This Week at Angama #430

One of the more intriguing characters within the Kimana Sanctuary is a young male lion known as Tuli. Smaller and younger than the dominant males, M263 and Osunash, Tuli has learned to survive through caution rather than confrontation. Quiet and elusive by nature, he carefully avoids direct conflict, keeping mostly to the western side of the Sanctuary, an area less frequently used by the resident pride.

Living alone is never easy for a young male lion. Without the backing of a coalition or pride, every hunt matters and every encounter carries risk. Yet Tuli seems to be adapting well to his solitary existence, using the bushy cover of the western plains to stalk prey unnoticed. 

Nearby, two warthogs were engaged in a heated tussle, pushing and jostling each other in a contest for dominance. So focused were they on each other that they failed to notice the lion lying concealed nearby. Our guest Nick Gorton had a front row seat and he capture these images. Sensing an opportunity, Tuli suddenly sprang into action. The chase was short and explosive, but luck favoured the warthogs this time. At the very last moment, they caught sight of his approach and scattered before he could secure a kill. 

In the quiet calm at the end of the day, silhouetted against the glowing horizon, the other lions rested quietly while Memusi remained alert, keeping watch over the younger cubs as they played atop a fallen tree. The scenery displayed a striking contrast of the innocence of playful cubs framed against the steady, protective presence of the lioness and the dramatic colours of the African sunset. 

On a drive through Amboseli National Park, we encountered a lone female cheetah resting gracefully in the open plains. Though she appeared calm and composed, she would occasionally rise and scan the horizon assessing her surroundings before settling again. In the wild, vigilance is survival, and for a cheetah, complacency can be costly.

We suspect this magnificent female may be the mother of the recently independent coalition of five male sub-adult cheetahs that had been seen in the area. If so, this would mark a significant chapter in her life as a mother.

Female cheetahs invest immense effort into raising cubs, teaching them how to hunt, avoid danger, and survive in an unforgiving landscape. Once the young males mature, they eventually separate from their mother to begin lives of their own, often forming lifelong coalitions with their brothers. 

Among the iconic elephants of Amboseli National Park, few are as recognizable as Lorna, a celebrated female from the renowned LD family. She is admired for her remarkably long, straight tusks that give her an elegant and commanding presence. Female elephants carry tusks that are often slenderer and more refined compared to those of males.  

Unlike bull elephants, females generally do not rely on their tusks for dominance battles or intense fighting. Instead, their tusks serve practical purposes in daily survival, stripping bark from trees, digging for water or minerals, moving vegetation, and protecting their young when necessary.

Lorna’s tusks, though thinner, are exceptionally graceful. In tow behind her were these lovely little calves, hurriedly following her to cross the road, wary of the people admiring them.

The Crowned Eagle is formidable hunter and one of Africa’s most powerful and elusive birds of prey. This magnificent raptor is recognised by its striking crest and piercing yellow eyes.

These raptors are one of the strongest eagles relative to body size anywhere in the world. It is capable of taking surprisingly large prey such as monkeys, small antelope, and other mammals.

Helmeted guineafowl are highly social and one of Africa’s most recognisable ground birds, often seen moving in lively groups across open grasslands and bush country. Their tiny chicks, often called keets, are covered in soft brown and cream-striped down, blending perfectly into their surroundings and offering protection from predators during their vulnerable early days. From the moment they hatch, these energetic little birds are constantly on the move, quickly learning to forage for insects and seeds while staying tightly grouped for safety. —Robert Sayialel

No two mornings ever feel the same, familiar, yet never quite the same. The Mara has a way of letting you slow down, breathe deeply, and appreciate the fleeting moments that so easily pass unnoticed. As the golden light stretched farther across, it felt like the land was welcoming us back into its story once again. 

A buffalo emerged quietly through the tall grass with a red-billed oxpecker perched effortlessly between its horns. It was one of those scenes that could easily pass unnoticed at first glance, yet the longer you looked, the more everything seemed to fall perfectly into place. The symmetry of the horns, the tiny bird glowing against the dark texture of the buffalo’s skin. What made the moment special was not action, but detail. The oxpecker occasionally shifted its footing while the buffalo moved calmly, completely unbothered by the presence above it.

Further along, a young elephant calf emerged from the grass. Ears stretched wide and trunk swinging freely as it ran toward us with the kind of confidence only the young seem to carry. Every few steps felt almost choreographed, a playful little dance through the green grass while its sibling watched calmly from behind. Then came the moment that made everyone laugh. The calf did a smile with one of its cheek, almost like a cheerful smile directed straight at us, before pausing with a face that looked unmistakably curious and full of character. It was impossible not to smile back.

Sometimes photography begins long before pressing the shutter. It starts with a feeling, an idea quietly forming in your mind while you wait for the wild to either ignore you completely or somehow align with your vision.

For a brief moment, everything fell into place. Framed perfectly beneath the towering giraffe in front of us stood another giraffe in the distance, almost hidden within the natural window created between its legs. What had started as an idea suddenly became real. The foreground softened, the background aligned, and the image transformed into something layered far beyond a simple wildlife sighting. It was one of those deeply satisfying photographic moments where patience, instinct, and the unpredictability of the wild briefly meet in harmony. While the guests remained captivated by the giraffe nearby, I found myself smiling behind the camera, grateful that the Mara had quietly answered a creative thought I had not spoken out loud. 

Not long after, the radio crackled with a news of the Border Pride on the move toward one of the Inselbergs scattered across the border plains. By the time we arrived, one by one, the lions emerged through the tall grass. With no urgency in their movement, they stretched out across the hillside in a slow moving line as they climbed toward higher ground.

Further behind, partially swallowed by the grass, one of the males followed alone. At times, only the dark mane was visible, drifting slowly through the pale gold grass before disappearing again. As the pride finally reached the rocks, each lion seemed to choose its own resting place with perfect intention. Some collapsed onto the warm stones while others disappeared into the grass around the hill, their sandy coats blending effortlessly into the landscape. Within minutes, the Inselberg transformed into a kingdom at rest. 

Leaving the resting pride behind, we continued driving toward the invisible line that separates Kenya from Tanzania. Out on the open plains, the border beacons stood quietly among the grass while, beyond them, the Serengeti stretched endlessly into the distance. 

Then, resting atop the dark volcanic rock on the Tanzanian side, were two very familiar faces from a previous chapter of this story. The same mating pair from the Border Pride we had followed earlier in the week had settled themselves high above the plains like honeymooners escaping the rest of the world.

We could not cross the border, but from where we stood, the view felt perfect. Then the male slowly rose, stretched against the skyline, and once again mated with the lioness before standing tall above her on the rock.

Later in the week, a lone Coke’s hartebeest stood alert against the pale backdrop of the escarpment.  Within their movements is an entire language invisible to the human eye.

Hartebeests, have specialised scent glands that play an important role in communication and territorial behaviour. Beneath their eyes lie deep preorbital glands that dominant males use to leave scent markings on grass stems and twigs, while glands hidden between their hooves leave chemical trails across the plains with every step they take.

Further along the road, a pair of impalas walked ahead of us, their black-marked hind legs catching the eye with every stride. Unlike most African antelopes, impalas possess unique metatarsal glands located just above their hind hooves, identified by the distinct dark tufts of hair on the backs of their legs. 

Thomson’s gazelles, too, rely heavily on their own preorbital glands beneath the eyes, using scent to define territory and communicate dominance. It is fascinating to realise that another quieter world exists beneath it all, one built on invisible trails and silent messages carried across the grasslands by scent alone. 

As the day slowly folded into evening, we crossed one of the seasonal rivers. Resting quietly beneath the reflections was a hippopotamus, its wet skin catching the last rays of the setting sun. Droplets sparkled around its head with every deep breath it released.

For most of the day, hippos remain submerged in water, basking, resting, and digesting after a long night of grazing across the plains. 

On our way back to the lodge, something very raw and natural took place. Nala stood atop a termite mound, her eyes fixed on a lone female buffalo standing unusually far from the herd. The distance itself told a story, though we did not yet understand it. The buffalo moved nervously, giving deep distress calls and trying to lure Nala in the opposite direction. 

Buffalo mothers will often separate themselves after giving birth, hiding their calves carefully in tall grass while remaining nearby to protect them. But Nala had already read the plains correctly. She moved low and deliberate, completely ignoring every distraction around her. Her attention was fixed on one hidden point in the grass. 

Then came the moment that silenced all of us. In one sudden burst, she disappeared into the grass and emerged carrying what the mother had been trying so desperately to protect. A buffalo calf, only a few hours old. The cries of the mother echoed behind her as Nala dragged the calf, and moments later, all we could hear were bones cracking somewhere beyond sight. Brutal, heartbreaking, and deeply natural. 

That was Mara ending the week in the rawest way possible.  —Marvin Mwarangu