This Week at Angama #373

Lionesses are the backbone of a pride, often maintaining the same territories for generations. These hold vital resources — primary hunting grounds, denning spots for cubs, and access to water. When neighbouring prides’ ranges overlap, encounters can become aggressive, especially during cub-rearing phases, when mothers are fiercely protective and won't hesitate to defend their young from rival females. A prime example of this in the Mara Triangle is the Egyptian Pride and the Owino Pride, whose territories intersect.

A territorial clash between the Egyptian and Owino Prides was inevitable, especially with both groups raising young cubs. Unfortunately, the odds were stacked against the Owino pride — outnumbered three to one by the Egyptian pride, which boasts six adult females. The two Owino lionesses were easily overpowered, and tragically, one was killed in the clash.

Remarkably, all four of their cubs of the Owino pride survived unscathed. However, a cub from the Egyptian pride has since been seen limping with a broken leg, looking weak and dishevelled. Now, the lone surviving Owino female faces the daunting challenge of caring for and providing for four young cubs alone. 

Travelling further into the heart of the savannah near the border, a powerful ritual unfolded between two lions — king and queen of the grasslands. Mating between lions is swift, intense, and often aggressive. When a lioness is in heat, her hormones drive her to mate repeatedly over several days. The male’s barbed anatomy causes pain that triggers ovulation.

A low growl rumbles from her throat as he bites the back of her neck, not to harm, but to anchor. When he withdraws, his barbed penis causes her pains, and she lashes out, a flash of claws, a burst of fury. He anticipates this in every short-lived encounter, so he quickly jumps back to avoid a claw-bared slap aimed at his face. Though it may look rough, it’s all part of a lion’s natural reproduction to pass on strong genes effectively. 

Heading north from the border — where we often see them — the three Siligi brothers moved with quiet purpose, hunger driving every step. During the day's heat, lions and hyenas rest in the shade, so cheetahs seize the chance to hunt.

The brothers had their eyes locked on something in the distance. Then, the only warning was a sharp bleat from a gazelle startled by movement in the grass. The brothers acted swiftly. The gazelle barely managed to leap before one of the males firmly grasped it. It was a successful hunt, executed with precision and speed without the usual chase. 

We used our binoculars to scan the area near Maji Machafu and noticed a tail dangling from a branch resembling a sausage tree's fruits. Looking closer, we realised it was Salt Lick Male leisurely relaxing on the tree. Seeing this well-known leopard in good health and thriving is always a relief. Calm and at ease, he exuded confidence, not shy of our presence.

After the controlled burning and the subsequent rains, the plains have transformed into a lush expanse of fresh, soft grass, attracting an impressive number of herbivores. Massive herds of buffalo and zebras now roam freely, grazing on the new growth in the Mara Triangle. — Robert Sayialel

The early morning light across this ecosystem is like a hush of warm breath over dew-soaked grass, a softness that settles over the land like a mother’s hand over a restless child. And on this particular morning, the hush led us to two very different but equally intimate scenes, both unfolding under the acacia trees.

On the edge of a clearing, balanced on a lava rock, we watched as a young vervet monkey nestled into its mother’s chest. The mother leaned in slowly, gently pressing her brow to her infant's. That moment wasn’t just affection — it was a presence. Their pause was sacred in a wild landscape where life must always be alert. 

Not far off, in a tangle of wind-fallen branches and old elephant trails, a baboon family was starting their day by grooming, a language between each other. More than comfort, it is community, currency, and care. A youngster sat upright, arms raised in mock surrender, while an elder picked through its fur, focused, precise, almost ritualistic. The young one dramatically squirmed and leaned into the attention like a child at a salon.

With the recent rains, most herbivores wander from water sources, grazing wherever the grass is greenest. As we drove through Amboseli National Park, we noticed this male buffalo on the lake shore. He decided to really put on a show as he ran past our vehicle and almost did a backflip. The bull threw himself around energetically as if to let us know he was enjoying it thoroughly while we sat in the sun and watched him benefit from the cooling effect of the mud.

The heat builds through the day, becoming even more excruciating during the rainy season, signalling heavy rains in the late afternoons or evenings. Mud is an effective insect repellent, protecting animals from flies, ticks, and other biting insects that can carry diseases. As the mud dries, it forms a protective layer that helps shed parasites, keeping the skin healthy.  

A giraffe is never truly alone. Look closely, and you'll often spot small, feathered companions in the form of oxpeckers clinging to their patterned coats. These industrious birds have mastered living off large mammals, feasting on burrowing parasites like ticks and fleas. Mostly, it's a symbiotic relationship: the giraffe tolerates the fluttering visitors in exchange for a bit of pest control. However, oxpeckers don't just remove parasites-they also feed on blood, sometimes plucking at open wounds — slowing the healing process.

Mount Kilimanjaro glowed in the distance, birds chirped, and guests enjoyed sundowners and a beautiful sunset at the Mnara. Once the stars started appearing, we descended into the Sanctuary for an evening safari.

It wasn't long before we spotted a serval cat, a shy and stunning small predator usually seen hunting birds or rodents. But this time, something was different. She was facing off an extremely venomous puff adder. The snake was so well-camouflaged in the grass that we only caught a glimpse as it struck at the serval. She jumped back quickly, wisely choosing to walk away and look for easier prey. 

We followed her for a while until she disappeared into the long grass. That’s when we noticed fresh lion tracks on the road, likely from the ones we’d heard roaring earlier from the Mnara. We followed the tracks and soon found Osunash and Male 263 on the move, scanning the area for potential prey. Like most lions, they had just risen from their daytime rest to take advantage of the cooler evening hours. At night, they move like phantoms in the shadows, eyes alert for any sign of weakness.

As we returned to the Lodge, something silently flew past my face — I knew it had to be an owl. These predators are built for silent flight. The front edges of their wings have tiny comb-like structures that break up the air. Their feathers are soft and velvety, helping to muffle any sound. In the Sanctuary, we’re lucky to have a healthy population of Verreaux's eagle-owls. They’re nocturnal, so we often spot them before sunrise or on night drives.

The following day, we encountered a magnificent leopard tortoise slowly descending through the savannah. It was distinct by its high domed shell patterned with leopard-looking spots. In the wild, tortoises are known to live between 50 and 100 years.

Hidden among the green leaves, two brightly coloured elegant grasshoppers were found mating. The larger female holds onto the stem while the smaller male clings to her back. Their bold colours of yellow, black, and orange warn predators that they might be toxic, giving them a better chance of surviving. Soon, the female will lay her eggs in the soil, reminding us that life is always moving forward, even in the quietest corners of nature. —Japheth Supeyo