This Week at Angama #376

The Angama lioness, also known by guides as Nala, has long been recognised as a skilled hunter, a trait she seems to have successfully passed on to her offspring. Together with her two sub-adults, who have now come of age, the trio is becoming increasingly proficient at hunting. Working together, they are capable of taking down formidable prey, including adult buffalo.

Despite their successful hunt, the three lions were in no rush to devour their prey, suggesting they had fed recently. The struggle had left their kill submerged in a small pond, and Nala’s daughter could be seen prancing and leaping over the water, attempting to pull it free. It was a tender moment between the three lions as they took time to bond and reaffirm their close family ties.

After what appeared to be a successful night, the playful mood of the Egyptian Pride was suddenly disrupted by a lone elephant bull that stumbled upon them. Instinctively wary of predators, elephants often use their sheer size and strength to assert dominance, chasing lions whenever their paths cross. One lioness, however, stood her ground, unflinching, guarding the last scraps of flesh still clinging to the bones of their kill.

Spotting a vulnerable cub some distance away from the fearless lioness, the young bull charged aggressively, trumpeting loudly. The cub bolted in a frantic dash for safety, but the elephant abandoned the chase almost as quickly as it began. Unfazed by the encounter, the pride soon returned to their playful antics, chasing each other through the grass as if nothing had happened.

Male giraffes engage in a behaviour known as 'necking', where they swing their long necks and use their ossicones (the horn-like structures on their heads) to spar with one another. This ritualistic combat plays an important role in establishing dominance and social hierarchy among males.

While necking can often be fierce and powerful, in this case, the two young males were more playful and social. They swung their necks and gently clashed heads, honing their strength, balance, and technique for future challenges. These lighthearted bouts not only build physical skills but also strengthen social bonds, preparing them for the more serious battles that come with adulthood.

Over the past few weeks, since the rains began, groups of zebras have migrated from the Serengeti and settled in the Triangle. Drawn by the promise of fresh, short grass, they had settled for a time, but instinct tugged them to continue further northward. But ahead of them, they must contend with the mighty Mara River, swollen and treacherous after weeks of rain. For days, the zebras gathered at the river’s edge, restless and tense, their neighing calls echoing across the banks, hoping for the waters to calm, for the right moment to cross.

Eventually, their patience wanes, and their natural drive takes over. Their constant neighing along the river's edge is exactly what the crocodiles have been waiting for. As the zebras start the perilous crossing, it's suddenly a fight against the current, against fear and against fate itself. Many make it across battered, soaked and gasping, but a few are lost to the jaws of the river, claimed by the crocodiles.

There's no better start to a morning than floating over the Mara Triangle on a hot-air balloon. Not only are the views breathtaking but you get to see the animals from a different perspective one you wouldn't normally be able to capture. -Robert Sayialel

Light has a way of revealing the soul of Angama Amboseli, and this week, it showed us playfulness, stillness, and curiosity.

There’s something about the light in Angama Amboseli that feels almost sacred. It's not just illumination, it’s a storyteller, casting new perspectives on familiar landscapes, and bringing to life moments we’d otherwise miss.

Despite her usual shyness, Mount Kilimanjaro spectacularly presented itself one morning. The clouds parted just enough to frame her snowy crown, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like she was competing for attention with a nearby giraffe who had wandered into the scene. The mountain and the giraffe, two silent giants sharing a stage only light could create.

Later in the week, as we wandered in the Sanctuary, two dwarf mongooses popped into view. One peeked out from an old termite mound, and another curiously came to watch from above. The dwarf mongoose, Africa’s smallest carnivore, might be tiny but has a big personality. Weighing less than a loaf of bread, this little predator is part of the herpestid family and thrives in tight-knit social groups. They often set up home in old termite mounds and live in communities that can include up to 20 individuals.

There’s usually one dominant breeding pair, while the rest of the group pitches in to help raise the young, kind of like a mongoose village. They communicate using an impressive range of vocalisations, from chirps to whistles, and even have specific alarm calls for different predators. If that’s not clever enough, they’re also known to form friendly alliances with hornbills sharing lookout duties while foraging for insects. Smart, social, and seriously adorable.

As the day warmed, a flash of sunshine announced another surprise, a yellow-crowned bishop in full breeding plumage, its vivid yellow crown gleaming like a tiny beacon against the green. Bishops can be elusive, flitting among reeds and grasses, so to have one pause long enough for a clean capture felt like serendipity.

Not far off, a little bee-eater sat at ease on a slender branch. Its pastel feathers softly shaken as a way of cooling itself from the afternoon heat, as it waited, poised, for the next insect to buzz by.

I watched a long-toed lapwing skitter across the shallow pools, toes splayed for balance. In one flawless motion, it lifted an unsuspecting insect from the water’s surface. Moments later, it hopped to the roadside, unfazed by passing vehicles, and savoured its prize.

The grand finale came when I stumbled upon a small drama playing out on a tree trunk. A woodpecker hammering away at the bark, each peck echoing in the surrounding. Perched just above, like an appreciative audience, was a superb starling. Two very different rhythms, one a percussion solo, the other a silent show of plumage sharing the same stage.

That evening, just as the sun began its slow descent, we came across Osunash, sprawled in peaceful slumber. After a gentle yawn and a full-body stretch that rippled through his powerful frame, Osunash rose and padded over to a nearby water puddle. His reflection shimmered in the mirrored surface, fractured by the soft ripples of his tongue as he drank with quiet reverence. The droplets on his whiskers glistened briefly before falling, tiny diamonds in the golden light.

Choosing his next resting point, Osunash settled on a spot that framed him against the backdrop of Mount Kilimanjaro. In that perfect moment, light wasn’t just a backdrop; it was an active storyteller, casting Osunash and the mountain in a shared spotlight that spoke of power and serenity.

In Amboseli, even the smallest moments are framed by light, and this week’s cast reminded me that every beam and shadow tells a story worth capturing. -Rio Marvin