This Week at Angama #399

One morning, we woke for a safari at sunrise, creating the perfect light to capture a giraffe silhouetted against an amber sky, feeding gently on a Vachellia tree. 

As the golden light shifted into a cooler hue, the radio crackled to life, calling for a sighting of two males, Osunash and Male 263. We drove towards the sighting and found the two brothers stretched out side by side, their bellies full and spirits calm.

They looked almost contemplative, their focused gaze hinted at something more, a direction of interest they couldn’t ignore. We followed their line of sight and discovered the reason behind their attention.

A few meters ahead, bundles of joy were tumbling about — the cubs amid their playful antics. Clouds of dust spun around them as they ran, chasing each other. The sight melted every heart in the safari vehicle.

Not far off, Noltulali, the ever-watchful guardian, gave a low, throaty call before walking gracefully past us, her eyes sharp yet calm. The cubs immediately obeyed, trotting behind her into the tall grass.

Moments later, we caught sight of vultures circling overhead, nature’s aerial bush compass.

Experience has taught us that patience is key; you wait until they land, and that’s when you follow. But the reason for their hesitation soon revealed itself. A black-backed jackal had beaten them to the scene, busy cleaning up the last scraps of a warthog kill left behind by the two lion males. Lucky for the jackal, it snatched away a hind leg, trotting proudly toward its den. 

By afternoon, the day had warmed up. As we headed to visit Craig, we found ourselves caught in a swirl of movement, a herd of wildebeest charging through a haze of dust. Something had clearly spooked them. Then we saw her: Memusi, the seasoned hunter, crouched low in the grass. While Noltulali guards the cubs, Memusi is the stealth of the pride, the one who brings dinner home.

When we finally found Craig, he was peacefully feeding on a small bush, his calm presence grounding the afternoon's chaos. He walked towards a tall yellow-barked Vachellia tree, pausing momentarily as if paying his respects. Then, slowly, he began stripping the bark. 

Elephants do this to feed on the nutrient-rich inner bark, which contains moisture, minerals, and fibres essential for their diet, especially during the dry season when grasses are scarce. It’s their way of tapping into a hidden water source stored within the trees.

This behaviour shapes the landscape, sometimes causing trees to die and fall, opening up new grazing spaces for smaller animals. Every act in the wild carries its balance, consequence, and purpose.

As we drove on, a sudden spiral of dust rose from the open plains, a dust devil, dancing across the dry earth. Dust devils form when the ground is heated by the sun, warming the air above it until it rises quickly, spinning as cooler air rushes in to fill the space. Out here, they are a common sight in the heat of the day, twisting gracefully before fading into nothing. 

Pied crows were created differently. They carry a kind of courage that seems too big for their size. Bold enough to challenge even the leopard of the sky, the mighty martial eagle. Known for its incredible strength, the martial eagle is powerful enough to lift the young of a Thomson’s gazelle, a feat that earns it deep respect across the savannah skies. 

We watched as two pied crows ganged up against the eagle, their black and white wings flashing against the blue as they dove and called in defiance. The martial eagle, fierce as it is, found itself outnumbered and outmanoeuvred, forced to retreat from what it must have thought was just another easy evening. Nature never stops surprising; sometimes, bravery wears smaller wings. 

Later that evening, we came across a bachelor herd of elephants feeding. Two sub-adult bulls disrupted the calmness and decided it was time to test their strength, a playful yet serious rehearsal for the battles that await them when they grow into full maturity. 

They locked trunks, pushing and charging, each trying to prove his power. What began as harmless sparring soon became a disturbance, their energy rippling through the peaceful herd. One of the older bulls, clearly unimpressed, stepped in with authority, gently but firmly pushing the youngsters aside, proving that strength also means knowing when to keep the peace. 

Not far from where we had stopped, I spotted a male gerenuk standing tall on his hind legs, perfectly balanced, stretching his long, slender neck to reach the freshest twigs.

It’s a sight that always feels slightly unreal, like watching evolution in motion. This unique feeding posture is an adaptation that allows them to browse well above the height of most other antelopes, giving them access to untouched leaves and tender shoots. 

The word gerenuk comes from the Somali word 'garanuug,' meaning 'giraffe neck.' Unlike many antelope species, gerenuks can survive incredibly long without drinking water. They draw enough moisture from the leaves, flowers, and fruits they eat to thrive even in the driest landscapes.

The slender-tailed nightjar is a master of camouflage, perfectly blending into the dusty earth and dry twigs. I almost missed it, sitting motionless, its intricate feather patterns mimicking dry leaves and soil.

They rest silently through the day and come alive after dusk, when their wide eyes and silent flight help them hunt moths and insects in midair with incredible precision under the cover of darkness. Their nocturnal behaviour is a survival strategy, and spotting one in daylight feels like stumbling upon a secret.

At the hippo pool, nature unfolded one of its rawest moments. A crocodile had taken advantage of a herd of wildebeest that came to quench their thirst and managed to catch one unfortunate individual. The stillness of the water returned as if nothing had happened, only ripples hinting at the drama that had just passed.

The hippos and crocodiles maintain a quiet truce in the shared pool. The crocodile will feed at its own pace, dragging the carcass beneath the water, letting time and patience do the rest. — Rio Marvin

As we descended the escarpment at sunrise, the vast Mara landscape began to open up in front of us. The cool air carried the scent of fresh grass and distant calls of birds awakening to a new day.

Our attention was quickly drawn to the right, where a family of elephants made their way down the escarpment. Step by step, they moved with steady grace. Among them, a young bull carefully negotiated the steep descent, placing each foot cautiously, aware that one misstep could be dangerous for an animal of his immense weight, even fatal. 

Seeing these powerful creatures display such care and patience in their movements is humbling. Most animals make their way up the escarpment in the evenings, seeking safety closer to human settlements, instinctively knowing that the big cats rarely venture up at night. But this morning, the elephants were heading down to the plains, beginning their day as the sun slowly rose in front of us. 

As the early morning stretched, we came across the River Pride males patrolling along the winding banks of the river. You could hear the flowing water and the soft thud of their heavy paws on the damp ground.  

The two brothers moved with purpose and quiet authority, stopping occasionally to scent-mark and scan their surroundings, a silent reminder of who ruled this stretch of the Mara. Watching them stride side by side, manes glowing in the golden light, was majestic. 

Their family lay resting in the grass a short distance away, entirely at ease. The lionesses groomed each other affectionately, their calm energy contrasting with the intensity of the patrolling males. The cubs played mischievously along the riverbanks, pouncing on each other and chasing invisible prey, their growls echoing softly.

On our way to the border, we stumbled upon an unforgettable scene. Perched on the ground not far from the road was a martial eagle, Africa’s largest and most formidable eagle, deeply engrossed in its breakfast. 

At first, we couldn’t distinguish what it had caught, only noticing the large wings hunched over its prey. As we inched closer, the reality of the scene came into focus. The eagle’s talons firmly gripped a red-necked spurfowl still clinging to life, its feathers scattering as the eagle methodically plucked them away.

Just a few meters ahead, we encountered another fascinating raptor, a dark goshawk displaying remarkable intelligence and precision in finding its meal. At first, we saw him perched on the ground, pecking at unseen, and soon realised he was swallowing small insects, though we couldn’t tell where they were coming from. Moments later, he gracefully took off and perched on a nearby Boscia tree, giving us the chance to inspect his breakfast spot more closely.

To our surprise, a tiny hole in the ground revealed dozens of winged termites taking flight into the morning air. The goshawk had clearly spotted this feast from afar — an impressive display of razor-sharp eyesight and awareness.

What better way to find cats than using the bush’s own watchtowers — the giraffes. In the distance, a tower stood perfectly still, their long necks all craned in the same direction, gazing intently into a dense thicket. When giraffes stare like that for too long, it is almost always a predator. Their vigilance never lies. 

Trusting their instincts, we veered onto a narrow track cutting through the grass to investigate. Sure enough, there she was, a lioness gracefully perched atop a termite mound. She appeared to be alone, perhaps separated from her pride during the night’s hunt, now resting as she waited for the first signs of their return.

The Egyptian Pride has been spending much of their time around the Egyptian Pond lately, making it their favourite spot to start the day. The lionesses were moving close together, gently grooming one another in a display of affection that spoke volumes about the strong bonds within the Pride. Nearby, the cubs were full of energy, tumbling over each other in play, occasionally darting toward the adults for attention before dashing off again. 

The Siligi brothers, now nicknamed ‘the Nomads’ for their astonishing long-distance journeys between Tanzania and Kenya, sometimes even within a single day, have returned to our side once again, much to our delight and that of our guests. Their return always stirs excitement. —Japheth Supeyo