Toad and cricket, moments before the cricket vanishing act

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I’ve become accustom to a small visitor in my bathroom. Every night a small toad appears. He works hard, eating the crickets that have also weaseled their way into my tent while I brush my teeth. Occasionally I rig things a bit, urging the crickets in the toad’s direction. He seems to appreciate the favor and is willing to eat even with me nearby. I can always tell when he has eaten since a loud smack precedes each attack as his tongue comes snapping out and in.

For a while I wondered how he was getting in, then yesterday I got my answer. The shower drain isn’t so much of a drain as it is a hole in the tent, even the sink water is simply filtered towards the hole with a small hose. Last night as I took my shower I happened to peak down and see the tiny face of a toad trying to squeeze through. He seemed a bit unnerved by the shower water pouring down on him and I worried a bit about his soap exposure. He left, but returned soon after I finished to sit in the remaining water on the tiles and begin his nightly ritual of hunting crickets.

It seems that my tent has become a popular toad hangout as last night I discovered not one but two toads. The word must be getting out.

Lionness gently carrying her cub

It is unusual to see a lion running. So we stopped. The lioness was on the road with no animals in front of her, so it clearly wasn’t a hunt. So why was she running? Her speed seemed one of urgency and determination, though she would jog along and then slow back to the more typical concerted steps of a lion. Eventually she found herself next to a small bush. As she approached I noticed that there was a near-lion sized hole in the branches surround the base of the little tree. When the lion arrived she squeezed herself in between the limbs and twigs of the plant and through the bramble I could see the yellow fur of another lion – a small one. Within seconds, the lioness had picked something up turned around and emerged from the small hole. In her mouth was a tiny cub. It looked so uncomfortable and unhappy to be in her mouth, but it didn’t make a sound. It just hung limp in her gentle grip with its eyes squinted shut. The lioness wandered off stopping occasionally to readjust her grip on this tiny treasure. She seemed exhausted for her efforts, struggling to breathe with this ball of fuzz in between her lips. Nonetheless she continued her hurried pace with little jogging spurts in between her walks – all the time with the cub’s body swaying beneath her.

A lion cub was to be the first of the elusive cats for the day – a spotted cat was next, though not the one you think. We drove up to the serval with great excitement and camera ready. I expected this to be short viewing. Servals are known for their shy behavior and rarely seen in the Mara, yet there she was trotting along in the open haven of the road with the occasional glance into the tall grass. Then the cat headed into the grass though not out of view. Instead it stalked along, creeping gracefully as it eyed the small birds landing ahead of it. No kills were made, but the serval did give us an exceptional viewing, moving in and out of the grass and even stopping to look at the camera occasionally.

Serval

Keith and John with a Lappet-faced vulture

It was the last carcass of the day. Our last chance, but also our best chance. This Lappet looked hungry. We put down the traps and within minutes, I was shouting with joy as we raced towards our second Lappet-faced vulture of the season. The bird was so pre-occupied with feeding and attacking the White-backed vultures surrounding it that it didn’t seem to notice the blue beast sneaking up on it. The noose was clearly on its leg, so there was no need to wait. When we finally came up on the side of the carcass and jumped out of the car, the Lappet finally reacted. Wings stretched it was only able to move a few feet away, its foot firmly entangled and attached to the dead wildebeest on which it had been feeding.

Twenty minutes later, backpack attached we were ready for release. After a few final sweet chirps, the enormous bird was back in the air. As we took off the nooses, I eyed the carcass and the small pile of vulture regurge that now lay along side it. The bird had eaten huge chunks of cartilage right off the bone. You could see the tiny triangular slices taken out of the shoulder blade, like wedges of coconut from the shell.

Lappet-faced vultures are always odd to handle. I’m usually so excited that I can’t stop shaking through the whole process, but do at least take the time to marvel at how such a large aggressive animal can be covered in the feathers most often associated with chicks. Fluffy white down feathers line the entire chest of the Lappet. With a head larger than a baseball, I can’t even fit my hand around the skull and usually end up grabbing them around the neck. Fortunately Keith seemed to have a great hold of the bird throughout, which was good since I can’t imagine the damage that could be done with a beak that can literally crush gazelle skulls. Generally the Lappets are calmer than their smaller cousins – the white-backs and Ruppell’s vulture, but this particular had had a lot of spunk. Ready to take on not only the other vultures, but its captors as well. Nonetheless it had been released without a hitch and I could now watch its movements online as the text messages came back from the unit one day at a time.

Like our last Lappet, the bird seemed to be frequenting an area some 50 km outside the park border: an area known to be rife with poisoning. I only hoped this bird would fair better than our last tagged Lappet.

We awoke early. Today had to be the day. After so many near misses, I couldn’t imagine us going another day without trapping a Lappet-faced vulture. The evening before we had managed to stag an adult Lappet, but with its brute strength (and probably poor snaring), it had been able to pull the noose and get away before we could grab it. With one unit left, at least from our initial delivery of five (10 would arrive later in the week), I really wanted to get this one on this most elusive of vultures.

So we started the day as we had for the last week. I always feel a bit of tension on trapping mornings. An early morning carcass could be the best possibility for catching a Lappet as the birds are more likely to be hungry, and therefore, aggressive. But these are also the hardest to find. Birds are likely to fly in low in the early morning and thus be more difficult to detect. So as is so often the case with trapping we were relying on luck.

We got lucky. With the sun just rising over our shoulders we found ourselves at a carcass with two aggressive Lappets and only a handful of the more numerous Gyps vultures (i.e. African white-backed and Ruppell’s). A bit more luck and the traps were set on a rather smelly wildebeest carcass, but the Lappets were still on the ground. But that was where our luck ended. A few moments later we had caught two juvenile African white-backed vultures. With the Lappet still on the ground, despite its struggling snared comrades, we decided to grab the birds but leave the traps on. So with one bird in Matt’s lap and another in my own, we drove slowly away. My bird began regurgitating as vultures so often do when stressed and I loosened my grip. Before started, I had been unsure how I would handle all the vulture vomiting. But with time, I had grown used to it and generally found it more worrisome for the bird (who was now giving up his last meal) than for myself. With one final wiggle of its head, the bird finished its regurgitation and I went to re-tighten my grip only to find that with this final jiggle the bird had freed its head from my hand. In an instant, the vulture was standing on my lap, searching for the nearest exit. Though I desperately tried to re-grab the head, it was clear my momentary lapse had meant the total loss of control. I can only imagine what the passing tourist vehicle must have thought as our car slowed (with all passengers now a bit panicked as a vulture on the loose is not an ideal guest in a vehicle) and then a small vulture leaped out the window. From inside, I watched amazed as the bird tucked in its wings to fit through the small opening and then unfurled them in their full five foot glory to take to the skies.

After taking blood from the other bird, we returned to the traps which remained Lappet-free. Clearly it would have to wait.

In any field project, there is nothing more exhilarating, exhausting, and time-consuming than trapping animals. Vultures are no exception. Two and half busy weeks and I am still three vultures short. That said, it has been an amazing time and we have been able to put out 12 GSM-GPS units onto seven Ruppell’s vultures, three African white-backed vultures, and two Lappet-faced vultures. As usual, the Lappet-faced vultures continue to be the trickiest to trap. Not only are there fewer of them, but they prefer smaller carcasses (which are more difficult to trap at), they arrive late (which means you are more likely to catch someone else first), and they are a bit more shy. The key with Lappets is to find some really hungry, aggressive individual, but in and of itself that is rather tricky.

So how does one trap a vulture in the first place? The process is surprisingly simple. Step 1: Find a carcass, preferably with vultures on it. Step 2: Gently move the birds off using the car and put the trap down (the trap is just nooses that are attached to the carcass using parachute cord – it has to be strong after all). Step 3: Drive away and watch closely. Generally if you are going to catch one it will be fast. Usually within a few minutes, the birds are back squabbling over the meat and a few minutes after that and you’ll have one.

Once we get the bird the process is pretty straightforward. The first priority, if the trapped bird is of a species/age that we are looking for, we attach a GSM-GPS unit. These incredible little devices will allow us to follow the bird for up to a year – seeing everywhere it goes, how fast it travels, and even the altitude of its flight. Unlike satellite units, these newer devices use the cell phone coverage to transmit the data back to the user (i.e. me). So effectively I get text messages from all the tagged birds once a day. Next we take blood, primarily because we are interested in their immune system. How can an animal literally stick its head into and consume the rotting flesh of the another (who quite likely died of a disease itself) without every getting sick? This is the conundrum of the vulture and we are hoping that by studying their powerful immune systems we might gain some insights that could help treat or cure bacterial infections like anthrax and staph in the future. Then we release the bird. No drugs are used during the process, so you are dealing with a chirping 15 lb. bird that is fully awake for the fifteen to twenty minutes that it usually takes to get everything done. Fortunately I have had some great help – thanks to the likes of two Peregrine Fund employees (Evan and Matt), Keith Bildstein from Hawk Mountain Sanctuary, my advisor Dan Rubenstein, various other unwitting volunteers, and of course my field assistant Jon.

So this is how it is supposed to work, but when you are working with animals you always have to be prepared for the unexpected. Given that we have now trapped over thirty vultures, there have invariably been some adventures. But I will save those for another blog.

A full 180 degree grin

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Hippos have been one of my favorite animals for quite some time. I only get to see them occasionally since vultures usually aren’t near the water (although with all the drowning wildebeest that has changed). Going from Talek to the main crossing you have to go through “double crossing” which consists of two dips into the river in an odd turn. The first dip is fairly quiet, but the second is called stinky crossing – because of the hippos. Usually there are two sleeping in the water as your car leans sideways to cross the rocky bottom. But today when we reached stinky crossing, there was a car in waiting. Probably just tourists who hadn’t seen hippos yet, I figured.

When we neared the water I could see that two hippos were standing on the rocks about 50 m from the crossing. And they were fighting. One hippo opened its mouth, stretching its jaw to the full 180 degrees that it is capable off, it pressed its head against its contender and uttered a most unusual sound. Genuinely the only thing I know that was similar is the roar of the Tyrannosaurus rex in Jurassic Park. I had never heard a hippo make that noise before. The sound continued as did the jaw opening until the darker and pink spotted male accepted defeat. He turned his back and walked away as the winner sprayed himself and a nearby bush with some dung.

A crocodile lunges for its first wildebeest calf

We watched the crossing again today and what a crossing it was. After counting nearly four hundred vultures at the main crossing we headed down to one of the trickier crossings. As before, the shore was lined with dead wildebeest and the vultures were feasting. The wildebeest were stacked into a few rock crevices across the river as if they had been wedged in while trying to reach the other side. Their bodies now ripe from the sun were finally being broken into by the vultures. The stench was overwhelming. Meanwhile, vultures waiting their turn lay wet and cold on the riverbank across the way, probably from earlier attempts to eat the floating corpses. As the sun rose over the valley, the birds stretched out their long wings and absorbed the warmth. The wings spread like beach umbrellas gave the riverside a look not so unlike that of the Jersey shore.

Meanwhile the cars were lining up. The wildebeest though nervous had been eyeing the green grass across the way for a while now. Their strange calls were reaching their peak as they planned their movements. Suddenly the first wildebeest rushed the water. At first it seemed more interested in getting a drink then in crossing, but as hordes of the black beasts lined up behind him, he had no choice. Looking across the way this seemed a rather treacherous place to cross – most of the alternative shore was lined with cliffs and dead bodies. Oddly the bodies seemed to attract the wildebeest rather than acting as a warning and as thousand pushed forward, they stepped onto their fallen comrades in a desperate effort to reach the top. Some struggled and made it, while others crashed down onto the crowd.

As the access points out of the water and the way back to the opposite shore filled, it became clear how so many animals had drown. The river wasn’t particularly deep or wide. Certainly the water rose high enough that the wildebeest had to swim and there was a bit of a current, but I had been having a hard time imagining how anything could drown here. As the wildebeest piled together like sardines in a tin, some were pushed beneath the water. They would struggle to move, but there was nowhere to go – neither forward or backward. Instead they sunk. Their heads slipped below the crowd and these unfortunate animals soon found themselves floating downstream. A few stretched their noses, even lifting their upper lip, in vain efforts to get a bit more air, but exhausted and probably wounded from the stampede, they soon dipped below the surface. You knew an animal had died when its horns rather than its mouth were all you could see.

Fifteen or so wildebeest met this untimely death as the others marched onwards and upwards, gradually clearing the cliffs. A few found an easier crossing upstream, but the majority seemed determined to take the steepest route. One fell and landed on its back among the rocks. It wasn’t until the crossing was nearly over that we noticed it struggling. When simple kicking didn’t work, it took to immense flailing and slammed its head repeatedly into the rock behind it as it tried to lift itself. Whack, whack, whack, but in the end it remained on its back. A few calves also turned out to be stragglers and stood on the rocks beneath the cliff unable to go up and unwilling to go back. This was when the crocodile moved into the water.

The crocodile crept towards three calves who were wedged against the riverbank – standing but still very much in the water. The reptile crept in and soon lay a few feet from the calves. After a brief stare down where the calf looked its killer in the eyes, the crocodile leaped out and grabbed the little guy behind the neck. Under and done for he was in just a few minutes. After drowning his prey, the crocodile moved to the other side and left the carcass. He then returned for one of the remaining calves. This one made a leap for it, but still found its rear leg in the jaws of the predator. The crocodile slowly eased the calf into the water, where it struggled to swim with three legs and a dead-weight. The croc made vague attempts to pull the calf under, but someone the yearling kept its nose above the water. As the crocodile neared its resting spot, where it had left its last victim, the calf struggled and eventually found itself standing on the shore – crocodile still attached. Meanwhile with another great Whack, the adult across the river had finally righted itself and stood unsure whether to proceed forward or return. It was about that time that the crocodile decided it had had enough fun for one day and released the calf. The survivor limped onto the shore – “Hyena food” said my field assistant, John.

As the crossing ended, everything reset itself. The crocodile moved back onto shore for another nap, the vultures returned to feeding, and the wildebeest stood noisily undecided besides the tourist vehicles.

It is amazing what you can find even when you aren’t really looking. On our drive to set up some sheep meat for another carcass observation we passed not one but two kills. The first was more of a massacre than a kill. Over forty hyenas were prowling around, several with blood soaked faces, so we knew something was up. We followed the cries of a few Tawny eagles to the site of the actual kills. Almost fifteen hyenas, many of them still cubs, crowded around what presumably was once a wildebeest. Honestly though there wasn’t even enough left to know that for sure. When hyenas make a kill, the meat goes fast. Though a few vultures had gathered I highly doubt that got anything.

The next kill was a bit more of a disruption. Right where we had planned to put a carcass for the day, lay a pride of 11 lions. Two big males, three females, and six tiny cubs crowded around the remains of yet another unfortunate migrating wildebeest. Having started first, the males were soon full and wandered off to search for some water and shade. After a while the larger lioness decided to move the cubs off and she too walked away a small progression of fluff and fuzz following at her footsteps. When only one lion remained, the scavengers began to move in. A few jackals raced at the meat, wearily grabbing a piece now and then before jumping back at the lioness’ glare. Then the vultures crowded around. Too scared to approach, but ready for whatever opportunity might arise.

For our part, it was time to get back to work. So we found a new spot, not too far away, and set out our small pile of sheep meat. I wasn’t too sure what would happen with the lion kill so close, but figured it was worth seeing. For nearly an hour it was slow. A Bateleur circled but seemed to know better than to land with so many vultures around. Thirty more minutes and the Bateleur changed its mind. Landing gracefully at the carcass it attracted the attention of not one but two Tawny eagles, who further attracted the horde of African white-back vultures that had gathered around the lion kill. Within minutes, the entire army that had gathered by the wildebeest was devouring the sheep meat. Only the jackals decided to wait around for the lion to leave and even they soon turned up at the small carcass just in time to nibble away at the bones and skull that remained. Then it was back to the lion kill, which proved much more fruitful for the jackals who ate what little was left as the hungry vultures looked on.

I was watching some vultures at a carcass as I so often do, when three birds broke off into a separate group. Two Lappet-faced vultures had been feeding on the head of a carcass for about thirty minutes when a new pair of Lappets arrived. There wasn’t much left and both feeding Lappets moved off the carcass and flew away without any confrontation. One of the Lappets that had been feeding landed about fifty meters away from the carcass.

Vultures fight a lot, but what occurred next wasn’t a normal fight. Most fights in the animal world are designed to be competitions. In a contest, opponents show what they have, but they aren’t really trying to hurt each other. Once the bigger, better contestant becomes obvious the smaller ones just move out of the way. That’s not what these three birds were doing. All three were Lappet-faced vultures – my favorite. From a distance, I could just see that the pair of Lappets had the other one pinned and appeared to be pecking at it. When I drove closer, we found that the Lappet’s face had been badly pecked and one of its eyes looked nearly destroyed. One Lappet continued to peck at its face while the other attacker held the Lappet down and took pecks at its chest. After several minutes, the Lappet was able to escape and though pursued was able to hide in some tall grass. The attacking Lappets then returned to the carcass. About a half hour later, the Lappet that had been attacked was able to take off and quickly caught a thermal. The other two Lappets followed it but at a distance and all three quickly disappeared from view as they flew off.

This time of year everyone knows the action is by the river. With thousands of wildebeest and zebra crossing Mara river every few days there are sure to be some casualties. Some animals will drown in the rushing water, some will be trampled in the mad rush of the crossing, and some might even fall from the steep riverbanks as their comrades urge them forward. That’s not what people come here to see though. On the top of every tourists list is watching a wildebeest or zebra be consumed by a crocodile. With crocodiles longer than a giraffe is tall, this is the time of year to see what these prehistoric beasts are really made of.

The crossing also offers amble opportunity to see vultures – sometimes at least. So that seemed a good enough excuse to head over there this afternoon after a successful carcass watch and transect this morning. When we reached the water’s edge I was impressed first by the giant crocodile who was basking in the sun. Easily 16 feet and perhaps four feet wide, he was quite possibly the largest reptile I had ever seen. There were two other things that caught my eye when I reached the river. First, a large herd of zebra had gathered on the banks and were calling to their friends on the other side. Perhaps our timing was good and we would get to see them cross. Second, there were some large black rocks that seemed to be floating down the river. When I looked through the binoculars, it appeared that some of the rocks had horns and as the water washed them into other real rocks, hooves were pushed above the surface. The river was literally teeming with dead wildebeest. Bloated and soaked they drifted around like logs, but the reality was much more disturbing. Over thirty wildebeest had drown during the crossing that morning.

Soon a new crossing was beginning as several hundred zebra took to the water. The line was thin at first with just a few animals starting everyone off, but soon the whole herd had decided to join in. A few crocodiles drifted back into the water and moved towards the herd. I readied my camera. The zebras seemed aware of the crocodiles, but especially in their large numbers they didn’t seemed to concerned. For their part, the crocs didn’t seem to hungry. The zebras stopped to drink and splashed through the water as they made their way across, but the crocodiles kept their distance. Distracted by the floating wildebeest corpses they clearly had plenty to eat already.

When the crossing had finished we moved up stream to a small group of hippos. The wildebeest floated among the group, but only a few took interest. Although hippos have an almost completely vegetarian diet, they have been known to make exceptions. So I wasn’t totally surprised, when a hippo started chomping on the passing wildebeest. It didn’t seem to have a great strategy, so most of its biting just seemed to push the dead wildebeest downstream rather than break them apart, but still the hippo tried again and again. He nibbled away at the head, legs, and tails of the floating bodies, but never quite got a bite. Still it was fascinating to watch.

When we finally returned to the crocodiles, they were starting to show greater interest in the easy prey. Five or six huge guys gathered around a single dead wildebeest and the rolling began. With great effort, the crocs pulled the wildebeest limp from limp. Nearby a well-fed pair of crocs appeared to have something else on their mind. Coiled around each other rather ackwardly, their tails tightly intertwined it was clear what they were doing even though the female was mostly submerged. They were mating. They bobbed up and down in the water in unison for a few moments before finally dislodging. Then it was back to the shore for a nice sunbathe.

The only thing missing from the river experience was vultures – hard to believe given all the food. The only raptor we saw was a young African fish eagle. Transitioning from juvenile to adult, he had a strange pattern around his face and had watched on through the crocodiles munching. Perhaps tomorrow the scavengers would find this smorgasbord of carcasses.