This Week at Angama #387

The second week of the Great Migration has ushered in more wildebeest and zebra. Long winding lines of animals snake through the Maasai Mara via the Sand River. This steady influx signals the progression of the first significant wave of the Migration.  

Interestingly, a slight pause has followed this initial surge, something not uncommon during the early phases of the Migration. The herds don't move as one massive group, but rather in loosely connected columns and scattered clusters, often stretching for many kilometres across the plains. Their movement patterns resemble rolling waves, shaped by unpredictable factors like rainfall, fresh grazing, and river levels.

This movement creates a dynamic rhythm, sometimes explosive and overwhelming, then at other times quiet and measured. The tides of nature dictate this remarkable spectacle.

This movement creates a dynamic rhythm, sometimes explosive and overwhelming, then at other times quiet and measured. The tides of nature dictate this remarkable spectacle.

With the promise of even more wildebeest and zebra, the outlook is bright for predators, especially the lionesses with cubs. This seasonal influx brings abundant food, which means easy hunting, allowing prides to conserve energy and raise their prides successfully.

On an early morning game drive, we encountered the Border Pride basking in the golden light, with bellies full from a night’s feast. They sprawled contentedly across the grass, cubs nestled among them, safe and well-fed.

For scavengers, this is a season of abundance. With predator kills scattered across the plains, the aftermath becomes a battleground for survival. It’s not about the hunt but the scraps left behind.

Scenes like these are increasingly common, vultures circling overhead, marabou storks waiting stoically at the fringes, and jackals pacing in anticipation. They all know the rules, approach too soon, and risk the wrath of the kill’s owner, often a lion or hyena unwilling to surrender its meal. 

But scavengers are nothing if not patient. They linger on the periphery, eyes sharp and instincts sharper, biding their time until the predator retreats or gets distracted. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, the vultures descend, flapping wings, jabbing beaks, and shrill cries filling the air in a frenzied contest over what remains.

The Mara Triangle is experiencing intermittent showers, a welcome rain signalling renewal and abundance. These light but frequent downpours are a blessing, especially following recent controlled burns that rejuvenated the grasslands just in time for the Great Migration. In the early mornings, if you’re lucky, you might spot a rainbow arching over the plains.

In a shallow puddle tucked away from predators' gaze, a pair of white-faced whistling ducks gently guided their brood into the water. As we approached, the adults remained calm yet alert, their distinctive high-pitched whistles echoing softly. Their tiny ducklings paddled in tight formation, each stroke of their webbed feet a delicate ripple. It was touching to see their nurturing care.

Warts, tusks, and wild hair combine into nature’s most chaotic design. But don’t be fooled by their awkward looks. This snorting, sprinting underdog is tougher than you think and faster than they appear. 

The warthog’s distinctive face, with protective facial warts, curved tusks, and bristly mane, may look comical, but it’s a masterpiece of adaptation. The wart shield in its fights, the tusks defend against predators, and its keen eyes help spot danger while foraging — a true survivor, built for the challenges of the African bush. — Robert Sayialel

For the past three weeks, a young female cheetah has been weaving through the grasslands of the Kimana Sanctuary — and it seems she has finally decided to call it home. She’s no stranger here; she once passed through with her cubs, searching for a meal, on her way to Amboseli National Park, Kuku Ranch, or the rolling Chyulu Hills.

Now, her litter has grown, each sibling setting off alone in search of their own patch of wilderness. Though not bound by strict territories, cheetahs are creatures of habit, often returning to familiar ranges. Here, the open grasslands and herds of small antelope, especially the nimble Thomson’s gazelle, offer her the best chance of survival. 

Then came word from the Cheetah Guardians: she has a name — Motonyi, daughter of Meshanani. Her decision to stay is a testament to the partnership between Angama Amboseli and the Big Life Foundation, working to make The Sanctuary a true refuge.

At dawn, Head Guide Alice spotted Motonyi perched gracefully on a fallen tree, scanning the plains for danger or the flicker of movement that might mean breakfast. She paused to sniff the ground, investigating gazelle droppings for vital clues: species, condition, and how recently it had passed by. A calculated step — using scent to decide whether the chase was worth it. A striking reminder of the sharp instincts and extraordinary sensory skills that make the cheetah one of Africa’s most efficient hunters. 

And so, she begins a new chapter in the Sanctuary — a young cheetah carving out her place in the vast heartbeat of this ecosystem — a reminder of what's possible when safe havens are protected to flourish. 

A juvenile martial eagle, still learning the art of hunting, spotted a flock of helmeted guinea fowl foraging beneath an acacia. From a low perch, it launched in a controlled shallow dive, broad wings spotted like a blotchy canvas. The guinea fowl scattered in alarm, their rattling chorus rising as they sprinted for cover. The eagle dipped, claws outstretched, but it misjudged the approach, brushing a thorny branch. Feathers rustled. The prey vanished into the scrub. The eagle returned to its perch, eyes sharp, hunger undimmed. Another day, another lesson in the savannah. 

Osunash is looking every bit the regal lion he was born to be — healthy, well-fed, and with a mane growing fuller and more striking by the day. This starkly contrasts his coalition partner, Male 263, who we saw last week looking a touch rough around the edges — perhaps a sign that Osunash is stepping more firmly into his father’s formidable pawprints.

Osunash was the first of the two males to venture into this territory, and being older, he's taken the lead in its defence and expansion, just like his late father, Loonkito, once did. A legend in these parts, Loonkito was the oldest known living male lion in the ecosystem and a ruthless guardian of his domain. 

Watching Osunash now, it feels like some of that iron will live on in him. He's recovered remarkably well from his de-collaring a few months ago — wounds healed, scars fading into golden fur. He carries himself confidently, as though he knows the shifting tides of the Sanctuary’s lion dynamics are turning in his favour — for now. 

This morning, our search for him began long before dawn. Tracks in the dust told the story: Osunash had been trailing Memusi for nearly four kilometres, his determination clear in the deep imprints of his paws. When we finally caught up to them, he stood tall, his eyes locked with ours, but restlessness pulsed in his stance. The air was thick with Memusi’s scent, and for a while, we thought we might witness another mating bout. 

But just as quickly, the mood shifted. Osunash broke away, slinking into the tall grasses, melting into the golden expanse as only a seasoned lion can. Memusi, too, slipped into the brush, perhaps heading back to check on her cub or to reunite with her sister. In this vast and ever-changing land, their stories weave and unravel in quiet moments like these — fleeting glimpses of a larger saga still unfolding under the watchful eye of the wild. 

The serval is a solitary, territorial cat, mostly active during cooler times, resting during the heat of the day and sometimes at night, often in burrows or under bushes. Females tend to be more active in daylight to protect their kittens from predators such as spotted hyenas. In an unusual sighting, Guide Salash spotted one resting high in an acacia tree — behaviour not previously documented in our stories. With claws more protrusible than retractable, servals can climb trees to escape danger or gain a vantage point. In the wet season, daytime hunting increases, especially for females. By specialising in smaller prey, they reduce competition with African golden cats, allowing both to thrive in shared habitats. 

A male elephant was seen rubbing his body against a large, smooth rock, a deliberate part of his daily self-care routine. Elephants often use rocks, trees, or termite mounds to scratch hard-to-reach areas along their bellies, flanks, and backs. The rough texture helps relieve itching, dislodge parasites, and shed dried mud or old skin. This shows how in tune these majestic creatures are with their environment and how even a simple stone becomes a tool for survival, health, and daily well-being in the wild. 

Guide Alice made a remarkable find — a bateleur eagle perched atop an old acacia branch. With sleek black plumage, a vivid face, and a distinctively short tail, the bateleur is often considered a cousin of the snake eagles, thanks to its similar diet and hunting style. 

Sadly, this magnificent raptor is now endangered, with wild populations estimated to number between 10,000 and 100,000 individuals. Habitat loss and human disturbance have driven its decline across sub-Saharan Africa, making sightings like this all the more special and a poignant reminder of what’s at stake. 

The greater kestrel, a striking pale raptor often perched on acacia trees or termite mounds in Amboseli National Park, is vital in maintaining ecosystem balance. Feeding on insects, small rodents, and reptiles, it helps control populations of grasshoppers, mice, and other creatures that can impact vegetation and crop growth around the park’s edges. In doing so, it supports the health of Amboseli’s grasslands — essential grazing areas for zebras and wildebeests.

Its pale plumage and bright rufous tail make it easy to spot against the golden savannah, adding to the rich birdlife that makes this region a haven for raptor enthusiasts and an important part of the park’s food web. —Japheth Supeyo