This Week at Angama #397

One still morning in Kimana Sanctuary, the air was soft and the sun lingered briefly before the heat set in. We watched a matriarch lead her herd across the open grasslands toward the river. Her pace was steady, unhurried, yet full of purpose, each step proving the responsibility she carries.

Trailing behind her, the herd fell neatly in line with the calves shielded in the middle, each with complete trust in her guidance. Her experience is their safeguard — the calves survive because she chooses well. She’s the calm at the centre, offering reassurance when tension rises. Her strength isn’t in dominance, but in patience and quiet leadership.

Now and then, the matriarch would pause to throw dust over her back. The fine particles rose like a cloud before settling on her wrinkled skin. The relief was palpable as she attempted to shield herself from the rising heat, avoiding the irritations of insects in her wake.

Earlier this week, Salash pointed out a vervet monkey perched on the trunk of a yellow-barked acacia, busily licking at a patch of thick gum. With quick, practised movements, it pressed its lips and tongue against the sticky surface, savouring the sweet exudate.

What seems like a curious snack is actually vital to a vervet's diet. Rich in complex sugars and minerals like calcium, the gum provides steady energy when fruits and leaves are scarce. Vervets are well adapted to digesting it, fermenting the fibrous gum in their hind gut to extract nutrients. Baboons, bush babies, and even some birds enjoy this sticky-sweet gum.

While at Amboseli National Park, Salash captured a rare moment — a striped hyena hunched over a carcass hide, pulling at what little remained. Striped hyenas prefer to scavenge under the cover of darkness and are the most elusive of Africa’s large carnivores, far less commonly seen than their spotted cousins.

Unlike spotted hyenas, which live in large clans, striped hyenas tend to move alone or in pairs. They mark their territories with scent and communicate through eerie, high-pitched calls.

Despite their reputation as scavengers, striped hyenas occasionally hunt small animals and play a crucial ecological role by cleaning the landscape of carrion. Their powerful jaws allow them to consume almost every part of a carcass, including bones, hooves, and hides. Seeing one in daylight, as Salash did, is a rare privilege that offers a glimpse into this carnivore's secretive life. 

In the heat of the savannah, ostriches have clever ways of cooling off. They settle close to the ground, spread their wings, and fluff their feathers to release trapped heat. By lowering their bodies close to the earth and fluffing their plumage, their posture also creates shade, giving them a brief but effective escape from the midday sun.

Their long, bare legs also help release heat, while panting allows for evaporative cooling — much like dogs. They’re also smart about timing, staying active in the early morning and late afternoon to conserve energy during the hottest parts of the day.

As we were leaving Amboseli National Park, we encountered something extraordinary: an elephant translocation in action.

Two well-known fence breakers, FB6 and Candidate 2, had been identified as the leaders of crop raids and frequent human-elephant conflicts within the Amboseli Ecosystem. The Kenya Wildlife Service, Big Life Foundation, and Amboseli Trust for Elephants stepped in to give them a better chance and ease the pressure on local communities.

We watched as the team darted the giants, gently moving each elephant onto trucks, then later reviving them before guiding them into the vehicles that would carry them to their new home. It was a rare glimpse into the behind-the-scenes conservation efforts: tough decisions made to secure a future where both people and elephants can coexist. 

At the end of an eventful day, I was in awe of how calm and curious these buffalo were as I came to photograph them at golden hour in Kimana Sanctuary. The light rimmed their horns and ears so delicately that I couldn't resist capturing them from a lower angle in the jeep. I expected them to drift off, but they just watched me, wide-eyed and still. For me, that’s what it’s all about: being present and giving wildlife the space to be at ease.— Rio Marvin

Just like your cat at home, even the wildest cats have calm, balance, and beauty rituals. We spotted a serval cat in her morning stretches in the sunrise glow. Twisting and grooming herself with the grace of a true yogi. The golden light lifted her spotted coat beautifully, looking entirely at ease in the quiet of the savannah.  

Her morning stretch was abruptly interrupted by the rumble of rangers passing by. With ears pinned back — an unmistakable look of annoyance, she made it clear that this intrusion into her private yoga class was unwelcome.

Big cats may be celebrated for their size and power, but what truly sets them apart is their ability to melt into the landscape when it matters most. On one occasion, we watched a lioness flatten herself low, each deliberate step had to be silent as she watched her prey, not noticing her.

In another sighting, a leopard used the dappled light and shadows to its advantage, crouching with muscles coiled and eyes fixed, the very image of patience and precision. Though different in form and habitat use, both rely on this extraordinary stealth — a silent art that gives them the upper hand in survival and hunting.

As we approached the Kenyan–Tanzanian border, we stopped at the Egyptian Pond, where zebras gathered to quench their thirst. Some waded in deeper, enjoying the cool water as they drank, while others lingered along the edge.

Suddenly, one mischievous stallion decided to stir up chaos — he gave three of his companions a hard shove, sending them splashing headfirst into the pond. The startled trio scrambled out, hooves flying as they kicked furiously at their cheeky offender. Unpologetically, he neighed loudly as if laughing at his prank before dashing off in triumph. 

Near the border, we found the Border Pride scattered across the area. Some were stretched out, basking in the sun, and a few females headed towards the hill where they spend most of their days. Some lions were feeding just out of clear view, while one female and two cubs were busy with not one, but two wildebeest kills.

This season of abundance has served them well; the cubs have grown quickly and look strong. Some, despite being less than a year old, are already nearing the size of their mothers.  

Recently, the Pride have been shifting slightly north toward the Salt Lick area, a zone that edges close to the Egyptian Pride's territory. Still, it’s reassuring to see them back on familiar ground, where there’s less risk of clashes with other prides — and danger to the cubs.

Catching sight of lions atop the black rock on the border always feels like a scene lifted straight out of The Lion King. This time, pacing restlessly around the rock, one of the pride males was on a honeymoon with a female. Their behaviour hinted that it was the early days of their mating, though when the moment came, they slipped behind the rock and out of sight, as if even in the wild, some things are best kept private. 

Male baboons often climb to elevated vantage points, like termite mounds, to keep watch over their troops and provide protection. On this occasion, the lookout post became an unexpected source of food.

Although their diet primarily comprises fruits, seeds, grasses, roots, and small animals, baboons are highly opportunistic feeders. During rainy periods, termites are abundant and active. They are also rich in protein and fat, so baboons dig into termite mounds using nimble fingers to extract the insects.

Just as baboons use elevated points for better visibility, lions, too, sometimes take advantage of natural vantage spots. While not agile climbers like leopards, certain trees with broad, low-hanging branches offer them an accessible perch.

Here, they can be in the shade, scan their surroundings, rest and escape the constant irritation of insects down below. This full-bellied lioness of the Sausage Tree Pride managed to haul herself onto a sturdy branch.

Sometimes, lactating females have even been observed retreating into trees for a brief respite from their cubs' relentless demands.

Guests to the Triangle are still being treated to the spectacle of the Great Migration, with scattered herds dotting different parts of the reserve.

Intermittent showers continue to rejuvenate the Mara, keeping the grasslands fresh and enticing for the wildebeest and zebra that linger behind.

Though fewer than the great waves seen earlier in the season, these herds continue to mow steadily across the plains, their presence ensuring a constant source of food for predators and scavengers alike. —Japheth Supeyo and Robert Sayialel