Trip Report:

Kenya
Photo Safari
Trip Two
2015

After a week in Rwanda with the Mountain Gorillas we were anxious and eager to get back on safari. The second trip was completely different from the first, although we had many of the same characters – the Leopardesses, the mother Cheetah, the Sopa Oasis Lion pride, but the shooting opportunities were quite different (just as good as the first, but always, always different), and this, our last safari of the year, was a great one and very successful. Not that the first one was not – on that trip we had Wild Dogs and more Leopards, but each trip truly stood out on its own for the opportunities we had. We’re sometimes asked how, or why, we do two trips in a row, or how can we come back year after year – don’t we get bored? Never, to the latter question, and the reason is each and every safari is different, offering its own outstanding experiences that are never repeated, and are always very unique.

If you read the last trip report, Kenya Trip 1 2015, I spent a lot of time discussing the grazing taking place in Samburu and in the southeast section of the Masai Mara Game Reserve. As you'll read in this report, with the rains Samburu came back to life and I did not have the same extremely negative views that I had on the first trip. The southeast Masai Mara offered some spectacular shooting, but the Maasai are still running cattle into the park at night, and that is still distressing.

However, despite these negatives, Kenya offers the most 'bang for the buck,' the best value in terms of continuous shooting of a wide diversity of subjects. The images that accompany this report will certainly illustrate that, and I hope will motivate you to join us next year on our Kenya Photo Safari.

Here’s the report:

Day 1. Nairobi to Samburu

Everyone arrived in Nairobi with their luggage, with Carolyn, Lisa, and Bill flying in Friday, and Mary and I coming in from Rwanda. Ron flew in late Saturday evening, but fortunately his luggage arrived as well, so we headed for the all-day drive to Samburu, leaving at 8:15 and arriving around 5:30PM.
En route, as usual, we stopped at a restaurant along the slopes of Mt. Kenya where very tame Black and White Colobus Monkeys come down for the vegetables their care-givers provides. This time, there were two very young babies, one a week old, the other two weeks old, and both, at that age, are completely white. With their short, matted curly hair they really looked like stuffed toys, and if they are an omen for the trip, they are a great one, since we never had babies this young and this close before.
As they came in the monkeys would execute great leaps, spanning a gap from a launching point, thin slender branches, to a smaller sapling, to the ground, or to another tree. On the ground, the challenge was to isolate the monkeys from the carrots or potatoes strewn around them. At one point, I circled around and dropped low, and apparently too close, for the mother Colobus, who had her baby being carried by a baby-sitter, an aunt or daughter, took offense and leaped at me. The monkey grabbed the shirt sleeve of my Tee shirt, bunching it up with an angry-looking hand print. Fortunately, the monkey didn’t bite me, as message received I backed off. After just being with the gorillas I wasn’t particularly bothered, as there I was nearly body-slammed by a silverback that took offense at us and butt-blocked our guide, nearly knocking him down.
As we neared Isiolo, the now thriving outpost town that was, not too long ago, the final hint of civilization in this northern area, the sky to our west was a series of gray clouds, all dumping sheets of rain in the Samburu area. When we left, the first rains had begun, but we were told they had stopped and only resumed sporadically over the last few weeks. Still, seeing rain was encouraging, as we the news that the Samburu park rangers were now arresting or fining the goat herders entering the park. I was skeptical of this, but when we arrived at Samburu, and passed through the gate, the only goats or sheep we saw were only a few hundred yards at most inside the park. Recent rains were evident along the road at some spots, but the land, outside the park itself, was still quite denuded, with scattered clumps of presumably unpalatable brush that poked shin-high to a five year old the only vegetation.
As usual we played our game of who would guess what animal we’d see first, and our guesses ranged from Grevy’s Zebra, Common Waterbuck, Warthog, Grant’s Gazelle, Impala, Beisa Oryx, Dik-dik, and Gerenuk. Henry, one of our guides, guessed Dik-dik, which should have been a ‘gimme’ since a pair have a home range close to the gate. However, we didn’t see them, and didn’t on the entire drive in to our tented lodge. The first animal was a Gerenuk (my guess!) and we saw plenty, before seeing all the above except for Henry’s choice.
The river was flowing, and from our tent we could see Hippos that, two or three weeks ago, had to be far, far downriver in the swamps, or wallowing and worried in the Isiolo River, waiting for the rains. Today, we learned, the rain we’d seen had struck our camp with a vengeance, and when we arrived the reception area had cushions strewn about, drying from the unexpected, forceful rain that came in at an angle and soaked everything. Our tent, we discovered, was wet as well, with the floors still damp and slippery from the driving rain. The landscape was greening, and where goats and sheep had denuded the land, we now had a carpet of green sprouting, rejuvenating  a once ravaged landscape. With the lack of goats and sheep, and with the rains arriving and the land once again greening up, we looked forward to a great time in Samburu. We’ll see what tomorrow will bring.

Day 2. Samburu

We awoke to the patter of rain on our tent, and at dawn the sky was gray and dark. As we headed to the vehicles to load at 6 the rain had stopped, but our night watchman, who keeps a lookout for the two or three bull elephants that often stay here, was still wet and water spotted from the recent rain. To the southeast and south the horizon was still lost in a dark wall of rain, but to the east and north the skies were clear, and knowing the weather pattern we were fairly sure the rains would sweep beyond us. They did.
I was with Henry, one of our guides, and Lisa and Carolyn, and we headed to the hill country hoping to find the leopard in that area. We were unsuccessful, but had nice encounters with several subjects, including a frame-filling immature Batelur Eagle, Red-billed Hornbills, and a very, very young Beisa Oryx lamb, whose horn buds barely broke the skin. Baby Oryxes, when first born, stay well hidden, and usually only show themselves after their horns start sprouting, giving rise to the mistaken belief that they are actually born with horns. This little one was only a week or two old, judging by its size, but the umbilical cord was gone, and the horns just tiny mushroom-shaped buttons on its head.
A small herd of Impala stood out vividly against a lawn of fresh grass, or whatever the thin blades that our sprouting everywhere from the recent trains will become. The contrast is indeed striking from what it was just three weeks ago, when Samburu was still locked in a drought that was only seeing its first relief as we were finishing up in this reserve. Since then, we were told, it had only rained a few times, but sufficient for the park to once again go green. In another two weeks or so this same area will, weather permitting, be carpeted in a field of white flowers, with the grasses or herbs then high enough to conceal the Dik-diks here. Several of the Impala were  allogrooming, ie mutually grooming one another, taking turns licking or nipping fur, perhaps to rid their necks of ticks or flies. It is quite likely that the various pairs are doing so not just by happenstance, meaning that two are adjacent, but because the two are friends. It’d be really interesting to be able to identify individuals and to check that out, seeing if on subsequent grooming sessions that same pairs get together. I’d be they often do.
With the rains, the birds were in full song, and Lisa commented that it sounded like Spring at home, as indeed it is here, with the onset of the rainy season. Hornbills were courting, with one, or both, birds perched upright, wings hanging loosely for a moment before cocking up in a hunched shoulder pose as the bird sang, ‘buk-buk-buk-buk.’ We passed one small acacia where we disturbed two hornbills, and I noticed that they had been close to a hole, only three feet off the ground or so, that they were probably checking out for a nest. We’ve seen similar nests that low to the ground, which would not seem to make sense for a big nesting bird, except that the female gets walled in by mud until the eggs hatch and the young are old enough for the female to risk leaving them alone. In this way, a nest that low is still protected from predators, as the opening inside is just a slit wide enough to allow the male to slip food into the cell.
Not finding leopards, we headed down to the river where we were surprised to see a herd of twenty or so Impalas running along the shore. Henry thought they were coming to drink but they ran by the obvious puddles scattered along the sand bank, the choice for a drink as those spots would be safe from crocodiles. I figured they wanted to cross, and a few minutes later, after the herd ran upstream, then turned back, three female Impalas dashed into the river and bounded across. Upriver, the opposite bank, our side of the river, was gently sloped and would have provided an easy exit.

Where they crossed, unfortunately, the opposite bank, just in front of us, was impossibly steep, and as the three does reached our side they were stuck, without an exit. Henry spotted a Nile Crocodile steaming upriver towards them, and a few seconds later we saw the swirl beneath the water as one Impala was carried downriver, her head fighting to remain above the brick-brown water.
Another Crocodile swam in, while the two surviving Impalas finally found a stream bank with a less severe slope and the two hurtled their way onshore. Meanwhile, the third Impala was quickly drowned, and the Crocodile swam out to mid-river with his prize. He was joined there by a larger Croc, and instead of immediately grappling for the meat the two faced off, then rejoined the carcass where both seemed to investigate the kill by sliding their snouts over the body. If I had to guess, and I am, I figured that the smaller Croc was trying to keep the carcass away from the larger, while that one, a male, did not assert dominance or real aggression towards, I think, a smaller female. Eventually the two did break into the hide, and for a time a pile of intestines draped the visible portion of the impala while the Crocs, with meat in their jaws, raised their heads and chomped, spraying blood and gore as they swallowed their pieces. The current, and their competition, kept the pair and the kill heading downstream, but after the initial body-rolls, as the two tore out chunks of flesh, and the swallowing sequence, the shooting distance increased and the wet game track dissuaded us from following further.
Henry heard from another driver that two lionesses had been spotted and we headed in that direction, where we found a Lioness, obviously nursing, walking down the game track towards us. We got some nice shots as she passed by, and then we backtracked her, coming to a deeply shaded tree and thicket where we spotted two or three very young (1-2 weeks) cubs inside. Two years ago we had a leopard in this same thicket, guarding an impala it had killed.
After a brief look we headed back towards the Lioness, who Mary radioed was now hunting a Warthog. It did a short run but gave up that chase, and when my vehicle arrived the Lioness was now in the act of stalking another Warthog. She moved forward in a crouch, finally settling down low, but the Warthog was too far away and eventually moved off. She changed directions and headed towards the river.
At Lion Rock, she climbed atop one of the larger boulders and surveyed the scene, looking for game. Nothing was visible, and so she remained, while we shot any number of compositions, from HDRs to panos, in a truly beautiful setting. Last trip, I shot what I thought was my best-ever Samburu male Lion, and this trip, I think I shot my most iconic Lioness.
We heard the alarm barks of Vervet Monkeys from across the river and, with the Lioness still, we drove down to investigate. The barks came from a palm forest behind one of the new camps obnoxiously situated in what was once great leopard habitat, but we saw nothing. I’m wondering if the monkeys had spotted a python or Martial eagle, and I simply can’t discern the different alarm notes. We headed back to the Lioness, this time circling the rocks for a different perspective. When we stopped for a shot Henry spotted a Plated Lizard, a thick-bodied, stout reptile I’ve only seen a few times, and always in Samburu. While we stopped here the Lioness walked off the rock and headed into the salt brush, where we left her, hunting, in what was for the moment a prey-free landscape.
Mary, with Bill and Ron, on his first Africa trip, did very well with birds, including Pale-chanting Goshawks, and most of the antelopes. Mary’s vehicle had a pair of Dik-dik fighting, and may have caught the pair as one flipped over the other. I had Dik-dik too, with one standing, gerenuk-style, and feeding on a bush. At 2:30, as I write this, stacks of cumulous clouds line up across all horizons, and we wonder if we’ll have another storm this afternoon.

PM. Although the game drive started dry storms rolled across Buffalo Springs, eventually dumping heavy rain upon our camp and onto Mary’s vehicle, closer to the storm. I kept ahead of it, wishing to keep the roof caps open, and we succeeded, only getting a periodic sprinkle.
Almost immediately on the drive we had a small group of Elephants, as red as Samburu provides, from the mud that the wet weather has provided. Although we shot nothing exceptional, twice a youngster, separated from its mother, became frightened or concerned and with upraised trunk trumpeting, ran in the typical elephant canter back to its mother and safety. At one point, one of the females approached us, and Stanley, our other guide, kept his cool and kept his engine quiet. His father, who drove for me for over twenty years, always got spooked by Elephants and would either start the engine as a form of intimidation, or back up, whenever one got close. I commended Stanley on his tact.
We found the Lioness again, still hungry but perhaps with something in her belly, as her stomach looked a bit fatter. Perhaps she had eaten a baby warthog or a Dik-dik. As we followed her she half-heartedly approached/stalked three Grevy’s Zebras, who seemed unaware of the cat until it was only about thirty yards away. The Lioness never really did a slinky, crouching stalk, and I wondered if she was actually a bit hesitant in attempting to tackle a Zebra alone. Still, one was only half-grown, and an easy target. The Zebras eventually saw her and the three trotted off, with the female Lioness rising and continuing on towards her hidden cubs. We headed to her tree, and photographed her as she walked by us and to the tree, where she gave soft ‘uuhhm, uuhhmm’ moans as she entered her den. No doubt those calls awoke the cubs, who greeted her in the darkness of their den.
Both Mary’s vehicle and mine had Pigmy Falcons, with the one I saw finishing up a lizard, with only the long tail still held in the small raptor’s beak. Apparently satisfied, the Falcon dropped the tail into the top leaves of the bush it perched on and flew off.
We received word that a Cheetah had been spotted by the airstrip, and headed there, only to find that the Cheetah was sacked out, looking like a roadkill as it lay there sleeping. Later, as the light began to fail, Mary’s vehicle followed the cat as it began to hunt. We saw it again as we drove in to camp in the near dark, the cat barely lighter than the surrounding brush in the growing darkness.
As our light failed I spotted an extremely cooperative African Hare, whose long ears make it an American jackrabbit look-alike. Normally these Hares are either shy or reclusive, keeping their ears folded flat against their back as they try to avoid detection. This one was oblivious, wagging its ears as it fed upon the new grass growth. When we left it, we searched for leopards around Leopard Rock, but in the growing darkness we were, as somewhat expected, unsuccessful.
It had rained heavily in camp while we were gone, and as I write this at 8:43 African Bullfrogs sang their repetitive, monotonous song, ‘a-rha, ah-rhha, ah-rhha,’ from across the river, and triggered by the rains, beetles, stinkbugs, and pinhead-sized gnats swarm around my computer screen.

Day 3. Samburu

It rained during the night and the sky at dawn showed only the faintest glow of color, a thin band that silhouetted the acacias on the horizon under an otherwise dark and threatening sky. As we started our game drive, sloshing through new puddles and slick stretches of slippery mud thick, a surprisingly cool wind blew from the northwest, and slowly the front pushed eastward, with blue sky gradually reclaiming the horizons. With it, as the sun broke through the clouds so did the temperature, and perhaps because of the rain last night the heat, or the humidity, seemed oppressive.
Each trip, I’ve been puzzled by the excavations of varying size we’d pass by on the road. I asked Stanley what made them and he said aardvarks, which made perfect sense since termites seem to be the dominant life form here. Shortly afterwards, I saw several holes where the thick tail imprint of an aardvark were clearly visible, as this burrowing mammal dug and kicked back dirt, with the tail acting as an obstacle for the flying earth.
Henry’s vehicle, with Mary, Lisa, and Ron, found the male Lion from last trip, following a Lioness. Both cats were thin, and we suspect that they had just finished their rusi, their honeymoon, with the female now very intent on finding a meal. They settled beside the game track and when one or the other stood, their hides creased sharply in old wrinkles, quite different from the normally sleek-looking hide. The two eventually moved downhill, obviously hunting, but with nothing in sight we continued, looking for a leopard.
Henry headed to the east and we drove to the southwest, where I decided to recheck the Lions in case they finally found some game. We were side-tracked by a dozen red-colored Elephants, especially three young ones that seemed boisterous from a distance, running about and playing, but by the time we reached them they had settled down to simply pluck at the new grasses.

With the rains the land simply glows, Irish green were the words I thought of, comparing these carpeted hills with images I’ve seen of Ireland, the emerald island. The grass just glowed, and dark Elephants, or back-lighted Gerenuks, or trotting Grant’s Gazelles, just stood out starkly against this vivid landscape. I spotted another Plated Lizard, the second in two days, which was notable as I’ve seen less than a dozen of these large lizards ever. For Stanley it was his first.
We left the Elephants and found the two Lions once again, still quite focused and heading towards the river. We tried to get ahead, stopping at a large pool in the game track where we hoped the two would pass and drink. They passed, trotting across the track, but didn’t drink, and shortly afterwards, somehow the Lioness gave the male the slip. We didn’t see how she did so but it was obvious that the male was looking for her, circling around the pool several times, or standing upright, staring into the distance, looking for his former mate. She, perhaps wisely, slipped away, hungry and perhaps hoping to catch a meal that she would not have to share. When we left him, he was still wandering the salt brush, still looking for the Lioness and the prospect of an easy meal.
We met up for breakfast, and then Mary’s vehicle circled the ‘breakfast mountain’ hoping to locate the Wild Dogs we saw last trip, or perhaps a Leopard in the high country. They were unsuccessful at that, but had some great shooting with Elephants once they returned to the flats.
We headed towards the river and seeing distant Impalas on the sandy shore we drove upriver, hoping for another rare Impala crossing. They did not, but a group of seven Elephants that had been paralleling the river in the forest appeared, and crossed the river directly before us. Oddly, the matriarch led her band right into a large tree snag, where she first scratched but then, with a bit of awkwardness, had to straddle to continue.

The last two Elephants circled the snag, bringing their route straight towards us. The two climbed the river bank, headed our way, and gauged out sand which they sprayed over their backs. Nice shots. The herd started feeding in the brush and trees next to the game track and we did some great wide-angles as one or more Elephants fed nearby. As they moved off we began our trip home, but another group of Elephants near the iron bridge (a landmark) were gathered beneath a spreading acacia, with eight babies strewn about in lumps, asleep between the legs of the adults. Usually, these sleeping gatherings take place far off the track, and offer no more than dark lumps against a contrasty background, but these were roadside, and the shots, especially of one young Elephant that periodically draped a big ear over his eyes, folding the giant flap forward, were wonderful.
We headed back by noon, under the heat of a baking sun, with cumulous clouds gathering everywhere, promising more rain this afternoon.

PM. The prediction was correct. By 2PM the eastern sky was lost, and thunder literally rolled across the sky. For the first fifteen minutes or so, the periodic blasts confused us, and we weren’t sure if we were hearing distant artillery from a British base in the area or from thunder. It was thunder, and as the storm advanced the cliché of rolling thunder could not have been more appropriate, as the sound was like rolling bowling balls, no, cannon balls, rolling overhead upon a rocky floor. The winds preceded the rain, and the gusts through the acacia trees and palms gave the impression that sheets of rain were smashing through the landscape. When the rain began, it was actually anti-climatic, barely more than a drizzle although the wind itself propelled the moisture at a slant.
We started the game drive with our vehicles’ tops covered, which makes for a stuffy, uncomfortable environment. The drizzle soon faded to scattered drops, and we stopped to remove the tops, and doing so, heard a Lion’s roar, ‘huh, huh-uh, huh-uh, uh-uh, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah’ a call sometimes translated as ‘Whose land? Whose land? Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!'
Once we had the tops removed we went in search of the roaring lion, but we were unsuccessful, and instead, we stopped at the lioness’s den, where we could see two of the three tiny cubs, with the mother still somewhere, hunting. We headed for the mountain slopes, hoping to find leopard.
Although I’d have placed a bet that we’d have a leopard this evening, we were unsuccessful, and on the mountain slopes we only saw Elephants and Giraffes. The Elephants were surprisingly far up the slopes, and Lisa shot a ‘record shot’ to give a sense of scale. I glassed the slopes for signs of leopard but only saw the tiny forms of Dik-diks, and several, for my efforts. If a leopard did not need a big meal, it could easily stay satisfied with the dik-diks and klipspringers and hyrax found on these rocky hills.
A Gymnogyne, or African Harrier Hawk, hung suspended from a White-browed Sparrow Weaver nest, with the panicked birds darting about, trying to drive this double-jointed raptor from the tree. In Brazil’s Pantanal, an extremely similar-looking raptor, with exactly the same habits, occupies the same niche, and it is called a Crane Hawk. This parallel is a wonderful example of parallel evolution, where two similar species evolve to fill the same niche and adopt similar appearances.
We left the hillside to search along the salt brush thickets in the river’s floodplain and there we had an extremely cooperative Beisa Oryx, that would graze on bushes, back towards us, then turn and face us before turning aside and repeating the process. The western sky was covered with dark clouds, making the exposure difference between foreground (oryx) and background (sky) minor, allowing a nice ‘animal in habitat’ scenic shot.
The clouds dropped our light level severely and we headed back towards camp in the growing darkness of dusk. En route, we found the forlorn male Lion, drinking at a roadside pool, but before we could shoot he finished, and walked beside us as he continued down the road, looking for his pride mates. A few minutes later Mary’s vehicle met the Lion as well, who obliged them by first softing moaning, perhaps as a plaintive summons, and then a long series of roars. For Ron, this was the first time he heard a wild Lion roar, and he commented on the deep, visceral reverberations that he felt. Everyone was silent as he roared, allowing Carolyn to do a video that captured the lion and the sound.
Stars brightened the night sky, promising, we hope, a bright tomorrow, while the susurration of the African Bullfrogs continued across the river, and the ‘weep, weep, weep,’ of reed frogs and the last electronic buzzing of mole crickets added to the nocturnal serenade, marking another good day in Samburu. Considering my first impressions from last trip, the contrast now is dramatic, but far more indicative and typical of Samburu than what we experienced, and worried about, on our first visit here three weeks ago.

Day 4. Samburu

It rained during the night, hard, and the pathway to the reception area at dawn was filled with deep puddles. However, dawn itself was clear and bright with the entire eastern horizon cloud free. Thunderheads over ‘Mary’s mountain,’ the sacred mountain of the Samburu, glowed orange in the predawn glow, and over the river a vivid rainbow hung over the Usaso Nyriro River, with rain or storms far to our west.
We drove along the mountain edge looking for leopard before crossing a turbulent brick-colored river at bridge that connected us to Buffalo Springs, where we planned to spend the morning. The amount of game on that side was incredible, with large herds of Grevy’s Zebra, mixed herds of Beisa Oryx and Grant’s Gazelle, and scattered bunches of Reticulated Giraffe. I was with Henry, and we traveled fairly quickly to the Isiolo River area, where we often find leopards. Mary stayed along the river, and finally radioed us that an Elephant crossing might be imminent. It never occurred, but we had breakfast as we waited, then headed to our normal breakfast area, the overlook that provides a great vista of the entire Samburu and Buffalo Springs basin.
As we drove towards the overlook we found Elephants, and shot some okay images of the Elephants against the distant mountain. Continuing towards the actual breakfast spot we came upon a fresh mud hole where a dozen or so Elephants bathed, sitting, lying down, rolling, stabbing, doing just about anything you can do in the mud. As Ron said, it was a celebration of joy – the elephants truly were having fun. The smallest in the group, less than a year old, was so coated with mud that his eyes were covered, and for a time he stumbled about, eye caked over, but still obviously enjoying the experience. Eventually, scads of gigabytes later, the Elephants were finished, and they departed, as did we, continuing what proved to be an unsuccessful search for leopards.
Mary had some interesting observations, with a very young Vervet Monkey, perhaps 10 days old, that was being stretched and pulled by three or four adults, each inspecting a part.  An aunt or a sister huddled over the baby,  and fought with the mother over possession of the baby.
She also had a White-throated Bee-eater, a bird we rarely see here, building a nest. The birds would dig and poke and scrape with their bills, then, once inside the nest burrow, they’d vigorously kick dirt out with their feet. The Bee-eaters were nesting in a hippo chute or passageway, like most bee-eaters, who nest on banks. Only the Somalia Bee-eater here, a bird I’ve only seen once on this trip, nests straight into the ground, digging a hole into a level plain.
PM. I felt poorly this afternoon and spent the hours after lunch lying on my back, on the tent floor, recovering and trying to stay cool. Thunder rolled in the distance, but the powerful storms of yesterday were gone, and by the time we started our game drive only a light drizzle dissuaded us from having the roof hatches open. Those were opened within ten minutes of our drive.
We once again searched for leopards, and were again unsuccessful, which is quite noteworthy and a real rarity for us here in Samburu. Far more distressing was the large herd of Samburu COWS we found grazing in the plains quite near the Lioness with the cubs. After the rains began we were told that the park rangers were arresting or ticketing grazers, but today two guys, and a hundred or so cows, were boldly grazing in the new grasses along one of our leopard luggas. When we drove that route, hoping to see a leopard we were, of course, unsuccessful, and I’m sure the presence of cows drove any leopard lounging in a tree down and into heavy cover. I photographed the herdsman and his cows, despite his protests, and Lisa suggested I post the images on TripAdvisor where the PR might actually make a change.
Aside from spotting the mother Lioness, shooting some Elephants as they grazed, with the collared matriarch actually plucking ‘trunkfuls’ of grass, dropping them until she gathered more, until, with enough ‘in hand,’ she deposited the trunkful into her mouth, and a Common Waterbuck, the afternoon was slow.
The camp was hosting a private Sun Downer for us – almost much appreciated, and with the light failing we were about to head home when we came upon an extremely frisky group of Impala. Although the ram was plodding and sedate, the ewes or females were boisterous, either racing along or pronking, bouncing with exaggerated, literally bouncy jumps that, when avoiding a predator, antelope often pronk to (presumably) broadcast their fitness. The Impalas raced back and forth repeatedly, and although the light was low I panned at 1/100th sec and, I hope, got some very nice action shots as Impala jumped, sometimes fully stretched out, racing by us in the fading light.

The Sun Downer was, as usual, wonderful, and with no rain, and interesting heavy clouds bunched on the western horizon, we chatted, drank, and snacked as night descended, finally leaving for the drive back to camp, our last night here in Samburu for this year.
After dinner, just as we reached our tent, our Samburu escort flashed his torch at a Scop’s Owl perched beside the trail. I made sure to take a close look at this screech owl-look-alike, because last year, here, we had a Scop’s Owl with one bad eye. I had photographed the bird, whose iris stayed dilated wide, and who I’m sure was blind. As we studied this bird, just a few feet away, we saw that it was indeed the same bird as last year, showing that a one-eyed Owl can survive to adulthood and survive an entire year with this handicap. It was an even better end to our Samburu visit.

Day 5. Samburu to Lake Nakuru National Park

The river rose overnight, filling the banks on both sides of the river and roiling and roaring at times as a fresh pulse of high water churned the clay brick-colored waters into fleeting waves. These waters, which may eventually flood some of the camps along the river here at Samburu, are fed by the rains in the Aberdarres, and not from local precipitation, and consequently a flash flood can develop with little or no warning. We left our camp, one of our all-time favorites, sadly but with a bit of relief that floods, sticky impassable roads, and the general discomfort of heavy rains here at least was behind us.
Mary and I rode with Ron, with Henry driving, on to Samburu, and I think all three of us passengers crashed, sleeping for much of the route. I finished two small chapters of a book, and otherwise, for the first three hours  did nothing but sleep. At a bathroom break we saw a very cooperative Sunbird feeding on the orange flowers of a flaming poker aloe, but our cameras were packed and we contented ourselves in simply enjoying the scene.
It was overcast and threatening rain when we reached Nakuru, and by lunch the first of several heavy rainstorms passed through. Lisa, I believe, is the only one who went out, with the rest of us either catching up on work, writing, editing, or sleeping. Hopefully she had a nice leopard!
Lisa did get a kill. A Saddle-billed Stork grabbed a frog and took nearly twenty minutes to either kill or eat it, close to the road for good viewing at least. It was dark, as it periodically rained and the western sky was thick with clouds.

Day 6. Lake Nakuru to the lower Masai Mara

We did a morning game drive after a cooked breakfast and packing up the vehicles for the day-long drive to the Mara. Yesterday’s skies haunted us this morning, at least for the first hour or two, with thick clouds dropping the light level severely.
I was with Ron and Carolyn, and we spent time with Ron photographing his first Thompson’s Gazelles, African Buffalo, and, towards the end of our drive, Rothschild Giraffes. We had only one White Rhino, a big horned individual that sat fairly close to the road but facing away from us, and not offering much of a shot. Later, in the whistling thorn acacias, we had a fairly shy Black Rhino, who posed at a distance and then trotted deeper into the brush.
We planned to meet at the gate at 9:30 for the long drive to the Mara, but of course those plans never work out and we arrived an hour later. We repacked at the curio shop where our favorite carver, Silas, had just completed a truly unique work, a running cheetah, with its legs bunched beneath it and its long tail trailing. It was a really great piece, and I wished some of the collectors from our last trip had been here to take advantage of this one. Soon after repacking, we headed on to the Mara.
Although it has rained nearly every day for the past two weeks in the Mara, today’s drive was dry, and the roads good, and we reached our lodge shortly after 5. At the gate, we were assaulted by Maasai women selling their necklaces, and perhaps as a sign of the times the prices were surprisingly cheap, and some, with cowry beads, were actually quite pretty. We bought nothing.
At the lodge, despite the promises of the lodge manager from our last trip, we still did not have the rooms we requested, and one room was fairly far away – but not nearly as bad as last trip! We complained, and tomorrow we should suffer the slight inconvenience of having one or two rooms changed. Regardless, however, the Mara is green and we saw plenty of Topi and Common Zebra on the short drive inside the park, so tomorrow looks like it will be a good one.

Day 7. Lower Mara

A great morning, but one tempered with a sadness, a tragic example of the natural world. First, the sad story.
After photographing some lions (see below) Mary’s vehicle traveled on one side of a deep lugga while we searched the other. On both sides of this ravine we found lionesses with cubs. Mary watched as a Lioness began walking towards the lugga and our lions on the opposite side, and she was joined by three young cubs, perhaps three months old. At one point she stopped, turned around, and started calling, the mewing ‘umm, umm’ grunt that is barely audible. There had to be another cub, and eventually Mary saw it, standing upright about one hundred yards away, ten minutes or so after she had seen the mother. The mother backtracked and came within forty yards of the cub, then turned, and rejoined her other cubs. Her stray now tried to join her, and that’s when they saw that the cubs back was broken, or its hips smashed, as it valiantly dragged itself forward by its forelegs, with the hind legs stretched out behind it, useless. When the cub got to the road they photographed the cub as it crawled across, with Carolyn and Mary in tears watching the cub pass by. Eventually it dragged itself another fifty yards or so, whereupon the Park Rangers drove up and drove off road, getting to within just a few feet of the cub. Mary thought that they would take the cub and end its misery, but as they stopped the Lioness reappeared, just twenty yards away or so, and whatever their intentions had been, they left the cub to the mother and drove off.
The cub no doubt sustained an injury, and my guess is that a herd of Buffalo had found the cubs and, despite whatever protection they had from rocks or tree roots, a buffalo got its horn in sufficiently to bang and smash the cub, breaking its back or hips in the process. The cub’s siblings were healthy and stout, but the crippled cub was a starving shadow of its siblings, and would soon die. Observing all this was sobering, and very, very somber.

Now for the good parts: We had a three cat morning, with a sighting (but virtually no shots) of the mother Leopard lying on a termite mound near the Hammerkop area, and 7 Cheetahs, two family groups with one with young that we suspect were about one year old (two cubs) and the second group with three cubs of about seven months. The first group may have eaten, as a cluster of Vultures were gathered in the plains within sight of the Cheetahs, but the second family was hungry. We stayed with the four as the mother watched for game and, at one point, jogged towards a herd of Thompson’s Gazelles, but they were spotted and the hunt was done. We left the family at 1:45, with the four lying on a termite mound, no game in sight, and a Spotted Hyena within view, guaranteeing that for the next few hours there would be no cheetahs hunting nearby.
We started the morning with a good male Lion sitting on top of a termite mound, and remaining there as the sun finally crested the horizon and bathed the cat in the warm early light. We spotted another two lions in the distance, a honeymoon couple, with what we think was a young lioness, perhaps in her first heat. She was barely half the size of the fully maned, black maned male that accompanied her. What was odd was their general behavior, as sometimes the male would wander off a short distance, instead of following her like a hound dog as honeymooners normally do. When he strayed, she came to him, moving around him, sometimes licking his backend, and then, in the usual way, moving off. The two only mated once, and I was surprised that at the end she gave a big, toothy snarl – I expected some placidness in her demeanor. Meanwhile, the male on the mound roared a few times, and the lioness always seemed to head in his direction. So did we, and were rewarded with a great portrait as the male sat bolt upright, tilting his chin up to look out and to the approaching couple. Strangely, he left the mound, scent marked, and then flipped on to his side where he slept. And the honeymoon couple did likewise, seeking the shelter of the croton bushes and dropping to sleep there.
We headed for the cubs, and had six cubs about eight months old that did surprisingly little, until one tried jumping across a puddle and landed short, splashing into the pool. I stopped firing at the crest of the jump and missed the splash. The pride, two females and the six cubs, moved off to the croton bushes, with the Lioness doing a short stalk on some Gnus before one of the more enthusiastic cubs tried stalking, and alerted the Gnus who then ran away.
We headed towards the Hammerkop area, looking for Leopard and Cheetah. We were successful on both counts, finding first a Cheetah with two one-year old cubs, then another with six or seven month old cubs, and then finally the Leopard mother, who lay mostly hidden on a termite mound.  With great shots of Lions and Cheetahs, and having waited for the Cheetah hunt, we headed back for a late lunch.
PM. We didn’t stay in long, and at 3, barely an hour later, we loaded and headed back out. We drove directly towards the Cheetah and Leopard. Mary, with Henry, founded the Cheetahs but they were a long way off so they headed for the Leopard, which was in full view on a termite mound. They got some nice shots.
We stopped en route, to photograph a few landscapes, a baby Zebra, and a couple of day-old Topis, and didn’t arrive at the Leopard (after being called in) until it had left the mound and went back into the bush. We waited a while, but the Leopard didn’t reappear, so all of us headed towards the Cheetah with three cubs, who were sleeping and presenting nothing worthwhile. Mary’s vehicle headed out to look for the other Cheetah, and succeeded, while I headed back for the Leopard.

There was a significant storm creeping across the Mara from the northeast, and we had a few sprinkles while we waited. There was, too, a bit of impatience, but I suggested we stay longer and I didn’t think the storm would hit us. Finally, with the consensus that my participants were content to leave, we were in fact about to go (reluctantly on my part) when I saw the Leopard had moved, and was moving into the open. We raced to the location, and were rewarded by great portraits, with the Leopard facing us, front on view, full frame.

We continued, elated, back towards the Cheetah, stopping along the way for a storm and rainbow scene. While there, I saw the Cheetah suddenly rise and run, just a short distance it seemed, and make a kill. The Cheetah had captured a baby Thompson’s Gazelle, but in carrying it back to the cubs the distance was apparently too great and the baby Gazelle died. Otherwise, I’m sure the mother would have used it as a training session for the cubs, as they were the perfect age for chasing after a stunned and terrified baby. The cubs raced across the grasses to meet the mother, who had stopped near to a track where we could drive, and we photographed the meeting, the playing with the carcass, and beginning to feed. With the time now drawing down, and the light failing, we headed back for home.

Day 8. Lower Mara

Once again we started our game drive under clear skies with an eastern horizon that tempted us with possibilities but with no foreground to set off the striking color. We headed passed Keekorok and on towards the Sand River area and the mini-kopjes. En route, just after the sun rounded the Tanzania hills we had a family of Masai Ostriches, silhouetted against the distant hillside, with their feathers rim-lit against the golden early light. It was a beautiful scene and my morning’s highlight.
While we were photographing the Ostriches Mary, in Henry’s vehicle, radioed that they had a beautiful male Lion posing on one of the kopje rocks. We arrived just seconds before the male flopped on his side to sleep, but a few minutes later he awoke and walked down to another turgid-looking Lion, his belly stuffed to bursting. At this second kopje we had some nice portraits of both cats.
We were near the Elephant Shrew rock and Stanley had never seen one in the Mara, nor had any of our participants, so we headed there. Mary arrived first, and found THE? Elephant Shrew in EXACTLY the same rock crack that we had seen it in three weeks earlier. My vehicle arrived ten minutes later, and I spotted a second Elephant Shrew, this one within a few yards of where I’d seen the first one last year. This is probably the only animal we see on safari where we can fairly reliably say – we’ll see this animal here! People often mark maps or give GPS coordinates so that others can find lions or cheetahs or leopards, but unless one is doing so for a nursery den that data is pointless (usually). Not so for Elephant Shrews.
As we headed towards the Sand River I spotted two Black-backed Jackals at a small kill, an African Hare. Vultures were flying in to check it out, with one dislodging a Tawny Eagle that was sitting on a small perch that would have made a nice shot. The male Jackal owned the kill and would aggressively snapat and chase the female who tried getting some bites. Once, when he left the carcass to chase the female the Tawny Eagle, who had dive-bombed the Jackal minutes earlier, took advantage of the opening and flew down to grab the kill. The Jackal spun instantly and grabbed the Eagle by the tail, and in the confusion of the tumble it wasn’t clear if he actually had a firm hold on the bird. The Eagle broke free, but the female Jackal had raced up and leaped into the air to grab at the Eagle. She missed, but Lisa and Ron got nice shots of her flying in the air. I thought I missed the female’s reaction, it all happened so fast, but in reviewing the shots I caught that chase and jump as well, but not with as many frames and therefore not with the prime, definitive shot I think Ron and Lisa got.
We continued on, driving along the now water-filled Sand River where we saw more Lions, but no shots, and did photograph a very cooperative Reedbuck we spotted when we stopped for a scenic shot. After breakfast we headed for some of the long lugga chains where Henry had leopards mating in September, and on a distant tree we found the big male Leopard lying on a branch. There were no shots and we continued on, arriving back at camp at 11:45, giving everyone a chance to download or rest before lunch and another game drive.
PM. Worried about possible rains we loaded at 3:15 and left the lodge shortly after, under sunny skies that I was sure would mean no rain. I was right, and wrong, as neither Mary’s vehicle nor mine had rain, but a powerful storm dumped rain over our camp and in the Mara Triangle, where we’ll be tomorrow.
By the time we found the Sopa Lion pride the western sky was cloud covered, and the light was soft, if a bit low. Stanley spotted a Cheetah, putting the ‘all girls’ vehicle one ahead of my vehicle. Later, Mary radioed that they had Lions, but we had spotted a different group simultaneously so we called that one a draw.
Mary’s lions were the six cubs we had two mornings ago, playing and running in and out of a lugga. Across the ravine another Lioness showed up, the mother with the two young cubs that we photographed at the Oasis Rocks on our last trip, about three weeks earlier. They hadn’t grown much during the interim, and spent time biting their mother’s tail.
Our Lioness with three cubs was the family group that had the crippled baby, which was no longer present. The cubs played in the medium height grasses, then nursed, much to the mother’s annoyance as she frequently turned and snarled, sometimes grabbing a cub by the nape of the neck, and getting up frequently to move. After nearly an hour she got up and walked uphill, disappearing into the croton bushes, possibly to hunt. Her cubs remained at the edge of the lugga for a few minutes, and then boldly walked up to the game track where, like tiny adults, the cubs flopped down on the road, just as adult lions would do. There, they wrestled, drank from a roadside puddle, and posed, finally stepping off the game track and settling into a bush. We had been worried for their safety, as a passing Buffalo or Hyena might notice the cubs, and might attack and likely kill any cub they caught.
With the cubs settled in we headed back towards camp, hoping to spot our first serval for the trip, but we had no luck. Close to the main road we did find a Black Rhinoceros, a truly black-colored specimen wet from the heavy rains. It slowly moved uphill and away from us, and the light was dark, but the Rhino gave us ‘the Big Five’ for the day, and concluding a very productive day in the Mara.
After dinner, just as we finished our ‘highlights,’ we were surprised by the camp staff giving us a cake, another delicious one (our first was a post-birthday cake for Carolyn in Samburu) that reminded us of a whooppie pie cake. It was a great way to end our visit to the lower Mara, and tomorrow, on to the Triangle.

Day 9. Lower Mara to Mara Triangle

Another clear, sunny day, and after packing the vehicles for the morning game drive to the Triangle we dead-headed to the mother Leopard and cub. At 6:25 the sun crested the Tanzanian hills and the Mara was bathed in golden light, with white tissue-paper flowers speckling the fresh green grass and scattered herds of top. It was beautiful, but we raced on hoping to the Leopards before they retreated for the day.
We arrived at their lugga, and spotted another vehicle across the ravine. We assumed they had the Leopard and we found a crossing point, or so we thought. Henry drove into the water-filled declivity, and bottomed out, with the back end of his vehicle resting on the road, his rear wheels sunk deep in a hole and in mud. We were stuck, and after smoking the tires as Henry tried rocking his vehicle out, and eventually Stanley arrived, and they plotted strategy. Because of the position of Henry’s back end, Stanley couldn’t attach the cable. Fortunately, another camp’s vehicle came to our aid and pulled us out, and Henry, following along, managed not to get stuck as he took the left bend, and we had taken the right, at the water trap. The fact that being stuck probably cost us 45 minutes or so was to our benefit, for when we found the Leopard she was half-hidden and sleeping, and it is likely that watching a mostly concealed cat would have tempted us to move on. As it was, we did consider it, but Henry suggested we wait 10 minutes, and I said let’s wait 15, and so we waited. During that time the Leopard got up, and began to call.
Who knows why, but a driver that had been with these leopards had been seeing the cubs (that we had on the last trip) every day, until the last four. He thought it was dead, and a likely cause would be a Python, which could consume a lone cub and leave no trace. Consequently, the Leopardess, who we heard calling for the cub two days ago, giving a cheetah-like chirp that was just a little harsher and lower in pitch, may have called because she had no evidence that her cub was gone. A death due to a lion attack or a buffalo would have resulted in a carcass, but predation from a python would leave no trace.
At any rate, the Leopard called, and although there is no way of really knowing what message was conveyed with her calls, I can speculate. Her calls were a mixture of the typical Leopard cough, a rasping, rhythmic grunt that has been likened to a saw in use, and a louder moan. Speculating, perhaps that call said this: If my cub is around, come now. I think you are dead, and this is my final calls to summon you. And, by the way, I’m now without a cub, and so I am once again available to any male that happens to hear my calls.
After calling from the area where she had most frequently been seen the last few days, the Leopard literally did a walk-about, giving her coughing call as she started across the open grassland, paralleling the croton bushes. My vehicle was now on the other side of the lugga, but Mary’s was with the cat and they enjoyed great shots, as did my group once we got to the cat. The Leopard walked along the edge, then into the bushes, then jumping the lugga stream, then repeating the procedure, several times, as we raced ahead to get shots. Finally, she settled beneath a bush beside the lugga bank, and there we left her to continue on.
We looked for the cheetahs but we were unsuccessful, and our only notable shooting was of a pair of Masai Giraffe that engaged in a neck-wrestling. Shortly afterwards, driving along a wet game track we sunk deep, and were stuck once again. Stanley returned, and with his cable we were pulled out and continued on to our lodge.
Before we reached the lodge we did a side road where we found another mother Cheetah with four nearly full-grown cubs. They had eaten and were lying beneath a tree, panting with the heaviness of their bellies. We didn’t stay long.

PM. Storms raged everywhere around us and the wind was at least 20mph, with a canopy of dark, foreboding clouds and a lower level of incongruous white puffy clouds, like a fog bank hanging above the plains. We headed south, and found lions, including the family we’d seen earlier on the drive in. Now, two Lionesses jogged down the road ahead of us, and four 12-month old cubs followed, and we wondered where they were going and why. More distressing, there was one 5-6 month old cub who stayed behind, and cowered, quite shy, along the side of the road. We checked on that cub several times during the drive and the cub never left its spot.
We never discovered why the lions ran down the road, although we first assumed that they had heard a hyena clan at a kill and were going to steal the kill. Eventually, the lions stopped, and later reassembled and went through an elaborate greeting with the cubs and two lionesses, probably their mother, and ignoring completely a third lionesss. They settled there in the plains and we continued.
Mary’s vehicle had a good view of another Black Rhino, while I searched for servals, unsuccessfully. We had made a circuitous route through the low country, crossing a lugga that had at least three Nile Crocodiles, including a rather large one, in the pool beside the bridge. As we circled the area we came to a depression in the road where the road is cemented to prevent erosion, and today, that road was probably five feet under water. Water from the Mara River had so backed up that the lugga was now flooded, and tonight, at 9PM, it is raining heavily. The roads are wet, game tracks soaked and nearly impassable in spots, and it looks as if El Nino has arrived.

Dung beetle rolling a dung ball. The beetle pair will bury the ball into the earth, the female will lay eggs, and in some species, remain below and feed the developing larvae.


Day 10. Mara Triangle


It rained throughout the night and was still drizzling lightly as we started our game drive. On the high plateau near the Triangle’s airstrip fog blanketed the land, masking everything in a gray white gloom, the grayness relieved at times by the spectral shapes of Thompson’s Gazelles and Common Zebras and the dark silhouettes of scattered acacia trees. A Harrier, an owl-faced hawk, sat forlornly on a roadside rock, so wet from the rain it looked as if it had been dunked. Feathers lay in mats, and the bird was barely recognizable. We backed up to shoot but it flew off, and we continued, with small patches of blue now visible, promising better weather, and at some fresh lion tracks in the muddy road we stopped to open up the hatches.
With the saturated soil we stayed on the main road to head south, where we found four Lions jogging along the horizon. We took a side track and caught up, and followed the Lioness and her three half-grown cubs until they rounded the crest of a stony hill. We received a radio call that more lions were seen, and we retraced our route north. Along the way we stopped for a Black-bellied Bustard that flared its wings when we stopped, then hunkered down for several minutes before relaxing and doing the head’s up ‘yaarrrpp’ call, beak pointed skyward, followed by drawing its neck back into its feathers and uttering a burp. The call is territorial, and usually only takes place a couple of times minutes apart, so we headed on to the lions, which were, we learned, very good.

When we arrived, at least a dozen Lionesses and cubs were sitting in the grass and beneath an acacia tree, with Buffalo about sixty yards off. While we watched, about five Buffalo headed towards the Lions, with one female boldly leading the group. The other Buffalo followed, and the Lions got up and started retreating, with one Lioness bounding up the acacia tree for shelter. The others ran off, with the cubs following, and headed up towards the crest of a stony hill. The Buffalo soon followed, with a bull charging and coming quite close to one of the Lionesses, who dodged with a snarl, but strangely, the Buffalo didn’t follow through and go for a cub, and several were nearby. Instead it veered to the right and rejoined the others and soon stopped the pursuit. The Lions settled down quickly as if nothing had occurred, with three small cubs unexpectedly joining the other seven cubs and seven Lionesses. The cubs played while the Lionesses either sprawled on their sides in sleep or sat and watched the distant buffalo.

We’ve seen buffalo chase lions before, but on most of those occasions lions had been stalking a buffalo who turned the tables and charged the lions. Last year, we watched a lion hunt in Tanzania where a string of lionesses had fanned out to encircle the lead buffalo in a group of a dozen or so, and when they charged the buffalo spun and ran, catching up with the herd who, after a short run, turned and faced off the lions. They stopped and the hunt was over. In Samburu, we’ve seen a male lion run for hundreds of yards when the buffalo it had been stalking took offense, charging and chasing the lion. Conversely, we’ve seen a huge herd of buffalo stand and watch as a pride of lions fed upon a buffalo they had just killed, making no effort to attack the lions.
This one was different, as the buffalo had been grazing and heading downhill, then turned and advanced, with several eventually chasing the lions. I had to wonder if the aggressive cow had just lost a calf to the lions, or perhaps a close herd-mate, and now, seeing lions and being in a group, the cow tried to exact some sort of revenge. Ron asked me if lions and buffalo hate one another, and I replied that I think lions don’t ‘hate’ buffalo, they just considered them as food, although a dangerous one, but buffalo probably do ‘hate’ lions. They know lions are threats, and when they get a chance, they’ll do their best to eliminate them, as may have happened with the crippled cub Mary had just a few days ago.
Leaving the lions, our plan was to drive along the Mara River after breakfast, but we soon found our route impassable, as the high waters of the river had backed up to create a small lake where a tiny stream had previous straddled the road. A dozen hippos and a lone Nile Crocodile occupied the waters, and we soon could understand why when we checked out the Mara River Bridge.
At the bridge, the Mara River was just five feet below the upper bridge, the new one, while the old bridge, where Ron had photographed a Nile Monitor feeding on one of the few remaining Gnu carcasses stranded on a boulder, was now under five feet of water. The water poured over the lower bridge, creating raging chocolate-colored waves. The river was truly tumultuous and frightening, and being on the new bridge with its metal flooring I could feel the structure shake. I think we have an El Nino year.
We headed back towards the lodge, stopping for a good Oribi antelope beside the road that periodically pulled up a small wad, which it chewed, then swallowed the cud, a small bulge rolling down its throat. A side-necked Turtle basked on a rock a bit earlier, giving us a nice view of this ancient type of turtle, a group found in Australia, South America, and Africa and characterized by not having an S shaped neck. Most turtles can completely withdraw their heads and necks into their shells, forming a sharp S in the neck in doing so, and then protecting their heads by withdrawing their forelegs, forming a scaly wall that protects the vulnerable head. Sometimes a predator still gets a leg out and we’ve seen many US turtles with a front leg missing, but the turtle still survives. Snake-necked turtles’ necks can’t make the S bend, and instead their necks simply swing to the side, with the upper and lower shell protecting the head and neck somewhat, but not nearly as effectively as the S necked turtles. Those turtles, like the Leopard Tortoise we saw a few days ago, can safely wander about on land, as most predators can’t break through their barrier of shell and well-armored limbs. Snake-necked turtles are aquatic, and flee danger by dashing into the water and burrowing into the mud. If they are captured, they bite aggressively, and may also exude a musk.
At breakfast I noticed something brand new for me. The horns of antelope skulls we often find in the grasslands, be that buffalo or gazelle or gnu, often have weird, finger-like projections sticking out from the horns. These give the horns an almost wart-covered appearance, quite unattractive and so different from the mounted heads one sees with trophies. The projections are the work of a moth, that eats
You can see the projections on the horn formed by the moth that I
mention in the text, and also a Skink, a type of lizard, lying on the horn.

the keratin covering of the bony horn. During the pupae stage of their metamorphosis, they spin a structure of silk and keratin that results in these projections. While I was watching a skink and some termites I glanced down at a skull at our picnic area and noticed that the ends of the ‘warts’ had the pupae’s cast skin at the end of several. The moths had since left the warts, but the final stage of their life cycle, this final shed as the moth crawled out of the wart, split its pupae skin, and became a moth, was clearly visible. Seeing that was the highlight of my day – everyone else’s, understandably, was the incredible action of the lions and the buffaloes.
PM. We left at 3:30 to avoid the rains, but surprisingly the western sky was only partially covered in clouds, although a wall of rain covered  the escarpment and the Mara in the north. We headed down to the river to look for crocodiles, finding two African Fish Eagles, an immature just beginning to change into a fully white head and neck adult, and a full adult. They allowed us to get surprisingly close, then flew off and landed in some nearby trees.
The Mara River was raging, up to the top of the river bank in some places, and the only Hippos we saw were in bays that were once low shorelines. Crocodiles had disappeared, probably traveling up the now flooded luggas where they could avoid the current and capitalize on prey unaccustomed to crocodiles at their watering holes. Rain was advancing from the east as we waited by a large herd of Common Zebras that looked as if they might try a crossing, but when the herds began to move away from the river we moved, too, inland, looking for cheetahs and lions.
We found the Lions, both males and at least five, in total, of the cubs and lionesses, and we spent a little bit of time with the male Lions, as we tried doing HDRs with the western sky. Mary radioed that they had the five Cheetahs from yesterday and we raced there, but by then the cats were on the road and all of the vehicles were simply following behind. Mary had been with them for at least thirty minutes and had some nice shots of the Cheetahs in the grass, against the stormy background sky. We headed home.
Along the way the sun popped from the clouds, and the low, slanted rays bathed the landscape in gold, contrasting sharply and vividly with the blue-gray storm clouds in the east. I rarely feel anxiety or pressure, but it was killing me to not have some foreground subject, a zebra or elephant or, dreaming, a male lion, in that golden light with that dramatic sky behind. As we neared the lodge we did find some Buffalo, and managed a few shots before the sunlight faded and the scene went dull. Mary, following behind, stopped several times for trees, so hopefully she and Ron and Lisa captured something dramatic. Honestly, as I soaked in the light, I thought that some ‘scenes’ may not have to be ‘captured’ with a camera, nor do they have to be. With these sweeping fields of gold and vibrant green, dark shadows defining every contour of each hill, and with a variegated sky of blues and grays and puffy white clouds hanging like swatches of torn fabric in the sky and towering, orange-red tinted thunderheads poking into the stratosphere, all banded and balled and swirled into one great tapestry, simply seeing and soaking in this grand landscape should be enough. For me, tonight, it was.

Day 11. Upper Mara to Upper Mara

One of the more spectacular sunrises started our day, and we found a decent acacia tree on the high plateau for a foreground. We headed south once again, hoping to find the 17 lions we had photographed yesterday, but amazingly, despite covering a lot of ground, they eluded us.
However, we did have cheetahs! Seven in all, two in one group and five in another. Henry and I spotted the first pair, a mother and large cub, but they were lying flat, as Spotted Hyenas were within view and thus discouraging any chase for the nearby Thompson’s Gazelles.
We were unable to continue on our route because of flooded luggas and swampy ground, and as we circled around to reach where we had intended to go, Mary and Stanley preceded us, and Mary had a fabulous spotting of the mother Cheetah with four cubs. It took Stanley a few long seconds to see the cats she spotted.
We arrived soon after, and the cheetahs were resting, but soon they moved, and from a distance we watched the subadults race and play and jump. They settled, and suddenly the mother took up a hunting pose, and we thought she was going for the two Reedbuck we could see in the lugga below her. It really looked like she was stalking them, but she went by, continuing up the next hill where she headed off a group of six or eight Thomies that were walking and jogging along the hillside.
All Cheetahs have individual hunting strategies. Some approach, stop, jog, stop, crouch, and then charge forward very directly. Some watch the herds for little ones, then jog in, confident of the kill, putting on speed at the last moment. Some move in slowly and only charge when they are quite close, while we’ve seen others that ran from distances we thought impossible, and still ran down their prey. This female acted like a leopard, using cover, circling around, and using strategy, and when the gazelles jogged by I thought she’d charge from behind, getting a few strides in before the antelope would sense danger. Instead, she watched them pass, then jogged along far behind, as if hoping they’d stop and give her another chance. They did not, and we left the Cheetahs, all five on a termite mound, where we shot some nice portraits prior to driving on to the Upper Mara.
At the Mara River Bridge the river had dropped considerably, and now there was only a foot or two over the lower bridge where, yesterday, it was about five feet high. Still, as we drop north, we were detoured in several places by flooded luggas, and by swampy ground that required us to backup. Eventually, we simply drove to the main road where we continued on to the Talek Gate and on to camp. At Talek, we were stunned to see the amount of urban growth that has occurred there since we’d last passed through, several years ago. Now there is a bank, restaurants, a small hotel, and side streets lined with shops, and a gas station too. Outside of town, a stockade reminded me of a stock yard in Texas, with bony-hipped cows walking by, going out to pasture. Our camp, we discovered, was surprisingly close to the main gate, requiring only a twenty minute drive to finish our morning journey.

Black-bellied Bustard doing the hiccup and the burb

PM. Our good luck continued, with storms virtually everywhere but over us, and the Mara Triangle, where we spent the last two days, was shrouded in a wall of rain. At one point Mary, with Henry, got drenched in an unexpected shower, while my vehicle, with Stanley, had a sprinkle, but we put on the tops fearing that the storm would hit us too. We no sooner put on the top than the rains stopped, and we removed them before we continued.
Our Leopard mother had moved her two cubs to our side of the river, a fortunate move since the Talek River is now impassable with the high water. We stopped there first, but the cubs were not present, and Mary went back at the end of the day to try again, and again we had no luck. We did find that the Leopard’s den was on the opposite side of the tree that we were facing, as we were given the wrong directions! We learned about our mistake at dinner, and will correct that for tomorrow.
We had several Lion, but they were lying flat, and the mother Cheetah with three cubs was doing likewise, at least early in the afternoon. When I passed by later, at nearly 6, the female cub had left her family and was stalking gazelles, but a Topi saw her and she aborted the hunt. I think she’s ready to leave her family, as she is demonstrating real independence. Lisa had a good baby Waterbuck as her highlight, and the rest of us had the Cheetahs, and our encounter of the female cub at the end of the day was great, resulting in wonderful portraits. It drizzled as we returned to camp but by 9 the skies were clear, although the Talek roars with pulses of high water.

Day 12. Upper Mara

We left early, hoping to arrive at the den site of the Leopard with two cubs. Yesterday morning, while we were still in the Triangle, the mother nursed and the cubs played, apparently in good view. The den site had fairly open vegetation around it, and when we arrived we had the area to ourselves, but no leopard. We waited nearly forty minutes before deciding, prudently, that it’d be best to check elsewhere.
We headed back to Malika, the Cheetah with three cubs, who had still not made a kill. Mary preceded me, and then continued on to a small pride of Lions where, in a rather tight ‘window’ through the vegetation, Mary, Lisa, and Carolyn, they got shots and views of perhaps a two-week old cub, with its eyes just open, nursing from the Lioness. Two males, and another Lioness were nearby. We stayed with the Cheetahs, who almost had some luck when two Grant’s Gazelles trotted towards them. The cats hunkered down low, but one of the four must have moved, for the antelope saw them, froze, and eventually trotted off.
We followed the Cheetahs as they headed in a northeasterly direction towards the Talek River. Near the river banks the four cats hunted once again, this time four Hartebeests. One of the young males headed to the right and behind the Hartebeest, while the other three were spread out in a line, paralleling the Hartebeests’ line of travel. As Henry said, they were hunting like lions, and this is only the second time we’ve ever seen Cheetahs adopt a real strategy, something I didn’t mention previously. I was very surprised at the coordination, and although the male drove the Hartebeests forward, and the other cats gave some sort of chase, nothing was caught. To me, it looked as if at least one of the Cheetahs was intimidated, as it ran forward with the high bouncy gate they’ll adopt when they’re trying to intimidate a large prey animal, like a big topi or a zebra mare, into running off and deserting their baby. In those bouncy jumps they may look bigger, and the jumps are characterized as well by still forelegs frequently poking forward. I’ve seen Coyotes and Wolves in Yellowstone run similarly for similar reasons.
After the unsuccessful hunt the Cheetahs moved down towards the river bank, and they sat along a bank or a termite mound, or moved along the bank’s edge, giving the impression that they were thinking of crossing. The Talek today was a raging river, and whereas we were able to ford the river on our last trip, our vehicle would be underwater this time if we tried it. At one point the four Cheetahs dashed down to the river’s edge, then after an inspection of the river, at a spot where the rapids truly looked deadly, the cats ran back up to the top of the river bank. There they paused, sitting on a termite mound, periodically leaving it to walk to the bank’s edge, all the while peering out across the river at the opposite shore.
We wondered what they were really thinking. They obviously wanted to cross, and you could see the cats staring at the river, weighing their options, then investigating, then having second thoughts. Once, the mother led the exploration to the river’s edge, and another time one of the male cubs did so. After their second or third investigation the four cats followed the shoreline down river, where we were unable to see them, although another vehicle in front of us had them in sight. With the trees and brush there was limited visibility, so when I had the chance I had my vehicle pull forward enough that we saw a good stretch of the river, giving the cats room if the cats were swept downstream as, or if, they crossed. Mary moved to a spot directly above the cats, again having a down-river view, so we had both options covered.

Alerted by the honks of Egyptian Geese we knew they made their move, and in seconds we saw the cats swimming across the river at a stretch where, luckily, it was smooth water. The cats swam in a rough line, two-one-two, with some with their noses crinkled up in a look of distaste. From the time they were in view for me until they reached the opposite bank 21 seconds elapsed, and perhaps we may have missed the first three or four seconds. Surprisingly, the cats swam fairly directly, and were not pushed downstream nearly as far as I’d have expected. Stanley said he’d seen a Lioness swim straight across a fast-moving river, a direct line, so although they may not want to swim, they are powerful swimmers win they do.
The cats made it to shore safely, scrambled up the bank, shook, and disappeared into the plains east and south of our location, and now out of reasonable reach for a normal game drive. Hopefully the hunting there will be more productive for the four adult-size cats.
We had breakfast and afterwards Mary’s vehicle looked for the serval and mine headed upriver to see the Lions. En route, a family of Ground Hornbills flew by, one carrying something long and yellow, either a stick or, more likely, a snake. We backtracked to find out, and discovered their nest, in a riverside Fig tree with one large, hornbill-size hole in the trunk, with an adult’s head just sticking out. In contrast to other species of hornbills, Ground Hornbills do not wall up the nest cavity, thus imprisoning the female and eggs. Perhaps the hole is just too big, for these birds simply use the opening in the traditional way a cavity-nesting bird exploits this opportunity. One of the immature Hornbills had the snake in its bill, and as it flew off, I managed to catch a few quick shots. Because of the scarcity of tree cavities large enough to accommodate a hornbill, Ground Hornbill nesting territories are usually comprised of a breeding pair, and one or two generations of their offspring. Because nest holes are so rare, there’s a definite advantage in having the offspring around, helping to defend the territory and the valuable nest hole. Perhaps, if or when the parents die, they’ll inherit the nest.
We headed to look for the serval but Mary radioed that the Leopard had been seen, eating a warthog. We raced to the spot, but the Leopard was deep in the croton bushes so we stayed on the track and waited, hoping she’d finish and head for the cubs. Instead, she picked up the half-consumed warthog baby and walked off, and we tried heading her off and finding the cubs. At one point, the Leopard walked parallel to us in the brush, then stepped into an opening where we were waiting where, surprisingly, she stopped, giving us plenty of time for some shots. Then she moved on, and we lost her in the brush, and after searching, headed back to camp for lunch.
PM. We left at 3:30, heading towards the Serval area, an animal that has so far eluded us. We had no luck. Continuing on, Henry spotted a Cheetah in the distance, a new one, with cubs only about six months old. The two cubs and mother were lying on a termite mound, providing some portraits but little else, so we continued on, intending to revisit the Cheetahs later in the afternoon when it was cooler.
We found three Lionesses, and a brown maned Lion, near the Talek River, in the open in the brilliant afternoon sunshine, the first sunny afternoon we’ve had, almost, since the trip began. The male eventually rose from his Sphinx-like pose and walked towards another group of Lionesses where the afternoon suddenly became very interesting, and very puzzling.
Three young lions, a four year old male who was already larger than the sexually mature Lionesses nearby, sported the beginning of a mane, the Mohawk and sideburns of a young male. Two other brown/black maned Lions are in the area, giving this pride a total of at least three dominant males, and thus making sense of having the four-year old male still in the pride. Undoubtedly, he was their son, and probably from their first successful litter. Having a powerful young male around that is not challenging the pride, nor a mating threat for the lionesses, gives this lion coalition greater power.
We were surprised to discover a tiny Lion cub, perhaps ten days old, so small that its ears are still folded flat but its eyes are open. It wandered about in the croton bushes unattended, crying and yowling nearly constantly, while an adult Lioness lounged on her side, asleep, close by. Although her teats would indicate she wasn’t nursing, we wondered at first if she might not be the mother. If not, then surely she was the baby-sitter. With this unattended, hungry, and lonely cub wandering about, I wondered if the cub might be from the Talek mother we’d seen earlier, and so we drove the .8 miles to the den site to see if she was in the process of moving cubs from one location to another. We found the Lioness, and she was in the same position as we’d seen her in the morning, and this time we confirmed that she had three young cubs with her. It was thought that they were older than the orphan cub, but we were not sure. We did know that she was not in the process of moving cubs, but had she done so earlier?
It is possible that this orphan cub was the runt of the litter, and was left behind when the Lioness moved to her present location, or perhaps she even forgot that she left one behind. Perhaps the mother of the orphan cub was dead, and the cub was truly an orphan, and that’s a possibility this close to the border and the Maasai, where a lion could be poisoned if there had been a cow killed.
At any rate, drivers from another camp had seen one of the females – we’re not sure if it was the ‘aunt’ with the cub, or one of the younger Lionesses – had actually carried this orphan cub at least 300 yards to this present location. Perhaps, if it was abandoned or orphaned (either scenario, above), the aunt’s or the young Lioness’s maternal instinct was triggered, and the Lioness carried the cub, compelled to do so by instinct. Arriving at the present location in the croton bushes, her duty was done, and her interest waned, and now the cub was being basically ignored.
At one point the aunt, who had been lying on her side sleeping, finally got up and approached the cub, circling around it and sniffing it, appearing at one point to be ready to pick it up. She did not, nor did she do the flehmem face, the ‘stinky face’ look, that the mother of cubs typically does when picking up her own cubs. She settled down facing us, and the cub circled around, but didn’t seem to be especially interested with the aunt, and wandered along the Lioness’s back, and belly, and then beyond to her tail. The Lioness finally stood and walked off, and the orphan cub sat in the grass, yowling and yelping, alone and hungry and desperate for its mother.
The Narok Rangers pulled up close and were watching everything, and when they pulled away I had Henry ask them some questions, as did Stanley previously.  We got nothing worthwhile from those conversations – the Rangers said it was the aunt’s cub (to Stanley) and not (to Henry). I asked a question about who the cub’s mother was, but my English was apparently incomprehensible, and I got an affirmative answer with absolutely no meaning. Henry said they’d check on the cub tomorrow morning, and if it was still abandoned they’d attempt to collect it and take it to the animal orphanage in Nairobi. Dream on. If the mother doesn’t show up tonight, the cub is doomed. Quite probably the Lions will leave the bushes and travel somewhere else tonight, and the cub will be left behind. It will continue to cry and yelp, and a wandering leopard, jackal, or hyena will hear the call and come. As sad as that may seem, it is better than slowly starving, protected but unnourished by the surrounding lions. Sad, though, either way.
We finished the day with a return to the Cheetah mother and cubs which had not moved since we had seen them earlier, and with that we headed back to camp, with two towering thunderheads looming over the western and southern horizons and clear skies and a half moon overhead.

Day 13. Upper Mara

With no rain the Talek River dropped overnight, assuming near normal levels that would have made the cheetah crossing easy today. Under a clear dawn sky we headed towards the Stinky Water forest, hoping to find our leopard, but we were unsuccessful and headed east towards the cheetahs. Both my vehicle, with Henry, and Mary’s, with Stanley, passed by the croton bushes where we had the lions and the orphan cub and no lion was present, nor was there any sign of a Narok Ranger, as I expected. Although Henry spun a story that the aunt would take the cub with her, she wasn’t nursing, nor was she interested, and I’m sure overnight, with the tiny cub yowling and yelping in hunger and fear the cub came to a quick end. Jackals, hyenas, or leopards, all have keen ears.
We checked out the Lioness with the three cubs and spotted her, and one cub, in the exact location as yesterday, although when Mary saw her she had moved down to the water for a drink. From there we headed to the mother Cheetah and two cubs, where we spent the next hour or more in some of the very best baby Cheetah activity we’ve ever had. The light was great – after so many days of cloudy skies today was clear and sunny, and the grass was short, providing no obstacles for the babies running about.
What struck me most with the play was the tolerance of the mother. Lionesses, in contrast, often snarl or make a growling-looking face when annoyed by their cubs pulling a tail or grabbing a neck, but the Cheetahs expression never changed. Lions and leopards have black jowly lips that hang and give the cat’s a totally different expression, most times, than a Cheetah, who lacks those jowls and whose mouth more resembles a domestic cats. Consequently, a Cheetah often looks like it is smiling, and today, as the two 4-5 month old male cubs pounced on mom, grabbed her neck, taking throat-holds or grabbing her nape, she simply looked benign. One shot, where she’s falling backwards with a cub at her throat, could have the caption or balloon text, ‘my baby is learning to kill,’ and she was happy for it. In contrast, at one point the mother sat upright, looking at something that concerned her in the distance, and her expression, the slight set in the mouth and eyes, was quite different from the tolerant mom letting the cubs use her head, neck, tail, and body as a playground.

The cubs raced about, tackling one another, and it seemed as if the slightly bigger cub was usually the chaser. Sometimes the smaller cub would run to mom for protection and the other cub would stop, whereupon the smaller cub would charge forward and pounce, and the wrestling or the chase would continue. Interestingly, especially since I’ve critiqued the work of our favorite carver, Silas, in Nakuru, the cub that was being chased has his ears laid flat, while the cat in pursuit had his ears cupped forward, with eyes and ears directed at his prey, the cub. In the carvings, the laid back ears were pointed upwards, and not down, or flat against the head and neck.

The cats practiced tackles and throat-holds, usually grabbing the runner by the back of the neck, and sometimes the two would roll, or the ‘prey’ would flip onto his back and paw upwards in defense. The cubs would stand upright and box, or jump over each other or the mother, and never did it seem as if they were fighting, as lion cubs can seem to do even though, of course, they are indeed playing. With the Cheetah cubs, it was clear that this was play, and they continued on until finally, when the mother moved to the shade of a termite mound, the cubs joined her and slept.
At the river the Ground Hornbills returned to the nest once again. We saw three birds from a distance, with one adult carrying a large wad of prey at the end of its bill, appearing as if it was holding a mud ball. The birds entered the nest tree from down river, so we missed the flight shots I anticipated, but we did shoot the adult (probably the male) as he poked his beak into the nest hole for a second or two, reemerging with a clean, bug-free beak. Soon afterwards the female emerged, and all four birds flew off.
We headed for breakfast, and followed that with an unsuccessful search for the serval and the leopard, and returned to camp at 11:30 to give people some time to pick some images for the evening slide show. At 2 the skies are still clear, promising a good final afternoon.
PM. Our final afternoon, and as is tradition, Mary and I rode together to enjoy our final game drive in Kenya for this year, joined by our good friend Carolyn. We looked for the leopard first, but had no success, as no one has since we’d last seen her with the baby warthog kill. That was a disappointment, as we only missed seeing the cubs at the first den by a morning game drive, arriving in the afternoon in the Upper Mara a few hours too late.

We headed to the Cheetah with the two cubs and despite the fact that the cats had not yet made a kill they were playful. After seeing what looked like joy or bliss in the mother’s face when her cubs mauled her in play kills, watching her chase the cubs or being chased, in a game of tag was further affirmation of some type of emotion or thinking on these cats part. We’ve rarely seen lionesses really playing with their cubs, instead their interaction is usually just one of tolerance, with sporadic snarls and grimaces or warning bites. Occasionally, especially with young lions or lionesses and older adults, there will be short chases or jumps across one another’s back, or standing up slap matches for a few seconds, but nothing like what we’ll see with cheetahs.

Two play sessions with lions do stand out, however. Once, in the Serengeti after a very heavy rain, two large and very mature blond maned Lions stood on their hind legs and boxed several times, reminding me of the play polar bears will do in Churchill. On another occasion, a Lioness had captured a very young Thompson’s Gazelle and was letting it run, then chasing it and knocking it back down. The Lioness did this several times and doing so attracted the attention of a Lion who was still a long way off but began trotting forward, intent on stealing the kill. The Lioness had just knocked the gazelle down and was standing over it, but her attention was drawn to the approaching lion. She stared intently in that direction, and consequently did not notice when the baby gazelle got up and sprinted off. As the Lion got closer, she looked down to grab the gazelle and run off, and you could see her surprise and bewilderment when the lamb seemed to have disappeared!
After playing in several locations as they moved to the northeast and the Talek River the Cheetah spotted prey, and made a few half-hearted attempts, but no runs. Our light was failing, and our Cheetah was far off a game track, lying down and watching distant prey, and with that we headed back to camp.


I set up a final Range IR camera trap for Genets and Bushbabies, and that evening and through the night two different black Bushbabies and one gray phase visited my setup, giving me the best shots I made this year.

Day 14. The Mara to Nairobi and trip's end

Clear skies once again and our guides, Henry and Stanley, left early for Nairobi while we slept in, meeting for a late breakfast and a flight to Nairobi. We met with our tour operator at lunch, where we discussed the various conservation dilemmas facing Kenya and the Masai Mara. Lions are in particular trouble, declining from 200,000 to less than 20,000 in less than thirty years. North of Isiolo and Samburu, at a lion research camp he used to visit and where, every night, back ‘in the day,’ he would hear lions roaring at night, he now hears nothing. The lions are gone, poisoned or killed as the population and cattle population has increased there. Richard Leakey, he said, just released his estimate on how many cows are grazing inside the national parks – the number, 800,000 head of livestock. Leakey has always been an advocate of fencing the Mara, and both my tour operator and Mary and I strongly agree. Cattle grazing inside the park eventually results in predator conflicts, and the predators suffer for it.
That evening, as we had our last dinner with our participants and our guides, we continued that discussion. One of our guides as the hope that paying the Maasai for their land, and thus compensating them to keep out of the Mara or the adjacent area, would be better than fencing. He agrees that there have been threats that the Maasai would kill the wildlife in retaliation if they were excluded from their land if fenced, but he thought that they would honor the agreement to keep cattle out … except when ….. If the rains failed and the Maasai needed the grass, then it would be okay to bring the cows in, and that’s what had happened years ago when boundaries began to be violated, resulting in the conditions we have today. Unfortunately, park fees and the revenue that tourists generate for the Mara goes through Narok and Nairobi, and the money and benefits are not enjoyed by those that live in or near the Mara. The same problem exists in the Serengeti in Tanzania. A busload of students went into one of the parks to see wildlife – most had never seen a wild elephant. Afterwards, when asked to write about their experiences, the teachers were surprised. The students, instead of writing about how wonderful the opportunity and experience was to see wild elephants and lions, wrote of how elephants and lions were bad, how their parents hated them for the destruction that they caused. Backfire!
As I wrote in the troduction to these trip reports, my initial reaction in seeing Samburu and the lower Mara this year were negative, but as the photography showed, we still had extremely productive safaris. As everyone who knows says, Kenya still delivers, and Mary and I have to agree. However, conditions are changing and long term, if things don’t change, in ten years or more the Mara will not be what we now have, and will only be a shadow of its former self. I’d urge anyone interested in wildlife and photography to go now – next year, with us – for tourist dollars are absolutely important for the preservation of this land, and for a photographer, that money would be very, very well spent.

For lenses, I used the Canon 200-400mm with 1.4X conveter and the new Canon 100-400 for most of my shooting, but to be honest, although the 200-400 is incredibly sharp if I had it to do over again, I would not have bought it. The ease of use and light weight of the 100-400 has spoiled me. Mary used her 500mm on a 7D Mark II, but also found that she used her 100-400mm most often.

Both of us used our Gura Gear Bataflae bags in the safari vehicles for our cameras and smaller lenses, but we kept our long lenses in the Long Lens Bag by Vertex. I'm proud to say I helped design the bag, and to hear from our participants that it is the best investment they made for their safari. Everyone loves them and we are seeing more and more of our participants using them. I used 64 and 32gb Hoodman Cards, which are incredibly fast, somewhat essential when shooting fast action -- and we had plenty.

Refer to our BROCHURE to get an idea of next year's trip! The brochure may not be completely updated for 2016, but the itinerary will be similar.