This Week at Angama #379

This week brought a rare sighting that would thrill any photographer, researcher, or guest: a melanistic serval. Melanism is a genetic mutation that leads to an overproduction of melanin, the pigment responsible for dark colouring in skin and fur, giving these cats primarily black coats. However, you can often see faint spots or patterns under the right lighting.

Primarily associated with high-altitude regions such as Mount Kenya and the Aberdare ranges, the sighting of this melanistic serval deep in the heart of Amboseli National Park is extraordinary. Rarely seen in mountainous regions, this appearance in the lowland savannahs of Amboseli is remarkable. Unlike many wild cats that tend to shy away from human presence, this individual showed no hesitation or fear. Seemingly undisturbed by occasional clicks of cameras or the presence of onlookers. 

Back in the heart of Kimana Sanctuary, we spotted another serval — this one in its typical browns and whites, perfectly camouflaged in the golden grass. These frequent sightings point to a healthy and growing population, a sign of a thriving ecosystem with plenty of prey and natural cover. As skilled hunters, servals help keep small mammal numbers in check, playing a key role in maintaining balance.

This week, we had the privilege of hosting Super Tusker Craig in Kimana Sanctuary, the beloved gentle giant among the bull elephants. We noticed that he is currently in musth, a period of heightened testosterone when they can become aggressive as they seek out receptive females to mate with. Craig maintained his gentle demeanour and showed no signs of aggression when we approached him cautiously.  

His visit, though brief, was anticipated. Bulls in musth often traverse vast distances in search of receptive females, moving between different family groups. Craig is still coming into musth at more than 50 years old, which tells us two things: he’s in excellent health and still holds a degree of dominance. In most senior bulls, musth becomes less frequent, milder, and shorter, especially when conditions aren’t ideal.

Early morning drives open windows into a world before the sun's heat beams down. As the first light broke over the horizon, the plains shimmered with countless dewdrops clinging to strands of spider silk, making it look like glimmering jewellery was stretched between branches and blades of grass. 

One particular spiderweb stood out. It was a symmetrical masterpiece. At its centre was a large golden orb spider. Its long legs spread across the radial threads, and its golden-hued body seemed to glow as the sunlight struck it just right. The spider appeared motionless, yet intensely aware in its shimmering fortress.

A young African baby elephant calf is an endearing and curious creature full of charm. Standing about 3 feet tall at the shoulder, its skin is soft and wrinkled, with a slightly fuzzy layer of fine hair, especially along the head and back, giving it a subtly woolly appearance. The calf’s ears flap playfully and are large but not yet as expansive as an adult’s.

Its trunk, though already functional, is still clumsy and you'll often see them swinging their trunks wildly, stepping on them, or even trying to suck on them like a pacifier. They are not yet developed, but they would also try to grab twigs or drink using their mouth.  

These wonderful babies are deeply social and almost always stay close to their mothers or other female relatives in the herd. They are affectionate, frequently seen nuzzling or touching trunks with others for comfort and reassurance, like this little one with its mother’s tusks. At about one to two years old, they can pass under their mother’s belly, depending on the mother's size and the calf's growth rate. —Robert Sayialel

Our lucky charm has been showing up more frequently. We spotted the wonderful serval cat climbing up the escarpment. Already damp from the long grass, he opted for a dryer path as all cats hate water. That's when we met him head-on, giving us the perfect start to a day full of adventure.

It wasn't long until we encountered the remaining Owino female walking down the road towards us, confidently leading all the cubs. It was a heartwarming sight, especially knowing she recently lost her sister. Seeing her take charge on her own was moving. Even as apex predators, lions face many challenges, most coming from within their ranks. Territorial battles and competition among females and males trying to take over prides are constant threats to their stability and survival.

As this beautiful male lion from the Border Pride settled for a nap, he unknowingly gathered a large audience of humans and wild animals. Massive herds of zebra, topi, gazelles, and antelopes had gathered in the area, making it nearly impossible for any predator to go unnoticed. Watching the zebras standing frozen, simply watching the lion as he basked in the sun, was captivating. When he finally rose and began his walk up the Inselberg to join his family, the topi's seemed to line up in formation as if they were ready for the race of their lives.

One of the most unexpected and nerve-wracking traffic stops you could ever face? A massive bull elephant blocking the road. This giant had us rerouting all week since no one dared to challenge him. Bulls in musth can be a bit of a menace. 

This particular one was especially disruptive. In a single day, he blocked two main roads, forcing some people to detour twice, which, in hindsight, was actually kind of entertaining. At one point, the rangers arrived, and against the overpowering elephant, they looked tiny in their little Suzuki.

Further cruising through the bush, scanning for more signs of wildlife, a guest shouted and asked, 'Why is that big black rock moving?' All heads turned, and so did the 'rock'. It locked eyes with us and gave a glare so fierce, it could curdle milk. That rock was a massive hippo, and he was not in the mood for visitors.

It had been drizzling overnight, so the hippos had been soaking in a mud pond. However, they need to drink clean water, so the big guy slowly dragged himself out of the grubby centre, every step deliberate, heavy and imposing as he made his way toward the road. There, he found a small puddle to quench his thirst.

We continued our drive, stopped at the hippo pool, and discovered a large herd of elephants, likely a mix of different families, emerging from the forest and making their way to the Mara River. The water level looked high, so we assumed they wouldn't go in, especially with the tiny calves in tow. Elephants are notorious for being cautious with their young. But before the entire herd had even gathered at the riverbank, a few elephants waded right in and began to swim, enjoying the refreshing water.

Watching them bask while we stood sweating under the sun, we couldn’t help but feel a little envious. Then, to our surprise, they started crossing. The young calves raised their trunks like snorkels as they swam. Two young bulls stayed engaged in a playful tussle as the rest of the herd moved on.

The dry season is slowly setting in as the heat intensifies. One clear sign of this change was a young male lion who climbed into the cool embrace of a small, shady tree, preferring its elevated comfort over the shade beneath it. Nearby, a lioness lay in the sun, bothered by the rising temperature, shifting and turning in search of relief. Interestingly, the tree-climbing trait is relatively common among the lions of the Mara Triangle. Occasionally, we spot lions from various prides resting in trees to escape the heat or get a better view of their surroundings. 

Quite a bit of time has passed since we last saw the Salt Lick female with her cub, suggesting they've parted ways, leaving her young to survive on its own. On the other hand, she looks well-fed and completely at ease; we spotted her lounging gracefully in a fig tree.

As the day came to an end, we stopped by the main crossing as a large herd of zebras gathered by the riverbank. They seemed eager to drink with the heat beating down, but crocodiles sunbathed along the banks, creating a tense standoff.

We watched as the zebras paced in circles, clearly uncertain. Then, suddenly, one of them made a sharp alarm call and took off, triggering a stampede that swept the whole herd away from the water’s edge. For just a few fleeting seconds, we caught sight of the elusive Shujaa, the so-called ghost of the Mara River, emerging silently from the tall grass. He moved with such stealth that we never would have noticed him without the zebras' remarkable eyesight and instinct for danger. 

As the whole herd settled down after the scare, two stallions gave us a spectacular show as they got into a dominant fight. They went round in circles, trying to bite each other before giving up because none of them could give the surrendering blow. —Japheth Supeyo