Four brother cheetahs lay still in the shade, their black noses pointed like a scope at the target of their gaze, a group of antelope. Cleverly camouflaged in the dark void under the trees, the cheetahs watched their prey eat shoots and walk closer. But the cheetahs waited still. Their patience for the perfect second to sprint could last all day. Ours wouldn’t.
On the dry Kenyan savannah of Maasai Mara, wild things were so abundant we saw every animal on our wish list, including “the big five,” so called by hunters because they were difficult to kill. (They are the lion, leopard, rhino, elephant and buffalo.) The reserve is enormous at about 1,500 square kilometers and is sometimes referred to as the northern extension of the Serengeti. Wildebeest cross back and forth between the two regions. The radio in our van was almost always on. Loud male voices crackled and popped over the speaker, advising each other in Swahili on the best game to see at the moment, whether it be a lioness and her three cubs, the pack of cheetah bros sauntering through the grass, or the rare sighting of a rhinoceros.
We stopped intermittently to look at zebras, giraffes, herd of wildebeest. “We can come back and see this later, because I’m rushing to see something even better,” our guide said, goading us to move on.
Our van bounced over the dirt roads and zoomed toward a swarm of 20-odd vehicles encircled around a lone leopard resting in a tree. We could only see its spotted backside and tail, its face hidden by foliage. Tourists peeked out from their cars, cameras at the ready with their big, black focal lens sticking out a foot long out. The leopard, like a pop star diva used to being the center of attention, ignored us all. Big cats never showed fear. In fact, they seemed to enjoy showing off their prowess as the baddest predators in the region. A lioness sauntered through the open spaces in a cluster of SUVs, a foot or two away from the car doors. As she glided by, drivers yanked their cars around in front of her path so tourists could get a better shot.
We were stalkers stalking nature’s fiercest stalkers. We were in their physical zone, but we remained far, metaphorically, from our subjects.
I thought about how most city-dwelling humans, including myself, feel detached from our fellow animals. We know the facts, perhaps from a zoo plaque or a Britannica article, about their specifications or behaviors, and we might hear a guide say that leopards are solitary creatures and that cheetahs do their hunting doing the day while other big cats chase at night. But what do we know about our relationship with them? In our industrialized cities, we’re used to thinking that we live in a separate world of progress and convenience and paved roads. We don’t have to truly consider how fast, large-scale development has had consequences on the environment, how our agriculture and factories and urbanization has encroached on natural lands and damaged natural habitats. Some may say we’re too late, but we’re waking up now. We’re starting to have this conversation. But we don’t have it often enough. The tour was a missed opportunity for a short, thoughtful discussion.
Our guide did highlight one negative effect of human interference with nature, and that was the plight of the rhinoceros. They are hard to find, he said, because they are endangered, and only 50-60 of them exist in this reserve. Many have been poached and killed for their horns, because the Chinese use them for traditional medicine. In 2018, the Chinese government removed its ban on rhino horns, prompting criticism from conservation groups. Two weeks later, the government backtracked and said it would postpone lifting its ban, according to the National Geographic. The rhinos are also shy; they prefer to keep their distance from humans.
Though I had a capable DSLR camera, as with most natural wonders, photos never do justice to the spectacular feeling of a personal connection to animals and to the earth. Such moments, like reveling at starry skies, remind us of our tiny place in a grand and beautiful universe. They remind us that we’re woven into its fabric, that our actions have effects. They make you then think, how could we be so cruel to wreak havoc on it all?
