This Week at Angama #413

The Salt Lick male leopard of the Triangle was a delightful sighting for guests on safari this week. Perched high in a sausage tree, he sat in full splendour, entirely at ease in his elevated domain. When he finally descended, he did so with remarkable control and grace, effortlessly negotiating the trunk as his powerful claws dug in, providing just the right amount of friction. 

Leopards are unrivalled when it comes to life in the trees. Their semi-retractile claws, powerful forelimbs, and flexible ankles allow them to climb both up and down with ease, often headfirst, something few big cats can manage with confidence.

Trees serve multiple purposes for them: a refuge from heat, insects, and rival predators, a secure place to stash kills away from scavengers, and a vantage point from which to survey their surroundings. 

It's always wonderful to see the Siligi male cheetahs, especially since their long absence. It's reassuring to see the three brothers comfortable and settling into the northern reaches of the Triangle. As the grasses grow taller with the season, visibility for them is becoming increasingly challenging.

Unlike ambush predators, cheetahs rely heavily on clear sightlines and open terrain to identify prey and execute their high-speed chases. To adapt, cheetahs frequently seek out gentle rises, such as termite mounds or fallen trees, offering vantage points to scan the plains for movement. 

The incursion of the Nyati males into the northern reaches of the Triangle continues to reshape the local lion dynamics. This week, the Angama lioness was observed mating with a different Nyati male, while the others remained close by, carefully monitoring the interaction. Such behaviour is not unusual as lionesses are known to employ pseudo-estrus, mating with multiple males to confuse paternity. This strategy can reduce the risk of future cub loss by making males less uncertain which offspring is theirs. 

Life, however, has been particularly challenging for this lioness. Raising cubs alone in a territory frequently contested by incoming males is one of the most demanding tasks a lioness can face. Without the consistent protection of a stable coalition, her cubs are constantly vulnerable to male takeovers, which often result in cub mortality. Each incursion brings renewed danger, forcing her to remain highly mobile, secretive, and continually alert. 

Baboons live in highly social troops, and this social structure is reflected even in how their young are born into the world. Although they do not have strict seasonal breeding, olive baboons often exhibit birth clustering, in which several females give birth within a relatively short period. This loose synchronisation offers essential advantages as infants grow up alongside peers and mothers benefit from shared vigilance.  

From the moment they are born, baboon infants are capable of holding on. In their earliest days, newborns cling tightly to the underside of their mother’s belly, using strong hands and feet to grasp her fur as she moves, feeds, and travels with the troop. This ventral carrying keeps the infant protected, warm, and close to the mother’s heartbeat, while also allowing her to move freely across the terrain.

As the infants grow stronger and more curious, they gradually transition to riding on their mother’s back. From this higher perch, they gain a better view of the world, observing social interactions and learning the dynamics of troop life. Constant physical contact between mother and infant is essential, providing safety, nourishment, and the foundation for survival in the complex social world of olive baboons. 

Defassa waterbuck live in a structured social system centred around dominant territorial males. This harem-based system favours strong, experienced males as only those capable of defending territory successfully can breed.

Mating occurs year-round, with no strict breeding season. When a female comes into estrus, the resident male closely guards her, driving away rival males and ensuring mating opportunities. After a gestation period of about eight months, females leave the group briefly to give birth in thick cover. A single calf is born, well developed, but kept hidden for the first few weeks of life.  — Robert Sayialel

This week we spent time watching a bull elephant dusting himself, a familiar but endlessly fascinating behavior. By coating their bodies with dust and mud, these giants protect their skin from the sun, help regulate their body temperature, and rid themselves of ticks and parasites. What looks like play is, in truth, essential care. 

As I watched, something struck me. Elephants do not choose dust for its colour, they do not reject one place for another. They take what is there, using it purely for its benefit. In that moment, it felt like a lesson worth carrying. Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, there is value to be found if it serves you. Do not be too choosy about the form it comes in.

With Guide Sabore, we came across a family of elephants moving calmly through the Sanctuary. Their direction soon became clear; they were heading toward a place of memory. Around seven months ago, an elephant matriarch died here, and although time has softened the landscape, her remains have not yet fully returned to the earth. 

Only two young females moved forward, gently encouraging the calves to follow. We believe these cows were likely her direct offspring, drawn more strongly to their mother’s final resting place. They paused for several minutes, touching the skull with their trunks in what felt unmistakably like recognition and respect, while the rest of the family stood nearby. Then, as quietly as they had arrived, they moved on together, continuing toward the river for water. 

As we headed toward the swamp, hoping to catch the hippos outside the water, my attention was drawn to something far smaller. A quick movement flashed through a scatter of dead logs. A tree squirrel, small, fast, and beautifully agile, it paused just long enough to be noticed before disappearing again.

It was a brief glimpse into one of the many lives that exist quietly behind the scenes. Kimana Sanctuary is full of such animals, subtle, swift, and often overlooked, yet each one plays its part in the greater rhythm of this landscape. 

It's a given to spot beautiful birds in Amboseli and this week I photographed a northern red-billed hornbill a charismatic and familiar figure in this landscape. With its bold bill and buoyant flight, it moved confidently between branches, feeding on insects and seeds. 

Another feathered resident was a juvenile isabelline shrike, still learning the ways of the savannah. Shrikes are often known as 'butcher birds,' famous for their hunting technique of impaling prey on thorns or branches.  

Completing the trio was the dideric cuckoo, more often heard than seen. Its repetitive call is one of the sounds that signals changing seasons in the bush. As a brood parasite, it lays its eggs in the nests of other birds.

Another incredible, and entirely unexpected sighting this week came in the form of a young python, coiled high in a tree, moments after catching an unsuspecting ring-necked dove.

Pythons are often thought of as slow and sluggish, creatures of patience rather than speed. Yet this encounter told a very different story. To catch a bird, something that can leap into flight in an instant, requires extraordinary timing and precision. In a matter of seconds, the python struck, wrapping herself tightly around her prey. Almost as quickly as it began, the scene disappeared. Still coiled around the dove, she dropped to the ground and vanished into the dense thicket below, the bush swallowing her from sight. 

Male 263 continues his tireless role in the pride, not only protecting it but also raising the cubs alongside the lionesses. This week, we caught a glimpse of them early in the morning, with Kilimanjaro standing proudly in the background.

The scene was majestic: the pride resting beneath the shade of a bush, while the lionesses ventured off to hunt. Male 263 stayed behind, watching over the cubs and keeping a vigilant eye on his domain, a gentle giant in the art of babysitting, embodying both strength and care. — Japheth Supeyo