This Week at Angama #350

A heavy downpour swept into Kimana Sanctuary, breathing life into the landscape. These rains mark the much-anticipated start of the rainy season, crucial for the Sanctuary's wildlife and the broader ecosystem. The hippos rose from the water in the Hippo Pool, enjoying the rain as it fell. We, too, couldn't resist feeling the refreshing rain during our drive — a satisfying and revitalising experience shared with nature.

With a sharp eye, you might spot the well-camouflaged agama lizard blending into the elephant dung walls at Angama Amboseli. These lizards are diurnal, or active during the day, and can tolerate higher temperatures than most reptiles. This makes them well-suited to Kimana and Greater Amboseli on the leeward side of Mount Kilimanjaro.

Male agamas assert dominance through nodding, weaving, and showing off their brightest colours. If that doesn’t work, they escalate to tail-lashing and jaw displays. As a result, older males often carry battle scars, including damaged tails. Even females fight occasionally, and hatchlings will mimic this territorial behaviour.

The lion dynamics in the Sanctuary may not be as dramatic as with larger prides, but they're always surprising. This past week, we observed Male 263 mating with a female, and his behaviour revealed a more intriguing element. After each session, he would lock eyes with us, radiating a protectiveness.

What’s more, just like last week, we noticed a limp in his left front leg, and he appeared tense and uneasy during the mating period. This could indicate frequent confrontations with Osunash, the other male lion seen in the Sanctuary, who often bullies him. It’s a subtle yet significant glimpse into the ongoing power struggle between these lions, where each interaction could shift the balance of dominance.

Craig is truly one of a kind. While most are captivated by his imposing tusks and sheer size, I had the privilege of experiencing something far deeper. There’s a presence about him, calm and grounded that made me pause and reflect on my own life. Why are we, as humans, so reactive? Most photographers, myself included, often get lost in pursuing the perfect shot. But something shifted that morning as we focused on capturing his majesty.

I found myself lowering my camera, simply watching as he approached. He towered over our Land Cruiser, massive and powerful enough to tip it if he wished, but instead, he moved around it quietly, with a grace that needed no show of force. He symbolises what humanity often lacks — the ability to exist without the need to prove anything.

One day, I noticed a swift movement down by the stream winding through the Sanctuary but couldn't identify it at first. Rushing closer, I was amazed to see an African fish eagle wrestling a massive catfish. Considering the size of the stream, it was hard to believe such a large fish could live there.

After an intense struggle, the eagle perched on the banks to recover, firmly gripping its catch in powerful talons. It soon moved to a dead log, where we saw its full strength. Clutching the fish tightly, the eagle tore it apart with its razor-sharp beak like a skilled butcher.

On another drive, an unexpected scene of defiance unfolded amongst the bare branches of a dead tree. We noticed a brown snake eagle, regal and unbothered, perched high, its piercing eyes scanning the landscape below. The predator sat still, feared by many but (as we would soon realise) not by the little white helmetshrike. In a display of courage, the shrike swooped down with furious speed, its wings beating as it darted toward the larger bird of prey.

To the eagle, the tiny bird posed no real threat, just an irritation, but to the shrike, it was a fight for survival. Its nest, territory, and kin were at risk. The helmetshrike's relentless attacks weren't just reckless bravery but instinct to force the raptor to retreat. The eagle glanced sideways at its attacker, seemingly unmoved by the audacity.

Yet, size didn't dictate power in the delicate dance of predator and prey. Small but fierce, the helmetshrike epitomised the Sanctuary's spirit and a reminder that even the most vulnerable creatures can fight for their place in the wild. —Japheth Supeyo

Waking up early for a safari in the African savannah is an unmatched experience. The landscape awakens as the first light touches the horizon, casting a golden glow across the acacia-dotted plains. There's a magic in the quiet stillness before dawn, where the world holds its breath in anticipation. With the cool morning air lingering, you become part of nature's grand performance as the sun rises, painting the land in hues of orange and gold.

For any traveller or photographer, these early morning drives are essential to the safari experience. It's not just about spotting wildlife but connecting with the natural world's rhythms. The stillness, the colour, and the feeling of being one with wilderness makes these moments memorable. Each sunrise offers a new canvas on which to witness something extraordinary.

Around the lodge, I captured a lilac-breasted roller feeding on a locust. Known for its vibrant plumage, the bird's colourful blue, green and lilac feathers gleam in the sunlight, making it one of the most eye-catching birds in the region. Watching it swoop to catch its prey and return to its perch shows its elegant precision.

As Kenya's national bird, it holds a special place in our country's heritage, symbolising its rich biodiversity. From its vibrant colours to its hunting prowess, this avian wonder embodies the spirit of the African wilderness, making every photograph a tribute to Kenya's natural beauty.

In the heart of the Greater Maasai Mara, across the Mara River from the Triangle, a rare and intense scene unfolded as guests witnessed Nashipae, the renowned mother cheetah, teaching her cubs to hunt. As a mother of four, Nashipae has worked tirelessly to raise her young in an unforgiving landscape dominated by larger predators. Watching her lead a hunt, not for herself but to teach, was captivating and emotional.

The prey, a baby Thomson's gazelle, stood no chance against the speed and instinct of the growing cheetahs. Under their mother's guidance, the cubs hesitantly chased the fawn, learning step by step how to survive in this vast and competitive landscape.

Raw nature in action followed, a crucial lesson for the young hunters. After a brief but frantic chase, they caught the gazelle, tentatively grabbing it between them before their instincts took over. In moments, they devoured the small prey, each cub contributing to its demise. It was a bittersweet experience — witnessing the circle of life while feeling sympathy for the unfortunate young Thomson's gazelle whose life ended in this brutal lesson of survival. These sightings remind us that predators must learn to hunt or face starvation.

Moving onto smaller creatures, dung beetles are known as nature's recyclers, often seen working through elephant dung. These fascinating creatures emerge with the rain when moist conditions make burying dung deep into the soil easier.

During the drier months, their activity slows as their ability to move and process the dung is hindered. Otherwise, they diligently break down and bury massive amounts of waste, which would otherwise accumulate on the surface of grazing lands.

Their work is important in maintaining the health of grazing ecosystems. By burying the dung, they enhance water and nutrient flow into the soil, enriching plant roots and aiding in carbon cycling, making pastures more fertile and sustainable. –Rio Marvin