This Week at Angama #386

The wait is over. Finally, the Great Migration has reached our southern border, ushering in one of nature’s most breathtaking spectacles. Massive herds of wildebeest and zebra are now making their way north from Serengeti to Maasai Mara, carpeting the plains. While the mega-herds are still en route, we were fortunate to witness an unforgettable moment near the Sand River. 

The air was alive with the grunts, moans, and sharp snorts of the wildebeest — a chorus so distinct and primal that it defines the season. Sitting quietly in our vehicles, we were surrounded by a sea of animals, thousands strong, flowing past in every direction. As the Migration gains momentum, each day brings new drama and beauty.

Positioned strategically along the banks of the Sand River, Ruka — one of the dominant Inselberg males — seized an early opportunity. We found him dragging his kill, carefully manoeuvring it into the cover of thicker brush to feed undisturbed. For predators like Ruka, this is a season of abundance. The sheer volume of animals moving through the area makes hunting easier, allowing lions to conserve energy and strike with precision.

Early morning drives are usually preferred for a chance to see game before the heat sets in — but this midday safari revealed a rare and heart-pounding standoff on the savannah between two masters of stealth, a serval and a black-necked spitting cobra.

Moving gracefully through the tall grass, the serval scanned for rodents and small birds. Instead, it stumbled upon a far more dangerous adversary. Rising defiantly from the undergrowth, the cobra flared its dark hood, swaying with calculated menace.

This wasn’t prey — it was a threat that demanded caution. True to its name, the spitting cobra is not only venomous but can also accurately eject venom into the eyes of its enemies. Instinctively, the serval held back, reading the warning signs. With a low growl and a cautious retreat, it wisely chose avoidance over confrontation. The cobra, sensing it had asserted enough presence, slowly slithered back into the sea of grass.

As we always say, a game drive isn't truly over, not even on the way to the airstrip. In the Mara, there’s always one more chance to witness something extraordinary. That’s precisely what happened to Angama guest Christine McBeth. While waiting for her flight at Kichwa Tembo airstrip, all seemed calm — until a sudden commotion in the grass broke the stillness. Moments later, an intense high-speed chase unfolded before her eyes. In a blur, the three Siligi males brought down their prey, executing a kill close to the airstrip. Christine captured this thrilling safari finale with her camera ready and kindly shared the images with us. — Robert Sayialel

Watching elephant herds cross the gravel roads into the marshlands of Amboseli offers a glimpse into their profound maternal nature. We recently saw these graceful giants with their calves; they are fiercely protective, tender, and astonishingly meticulous when they are with their young. 

While the matriarch leads the herd, every adult female plays a role in caring for the calves. It is fascinating to see how careful and coordinated they are: a mother at the front, pausing at the edge of the road, lifts her hind leg to gently touch the calf’s forehead as if signalling it to stop, while an adult behind uses her trunk to guide the calf, nudging it left or right, or encouraging it forward when it is time to cross. These moments reveal their intelligence and nurturing nature, an intricate choreography of the natural world. 

A notable encounter involved Equinox, who, seemingly in musth, walked majestically in front of us as he followed a herd. Although he was not pursuing a particular female, there were several adult females he could have been eyeing.  

Equinox is a remarkable elephant, not just for his absence of tusks. He and his sister, Eclipse, were the first recorded elephant twins in Amboseli to survive into adulthood, defying the odds. Though Eclipse died a few years ago, Equinox still roams these plains with quiet  authority. Even without tusks, his sheer size is nothing short of impressive.

Male 263, one of our resident lions in the Sanctuary, has been busy hunting wildebeest under the cover of darkness. We caught up with him one morning, clearly well-fed after a successful hunt, having taken down an unsuspecting gnu. His face bore fresh scars, likely from a clash with Osunash.  

Lions' lives are never easy; if they are not fighting territorial battles, they are fighting to mate or to survive the wild. In the video below, Male 263 can be seen guarding his kill as vultures wait eagerly nearby. Taking a break from feeding, he was agitated by flies bothering his fresh wounds.

On the southern side of the Sanctuary, the lioness Noltulali was seen stalking a herd of zebra. But she chose to conserve her energy for another time for reasons only she knows. As she crossed an open patch of the landscape, signs of lactation were visible, indicating she is still nursing cubs hidden safely in the tall grass where we last saw her disappear.

Lionesses hide their cubs to protect them from infanticidal males and the constant threat of rival predators. At this stage, cubs are especially vulnerable, with dangers coming from hyenas and even large birds of prey. We cannot wait for the day Noltulali reveals her cubs, but for now, we'll give her space and wish her well.

A familiar presence on the African savannah, elands are striking in their gentle stature but hold the title of the largest antelopes on earth. Despite their size, they can leap over two metres high when startled — a remarkable feat that often surprises those who underestimate their agility.

Calves like the one we recently spotted, now a few weeks old, stay close to their mothers and the herd's safety. They're gradually learning to graze on grasses and leaves while keeping a cautious eye on their surroundings. Their calm yet cautious nature mirrors the quiet strength of the herd as they journey across the plains. 

Hidden in the grasses of the Sanctuary, the ichneumon wasp —  also known as the short-tailed wasp — performs one of nature’s most remarkable tasks. With precise movements, she lays eggs inside caterpillars and beetle larvae, turning them into living nurseries for her young.

This remarkable strategy not only gives her offspring the best chance to grow but also helps keep insect populations in balance, protecting the plants and trees that sustain this landscape. It is a powerful reminder that even the smallest creatures have a vital role in maintaining the balance of nature.

As we wrap up another exciting week  in Amboseli, it has been impossible not to notice eagles wherever we look. These ‘lions of the skies’ are captivating, even for those who aren't typical bird enthusiasts. A recent striking brown snake eagle was especially thrilling to witness.

Unlike many snake eagles, which hunt while soaring, brown snake eagles often hunt from a perch. They remain still and concealed for hours as they watch their prey. When the moment is right, they swoop down with astonishing speed and precision, taking their unsuspecting prey in a swift, efficient strike. —Sammy Njoroge