the great wildebeest migration

After two nights in the wild, Aman and I had learned several things of interest.  For example:

• Lions are way more afraid of humans than humans are afraid of lions; 
• Elephants have extremely poor eyesight, but an excellent sense of smell; 
• Everyone in East Africa knows that New York's B&H Photo is the best camera store in the world; and
• My limited knowledge of Swahili comes primarily from watching Disney's The Lion King as a teenager...

Go figure.  By now, it was morning three of our five-day/four-night safari in the Maasai Mara, and we awoke to a daily delivery of fresh coffee and biscuits to our tent, brought to us by a red blanket-clad Maasai member of Naboisho's staff.

Today was the big day.  The day that we were scheduled to leave the quiet comforts of the Naboisho Conservancy and journey to the neighboring and comparatively more crowded Maasai Mara National Reserve.  The purpose of our excursion was to capture a glimpse of that moment which so perfectly embodies the immensity and perilous nature of the great wildebeest migration.  The dramatic moment that the wildebeest face predacious crocodiles -- not to mention the very real risk of being stampeded to death -- while crossing the Mara River as part of their migration north from the Serengeti plains to Kenya in search of fresh pastures.  Keep in mind, the great migration is a natural phenomenon that involves the migratory movement of 1.5 million wildebeest, more or less, as well as hundreds of thousands of gazelles, zebras, topi and eland.  It is an awe-inspiring, momentous progression of large game.  The last of its kind in the world.

Our first exciting wildlife encounter of the day, however, had nothing to do with wildebeest.  Rather, it involved one of the "big five," a leopard, which we came upon as we made our way to the Mara River.  (Characterized as the five most difficult animals in Africa to hunt on foot, the "big five" game are lion, leopard, African elephant, Cape buffalo and rhinoceros.)  The leopard is a relatively elusive animal.  Neither I nor Aman had ever seen one before.  Thus, we were pretty stoked to join the dozen or so safari vehicles encircling a dense thicket of brush where we were told that a leopard had been spotted minutes before we stopped.  We -- me, Aman, and our safari buddies, Richard and Craig -- popped out of the open hatches of our cruiser.  We stared at the bush, at which point, I saw... well, nothing.  Our guides, Benjamin and Christine, took quick turns peering through a pair of binoculars and then skillfully pointed to the exact location of the leopard in the shrubs.  Still, I saw nothing.  Are you sure there's a leopard in there, I asked Benjamin.  It's right there, he said non-chalantly.  Really, I asked again incredulously.  It was about this time that I began to accept another basic truth:  I am the world's worst wildlife spotter.  (Aman is infinitely better.)

Patiently, quietly, we sat until finally I saw it!  A full-grown leopard came creeping out of the shadows of the bush and into the open grassland where a dozen or so gazelles were grazing nearby.  Amazing how unperturbed the leopard was by all of the vehicles and tourists, using the parked cruisers to help sneak up on the gazelles and lie in wait.  The gazelles were much more freaked out by the motorized vehicles and promptly began hightailing out of the area, one-by-one.

Oh, and remember what we said about everyone in East Africa knowing that B&H Photo is the best camera store in the world?  Credit these guys.

Can't blame them though.  What a beautiful creature:

Sadly, there would be no kill that morning.  Right as the leopard honed in on one particularly weak-looking gazelle who, rather than gracefully and powerfully leaping to safer pastures, kind of lagged behind and walked around in a daze, a driver started the engine of his cruiser in an attempt to gain a better vantage point for his guests.  In the process, he rattled the leopard and, with all focus lost, the leopard aborted its attack. This, in turn, led one group of tourists from another cruiser to start cursing the driver of the first cruiser.  Man interfering with nature, fellow tourists flying into fits of safari rage... It was a disappointing finish to a promising start, that's for sure.

Agreeing that it was as good a time as any for breakfast, we drove to the nearby Talek River where Benjamin and Christine laid out a delicious picnic for us as we listened to a chorus of noisy hippos in the river below.  After we ate, we continued on towards the golden plains of the Mara, where we found that love was in the air.  Lions mating, hyenas mating, a ostrich flailing around on the ground in the midst of a mating dance... shameless beasts really.

We also saw a mother cheetah sauntering quietly through the tall grass with her cub. Benjamin explained that a cheetah would rarely, if ever, go after an animal as big as a zebra or topi. (The risk of injury is too great.)  Nevertheless, it was amazing how attentive the larger game became in the cheetahs' presence -- not turning their backs once, as if to say, don't even think about it.  

Eventually, we reached the banks of the Mara and it was time to spend some time observing the wildebeest.  To be sure, the beauty of the great migration does not come from the sum of its parts.  One of the more unfortunate-looking animals in the wild, the wildebeest -- together with maribou stork, warthog, vultures, and hyena -- are considered to be one of the "ugly five" animals of Africa.  Wildebeest are so unsightly, in fact, that someone once said that the animals appear as though they have been constructed with spare parts.  (Ouch.)  As we neared the riverbank, we passed large groups of them. Hundreds (if not thousands) more could be seen scattered around the endless plains with handfuls of zebra and topi interspersed among them.  Most of the game were pretty high up in the plains, far from the water's edge.  There were none crossing the river itself when we arrived, and the only evidence of prior recent crossings was not pretty, i.e., decaying animal carcasses in the water.  There was no shortage of vultures feasting on them too. (We will spare you the graphic photos on this one...)  We had a careful look and then moved downriver to find a large number of hippos and, of course, the dreaded crocodiles. 

What followed was an afternoon of sitting on top of the safari cruiser at the water's edge and waiting patiently to see what the wildebeest were inclined to do.  (Fortunately, someone packed a cooler full of Tusker for the day, which made the task of being patient so much easier.)  

Of those wildebeest that were on the lower plains, nearest to the river's edge, they lined up at times, facing the river and gradually moving towards it.  But ultimately, their numbers were not large enough and they lacked the momentum to make the crossing -- whatever impulse there was to cross the river dissipated the moment that one or two turned away and started to wander off back in the direction of the plains.  Another couple of wildebeest would follow moments later.  And so on, and so forth.  Benjamin explained that they needed the large groups to come down from the high plains and join the crowd before there was any movement across the river.  It was a big commitment to undertake and this was classic herd mentality, or so it seemed.

Based on everything that we saw, Benjamin suspected that the next crossing would probably take another day or two.  Thus, when a big storm appeared to form on the horizon, we packed it up and called it a day, fishtailing the entire way back to camp, along the water-sodden, rut-roads of the Mara plains.

In the end, we may not have seen the wildebeest make the perilous journey across the crocodile-infested Mara River.  This is not uncommon for a lot of safari-goers -- nature is unpredictable, after all.  Nevertheless, hakuna matata, or no worries, for those of you who never saw Disney's The Lion King.  We saw enough to say that we truly witnessed an important juncture in the great migration.  The sheer number of wildebeest and other migratory animals in the Mara -- not to mention their instinctive behavior about crossing the river -- was spectacular to watch.  By far, one of the most phenomenal experiences of the year.

day 270 (where the wild things are)

When we awoke, the humble water bottles that had been placed in our bed the night before remained warm at our feet.  Although it was still dark outside, a man's voice came from outside of our tent, cheerily saying, good morning.  We were expecting him and said, good morning, in return.  The man was one of the camp's staff and a member of the local Maasai community, which was evident by the red cloth blanket that he had tied around his shoulders, a distinctive and favorite mode of dress for the Maasai people.  He had come to wake us and give us our tray of morning coffee and biscuits.  Aman greeted him at the front of our tent, and took the tray from him gladly.

We had thirty minutes to get ready before the gentleman would be back to escort us to the mess hall.  (Given the early hour, we could not walk outside by ourselves.  For safety reasons, there were night watchmen with shotguns that accompanied us from tent to mess hall, and vice versa, after sundown and before sunrise.  Just in case... )  Our thirty minutes were gone in a flash but, when we heard him again saying, good morning, outside of our tent, signaling that it was time, we were good to go.  As we stepped out of our tent, dawn was breaking in the distance and the horizon was turning vibrant shades of red, rose-pink, orange and gold.  A light rain was tapering off, but it must have been raining for some time, because the ground was thoroughly soaked and softened by the rain.  Off we trudged.

A few minutes later, we entered the mess hall, which was still dim in the early dawn hour. There, we found Roelof, Richard and another guest, Jonathan, sitting at the dining table. We joined them for a bite to eat and to discuss the morning's agenda.  The walking safari that we had decided upon the night before would be scrapped, due to the weather. Roelof explained that, if the weather improved, then we could do the walking safari in the afternoon.  In the meantime, we would all jump in the safari vehicle and go for a game drive that morning.

Before we had time to contemplate our disappointment that the walking safari had been postponed, Christine entered.  The lions killed a zebra, she told Roelof.  A potentially rare sighting, it was time to move.  We dropped our forks, piled in one of the vehicles and took off, passing topi, zebras, impala and other wildlife as we drove along the rut-roads of the open grassland.  Thankfully, the kill had taken place nearby and it did not take long before we were upon the scene.  Also in our favor, the kill took place in the open grassland and had not been dragged off to the brush (a common enough practice that lions use to protect their hard-won prizes from other animals -- vultures, jackals, hawks), which gave us incredible, uninterrupted views of three full-grown male lions and one lioness ripping apart their kill.  Like these:

Incredible, right?  We sat there in silence and watched for a long, long time.  The only audible noise was the sound of teeth scraping and bones breaking as the lions pulled and twisted the carcass from all directions.  Savage, perhaps.  But more so, beautifully fascinating to witness such a phenomenal event.  Topi and zebra stood in the distance, like us, watching intently.  Jackals encircled the feeding lions, waiting for an opportunity to grab a scrap or two.  Eventually, the male lions had had their fill and simply walked away, abandoning the remains.

Where you going, big guy?

Not inclined to leave anything behind for the jackals standing by, the female lion carried the carcass away all by herself.  (Not an easy task, judging by how heavily she was panting when she was done and collapsed beneath the shade of a meager tree.)

A jackal snatched a hunk of meat that fell during the carry, but walked away pretty fast when a hawk also expressed interest in the scrap.

Reinforcing the truism that nothing goes to waste in the wild, all that was left behind at the site of the kill was the hairy tip of the zebra's tail.

Amazing.  We spent the rest of the morning drive observing elephants, which may, at first brush, sound relatively boring in comparison to the feeding behavior of big cats, but it was anything but.  I had never seen an African elephant before and was astonished at how much larger they were as compared to their Indian counterparts.  We loved how the full-grown females made the spindly trees of the barren region look like practical toothpicks.

Back at camp for brunch, our group filled everyone in on what we had seen that morning. It was amazing, we explained matter-of-factly while trying to suppress our excitement and ear-to-ear grins.  The weather had improved, and the sun was out.  We were sitting at the same red-and-white checkered-cloth table under the same tree in the same clearing off the mess hall where we had eaten lunch the day before.  In the distance, we saw zebras crossing the grassland.

Later in the afternoon, we met in the mess hall for our walking safari.  Including Roelof and Christine (our guides), there were nine of us, which Roelef said was the largest group that he had ever taken out on a walkabout.  Before we left, we went over some basic safety reminders:  no talking in loud voices, no wandering off, keep in a straight line, listen for instructions, do whatever Roelof tells you to do, and for God's sake, don't run if approached by a lion...

Setting out was awesome.  We encountered (from a safe distance) some wildebeest (who took off like the wind when they saw us) and daringly made our way between two breeding herds of elephants (i.e., super protective families of elephants that include young, which no one in their right mind would suggest to approach).  We studied flora and learned how termites are indirectly responsible for the existence of several burrowing animals that live in the region (yay, termites).  Above all else, it was very special simply to be in the environment of "the wild," which we remembered every time we stepped over a different pile of dung.  Eventually, the inclement weather threatened to set in (again). So Roelof made a call over the walkie-talkie, telling our pick-up driver where to meet us. When we got to the rendezvous spot, we had a great round of snacks and sundowners.

Our amazing and beautiful guide Christine (one of the first Maasai women to attend and graduate from the local guiding school, a huge accomplishment):

Over one shoulder, a storm loomed.  Over the other, with wildlife frolicking on the horizon, it was possibly the best sunset that we have EVER seen in our lives:

After a rousing dinner in the dining room that night, recounting stories with newfound friends about the day's events, as well as travels and life in general, Aman and I were escorted back to our luxurious tent.  We fell asleep that night to the far-off sounds of various wildlife -- lions roaring, elephants snapping tree branches -- and hot water bottles at our feet.  Wow...