures majestically appear. Their reflective eyes are undeniable. The two resident lions. Osunash scent-marks and yawns into an anticipated roar. I quickly reposition, and the roar builds. It pierces the night. The king announces his territory.    

Bushbabies hop from branch to branch, their reflective eyes dotting the fever trees surrounding camp.   

We return for dinner. The sky is clear, and the Milky Way glows overhead. I take out my pointer and guide guests through constellations and planets —  Southern Cross and Orion’s Belt. Jogging back to my memory of my training in Kruger, South Africa, I share Shangaan stories.   

I retire to my room, thankful for a great day in the office, and ready to share the day's events with my family on video call.