This Week at Angama #400

Upon returning to the Mara, the Siligi brothers were back in full action, giving Guide Moses and his guest, GT, a front-row seat to an unforgettable hunt. It took hours of patience and persistence as the brothers lazed in the grass through the late morning, showing no sign of movement, until one finally rose to scan the plains for any hint of danger or opportunity.

A herd of zebras wandered nearby, and in an instant, relaxation turned to focus as the brothers slipped into stalking mode. A target was chosen, a young foal within the herd, and the chase erupted. One of the brothers sprinted past the herd with astonishing speed, overtaking some zebras as he zeroed in on his target.

He pounced and nearly delivered the final blow, but in a dramatic turn, the foal’s mother charged in, saving her baby in the nick of time. The young zebra lived to see another day.

Angama’s newest Guide and long-time Naturalist, Alfred Shungur, treated his guests, Kasey and Sam, to an unforgettable and unexpected late-season Great Migration crossing.

The trio set out on a full-day adventure searching for a leopard that has become quite the elusive ghost over the past two weeks. Their patience paid off after nearly two hours of waiting beneath a tree when the magnificent Osidai Male appeared, leaping up and down the trunk in an unbelievable display of agility and grace.

Later, they made their way to the Mara River, where a large herd of zebras had gathered at the U-Crossing point on the Greater Mara side. As is often the case, the herd hesitated, moving down the banks and back up again countless times.

Their thirst eventually won, and a few brave zebras went down to drink, with the rest surging forward, triggering the crossing frenzy. Crocodiles wasted no time, swiftly closing in and launching their deadly attacks, claiming two zebras from the herd. 

The Border Pride treated us to a special sighting after they finished a buffalo kill in an area too difficult to access. Once they had their fill, they emerged from the thickets and went to a nearby waterhole, where they drank and settled down to rest for a few hours. It was heartwarming to watch the youngsters approach one by one to greet the lioness who had arrived first at the water, with gentle interactions that continually strengthen the Pride’s close family bonds. 

Right below the escarpment, the Angama Lioness and her cubs were spotted feasting on a zebra they had taken down at midday. A sighting some guests could have caught with binoculars from the North Camp Deck.

Her cubs are now fully grown and actively helping their mother during hunts, marking the beginning of their independence. Soon, the young male will have to set off on his own in search of a new territory and pride. With this area belonging to the River Pride males, he may have to face the difficult choice of fighting for a place among them or venturing farther afield to establish his own domain. 

In a dramatic turn of events, one of the River Pride males, the young Owino male, found himself seeking refuge high up in a tree after a bold but ill-fated attempt at hunting buffalo. The massive herd quickly turned the tables, chasing the young lion off the open plains and forcing him to climb for safety, an unusual sight, as lions aren’t natural climbers. Perched awkwardly on the branches, he kept a wary eye on the agitated buffalo below, who lingered for a while as if to remind him who truly rules the grasslands.

In a dramatic display of dominance, these two male ostriches were locked in a fierce battle to mate with a nearby female. With wings flared and feathers puffed out in full grandeur, they charged at each other with strength, each trying to prove his superiority.

Ostrich fights like these are a mix of power and performance, a test of stamina, agility, and sheer determination. Though they often look comical with their exaggerated postures and flailing plumes, the stakes are high: the victor earns not just bragging rights but the chance to pass on his genes. The defeated male retreated, leaving the triumphant suitor to claim his mate. — Japheth Supeyo

One evening at dusk, we found Noltulali resting with her two cubs. The young ones were restless, full of energy and curiosity, but one in particular had a spark of boldness that couldn’t be contained. Spotting a small herd of zebras and wildebeest grazing nearby, one cub decided it was time to imitate what it had often seen its mother and aunt do — stalk. In the short grass, it crouched low, or at least tried to. To its innocent mind, it was invisible, to the sharp eyes of its prey, it was anything but a threat. 

Noltulali followed a few steps behind, her gaze steady, a mother’s instinct aware of the danger. She knew that an inexperienced cub could easily provoke a defensive charge. Zebras and wildebeest may look harmless, but when threatened, they can turn into a wall of hooves and horns capable of injuring even a full-grown lion. 

After a few comical attempts at stealth and a short, chaotic chase, the cub gave up, and attention was drawn to a nearby rock. There, the cubs played and pounced on each other, burning off the last of their evening energy before disappearing into the tall elephant grass, their safe refuge for the night. 

The following morning, we found the Kimana Sanctuary Pride again, this time with the spoils of a successful hunt. A zebra lay just by the roadside, and the Pride gathered around it triumphantly. Memusi was carefully covering the blood-soaked earth with dust, a literal act of 'covering her tracks.' She knew the scent of fresh blood could travel far, carried by the morning wind to alert nearby scavengers. 

As the Pride fed, the cubs tumbled around, playfully wrestling and tugging at scraps, while Male 263 lounged nearby, his massive frame radiating calm authority. 

I captured a moment that spoke volumes: one of the cubs lay before him, framed perfectly between my lens and his unflinching stare. In that single frame, time seemed to pause, the cub’s future standing before the very protector who ensures its survival.

As we drove toward the Hippo Pool for our evening drive, a lone giraffe reached for the top of a yellow-barked Vachellia tree, its long neck fully stretched as it wrapped its tongue around the tender leaves.

Giraffes are among the few browsers capable of feeding at such heights, often reaching up to six meters beyond the reach of most herbivores. 

A few moments later, we arrived at the Hippo Pool. The water seemed calm, a mirror reflecting the fading sky. A pod of hippos floated quietly, only their eyes and nostrils breaking the surface. Without warning, a massive male hippo erupted from the water, sending ripples across the pool. It looked like something had startled him from beneath, but it was more likely a display of dominance. 

Male hippos are fiercely territorial, especially when females or space are at stake. Despite their seemingly lazy daytime behaviour, they are among the most dangerous animals in Africa, capable of charging at 30km/h.

The last light of day shimmered on their wet backs, calm returned to the pool, and the hippos resettled into the water. 

The morning at Amboseli National Park began with a spectacular sight, a male kori bustard performing his courtship display. With his neck feathers puffed up like a feathery balloon and his head held high, he strutted proudly across the open plain, hoping to impress a nearby female. 

The kori bustard is the heaviest flying bird in Africa, with males weighing up to 18 kilograms and standing nearly a metre tall. Despite their bulk, they can take to the air when necessary, though they prefer to walk gracefully through the savannah in search of insects, small reptiles, and seeds. 

Later that day, the skies cleared, revealing some parts of Mount Kilimanjaro. The swamps shimmered beneath it, reflecting the snow-capped peak so clearly it looked like a painting come to life.

Not far, a flamboyance of flamingos gathered in the shallow waters. Their pink plumage reflected pink in the water, and each bird stood with near-perfect symmetry, the scene was dreamlike. 

We later caught up with Craig, the legendary Super Tusker. He is one of Africa’s few remaining elephants whose tusks nearly brush the ground. I took a few low-angle shots as he strolled through the short tuft shrubs.

Craig is a living symbol of endurance and protection. His survival is evident in decades of conservation work that have kept the jumbos safe in the shadow of Mount Kilimanjaro. 

During an evening drive at Kimana Sanctuary, we came across Motonyi. A lone female cheetah, moving with intent through the tufted short grass. Her body language spoke of focus, shoulders low, tail balancing every step. A swirl of dust rose in the distance, and before we could process it, the chase was over, and there she stood, her jaws locked around a Thomson’s gazelle.

Motonyi wasted no time. She fed quickly, tearing into her hard-earned meal as the light faded, her eyes constantly scanning the horizon. For a cheetah that hunts alone, the struggle doesn’t end with the catch, it’s about keeping it. Lions, leopards, and even hyenas could easily overpower her. Every bite was a race against time, every glance a risk calculation. As the sun dipped below the horizon, she faded into the grass. — Rio Marvin