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My First Kill
Author: Charlie Gray
You never forget the first time. When Africa’s daily drama plays out in front of him Charlie Gray finds his first kill in Africa a life-changing experience.
Every now and again on safari you get a magic twenty-four hour period where the game decides to put on a spectacular show. It's the safari equivalent of a winning run and when you are on a roll there is no stopping it. I'd experienced one of these runs in Botswana last year where I had had an unprecedented day of wildlife viewing, but for sheer thrill nothing beats witnessing a kill from start to finish, 20 metres from your Land Cruiser, especially if it’s your first.
But the adventure had started the day before, with a wild dog chase.
Up on the border of the Serengeti, Nomad Safaris’ semi-permanent camp is set in the northern section of Tanzania's Loliondo Game Concession. I was catching a quick after-lunch snooze in my tent, when my guide Annaeli came rushing up. "Charlie, Charlie, would you like to see something special?" Shaking the sleep from my head I instinctively said yes, hoping he wasn't about to wave a big snake in my face. "Cornelius has spotted some wild dog!”
Wild dog have rarely been seen in the northern Serengeti, let alone outside the park boundaries where they’re seen as a pest by Masai farmers. Grabbing my camera equipment I could lay my hands on, I burst through my tent flaps and ran up to the Land Cruiser. I threw my stuff in the back we sped off.
"They are about 10km away", Annaeli explained, pointing to some hills on the horizon. As we bumped through the undergrowth I could see the excitement in his beaming smile and wide eyes. I was trying in vain to change camera lenses, not the best thing to do when you are moving at speed off-road. Wild dog move fast and we were in hot pursuit.... what a chase. After half an hour’s driving we spotted Cornelius' vehicle and saw it was empty.
Cornelius was standing further down the hill with Jackie and Lee (two other guests) and two Masai herdsmen. If the dogs were there, they must have gone by now. But no, as we tip-toed up to them we saw eight wild dog, playing in the late afternoon sunshine less than 300 metres away. Almost entirely black, they gave us cautious sidelong glances for about twenty minutes before moving out of sight behind a clump of trees.
Round the fire that evening we debated whether the dogs would stay and den.
Ideally they needed to move inside the Serengeti where they would be protected. If they interfered with the Masai and their cattle this was likely to result in a conflict that would see them forced out of the area. Cornelius and Annaeli explained that this was a very important sighting. They had already contacted various wild dog enthusiasts over the radio and word was spreading through Arusha, northern Tanzania’s safari capital.
Up early the next morning, with me still thinking how lucky I'd been to see the wild dog, Annaeli and I set off for a full day in the Serengeti. Within half an hour of entering the park we spotted a large female leopard just 10 metres from the track. She kindly paraded on the road in front of us before making off into the undergrowth to preen herself. The magic was still there, we were on a roll. The main event, however, was still to come. Deciding to make short stop for breakfast we parked on top of a small, rocky kopje and surveyed the land below with our binoculars.
Bisecting the foreground was a stream and a small water hole. On one side were several groups of grazing zebra and impala and on the other side, lion. One, two no hang on four, five. Okay, wait a minute, eighteen! They sat there, waiting as we drank our tea. They looked like very hungry lions, eyes fixed on the nearby herds. Then their breakfast turned up. A lone buffalo and her calf entered the scene from the right, heading to the waterhole. The zebra and impala looked on with expressions that echoed what Annaeli and I both said together, "You don't want to be wandering over there alone." Realising that the area in front us was about to become a killing field, we threw our tea out the window and sped off down the hill.
What ensued was a truly amazing spectacle, something I never thought I would witness at such close proximity. Three dominant lionesses headed the charge, barely stalking, aware that the buffalo and her calf stood little chance of escape. They were followed by cubs of various ages. The calf was taken almost instantaneously, succumbing to some of the larger cubs. The mother put up some resistance by trying to submerge herself in the shallow water, but even though lions do not like water they were not put off. Leaping from all angles and avoiding the buffalo’s large horns, the three lionesses swiftly bought the cow down, and half an hour later she was dead. Her muffled cries had attracted some help in the form of half a dozen other buffalo, but seeing just how many lions were there, they soon decided it was not a good idea to stick around.
Although the gore of a kill doesn't appeal to everyone, the social interaction between the lions was a special sight. The kill sent a spark through the whole pride. Younger cubs jumped around not knowing quite what to do, while older cubs squabbled over the soft meat of the calf. The three dominant females sat as sentries in key spots to ward of any poaching hyenas. Then the birds arrived; hooded and white backed vultures first, followed by a couple of tawny eagles and a whole squadron of marabou stalks . With so much going on I had to try hard not spend my whole time peering down a camera lense, but the photo opportunities were irristable.
We sat and watched for well over three hours. It felt like an initiation to me.
We had witnessed what the natural world is all about. Life and death.
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