This Week at Angama #393

Driven by nature’s instinct to hunt, the Siligi boys have been gliding through the Mara Triangle with the confidence of seasoned masters. This coalition of three cheetahs is adept at securing meals and survival skills, evading rival predators while cleverly tailing the Migration for the best hunting opportunities.

We spotted them feasting near an area called Bypass just last week, and this week, they turned up on the Tanzanian border with yet another wildebeest down. Their rapid shifts across the Triangle reveal their nomadic spirit, covering the northern to southern edges in only a few days. 

Angama guest Alan had a front-row seat at an intense moment when members of the Border Pride caught up with the Siligi boys, chasing them further into the Triangle towards the Picnic Trees area. Usually, lions would claim the kill for themselves, but this time they seemed uninterested, perhaps out of boredom or a full belly. Instead, they drove off the cheetahs and left the carcass to the vultures, who had been circling patiently above, waiting for their chance to clean up. 

While most of the wildebeest herds have pushed south into the Mara Triangle, a few stragglers are still braving crossings of the dreaded Mara River. Even this late in the season, watching these odd-looking antelopes transform almost instantly into determined swimmers fighting the current remains a spectacle.  

One in particular caught my eye: it tumbled awkwardly off the riverbank, panic written all over its movements. In a frantic burst, it plunged in and out of the water within seconds, scrambling up the same steep edge it had fallen from. After several desperate attempts, it finally found its footing and slipped back into the safety of the herd, lucky, at least for now. 

This week, the tables in the savannah turned more than once. On several occasions, the hunter felt hunted, with cheetahs and lions on the receiving end. 

On one drive, Angama Guide Johnny and his guest witnessed a dramatic encounter when a lioness from the Egyptian Pride charged a wildebeest. But this gnu, braver than most, wheeled around and chased the lioness right back, as if tired of being pursued all season. It didn’t know that the rest of the pride lay in wait, and the lioness was steering it towards its inevitable fate. 

On another day, Rio, Angama’s resident photographer, witnessed a second role reversal. The Border Brothers, two cheetahs that patrol near the Kenya–Tanzania border along the Ololoo Escarpment, had set their sights on a wildebeest far larger than they could handle. Underestimating their quarry, they quickly found themselves outmatched, chased off by their intended prey. The wildebeest managed to escape back into the safety of the herd, leaving the cheetah brothers bewildered and empty-bellied, though in the Mara, hunger never lasts for long. 

Leopards rely heavily on their limbs for climbing trees, stashing meals safely out of reach, hunting with precision, and defending themselves when trouble comes calling. That’s why this particular sighting was both remarkable and sobering: a leopard, missing its left front paw, most likely carrying the scars of a brutal encounter with a lion in an area dominated by lions. Life on three legs makes every move challenging, from chasing prey to evading rivals, leaving the cat far more vulnerable and its future, sadly, much shorter than it should be. 

The unlikely coalition between the Owino male and Muuaji has worked to their advantage, allowing them to hold on to a territory once ruled by the famous Bila Shaka males after their departure. Together, they face the constant challenge of patrolling vast ground to keep intruders at bay.  

Part of this effort lies in securing their lineage. Both males have recently been seen mating with females from the River Pride on various occasions. Eventually, their offspring, especially sons, will strengthen their hold on the territory and carry their legacy forward. 

Captured by Angama Guide Jeremy, this scene tells two parallel stories: the fierce determination in this River Pride lioness’s gaze and the final moments of a wildebeest that once roamed freely across the savannah. It all narrows down to this point, raw and unforgiving, the timeless story of life and death played out in a landscape as breathtaking as brutal. 

As another thrilling week in the Mara draws to a close, we leave you with these beautiful, fleeting moments of life here. A lilac-breasted roller, wings spread wide in a flash of colour against the sky – nature showing off some of its finest palette. Two cheetah brothers locked in a playful hug. And an agama lizard, worm clutched in its mouth, a tiny victory in the endless rhythm of survival. Small scenes, yet they carry the same wonder as the grand spectacles, reminding us that beauty in the wild is found in both the dramatic and the delicate. — Sammy Njoroge

Mount Kilimanjaro has been shy for the past month, but she dropped the curtains this week, showing up with a cloud for a crown. The summit is often hidden during Amboseli’s dry winter because the mountain lies on the leeward side, where months without rain allow fine dust to accumulate in the air and create a persistent haze. This dusty veil, combined with the dry winds, blurs out distant views and makes the mountain seem hidden for weeks. However, once the seasonal rains arrive, the dust is washed away, the plains turn green, and the upper slopes receive fresh snowfall. That’s when Kilimanjaro reveals itself most clearly, crowned in white. 

The lion cubs in Kimana Sanctuary are endlessly curious, turning every tree they encounter on their daily treks into a playground. With tiny claws digging in and growing stronger, they scramble up the trunks with surprising ease, testing their grip and balance. Going up, however, is the simple part — especially for the older cub, who already seems to understand that what goes up must also come down, and descending is a far trickier affair.

One of the younger ones found this out the hard way, climbing high before freezing in hesitation and calling out plaintively for its mother to lend a helping paw. Once safely back on the ground, the adventure doesn’t stop. The siblings dive right back into their games, one crouching low to stalk the other, practising the stealth and patience that will one day be vital to their survival in the wild. 

Not far from the playful cubs, their father, Osunash, lay in a deep, unbothered slumber. With the wisdom of experience, he rests whenever he can — a quiet contrast to his energetic offspring. Their nourishment still flows freely from their mother, who bears the heavy responsibility of staying strong enough to provide for them.

Nearby, a pair of yellow-necked spurfowls scratch through the earth in constant search of food — a striking contrast to the lion’s life of patience and reserve. While smaller species must spend nearly every waking hour foraging, lions rise only when hunger truly calls.

For the cubs, such contrasts are lessons in waiting: today they chase each other, climb trees and stalk in play — but one day, they will learn that survival isn’t only about strength, but about knowing when to use it.

Late one evening, Amboseli Guide Jeremy, his guests Carrie, and her sister Melissa came across an extraordinary sight — the entire pride gathered around an elephant that had died earlier in the week from natural causes. Male 263 and Noltulali were locked in serious business, tearing into the carcass to replenish their strength, while the cubs, as always, brought mischief to the table.

Instead of eating, they turned the elephant’s body into their playground, leaping onto its swollen belly, which bulged with gas and looked ready to burst at any moment. It was a comical yet intense scene, as though one sudden pop might launch them skyward — perhaps the only way they’d learn that mealtime is for eating, not games.

The lesser kudu is one of Africa’s most secretive and elegant antelopes, a master of camouflage in the semi-arid woodlands and thickets it calls home. Unlike many large antelope species that roam in herds across open plains, the lesser kudu prefers a life of seclusion, often moving quietly through dense bush where its striking white stripes and spots serve as disruptive patterns, breaking its outline and making it nearly invisible to predators.

Males, with their dramatic spiralled horns, are solitary or move in loose bachelor groups, while females and young form small family units, making their social structure much more understated than many of their relatives. What’s fascinating is their agility — lesser kudus can leap over two meters high from a standstill, an adaptation that allows them to vanish into the thickets or clear obstacles easily. 

These two little bursts of colour are Fischer’s lovebirds, spotted in Kimana Sanctuary. What makes them fascinating is not just their striking plumage but the deep symbolism they carry in the wild. Fischer’s lovebirds are rarely seen alone, true to their name; they form strong monogamous bonds and are almost always in the company of their mate. They spend their days feeding together, preening each other, and even flying in tight synchrony.

Their presence adds vibrancy to the landscape as their cheerful calls carry through the acacia woodlands. Despite their small size, they’re bold and highly social, often gathering in noisy flocks that seem to mirror the joy of their name.

A giraffe does not only have an impressively long neck but also a remarkably long tongue — stretching up to half a metre — which, when paired together, gives it an incredible reach. We witnessed this firsthand as a giraffe approached a yellow-backed acacia, carefully manoeuvring its head upward before extending its dark, prehensile tongue to strip the tender leaves between the sharp thorns. The way it combined the height of its neck with the dexterity of its tongue was a perfect display of adaptation, allowing it to enjoy a late lunch in places few other animals could reach. 

Brown snake eagles are gifted with extraordinary eyesight — up to eight times sharper than that of humans — allowing them to spot a snake from remarkable distances. What sets them apart is how finely tuned their vision is for detecting reptiles, even when partially hidden in grass or under shrubs. Among birds, raptors like eagles, hawks, and falcons hold the crown for long-distance precision, far surpassing species whose eyes are built more for colour or close-range detail.

Motonyi carries herself with an elegance that’s a joy to watch, often seen resting quietly to conserve her strength, much like Osunash, saving energy for when it matters most. It seems she has chosen Kimana Sanctuary as her home, and we now look forward to her finding a mate and raising her first litter.

Female cheetahs generally reach sexual maturity between 20 and 24 months, when they enter heat and seek partners. Their estrus cycle runs for about 12–14 days, though they are only fertile and receptive for a brief 2–3-day window, making timing essential for successful mating. They usually return to heat within 12–20 days if they do not conceive. In the wild, females often wait until they are fully independent and established in a prey-rich territory before breeding, giving their cubs the best chance of survival. 

In the long grass, we came across a pair of yellow baboons tucked away in what looked like their honeymoon. In clear estrus, the female sought the comfort of her companion’s grooming hands, a tender gesture that not only strengthens bonds but also paves the way for mating. Her swollen, flushed perineal skin was a visible sign of her fertility, and the male stayed close, guarding her with quiet persistence while taking every chance to reassure her through touch.

Unlike many animals bound by seasons, yellow baboons can mate throughout the year, though the peak often comes after the rains when food is abundant. For now, this pair seemed content in their closeness, the male investing in the trust and bond that females value when choosing a mate. Should their union result in new life, the female will carry her infant for nearly six months before bringing it into the world, where she will nurse and protect it with fierce devotion — helped along by troop members and, quite possibly, by this very male, who may one day carry and defend their offspring himself. —Japheth Supeyo