This Week at Angama #424

Safaris at night are exhilarating; anything could come out of the bushes, so guests were delighted when the radio crackled to life. Memusi and Male 263 were nudging each other, so we shone a red light towards them. Then low, squealing growls came pitter-pattering out of the grass — a litter of cubs.

This sighting is incredible news because when their story began, we hoped that Kimana Sanctuary would be a space for the lions to grow and maybe even rewrite the future of lions in this fragile ecosystem. Now, looking back, it’s incredible to consider how this Sanctuary has flourished. Thanks to the partnership between Big Life Foundation and Kimana Sanctuary’s community owners, the lions here feel this area is safe, so they are comfortable staying and growing their family.

Beneath the towering presence of Mount Kilimanjaro, the Sanctuary was calmer than usual.  The large gatherings of elephants have been fewer this week. Only small groups have been seen passing through, pausing to feed on scattered shrubs, as most herds seem to have shifted toward the greener, more lush areas within Amboseli National Park.

With recent weather changes, the park’s wetlands and swamps have become rich feeding grounds, offering fresh grass and reliable water sources. For elephants, these lush places are hard to resist, especially during periods when vegetation outside the park becomes thinner.  

The sun rose as we continued our safari drive towards the park. Just near the entrance, a herd of African cape buffalo had chosen an open space to rest after a long night of grazing. The sun stretched across the dusty ground, revealing adults and young ones lying close together in a tight, protective formation. Most of the herd remained settled on the ground, calmly chewing cud, a sign that their stomachs were busy digesting the grasses they had fed on during the night. 

From a distance, the scene looked peaceful, but up close, it was clear that even at rest, the buffalo remained highly alert. Now and then, one adult would slowly rise to its feet, lifting its heavy head to scan its surroundings. Their ears flicked at the smallest sounds. The young calves stayed close to their mothers. Some looked curious, staring toward the entrance as if studying every movement around them. The adults formed a loose circle, a natural defence that kept the younger ones protected in the centre — all alert and communicating to ensure their safety from any lurking predators.  

After nearly an hour of driving through the dusty tracks, just as the morning light was growing stronger, Guide Derrick slowed the vehicle and pointed toward a distant tree. Perched among the branches was an impressive raptor, the eastern chanting goshawk. The goshawk contrasted beautifully against the morning sky. Its sharp, hooked beak and piercing yellow eyes gave it a serious, focused expression.

The eastern chanting goshawk is known for its calm but commanding posture. Unlike some birds of prey that circle high in the sky, this species often prefers to sit on exposed branches, fence posts, or termite mounds, using its height to watch for movement below. Its name comes from its distinctive call, a loud, rhythmic chanting sound that echoes across the savannah, especially during early mornings.

Its long tail and strong legs are important for efficient ground hunting. They prey on small mammals, reptiles, and insects, making them skilled hunters in the open landscapes. Their patience is one of their greatest strengths, waiting quietly until the perfect moment to strike. 

In the beautiful Ol Tukai Swamp, flocks of lesser and greater flamingoes gathered together in the flooded plains. Some rested by balancing on one leg while others moved slowly in groups, sweeping their curved bills from side to side just below the surface, feeding on algae and tiny organisms stirred up by the rising water.

The increase in water levels has created ideal feeding conditions for flamingoes. When water rises, it brings fresh nutrients and encourages the growth of algae, their primary food source. This is why these magnificent birds flock together when the wetlands are full. The shallow, mineral-rich waters provide both safety and an abundant food supply, allowing the birds to remain in the area longer.

The ibises, on the other hand, use their long, curved bills to probe deeper into mud and shallow water, searching for larger prey such as worms, beetles, frogs, and small fish. Because they feed on different types of food, they can live side by side without interfering with each other’s feeding habits. Another reason for this peaceful coexistence is safety. Wetlands like Ol Tukai Swamp offer clear visibility, allowing birds to detect predators from a distance.

Watching the flamingoes, African sacred ibis, and glossy ibis sharing the same water space felt like witnessing nature's agreement. Each species played its role, feeding in its own way while benefiting from the same rising waters — clear evidence that wetlands are among the most productive habitats.

After a short drive from the swamp, the water was still, and a lone black-winged stilt stood, its slender figure perfectly mirrored in the calm surface below. The black-winged stilt is known for its striking appearance, especially its extremely long, thin pink legs, which seem almost too delicate to support its body.

For several moments, the bird moved slowly and carefully, lifting each leg with precision before placing it gently back into the water. This slow, graceful movement is one of the species’ key characteristics, allowing it to hunt efficiently without disturbing the surface too much. The stilt feeds mainly on small aquatic insects, larvae, and tiny crustaceans, which are abundant in shallow wetlands.

By the end of the week at Kimana Sanctuary, Guides struggled to find Noltulali and the older cubs. For hours, their tracks and signs were followed, but the pride remained hidden, blending perfectly into the landscape. The sun was already leaning toward the afternoon when, at last, movement was spotted in the distance. There, high up in the branches of a sturdy tree, was the Noltulali and the cubs, resting and watching from above.

For weeks, the cubs have been seen on fallen tree trunks. This experience has given them the confidence to climb a tree.

Tree-climbing behaviour in lions, though rare, happens for several reasons. One major reason is that comfort trees provide shade and a cool resting place, especially during warmer hours. Being elevated also helps lions escape biting insects found on the ground and gives them a better vantage point to observe movement across the plains. 

In Kimana Sanctuary, moments like this become unforgettable highlights, proof that patience during a long search can lead to the most rewarding discoveries.—Arnold Omandi

The movement of the Nyati males into the northern reaches of the Triangle has brought a wave of aggression, disrupting what was once a relatively stable territory held by the River Pride. With clear intent to expand their range, the Nyati boys pushed northward, only to be met by the resident males, the Nomad and the Owino male.

What followed was a brief but intense confrontation between the males. In the chaos, the Nomad male disappeared entirely and has not been seen since, leaving a noticeable void in the Pride’s defence. The Owino male, however, stood his ground and, alongside the lionesses of the River Pride, engaged the invading males in a fierce and determined resistance. 

For lion prides, a takeover is one of the most brutal realities of life in the wild, especially when cubs are involved. Incoming males often attempt to eliminate young cubs to bring females back into estrus and secure their own lineage. It is a harsh but deeply ingrained survival strategy. In response, lionesses fight relentlessly, risking serious injury and even death to protect their young.

Reports from the encounter indicate that the River Pride’s defence was formidable. The Nyati males were eventually forced to retreat, with injuries sustained on both sides, and one of the Nyati males reportedly taking a severe beating. In the aftermath, the River Pride moved further north, putting distance between them and the threat and prioritising the safety of their cubs.

Weeks later, as the northern territory begins to settle, the pride cautiously makes its way back toward its familiar range. Moving quietly and with heightened awareness, they travel with their cubs under the watchful presence of the Owino male.

Yet the tension remains far from over. Just south of Shieni Bridge, two Nyati males are holding their ground — well-fed, patient, and waiting. Their presence alone is enough to keep the River Pride on edge, and any movement north of their location could quickly reignite conflict.

Keeping a careful distance from the growing conflict around him, the sub-adult male of the Angama lioness is a young lion navigating a precarious stage of life. For males his age, the danger is ever-present. To dominant males, he represents future competition, and in the wild, it is often easier to eliminate a threat early than face it later. Instinctively, he keeps to the margins, avoiding confrontation and staying out of sight whenever possible. Yet he is not entirely alone. For now, he keeps close to his mother and sisters as he survives in this delicate balance, old enough to be noticed, yet not strong enough to defend himself.

Earlier this year, in the northern reaches of the Triangle, we were fortunate to encounter a shy leopardess guarding her kill, an elusive presence that disappeared as quietly as she had appeared. This week, she returned.

Once again, she chose the safety of a tree, her kill hoisted high into the branches. The carcass is both her prize and her protection, safely out of reach from scavengers that roam the ground below.

Leopards are, by nature, secretive and solitary. Yet in seeking refuge in the trees, they paradoxically become more visible, exposed to the watchful eyes of eager onlookers below. For this leopardess, it is a delicate balance — safety from rivals traded for brief moments in the spotlight.

Despite the attention, she remained alert, attentive, and highly vigilant. But as more eyes gathered beneath her perch, the pressure grew. In true leopard fashion, the sleek feline will choose discretion over display, slipping away with ghost-like ease, her stashed kill a tell-tale sign of her presence.

The three Siligi males, a treasured cheetah coalition in the Triangle, continue to captivate all who encounter them. For some time now, the brothers have shown a clear preference for the northern reaches of the Triangle, settling into a rhythm that has brought both consistency and excitement to recent sightings. 

Known for their wide-ranging movements between the Mara Triangle and the Serengeti across the Tanzania border, their extended stay is both reassuring and rewarding. Seeing them comfortable and at ease in this landscape is a remarkable opportunity to observe their bond and behaviour. On occasion, their presence can even be appreciated from afar, visible through a telescope from the Angama high point deck as they move across the plains below.  —Robert Sayialel