Rukinga – Lifeline between East and West

Tsavo country is vast, spectacular and ochre-red. The fine red dust is its trademark - and too the red elephants and buffalo that result from it.

Rukinga Ranch is 30000ha of cattle ranch turned conservation thanks to efforts of Wildlife Works, a company that recognised that the region in which Tsavo lies isn’t going to get any wealthier from doing nothing for the land. The cows get denser each year as does the population and so the only real solution is to put the land to good use. When the majority of the space in the region is already taken up by the East and West Tsavo Parks that are already a tourist attraction thanks to history and movies like ‘Ghosts in the Darkness’, it makes sense to ensure the wildlife perpetuates. To do this takes cooperation from the community and a channel that links them together. Rukinga is such a place…a refuge for migratory animals passing through the desolate dry landscape and a paradise to the observer.

The elephants jostle and vocalise through the night to stake a claim to the small waterhole they have created from lifting the water pipe outside camp. The park staff are exasperated at having to fix the pipe for the umteenth time but I love the fact that all through the night I can hear the ellies from my bed and every morning first thing, there they are right on the doorstep vying with buffalo bulls for access to the muddy bath. Hundreds of ring-necked doves alight around the great grumpy pachyderms like grey snow falling on the red earth, the sunlight glinting off their white retrices. One needn’t venture far at all for a wildlife spectacle so incredible, it’s hard to believe it happens again and again each morning.

But after some elephant indulgence, the great expanses beyond the camp vicinity beckon and inevitably the temptation grips to look for some of the other remarkable species that inhabit these parts. There are gerenuks that never cease to elicit giggles as they stand up primate-like on their hind legs to access leaves generally out of reach of such small antelope. Their front hooves dangle out gracefully in front of their sleek bodies as they nibble and chew for seemingly ages on two pins. Fringe-earred oryx are rarer but a glimpse of their impressive stature with lance-like horns is always a treat. As is an encounter with the endangered Grevy’s zebra. The population was introduced to the area in an effort to bolster the numbers. While the oryx’s ears appear frayed and unkempt, the Grevy’s has ears that look like they used to belong to Mickey Mouse! Oversized and comical these perfectly compliment a unique stripe pattern amongst zebra that resembles a pin-stripe suit left open over the belly to reveal a white undershirt.

Aardwolf and striped hyena, caracal, serval and bat-earred fox are some of the other treats and not always that rare a sight either. But my best are the Kirk’s dikdik. These miniature antelopes are the fame of the area. Paired off in their small but excusive territories, it’s a few hundred meters only between sightings. Their large eyes are even more emphasized by the dark preorbital glands that they use to paint tarry secretions onto beacons as boundary markers. The little ungulates also make remarkably large middens to identify their ranges but as a species, being so successful warrants a little showing off I suppose. Their slender noses are apparently a clever trick they have to survive in such harsh climates, wriggling these to cause evaporate cooling.

I’ve heard a story or two of late about how the dikdik got its name but as convincing as these were, the fiction was derived from a very capable story-telling Irishman with a vivid imagination and an illuminating smile. Jimmy was one member of the first group of students to participate in Ecotraining’s pilot Kenyan 28-day field guide training course on Rukinga (www.ecotraining.co.za) and was matched in his charismatic-ness by each of the others participating. Anton, the Russian-Australian, had a ceaseless stream of naturalist questions that couldn’t be quenched (even between Ashleigh’s random hic-ups) – even at 2am on a nocturnal drive, they just kept coming! But that kind of interest is exactly what is required in an environment where there are so many new things to learn and areas to explore…not least of which was Mount Kasigau, the towering landmark that presides over the Rukinga landscape. So up we went…

The Austrian-Spanish cousins, Sophie and Cecile, and I had decided we would just accompany the over-energetic Jimmy, Anton and Wil part of the way up the 1640m peak. Climbing a mountain is about enjoying the scenery on the way up and not just anticipating the view from the top. Dry, rocky Commiphora bush changed into tall, shaded dry forest which metamorphosed into a fantasy-land of looming trees, dancing leaves, giant-sized buttrices and moss-covered logs. Trenches from the First World War distracted us from the hike at one point and then the appeal of an even lovelier wet-forest further up where purple orchids dotted the tree trunks, Taita white-eyes flitted and one had to be careful to step steadily on the slippery mud. The temperate was cool and lovely, a remarkable micro-climate compared to the heat below. Then the final climb was in sight and the girls were still on board and more determined than ever to reach the top having come so far inadvertently! The boys must’ve been as impressed with us as we were with ourselves as they quite willingly shared their sandwiches with us! We had abandoned ours in the vehicle below not thinking we’d need them! Getting down proved a comedy of slippery errors but 7 hours after it all began and we were back on level ground marvelling at the feat!

October has seen the start of the very welcome rains. ‘Karibu sana’ as they say in Kiswahili… ‘most welcome’! The entire landscape has been transformed into an emerald wonderland and although the elephants have dispersed and are no longer lingering on the camp doorstep, it’s a relief to know there’s plenty of water for them to drink. The buffalo can relax a bit too.

Or maybe not since the lion activity on Rukinga has been on the rise. Two very good-looking young males (albeit maneless) made their appearance the other morning roaring proudly to announce their arrival. After feasting on a lesser kudu, the companions settled under a leafy Commiphora to while away the hours providing super viewing for the second intake of EcoTrainers this year. The maneless lions of Tsavo are renowned although scientists still seem to be a little confused as to why they don’t grow manes. The probability is that the heat typical of the area would sap them of vital energy if they had impressive furry manes but interestingly, increased testosterone that causes baldness in human males, could be another reason. Since Tsavo lions tend to hold tenure over a territory on their own unlike the coalitions of other savanna areas, they’d need a whole lot of hormone driving them to be aggressive enough to chase off contenders and hair-loss may result! The ladies don’t seem to mind…

The rain has brought the migrants and Indi or ‘Indiana Jones’ as we affectionately call her – a local Kenyan already in the safari industry but here to learn more - is thrilled! Every referee-whistle of a Eurasian bee-eater or ‘coo-coo’ of the African cuckoo elicits gasps of delight from her. Through the many enjoyable hours of birding that we’ve done on both Rukinga and in Tsavo East (clocking up 123 species in 3 and a half weeks), she has also elicited gasps of delight from the rest of us with her ceaseless supply of snacks! In her words: ‘yum’!

Johnson is the laugh-a-minute Kenyan chap who always has a bright smile and a witty comment. He keeps Caroline on her toes questioning her about everything he spots. Caroline is our Dutch ‘singing’ friend – she has a tune for every occasion! She’s on an adventure away from rainy Holland to indulge in glorious Africa – lucky for us but maybe not for her, we’ve had a fair bit of rain during her stay! Steve and Petra complete the dynamic little group and although Steve is of Taita origin, he happily chats away to Petra in her mother tongue German providing great amusement to the rest of us.

Such is the case in any EcoTraining Kenyan field guide experience…a mix of diverse culture, personality, landscapes and wildlife. Wouldn’t miss it for the world!

The magic of Tsavo

Luangwa - Battlefield of Hippo (Part 1)

The Luangwa Valley stretches like a giant arm along the Eastern part of Zambia. This vast and unforgiving wilderness, partially protected within the confines of the North and South Luangwa National Parks, does not enjoy a brutality-free history but having survived most of the ravages of man’s exploits (all except the rhino!) remains today as one of Africa’s last. A side branch to the renowned Great Rift Valley, the flat-bottomed Luangwa Valley harvests the fertility washed down from her mother feature and with the provision of copious annual summer floods, consequently supports an inordinate abundance and diversity of life. Water gushes down a 200m wide snaking channel, over spilling its meandering banks to replenish numerous oxbow lagoons and watering the adjacent pastures. With so much surface water and the fertility of the Rift’s clay soils, the valley erupts in a summer harvest of incredibly high plant biomass which in turn supports a high biomass of herbivores including 3 endemic species - Crawshay’s zebra, Thornicroft’s giraffe and Cookson’s wildebeest. The valley consequently is alive with predators – lions, leopards, crocodiles.

Uncommon of most African rivers, the Luangwa River respects her political boundaries, rising in the highlands of Zambia’s northern frontier and terminating at the junction with the Zambezi on Zambia’s southern boundary. This spectacular river is home to the largest population of hippos in the world, and the entire ecosystem is dependant on her, the only river in the valley. And this is a vital characteristic of the Luangwa for although it is a fat and snaking river during the summer rains, Luangwa is a place of extreme seasonal contrasts and when the rain ceases, the river shrinks progressively into the dry months, eventually becoming a mere trickle interlinking deeper channels as temperatures soar into October. With the oxbows dried up and all other ephemeral water in the valley gone, creatures journey huge distances to the river for relief from a dementia-inducing time of dust and hardship – now certainly dependent of the only river in the valley. Interestingly, most creatures here exist in a smaller physical form than in the rest of Africa due to the isolated nature of the Valley, hemmed in by escapements formed by ancient tectonic movements and comparatively less fertile tracts of Miombo Woodland that extend beyond the Valley’s limits creating a relative biodiversity vacuum.

For the mega-population of hippos, ancient pig-relatives Hippopotamus amphibious, the Luangwa is patch of real estate extraordinaire! Luangwa houses an estimated 30000 hippos along its 1100km course - the biggest population anywhere in the world and so in the dry months, a shrinking river is not good news! The wide sandy beaches exposed by the retreating water, become a battleground for the hippo. For the top predators – lions and crocodiles - it’s a feast guaranteed!

So spectacular is the size of the Luangwa hippo population that any visitor to the valley can expect to count at least 80-100 individuals at any random point that one should choose to stop and tally. This in itself is remarkable but more so if one considers that the population was almost annihilated before the area was protected. In 1918 a hippo sighting was considered a significant one! But that really is a thing of the past and the numbers are staggeringly obvious when the river is at its lowest in late October into November.

Hippos seem to favour the quiet oxbow refuges and lagoon-flanked stretches of river as it is here that they can easily access the lush grass from the alluvial areas surrounding the floodplains. But after May, these choice habitats are no longer available, shrivelled to chunks of caked-mud in the heat, and with no where else to go, hippos migrate en masse to the deeper pools in the wide river channel. Survival through these times is a severe ordeal. Here they are vulnerable to the scorching sun and to the wrath of the resident bulls, irritated that their turf is being invaded by the competition. The deeper pools amongst exposed sandbanks are prized territories and conflict is the order of the day!

Enormous in size and decked with formidable canine-like tusks and muscular jaws, the hippopotamus is at the best of times a formidable beast, able to snap a 3m crocodile in half given good provocation! Survival instinct sets in among the swollen pods and it’s each to their own - sometimes with brutal consequences like the death of an infant trampled in the crowd! As the water level drops lower and lower, fights erupt in a flurry of water and honking and then fizzle out almost as quickly once dominance is established or space acquired.

But for the bulls, a deep pool in the river is gold to retain females and they have more important work than mediating commotion. For a bull, the fight is for territory and for the females and mating rights that come with that. During the height of the drought, fights spark swiftly between a proprietor of a sought after stretch of river, and any unwary immigrant male, displaced from the dried up lagoons. So fierce are the bull defenders that it’s all or nothing. Most fights are likely to end in the death of one of the combatants or at least the expulsion of the loser. The bizarre and somewhat unnerving honk-roars of hippos in combat ring out through the dry air throughout August, September and October, night and day. Most of the noisy charade seems to be an intimidation tactic – when matters get serious, the noise disappears, the only sounds being the clash and slash of mighty canines locked in confrontation accompanied by spectacular sprays of water and blood streaming from the afflicted combatants’ mouths. Powerful robust jaws supported by abnormally large head and forequarters and sword-like teeth are the fighting weapons of these massive opponents –the rest just tons of stubborn blubber. Characterised by violent head shakes and swift rushes, these scenes are spectacular, the noisy chorus’ indeed intimidating and the results all too often devastating!

Memories of Mara - Land of Endless Skies

Meg in the Mara

It’s marvellously magic here in the land of gnu-mania! I’ve been irrevocably seduced by this ecosystem, its endless vistas and mild (totally non-humid) climate. Game is everywhere and although 2 million odd wildebeest and tons of zebra are aggregating in this relatively small patch of preserved grassland (when compared to Serengeti from whence they’ve come), there is soooo much to see aside from the icons and their excessively abundant predators (I’ve seen hyena and lion daily for a week!). Grey-crowned cranes abound and ground hornbills show a fair abundance. Thompson’s and Grant’s gazelles are a treat not having these in RSA and even the things we do have exist as different races or sub-species up here. Instead of the Southern giraffe, they have the Masai giraffe (different patterning). The zebra is missing its typical RSA “shadow stripe” and is called a Plains zebra rather than a Burchell’s. Coke’s hartebeest, Kirk’s dikdik, Bohor reedbuck, Topi and Olive (in place of Chacma) baboons are some of the other new ones. The good ole wildebeest is called a white-bearded wildebeest and the whole place is alive with their loud gnuuu-ing and bouncy territorial antics.

On closer look…wildebeest are pure grazers and selective at that. They do not select for species or specific parts of the plant like other selective feeders but rather wildebeest are ‘site selectors’ and will only take forage 15 cm long or less. In this regard they trample and maintain their own pastures and their wide muzzles are perfectly adapted to crop the lawn. When resources are depleted, individual herds form massive aggregations and migrate to ‘greener pastures’ (in this case from the Serengeti which has dried up completely now North to the Masai Mara and across the croc-ridden Mara River in the process)

Where adequate food and water is available wildebeest are more sedentary and exhibit a harem system where the male selects and protects a demarcated territory containing the resources that female’s desire. When the females roam into his area in search of fresh grass or water, the male will herd them and attempt to keep them in his territory (especially during the rut when they are in oestrus). Breeding herds move in homeranges that expand in drought conditions (up to three times) and become fairly stable during favourable times.

A typical wildebeest territory is usually positioned in the direct vicinity of water and somewhere nearby a sandy area that can be used as a stomping ground. Wildebeest have pedal glands (glands between their hooves) and they rake the ground with their feet to release the scent into the sand. They also release this smell wherever they walk. They make large dung middens on their stomping patches. Wildebeest bulls will engage in horn rubbing against bushes or on the ground often becoming covered in mud, in order to transmit preorbital (below the eyes) glandular secretions. Sometimes prominent rubbing posts develop within their territories. Bulls that have territories spend much time as solitary animals (until females pass through and can be herded) and in this regard they are vulnerable to predators but since only territorial bulls will sire offspring, this is a risk they are willing to take. Bulls will chase intruders out of their territory and will wrestle on their knees with any offender that does not comply.

Wildebeest are very water dependent and they will drink daily even satisfying their thirst on muddied waters (unlike zebra). They will always be within a 15km radius of a water supply. Wildebeest have bodies that are modified to accommodate their migratory habits. The slanted back is a result of shoulders that are positioned high on the body and long front legs. This structure allows wildebeest to canter for long distances. The canter is an energy-efficient mode of locomotion that allows wildebeest to follow the signs of distant storms (thunder and lightning) at a pace faster than a walk but less tiring than a full out run or trot. The calf of the wildebeest is one of the most precocial (developed at birth) of all antelope species and can stand within a few minutes and can run within a mere five minutes. It is able to keep up with the herd within the day.

"I'm a ga-nu...how do you do? I'm the ga-nicest ga-natured animal in the zoo...yes I'm a ga-nu!!!"