Look and Learn
Day six, about half-way through our astounding voyage into the Wild, started in the usual manner. Dragged out of bed semi-conscious and caffeine-deficient then poured unceremoniously into a jeep with open top and devoid of anti-predator missile-defence.
Taking photos in this state of torpor relies purely on reflex. As with every other morning, it was cold. So the windows were closed. Big deal. The roof was wide open.
Open the aforementioned window, place camera support (aka cushion) on window, place camera on cushion, peer through lens and click.
Take off lens cover...
Our Daily Leopard happened very early today. And this one was extremely camera shy. As soon as we stopped (at quite some distance from her) she rapidly exited stage-down with breakfast in mouth.
All of it.
At least it had some breakfast. We were still fasting. Only another few hours to go for us.
Twenty minutes later we came across a small group of lions, with this young hunter trying out her luck. She had a choice, do I kill one of those juicy wildebeest or do I go for that big fat floaty thingy?
She wisely chose the juicy variant, but her abilities were sadly wanting. Standing up and looking around whilst in the middle of stalking a beast was pretty rapidly going to get you spotted by your potential prey.
Her mother looked on disapprovingly. No breakfast for them either. She was obviously going to have to explain to her errant daughter how to hunt properly and thus do the work that she was born for. i.e. everything that the menfolk should be doing but couldn't be bothered. Does this remind you of anything?
Let the boys play.
We left the incompetent hunters in search of whatever would happen next...
...passing, en route, the occasional dinosaur descendant that had retained their long sought after wings.
This is Ian, doing his 'I can see bugger all' pose.
Meanwhile, we happened past these two brothers again.
They didn't look like hunting any day soon.
So we moved on.
We stopped again by the damp sand river..
...watching wildebeest try out a dry(ish) run of the Crossing of the Mara.
To be fair, they did a pretty good job of it.
Some even went in the right direction.
Eventually getting out the other side with no fatalities.
Meanwhile, totally at random, a Bateleur Eagle did an impression of a church lectern.
As well as being food and coffee deficient, we were also a little nervous. We knew there was an elephant nearby. A lone male. You know; the dangerous kind. But because of the bushes all around, we weren't sure how close he was. It is surprising how difficult is can be to see something as blindingly obvious as an enormous tree-eating herbivore with a nose longer than the average limb. And ginourmous tusks to boot.
He was closer than we thought. Ian moved away from us to draw his attention elsewhere. Or to leave us to our doom. I'm not too sure which.
He walked right passed us, pointing his trunk in our direction in just the same way that an Etonian graduate does to the average working class plebeian.
We knew our place.
After finishing our sumptuous repast and replenishing our coffee reserves, we took the opportunity to water the local flora (always a quick job with a behemoth about). We then tried following the aforementioned Eton grad, but he had lost himself in amongst the local gentlemen's clubs. Instead we, surprise surprise, found yet another vast herd of wildebeest. Surveyed by a lone giraffe. Probably counting them...
As everywhere in East Africa, there are many impala. So I thought it about time I took a photo of one or two.
This impressive male had his huge harem with him.
And gave us a display of his leaping abilities.
He was probably trying to get away from their constant nagging.
We spent a happy hour or so in the company of a herd of elephants. This youngster was having a drink from the mammaries sensibly placed between the front legs of his mother, the matriarch of this herd.
The elephant's trunk, quite rightly, is one of evolution's greatest achievements. No other mammal has approached the versatility of this organ. Although, in other Phyla, octopi have outdone them significantly.
Can't win 'em all.
To learn how to control such an appendage takes many years, and it can end up in interesting knots.
Overlooked, however, are their eyes. (See what I did there?) Elephants are often described as being effectively blind. Compared to the size of the whole elephant, they may appear tiny, but their eyes are actually bigger than ours. How big does an eye have to be to get enough detail to see well?
It seems that their vision IS good, but only over a distance of about 10 or 20 metres. How anyone can test that I don't know, but I think decent opticians and a supply of contact lenses is the least we can do for these fabulous beasts.
In the meantime, however, they use their trunks to sniff out any adversary. If an elephant points its trunk at you, it is, in essence, seeing you. Through your smell.
On the other hand, make any noise and it will be bloody certain where you are. Big ears do mean amazing hearing, even if their main use is to cool down.
So the best time to approach an elephant (if you should ever need to) is when its ears are flat and its trunk is in a knot.
We reluctantly left this amazing family and moved on.
We had not even reached lunchtime yet, and more was to about happen before that.
Here's a taster...
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