The 2022 Africa Journals, Chapter 12: Last Day at Amboseli National Park

 

Chapter 12:

Last Day at Amboseli National Park

All that the sun shines on is beautiful, so long as it is wild."

--John Muir

 

In my decades of driving in Alaska, I have developed a truism about Alaskan moose.   Simply put, it is:   No matter what side of the road a moose is on when you approach, it will  want to be on the other side.   And, it will act upon that urge with alacrity.

It has been proven true time and again with narrow misses.   I have never hit a moose but I had one run into my vehicle.   Another story, another time.

Now on my sixth trip to Africa, I suspect the same truism might apply to zebras and wildebeest.

A tree full of vultures.

Today is our last full day at Amboseli National Park in Kenya.   Tomorrow, we will travel east to Tsavo National Park for four nights at Finch Hatton's lodge.

But today, we are going to the lake by the Amboseli airstrip where life teems in and around the water.

Yellow-billed pelican..

We spot a kori bustard with Mt. Kilimanjaro in the background.   I have been trying to get photos of every animal I see with the mountain, but as we cannot get out of the vehicle to compose our photos or walk closer to those animals, what I get is one of those "ptarmigan in a snowstorm" photos.   The kind where the kori bustard is lost in the brush.

Look for the white new of the bird just off lower right center.

I already wrote about the screaming crowned lapwing and the five cheetahs with the ensuing traffic jam, so we can skip retelling that.

Plus, you saw photos of the elephant road block.   No point in repeating all of those.

But right after the elephants, we see a lion come out of the brush and approach what looks like a newly-deceased wildebeest, no doubt another casualty of the drought savaging this area.

Yes, the wildebeest is dead.   The posture is a certain indicator.

This current drought, which started in 2016, is most likely the worst in a number of years for Eastern Africa.   Some blame it on climate change although historical records indicate a 20-year drought that began in the 1820s is, so far, the worst drought in the last 200 years.   Lake Baringo, with a surface area of about 65 square miles and a depth of eight feet, dried up completely.

Continuous meteorological records have been kept only since 1870, so all data before that, except for the 1820-1830 event, is not available, except through anecdotal observations. 

It's always fun to see animals walking in a straight line.

Another severe drought occurred in the 1900s.

Who knows, really, what causes these droughts?    However, current opinions agree this drought is the worst in recent times  and it isn't over yet.

Eventually we reach the lake and the marshy area near it.   

We see a lesser flamingo missing a foot.   It seems to be doing okay.

There are birds of all varieties everywhere.    A breeze  has rippled the surface the large lake so the reflection photos we hoped for are not to be.

As we drive along, I notice a number of zebra sand wildebeest grazing along the side of the road.   A few second later, off they go!

"Stampede," I cry.   Across the road in front of us they gallop until they are all across and then they stop and go back to gazing as if nothing happened   Just like moose, I think to myself.

Zebras and wildebeest have something of a symbiotic relationship.   Some scientists think the zebras hang out with the wildebeest because predators are more likely to focus on the slower wildebeest.      (Reminds me of an old joke about always having someone slower with you if you're in bear country.)

Zebras will graze on taller grasses while the wildebeest eat the more tender grasses closer to the ground, so in that way they are agreeable grazers.

There's another reason.   Wildebeest and zebras combine to offer an excellent security system. Wildebeest have a superior sense of smell and hearing, while zebras contribute acute eyesight to warn of predators.   The smaller antelope like impalas will often be found near them, and the impala early warnings alert  the zebra and wildebeest of danger.

There is no doubt that of the two, the zebras are the most intelligent and have a keen memory.   This is essential during the annual migrations because zebra know where the safest routes are, while the sometimes aimless wildebeest just wander if there aren't zebra to lead the way.

We come upon a Goliath heron and I think of Randy who is in another vehicle and on his first trip to Africa.  I had to make five trips just to see one and six to photograph it.

Eye on the sky apparently.

Gray heron

Squacco heron

We go to the airstrip for a picnic breakfast and I notice a pied crow's nest on the communications tower.

Apparently the eggs haven't hatched or the babies are just hatchlings, because I never see any movement in the nest.

We start to head back and look what we find right alongside the road!   A boa has caught a coot and is doing what boas do.

A poor photo of the only malachite kingfisher I see, and I look at every stream crossing.

This is a glossy ibis.   I lightened the bird's body so you can see the colors that are visible when sunlight hits the dark feathers.

African jacana

Back at camp, the usual suspects are at the waterhole

A warthog mows the lawn.

This elephant is in its favorite spot in the waterhole.

In the late afternoon, we enter Amboseli National Park through the Kimana Gate for the last time.   We opt to go to the waterhole as it is the close.

The common waterbucks are  in their usual places and a male poses nicely.

We find a troop of baboons heading for the waterhole and follow along.

This female is carrying her baby under her belly while another infant hops alongside her.

The left hand of a baboon.   The hind "paws" are actually called feet.

Mourning doves at the waterhole.

The sun has set and it's almost dark as we drive through the Tawi Conservancy toward camp.   And then, we are treated to several gerenuk stags sparring.  My photos are lousy due to the low light and only a few could be rescued enough to make out what was happening.

Behind us, in the park, scattered rain showers fall on the Aird land.

There will be no game drive tomorrow because we are leaving after daylight for the long drive to Tsavo National Park and the Finch Hattons Lodge.   But, we have a stop to make along the way.

Now, I have packing to do.   Instead of putting our packed bags out on the deck in the morning to make it easier for the porters, they will be left in the tent with all the tent zippers closed and the pulls locked with a small carabiner.

Those clever little vervets, you know.

The 2022 Africa Journals, Ch. 5: One Life amid the Heartbreak

Chapter 5:

One Life amid the Heartbreak

 

 

To me, it was one bird’s life I saved

But to the bird, it was everything~

An axiom paraphrased by Gullible

 

 

 

We leave the marsh area and travel the dusty roads of the park toward camp.   Slowly but surely, the occasional carcasses of animals tell the story of what drought means here.   

 

Now entering the fifth year of no substantial rainfall, Amboseli and surrounding areas are stricken.   The village herders, the pastoralists, were given permission to graze their cattle, sheep, and goats within the park because there is no feed outside the boundaries.  That reduces the amount of feed available to wild animals.

 

It is not a matter of “being rich” with large herds.   The Maasai depend on their herds for their very lives.   Traditional Maasai diets consist of milk, blood, and meat from their animals.

 

We drive past the dead animals and see vultures on some of the more recent ones.    Occasionally, there is a carcass left un-scavenged.   There are so many that the vultures,  Marabou storks, eagles, and hyenas that usually clean them up have no need to rush or compete with each other.   There is food a-plenty for all.

In fact, only the vultures, hyenas, and dust devils are thriving in this drought.

Near constant dust devils.

I was astonished when I saw these sacred ibis and storks on a carcass.   Actually, they were after insect larvae.

A spotted hyena brings a wildebeest leg back to the den.
 

Not from this wildebeest however.

A white-backed vulture with two tawny eagles waiting their turn.

 

We are quiet as we continue, slowly getting closer to the park gate and the road to Tawi Lodge where we are booked for four nights.   Ahead of the Land Cruiser I see a bird lying in the middle of the road.  It gets up and moves off to the side.  I see something very small move with it.

 

When we are closer, I recognize a crowned lapwing.   It is screaming holy hell at us.   

 

We stop, take photos, and see two or three chicks scurrying around the dusty plain.  

  

The vehicle moves ahead about 20 to 30 feet before it all comes together in my head.  “Stop!   Back up please.”  Joseph carefully backs up on the left shoulder of the road.

 

“There!   I thought so.   There’s a chick in the middle of the road.”   Huddled and looking completely miserable, the chick doesn’t move.   I cannot believe that lapwing had a nest smack in the middle of the road and that it survived through incubation and hatching.   This is one of the main roads in the park.

 

But, what other explanation is there?   The chick apparently isn’t old enough to walk.

 

When I ask if there is something we can do (knowing that the next vehicle might run over the chick), Joseph gets out of the vehicle and uses a cloth to pick up the chick.   He then places it on the berm off the road.   

 

Joseph is beaming and my heart is bursting.   I am almost in tears, but I am also well aware that predators might spot the chick and move in for a meal.

It is this simple act, that of (hopefully) saving the life of one small bird, that sustains me through the days ahead as I witness the tragedies brought about by drought.

 

Finally, we reach the exit gate of Amboseli National Park.   

We cruise a short distance on a hard-surfaced road and then turn left into the sand and dust onto a bumpy trail.   Soon, after winding through sparse trees, small acacia and other bushes, we arrive at Tawi Lodge.

 

Marg, who arrived minutes before us, comes rushing over and says, “Hurry!   There’s an elephant in the waterhole.”   I reach for one of my bags and she says, "Put that down.   Hurry!"

 

All thoughts of helping unload luggage and bags are forgotten and I quickly follow Marg through the main building toward the waterhole.

 

Sure enough, there at the inlet to the small man-made pond is a large elephant enjoying a refreshing soak in water up to its belly.

 

The path to our cottage.

The waterhole becomes the main attraction at this nice lodge.  Every day different animals come to drink and we photographers, when we aren't in the field, spend a lot of time enjoying them.   We are known to leap up from the dining table and rush out to the waterhole.   We leave our cameras on an empty table in the dining area.

Marg and I are assigned to tent 5.   She surrendered her single room status to make room for me on this trip, for which I am eternally grateful.  The tent is a bit of a walk as the cottages (or tents), are spaced to provide privacy from each other.

 

They are a hybrid--part solid walls and part canvas fronts.

Off we go with our bag-bearers.

Our room.   Mosquito netting is pulled around the beds at night.

Looking toward the bathroom.

The bed I choose.   It's right next to a zip up window and we open the canvas at night.

The resident warthogs

Lunch.   I think this was chicken curry and I tried to cut the fire with rice.

Another resident

Dessert

Giraffe at the waterhole

Giraffe at the waterhole

Solar water heater.

The turn off to our tent.   I tried to put all these camp photos in order but Blogspot isn't allowing that for some reason.

Our cottage from the front side.

The back side of our hybrid cottage/tent.

The name of our tent

The from of the tent.   Not much time to spend here but we did enjoy it.

We were told to "lock" our tents when we left them because the vervets (monkeys) had figured out how to undo the zippers.   At a different camp last year, we had to use a padlock and hide the key because the ververts had figured out the small carabiners, such as the one above.

A well-traveled animal trail in front of the tent.

Again, because Blogspot won't let me cut this photo.

Impala were always in camp.   There's a beautiful stag against the building.

 

My mistakenly-acquired "husband" Randy, with Cory in a common lounge area.   This is where we gathered before game drives, after game drives, or whenever.   Kept on eye on the waterhole, too, from here.   Despite his scowl, Randy kept us laughing the whole trip.

 

The dining area.

 

 

An appetizer, I think.   Don't recall what it was, but it was delicious.