This Week at Angama #420

This week, Mount Kilimanjaro stood proudly overlooking the Sanctuary, her snow-covered summit glowing softly beneath the early light. For much of the rainy season, clouds gently wrap around the mountain, hiding its summit like a secret waiting to be discovered. But on this particular morning, the skies parted just enough to unveil Africa’s tallest peak in all her quiet majesty. When Kilimanjaro appears like this, it doesn’t just shape the view. It shapes the entire mood of the safari. 

We encountered a small herd of elephants, not far from where the mountain watched over us. Elephants have developed fascinating ways to regulate their body temperature. One of the most noticeable behaviours is their constant ear flapping. Their ears have an intricate network of blood vessels, and by flapping them back and forth, elephants help cool the blood circulating through their bodies. In many ways, their ears function like natural cooling fans. 

Another favourite strategy is dust bathing. Using their trunks, elephants scoop loose soil and spray it over their backs. This layer of dust acts like sunscreen, protecting their sensitive skin from harsh sunlight while also helping to deter insects. Watching an elephant throw dust over its back is more than just a dramatic sight; it’s survival in action. 

While scanning the surrounding trees, another fascinating interaction caught our attention. Some colourful hybrids lovebirds had made their home inside a cavity within a weathered tree trunk. They often use natural hollows as nesting sites, creating safe spaces where they can rest, breed, and raise their young.  
 
In ecology, this interaction is described as commensalism, in which one species benefits while the other is largely unaffected. A specific form of this relationship is inquilinism, in which one organism uses another as shelter or living space. The lovebirds benefit from the protection of the tree cavity, while the tree itself is minimally impacted. 

The same ecological principle can be seen across the savannah in many forms. One familiar example occurs when cattle egrets follow elephants or buffalo. As these large animals move through the grass, they disturb insects hidden within the vegetation. The egrets quickly take advantage of the opportunity, feeding on the flushed insects while the grazers continue unaffected. This interaction is another example of commensalism, one of nature's many ways of a network of quiet partnership. 

Sometimes the most remarkable sightings are the ones easily overlooked. While scanning the ground ahead, I spotted a bird standing almost perfectly camouflaged against the earth, the three-banded courser, a species once widely known as Heuglin’s courser. 

These birds are masters of subtlety. With their beautifully patterned plumage blending seamlessly into the dry soil and grasses, they are incredibly difficult to spot unless you are paying close attention. Their large eyes enable them to remain highly alert to predators while foraging for insects along open ground. Unlike many birds that prefer perching in trees, coursers are creatures of the ground. They walk quickly across the plains with elegant movements, pausing occasionally to scan their surroundings. Finding one feels like discovering a small secret hidden in plain sight. 

Later in the week, the Sanctuary gifted us a scene that perfectly captured the spirit of Kimana. A lion cub had climbed onto a fallen tree, pausing as if to admire the landscape before it. Behind it, Mount Kilimanjaro once again rose above the horizon, its snowy crown framed by drifting clouds. Everything felt perfectly balanced.  
 
The cub, young, curious, and full of energy, represents the future of the Sanctuary. The mountain behind represented something much older, something timeless that has watched over these plains for thousands of years. The cub sat quietly, gazing out across the landscape as the evening light softened the colours of the savannah, as if the young one knew exactly where it belonged. —Marvin Mwarangu

Down in the southern reaches of the Mara Triangle, the Border Pride gathered around their successful buffalo kill. This pride, numbering nearly twenty lions, along with their two dominant males, took turns feeding on the massive carcass.  

Amid the feeding frenzy, a heartwarming new development emerged within the pride. Tiny cubs, only a couple of months old, were spotted on top of the kill. Still small, they nibbled curiously at the meat, experiencing the taste of blood for perhaps the first time.

These early moments are an important stage in a young lion’s life. While they still rely entirely on their mothers for nourishment and protection, the presence of a large kill offers them their first introduction to the realities of survival. Over time, these playful cubs will learn to stalk, chase, and hunt alongside the pride, transforming instinct into skill. 

After the juveniles of the pride had eaten their fill, a few wandered off toward a nearby tree to rest. Unlike the heavier adults, these younger lions are still relatively light and agile, making it easier for them to scramble up low branches when the opportunity presents itself. 

Although lions are not known as natural tree climbers like leopards, young individuals are often more adventurous and can clamber up slanted trunks or low-hanging branches. In this case, the leaning tree provided the perfect structure for an easy climb. 

A memorable encounter unfolded on the plains when a lone adolescent bull elephant encountered three rhinoceroses quietly grazing. Young bulls at this age are often curious and sometimes a little unsure of their place in the hierarchy, having recently begun spending more time away from the protective structure of their family herd. As the elephant approached, he slowed his pace, lifting his trunk repeatedly to test the air. The rhinos, stocky and calm, stood their ground, keeping a cautious eye on the newcomer.  

For a few moments, the two species shared the same space in a silent standoff, each assessing the other. The young elephant shifted his weight, flapping his ears and taking a few tentative steps closer, perhaps more curious than confrontational. The rhinos responded by turning slightly toward him, their posture firm but not aggressive. Sensing their resolve, the adolescent bull wisely decided not to push his luck. With a final glance, he veered off and continued on his path across the savannah, leaving the rhinos to resume their quiet grazing.  

Among the many birds that enliven the Mara’s landscapes, the striking Levaillant’s cuckoo is always a delightful sighting captured by Angama guest Antony Seeff. With its glossy green plumage, long tail, and distinctive red eye, this elegant bird often reveals itself through its loud, repetitive call long before it is seen. During the rainy season, these cuckoos become more active and vocal, moving through woodlands and riverine areas in search of caterpillars and other insects.  

Small groups of African openbill storks were seen roaming quietly through the tall grass and wetlands. These distinctive birds are easy to recognise by the unusual gap between their upper and lower mandibles, a feature that gives them their name. The open bill is not a defect; it is a specialised tool perfectly designed for their favourite prey. African openbills mainly feed on aquatic snails, especially apple snails. 

Their uniquely shaped bill allows them to grip the shell and skillfully extract the soft body inside. African openbills are seasonal migrants within Africa, moving in response to rainfall and the availability of wetlands. When rains fill seasonal marshes and floodplains, snail populations explode, drawing flocks of openbills to these feeding grounds. 

Once water levels drop and food becomes scarce, the birds move on in search of better habitats. Large flocks can often be seen flying across the open skies of the Mara ecosystem, sometimes forming loose groups as they travel between wetlands. While they are more commonly associated with lakes and marshlands, African openbills frequently visit the Mara Triangle when conditions are favourable.    

After heavy rains, temporary pools and flooded grasslands become perfect feeding areas. Watching them walk through the grass or glide silently across the plains is a reminder.

As the midday sun stood high above the open plains, it painted the grasslands in warm golden tones. In the middle of the savannah, a lone acacia tree stood like a watchtower above the sea of grass. Perched comfortably in its branches was a male leopard. From up there, he had a perfect view of the surrounding plains. Leopards often climb trees not only to rest but also to survey their territory and search for possible prey moving through the grass below. 

The height offers both safety and a strategic vantage point. For a while, he remained still, scanning the horizon patiently. The savannah seemed quiet. After spending some time watching from above, the leopard slowly began to move. With controlled precision, he shifted his weight and carefully descended the acacia's trunk. Leopards are exceptional climbers, capable of moving up and down trees with remarkable agility. —Robert Sayialel and Arnold Omondi