This Week At Angama #83

 The wildebeest have come to the Mara
And undoubtedly this can only mean drama
The sound they will make
Chaos left in their wake
Enjoy This Week At Angama

 

There once was a lion in the grass
Whose prowess none could ever surpass
He could see the beast coming
In fact he was running
If only he could get off his @&$

 

The wildebeest picked up a few of his friends
Just how many? Well, that really depends
They kept heading north
Known as the Migration henceforth
But this is a journey that never ends 

 

People came from all over the world to see
Because long ago it was probably free
They sat in their cars
Cameras mounted on bars
A remarkable sight you’d agree 

 

The group of wildebeest got so very large
With so many around they began to recharge
The direction was confused
The people sat amused
Because no-one knew who was in charge 

 

Then all of a sudden they ran through the mud
All you could hear was the deafening thud
They kept on going 
With no respite showing
Sadly, this could only end in shed blood

 

Right here in the Mara reflections abound
Lucky for me, my photography was sound
I looked for the stripes
There weren’t many types
“But they all look the same” – now that was profound 

 

This stubborn zebra just couldn’t care less
She wouldn’t let me pass with any success
I patiently waited
Whilst she masticated
When will she be done? I can only guess

 

Later on down by the great Mara river
In anticipation, the crocodile began to shiver
He’d been waiting so long
Would he still be so strong?
All he craved for was some tasty wildebeest liver

 

Meanwhile, on the banks of the river they waited
For a crossing to see, they would be elated
They sat for so long
Their humour was gone
Oh what tomfoolery we have created

 

The king of the Mara simply couldn’t care
Whether the Migration was here or over there
His mind had wondered 
The kill he had squandered
Instead, it was time to plan for his heir

 

Another lion moved in close
So fat he was completely gross
He snuck up on the beast
He wanted a feast
Who would be alert the most?

 

All at once it happened so fast
Awestruck and amazed, my guests sat aghast
The lion ran it down
And pulled off its crown
Sadly this tree meant I couldn’t see past

 

Next the vultures arrived on the scene
It was their turn for their fill of protein
They started to land
With wings out fanned
Seeking out some leftovers to clean

 

Some say photography should be an art
So perhaps I should tell you right from the start
I slow the shutter down
And look like a clown
That’s fine, as long as it appeals to the heart

 

You may know that it is exceptionally rare
Despite its impressive dental-wear
To see a big pig 
With meat for his gig
A poor photograph would make me despair

 

High up in a tree she lay sleeping
Her rosettes were very in keeping
She blended of course
Showed little remorse
We knew she was probably peeping

 

There was a young bird from the marsh
Whose call was so very harsh
Her friends called her Francolin
But she did prefer Jacqueline
If only she could get rid of her moustache

 

This is the view from Angama
Probably the best in the Mara
When you visit
Whether sunny or moonlit
You will need to reapply your mascara

THIS WEEK A YEAR AGO

 

While it’s true the marabou stork
May rather closely resemble an orc
He plays a crucial part
Right from the start
Be careful who you call a dork