This Week at Angama #395

Last week, we thought the Migration was dwindling as most of the wildebeest herds had left, but on Saturday morning, reports came in of sightings that herds seemed to be returning to the Maasai Mara from the Serengeti. It is a delight for guests to still be amongst scattered herds of the Great Migration.

Although the spectacle remains captivating, the movement is slowed, primarily due to the reduced rainfall this week. With fewer showers to freshen the grasses and rivers, the herds are gradually pushed northward, grazing steadily and advancing at a more measured pace. 

A rare find this week — and not commonly seen in this ecosystem — was a juvenile palm-nut vulture. Unlike most vultures, it is a remarkable bird of prey with an unusual diet: largely vegetarian. Often referred to as the 'vegetarian vulture,' it feeds extensively on the fleshy outer husks of oil nuts and raffia palm fruits, which is why it’s typically found in habitats like mangroves, riverbanks, and coastal forests. However, it is opportunistic and occasionally eats fish, crabs, molluscs, small reptiles, and insects.

This week, five playful cubs from the River Pride stole the show as they tumbled about under the watchful eyes of two lionesses. Their growing confidence and playful antics have become a regular spectacle, offering visitors a heartwarming glimpse into the early days of pride life. 

As we watched the cubs at play, a distinctive half-tailed female from the Pride emerged in the distance, moving through the bushes while calling softly. It soon became clear that she wasn’t searching for the five little ones already under the care of two lionesses. Instead, her persistent circling and calling suggested she was looking for a different litter, most likely younger cubs still hidden away. 

Spotting a serval in action is always a rare treat. This short-tailed, medium-sized cat is an extraordinary hunter, boasting one of the highest success rates among felines. Perfectly camouflaged in the grass, it moved silently, eyes sharp and ears attuned to the faintest rustle.  

Then, as if frozen in time, it locked onto its target, muscles coiled, waiting for the perfect moment. In an instant, its powerful hind legs bent, launching it skyward and forward, striking with pinpoint accuracy. Quickly dispatched, the cat moved on to find another target. 

During our drive, we came across an African rock python basking beside the road. Like all cold-blooded reptiles, it depends on external heat sources to regulate its body temperature. These impressive snakes are often stretched out on sun-warmed rocks, sandy riverbanks, or even dirt roads, especially in the early morning or late afternoon when they soak up the day’s warmth. 

This black-chested snake eagle lives up to its name, as snakes comprise a large part of its diet. It’s specially adapted for this, too. Its legs are long and strong, covered in thick, tough scales that help protect it from bites. 

Not far from Angama Safari Camp, currently pitched at Kampi ya Mungu, we encountered a few members of a pride we seldom encounter — the Sausage Tree Pride. An older, battle-tested matriarch, Kinky Tail, leads this pride. On this occasion, two playful cubs rested under the watchful eye of their mother, accompanied by one of the pride males. 

We’re pleased to share that the three Siligi boys have been holding their ground in the Triangle, not far from the escarpment, for quite some time now. With the last pockets of wildebeest still lingering in the area, the coalition has enjoyed a steady supply of nourishment to sustain them. — Robert Sayialel

Arriving at Angama Amboseli feels like being welcomed home by nature itself. The golden sunrises make you want to pause time to embrace the feeling of the glow a little longer.

As we set off on our drive, the magic unfolded almost immediately: a lone elephant appeared in the tall grass, its pace slow and deliberate. Then, to our delight, a calf emerged from the thicket, only a few weeks old and full of curiosity. The little one even tried leading its mother for a while, confidently striding ahead until a gentle nudge reminded it who truly knew the way. 

As we continued through Amboseli National Park, we encountered a flock of chestnut-bellied sandgrouse. The chestnut-bellied sandgrouse is one of those desert specialists that never ceases to amaze me. Out here, where heat shimmers off the plains and water is scarce, these birds have perfected an ingenious way of life.  

They gather in great flocks at sunrise, feeding on tiny seeds before making their daily pilgrimage to a waterhole. The males, after drinking, soak up water into their specially adapted belly feathers and then fly back to their chicks, who drink straight from their plumage. It’s like nature’s very own water delivery service. 

They survive by timing their movements to the cool hours, conserving every drop through their efficient kidneys, tolerating high body heat before panting. On the ground, they nest in the open with the parents sharing incubation. Their chicks, precocial and determined, leave the nest within days.

We watched them dust-bathing too, coating their feathers in soil that keeps them clean and offers grit and minerals for their chicks. The chestnut-bellied sandgrouse is a perfect example of how adaptation shapes survival in some of the most demanding landscapes. 

Later that evening, the lions of Kimana Sanctuary gave us a sighting that I’ll never forget. Word spread that they had taken down a male ostrich, and when we arrived, the scene was still fresh, not nearly an hour later. Male 263 and Memusi lay guard over the carcass with a seriousness that left no doubt they were on high alert for any hyenas or scavengers daring enough to test their patience. 

Just a short distance away, under the cool shade, Noltulali rested with her litter of cubs, watching the scene with the calm wisdom of a mother who knew when to wait. 

As the minutes ticked by, she finally led the little ones toward the feast, and what followed was a mix of survival and playful innocence. 

The cubs wasted no time clambering over the ostrich, chewing, tugging, and occasionally turning it into their playground. At one point, a cub flipped onto its back in a dramatic somersault, paws flailing in the air as though the carcass had tossed it back. 

The others joined in, tugging at feathers and nipping at each other before settling back down for another bite. But a single striking white feather stole the show, becoming the ultimate toy as they snatched it from one another, pouncing, tumbling, and chasing it around with boundless energy. 

Meanwhile, the soft light of the setting sun painted the whole scene in gold, contrasting fierce survival and cub-like playfulness even more magically. A balance of life in the wild: nurture, teach, and Noltulali let them learn through their clumsy adventures. I have seen lions take down buffalo, wildebeest, and zebra, but never an ostrich.

The following morning, we returned to the scene, only to find what looked like the aftermath of a feather pillow fight gone wrong. No scrap of meat remained, just black and white feathers swirling around, courtesy of the pied crows showing off their 'new toys.'

At times, nature feels ironic, adding to life's sense of humour as the birds added drama to the scene. A pied crow, the only bird cheeky enough to mess with an eagle, swooped in and tried to steal a share of what a tawny eagle had scavenged from the ostrich remains. 

And there, not too far off, was Osunash sprawled out in the shade, his belly was so round he could’ve rolled down a hill. But clearly, the feast hadn’t come without a fight; the fresh scratch marks on his face told the tale of a serious family disagreement over who got the best drumstick. If ever there was a lion version of 'you should see the other guy,' Osunash was living it. 

We’d had strong winds recently, and on the evening of the blood moon and lunar eclipse, I was worried I wouldn’t be able to capture a clear photo. But, as always, Amboseli has a way of surprising you. We waited in good spirits for two hours, and I couldn’t resist photographing the Milky Way while we waited. In the end, the experience and the view were well worth it. — Rio Marvin