Rhinos in Mara river

It’s a beautiful day with bright blue skies and a colour-filled palette of plains. Perfect for walking in the wild. A family of Sykes monkeys awake from their slumber and bask n the sun on the verandah before the human residents wake up.

At the sound of me unzipping the tent, a trio of monkeys dash off into the high canopy of the forest and watch with innocent eyes, probably wondering what our  mission is.

Rich foliaged trees fill the forest on the edges of the Mara River – the fat, old Warburgia ugandensis (much loved by the elephant species) or the East African green heart tree, the Buchananni, the sausage tree and the evergreen Euclea divinorum which, even during the dry spells, remains green.

Walking through the tree tapestry, we take the hippo trail safe in the knowledge that the river horses are back in the water. At the river’s edge, another pod of hippos laze in the water with their tiny pink ears sticking out like little flag posts.

But the drought has been severe and one of the casualties lies dead by the edge. In a clearing over a glade, three African white-backed vultures keep an eye on the carcass perhaps waiting for us to move away. We do so but the vultures remain on alert and one lifts off circling without a flap of the wing, riding on the warm air thermals.

Watching the bird soar high in the air, I can relate to the research on vultures by Dr Munir Virani, whose research sounded the alarm of the fast diminishing numbers of the vaulture in the masai mara.

This was because of the agro-pesticide furadan that’s used as a poison to kill lions and other wild animals that prey on livestock by angry livestock owners (Mostly the Masai community living around the conservancy). When the birds descend on the poisoned carcass, they too die of poison.

Not too long ago, any carcass would have been stripped to the bones in no time by flocks of vultures numbering in their hundreds – now a handful watch for the coast to clear before they descend on it.

Meanwhile on terra firma, a trio of ground hornbills stride the plains, stopping every few minutes to stomp the ground to crush the poor insect or lizard before swallowing it. A bright yellow cluster of flowers break the monotony of green. “This is the Kalonche plant,” explains Jonathon Simorei, the young Maasai naturalist with Fairmont Mara Safari Club.

“The Maasai use it for skin infections and first degree burns and wounds.” We stroll through a leleshwa bush, their fragrance filling the air. The fire-resistant plant is also great as a freshener and the Maasai often stuck it under their armpits as a deodorant.

All too soon, three hours have passed in a flash and with heads clear of clutter and lungs full of fresh air; we’re back for lunch – another gourmet meal as we dine by the river’s edge.

“You must do the night game drive,” suggests our guide who was listening to us recount the morning walk.

It proves to be a good suggestion for under the cover of darkness, we see the barrel-bodied hippos grazing on the grass so far away from the river. Countless eyes of the gazelles, antelopes and hippos sparkle like stars in the light of the torch.

Nocturnal animals like the tiny zorilla come out for the night to forage for insects – if the ‘z’ in the zorilla was replaced with a ‘g’, there would be no comparison size-wise.

A white-tailed mongoose and a banded genet, again strictly night animals are out for the hunt. And then in a clearing full of Thomson’s gazelles at rest, a pair of silver-backed jackals lurks through the herd and zero in on a newborn foal. Its action packed drama for the next few minutes.

The herd scampers away and only the foal remains still as a statue with its mother close by trying to act as a decoy. She butts the smaller jackals but they circle closer to the new born which suddenly springs into action and darts for safety.

The jackals give chase with the mother close at hand but the hunters have the prey by the throat in a split second. For a moment, it seems that the foal will get away as the mother makes another attempt at freeing it but it’s too late.

The jackals have hit the jugular vein and the foal lies still. It’s the circle of life – the predators keep the herbivore numbers in check otherwise the plains would be overgrazed, so we reason to make us feel better about the killing.

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