Savage Stream

The sound of giant bees reaches us before we can see beyond the clumps of red leafed croton that grow along the Mara River’s tributaries.

THIS AND OPPOSITE PAGE: Crossing begins

We’re heading towards a colossal herd of Gnu that have gathered, still grazing haphazardly. They are chatting animatedly and the buzzing is now clearly the lowing of wildebeest, each isolated conversation sounding more like a string of nasal noohs. Suddenly they know to gather in a line, and a long queue begins forming. The “gnuing” lifts its volume. Then the first wildebeest takes a deep breath and jumps and the others splash in behind him. The queue begins to move faster and faster. Now at the back, a cloud of dust is forming as no one wants to be left behind. A mother calls to her calf to stay with her as she plunges into the wake of the herd.

A wide crocodile has taught her young one how to close in, roll its prey in the water before trying to eat it. The little one hatched chirping, on a swampy shore about a kilometre away and she carried it with its siblings in her mouth into the river. Here they began to swim and watch her coordinate her hunts with other crocodiles. Before the rains, the savannah was dry and bringing down a creature drinking at the river bank, was hard work. But now, there is almost no need for coordination, there is simply too much meat in the water.

A flock of vultures is waiting by the water’s edge. Their lean days are a distant memory, as their young are now fending for themselves. Both parents have been monogamous, kept their one egg warm in turns, until it hatched; then fed their chick – filling their crops in turns with meat, flying back and forth to the nest for three months. They’ve made sure the chick has had its bone chips, because calcium and vitamin D from sunlight are essential for its growth. Without this and other families in the flock, the savannah would be a cesspit of putrid carcasses. Because they clear up 70% of the carrion on the African continent. There are large flocks dancing about, drying their wings in intricate displays. Seeing this number you wouldn’t know that of the eleven species of old world vultures found in Africa, seven are critically endangered.

The Gnu are scrambling onto the far shore which is now slick

with wet mud. Weaker wildebeest lose their place in the line and get swept away with the river’s current. The crocodiles’ instinct is to keep the marine population in check, keeping the water ecosystem from being degraded. So despite not being hungry they get one or two, whilst the others, simply float away, drowned in the water. One young one is struggling to get out of the water. The vultures wait, watching curiously. We are holding our breaths. Someone says, the birds will gorge its eyes, even before it’s dead. The younger or smaller vultures will not start feeding until their bigger parent has had a bite. The Gnu, now in a desperate panic, tries again and again to get up the river bank in vain. For a few deadly minutes, the battle for the young Gnu is over, it is exhausted, has given up, catching its last breaths now. The crocodile continues to bask in the heat of the day as a few more vultures land noisily, close to it, on the rocks, flapping their wings and reaching their necks out to take a closer look. All of a sudden, the Gnu tries again, slips once more. For last time, it gulps air, and with all its might, leaps out and manages to clamber up quickly, unsteadily, up the slippery slope. The spectators who prayed and those who didn’t, can’t help themselves – they cheer and clap at its success. The vultures discuss the event and the crocodiles simply float, fat in the water.

Downstream, a harem of hippos is basking, their young ones go in and out of the water with their mothers. The young males occasionally show each other their gnashers, whilst the largest, dominant male wallows on the river bank. Until he’s had enough of the shows of might. He yawns, his mouth opens to its full width, unveiling his massive tusks - enough to teach the younger males a lesson. Years ago, a school friend told me - in their culture, they don’t eat omnivores – that includes pigs and hippos. I’ve been told over the years that hippopotamus

Gnu and vulture vultures feast on gnu carcass

CLOCKWISE: The plains; Hyena eating; Lion couple

are herbivores. They are largely nocturnal - consuming large quantities of plants during the cooler hours of the night - the majority of their diet. They are not predatory hunters, but they are opportunistic meat eaters. A fresh floater – wildebeest in this case – is too good to miss, and hippos will take a bite.

The Gnu on the other side of the bank gather, mothers seek their young nuzzling them eagerly, check in with their kin. Some are missing. After a while, they accept their fate, because everyone has lost someone at some time. They continue their lives, thankful for the herd, because sometimes all you have, is each other.

This brutal understanding of nature’s way is haunting, because we spend so much time trying to sanitise it. One American study with prison inmates exposed different groups to a window with a natural scene, a plasma TV screen showing a landscape and the prison courtyard. Viewing the real scene led to more rapid recovery of heart rates after exposure to low level stress than the plasma screen, which was still better than the group that could only see the prison courtyard. Further, the inmates with the natural views had fewer demands on the health care system as well.

So if you are suffering from electro magnetic stress – symptoms include insomnia, fatigue and fuzzy brain, try getting away from it all and experience some nature.

We landed at Ol Kiombo airstrip and stayed at a luxurious seasonal camp, with safari showers and flushing loos, in the midst of the action. A whole herd of Gnu grazed past us one morning, then zebras the next day. We heard hyenas whoops near by and lion roars replying into night.

For more like that, visit www. nigelarchersafaris.com and www. onsafarikenya.com