Cracking the hyena code

Having spent my first month in the Mara, I’ve decided it is time for me to jump into the blogosphere. I just finished my first year as a PhD student in the lab and for my dissertation, I’m hoping to investigate how differences in maternal behavior and physiology that others in our lab have linked to human disturbance are impacting the developmental process of hyena cubs. To do this, I’ll be comparing hyena development in clans exposed to different levels of disturbance, focusing on behavioral, physiological, and cognitive aspects of development.

I am thrilled to be spending this summer getting familiar with the hyenas I have been thinking, reading, talking, and writing about for the past year. Last semester, I spent a great deal of time reading through hyena notes back in Michigan. As we watch the hyenas in field, we record their behaviors into a digital voice recorder. Back at camp, we transcribe these notes into word documents that get sent back to MSU where they can be entered into our database and analyzed. These notes are written in a language all their own. Learning to decipher the rich behavior documented in the strings of acronyms that make up our notes is like learning to crack a code.

Last semester, grad students Sarah Jones, David Green and I trained undergraduate research assistants to “extract” certain behavioral data from this secret language and enter them into our database. This of course required that I learn to crack the code myself.

Both Sarah and David had already been out in the field. As they had already seen hyenas in action and transcribed their every move, it wasn’t so confusing to them to read pages and pages of notes like, “MOS t1 lk (food) MP, eb hb bo. ADON join MOS t3 bsh brt (food) MP, eb cc squeals.” In reading this, Sarah and David could imagine an interaction in which Morpheus (MOS) got annoyed with MoonPie (MP) as they were arguing over some scrap of meat. MoonPie got the message and did a bunch of submissive stuff, pulling her ears back (eb), head-bobbing (hb), and backing off from the situation (bo). But clearly this wasn’t enough because Morpheus then got seriously pissed and bit and shook her (bsh). Adonis (ADON), standing nearby, thought this was a just reprimand…or maybe just wanted to use the opportunity to reassert her own rank… and joined in with Morpheus. This time, MoonPie squealed and crawled submissively on the ground (cc).

Reading our hyena notes before actually seeing a live hyena made for some funny situations. Sarah had to demonstrate a “defensive parry” for me, David had to act like a male hyena anxiously “approach-avoiding” a female he is interesting in, and everyone in the lab had to try out their impression of a hyena whoop for me. Over time, I began to be able to imagine what the hyenas might be acting like as I was reading the notes. Some of the individuals even began to feel familiar. It some sessions, I could feel their personalities jumping off the page as I read the code like a soap opera.

But every once and a while, it would come out that I had a little misunderstanding about one of many components of the hyena code. I have become known in the lab for one of these realizations. One day as I was reading some hyena notes, imagining what the scene must look like, and checking over the work one of our undergraduates had done. I announced to everyone working in the lab, “I love it when everyone oos!” They looked at me a little confused. “Um, what do you mean?” Sarah asked. “You know, it often happens at the end of a session. Everyone oooooos and then the session ends,” I answered. I had been imagining that an “oo” was one of the hyenas’ charismatic vocalizations. It made sense. I often read “everyone oos” and then the researchers left the area. This must be a vocalization the hyenas do when they are about to leave or move on. I was excited to get to Africa and finally hear what one of these “oos” sounds like! Everyone in the lab starting cracking up at me. It turns out “oos” actually stands for “out of sight.” As Dave informed me, “All the observers leave because there are no hyenas around! That’s why the session ends!”

As I predicted, some of the hyena behaviors are just as I was imagining… and some are very different. Although learning the hyena code before ever seeing a hyena is the opposite of what most members of our lab do, it was useful for me to see what the learning process must be like for all the undergraduates who help us extract behavioral data without having the opportunity to see a hyena in the flesh. Needless to say, it is great to be out here seeing what the hyena code actually looks like when acted out live by the cast of characters.

That was my May in the Mara

I used to have a yellow lab when I was younger. Isaac (my brother) and I had this game we played where we would fish for our dog off the picnic table with a rawhide tied to a broom handle with some twine. To call this a bit odd seems fair, but I think the concept is accessible…drag the rawhide around and the dog chases it until he catches it, tug of war, and then embellish some heroic tall tale about catching a trophy; it is the kind of tale where the catch gets bigger and better each time the story is retold.

About 10:00 pm on June 2, 2011, the bait was secure and the line was cast. Following a Land Rover and the dead hyena in tow, 2-6ish hyenas (very much alive ones) revitalized my sense of excitement from my dog fishing days, as I hung on to the spare tire mounted on the back of the Land Rover. Although yellowish-tan, furry and pretty charismatic like my old lab, I hesitated in wanting this evening’s edition of carnivore fishing to end in a catch. Rather I was hoping that once the necropsied remains of the recently found dead Koi (alpha female hyena from the Happy Zebra clan studied by the Serena Hyena Camp within the Mara Conservancy Park) had been drug a safe distance from the camp drive way, I would be able unhook the tow cable from Koi’s body in a timely enough fashion that I would not be mistaken for the bait.

The fact that I am doing well and writing this now a few days later makes it clear that this tale has already lost the element of danger, and bravery, and tragedy that tend to weave a series of events into stories of epic proportion. Maybe a few beers in, sitting around with some friends a few months from now and a more exciting version will manifest, but because I have already unveiled the end of May and the beginning of June, I should fill in the story line up until this point in time.

Right, so Koi was found dead along the High road the evening of June 2^nd by a watering hole we call Egyptian Goose. That same evening Koi was brought back to camp and a handful of people (the water researchers, camp staff, a few visitors etc) all helped or watched the necropsy of Koi in the glow of mag lights and headlights. Koi appeared to have been dead for less than 24 hours. Her cause of death seemed most likely to be lion(s). This was determined by the puncture wounds found around the neck and amongst the writhing mass of ticks, flies, and non-descript ecto-parasites inhabiting Koi’s matted fur. I am not sure how many of Koi’s ecto-parasites decided to switch hosts and join my team that night. Still you are faced with a serious question when deciding whether to leave well enough alone or swat with a hand covered in hyena fluids ripened by the warmth of the Kenyan sun. To be fair not all of the excitement was at the focus of our scalpel blades and sample vials. Cast in the interface of shadow and trailing headlight or mag light beams that were focused away from the necropsy, a number of local North territory hyenas had gathered. I imagine, as much as I could smell Koi, these North hyenas must have been able to smell Koi from some distance. I have no idea what the North hyenas intent or interest was, but they paced and dodged in the artificial light with increasing energy and boldness as the necropsy continued. It was like if you have ever been at a small venue bar to see a show. Before the main act comes out the crowd kind of jostles in this uncoordinated but unified rhythm of impatient discontent directed at that first band; we were the lead singer for that unappreciated opening act the night of Koi’s necropsy. Soon enough though Koi had been preserved forever in the records and data logs, and was hooked in tow by a cable to the Land Rover. Out across the plane we go, with at least 6-12ish hyenas (very much alive and big ones) in pursuit…

Koi was not the only one to suffer lion troubles in May. On a morning earlier in the month, myself and a few other research assistant/grad students were at a den conducting a fairly standard obs session. The morning was nearing the time we might drive around and try to find other hyenas, but before leaving we saw two hyenas loping across the plane. In casual pursuit were three male lions. At first it did not appear as though the lions’ course would bring them much nearer than 100m from us and the den. That was an incorrect presumption. The lead lion quite intentionally shifted attention and gear, and came running at the adult and cub hyenas at the den. I will try not to sensationalize this part. However, a big male lion, when moved by some inspiration to do more than sun bathe and nap, becomes an impressive display of muscle contractions and potential killing force. This fact was also realized by the hyenas, and the adults all scattered while the cubs dove into the nearest den hole they could find, as the lead male lion leapt over a ditch next to the den. The male lion reached into the den with its paw but to no avail before it began urinating on the den. Meanwhile at a den hole about 50m away, one brave cub ventured a look out of the den. The hyena cub caught the lead male lion’s eye, and he again sprang into action running at the den and trying to reach in and grab the cub. Soon the other two adult male lions had arrived at the den. Again there was a series of macho displays in which the lions were urinating and pawing the ground with their rear legs on top of the den. Not long after marking the den, the lions moved on and retired for the day long nap that was sure to follow. We soon left as the morning was waning, as was the potential for a Mara headliner. It is not that we are impatient, but at that point in time it would be like trying to watch and episode of the Bachelor following an episode of Jersey Shore; relatively it had just become too tame.

Don’t get me wrong, it is not that tame is always bad, but I think everyone can better know where they stand day to day when the stakes go up. Take for example two other den sessions in which the only animal participants were hyenas…well at least live ones. Both of these session involved Clovis, the alpha female from our South territory clan. In two different cub provisioning events, Clovis provided her youngest cubs with almost exclusive feeding access on wart hog kills. If lions, as a context, tend to excite hyenas I think it is safe to say that food does as well. The question is then, if you are Clovis, why bring the wart hog remains back to the den and have to stand by vigilant to ensure that no other hyenas steal your cubs’ prize? It seemed most likely to be a lesson. Why bring the food back among all those other hungry hyenas? One reason might be, simply because you can… and that is the glory of being at the top of the social hierarchy. During the excitement of both of these apparent provisioning events, not only did Clovis provide a lesson to her cubs and the rest of the clan in regards to rank, but it also helped me rank my own status thus far in the Mara. Prior to the two wart hog den sessions, I figured myself close to adequate in terms of observing behavioral interactions among a group of hyenas. Well that day, even as a bystander, I was able to reflect and re-evaluate. Thank you Clovis for increasing the session energy and humbling me with nearly 160 tracks on my DVR to the tune of, ‘NOTE: …incomplete CIs.’

Well that was May and it has been fun and challenging and educational, but now it is already June. Just yesterday on the 5^th of June I saw the first of the migration (zebras) crossing the Mara River.

I am sure as the herds increase in number I will get many more opportunities to improve on my kill session data collection. Watching those first couple thousand zebras crossing the river I was struck by one peculiarity. Even after making a frantic effort to swim, run, or stumble past four large and waiting crocodiles, many of the zebras re-traversed the river back towards the bank they had just left behind. 

Maybe the grass is always greener, or maybe the adrenaline and sense of accomplishment is addicting? I think if I was I zebra I would at least look for another river to cross or maybe consider the lions still waiting just up the bank. Anyway I’ll save from some tacky analogy (I have likely exhausted those) involving my time in the Kenya, compared to a journey full of river crossings and crocodiles. Suffice it to say I am sure June will have at least one or two blog worthy events, but if not… Did I ever tell you about hyena fishing…

Did Someone Say Provisioning?

Spotted hyena moms do sometimes bring food back to the den to get their cubs used to eating meat early on in their lives. Considering meat and carcasses will comprise their diets long after they stop nursing, it’s interesting to witness some of their earliest experiences with solid food. Most moms will provision at some point, but when their cubs are at a communal den it is not very advantageous for a lower ranker to even think about bringing food back for her younguns (as the higher ranking individuals around will just steal the bounty for themselves).

The excitement surrounding provisioning events is fun to watch, and here is a clip of one that we saw just the other day. The adult female in this video (Clovis-- our Alpha in this clan) arrived at a scene just before this video was filmed where another clan mate had made a kill. Using her dominant ways, Clovis thought the food also looked good and quickly snatched the warthog carcass from under them. As we were less than 400 meters from the communal den at the time, she thought this might be a good time to give her cubs a snack.

Seconds after bringing the warthog back to the communal den, nearly every cub underground (~16 in total) emerged and tried their best to get a scrap. Unfortunately for them, Clovis has many older subadults still around in the clan who quickly came to mooch off of their mom’s steal, and prevent any others from enjoying even the slightest little bit.

During the entire ordeal, Clovis really tried her best to ensure that only her kin were getting the most from this carcass, but every now and then you’d see a non-related cub sneak in and get a piece. For some of the younger cubs, the act of getting a tiny morsel away from Clovis was almost more exciting than the thought of eating it in the end!

Population explosion?

The Talek West clan is the largest it has ever been right now, after a winter-long baby boom. We suspect the recent baby boom was fueled by two years of feasting, not only on the usual suite of wild herbivores present in the Mara, but also on cattle that died during the 2008-2009 drought here in Kenya.

The queen is dead.

On the night of 12 April, 2011, the alpha female of the Talek West clan, Murphy, was killed near the den, along with her constant male escort, Fozzie. Murphy had been alpha female since her mother, Bracket Shoulder, died on May 29, 1999.

At that time, Murphy was 3 years old, and the throne by rights should have passed to her younger sister, Carson; that is, spotted hyenas exhibit a monkey-like pattern of youngest ascendancy, in which the youngest offspring comes to outrank its older sibs when the mother takes its side in disputes with the older offspring. However, Carson was only 14 months old when Murphy died, and she was clearly unable to hold her own against Murphy’s greater size and strength without help from her mom. Murphy has reigned unchallenged since then. But on 12 April 2011, it appears that Murphy and Fozzie were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and they paid a terrible price.

The Talek West hyenas had been denning at what we call the Plantation Den, which is situated along the north side of the Talek River, inside a small fenced tree plantation managed by local Masai. The Masai living closest to the den reported that lions had killed a zebra that night in the riverbed near the den, and the Masai heard lots of hyena vocalizations, suggesting that the lions and hyenas had engaged in a major fight. The fight might have been over the zebra carcass, or the hyenas may simply have been nervous to have so many lions so close to their den. But in any case Murphy and Fozzie were found dead inside the plantation fence the following morning, each having sustained multiple puncture and slash wounds.

Being somewhat jaded after working here for many years, I initially assumed that Murphy and Fozzie might actually have been killed by local Masai; after all, we have lost multiple other Talek hyenas to spearing by local people inside that same plantation fence over the years. However, the day after Murphy and Fozzie died, my research assistant Brian Lunardi sent our askaris to make inquiries of the Masai who lived nearest the plantation, and the askaris came away from those interviews convinced that lions were the true culprits. Furthermore the pattern of wounding on the bodies of the dead hyenas was most consistent with lion-induced mortality. It is certainly easy to imagine how lions might corner hyenas against the fence, and kill them there. As Murphy and Fozzie were inseparable in recent years, it came as no surprise to find their bodies only 30 meters apart from one another.

During the 12 years of her reign as alpha female, Murphy gave birth to many offspring, all named after gods and goddesses. Her sons (Bacchus, Hermes and many others) have all dispersed to neighboring clans. But surviving her in the Talek West clan are her adult daughters Artemis, Adonis, Morpheus, Pan, Helios, Loki and Juno. When she died, Murphy left a 3-month old cub at the den, but that cub has already vanished. One of Murphy’s youngest adult twin daughters, Loki and Juno, should now inherit the throne. As Juno was the dominant cub within that twin litter, we expect she will become the new alpha female, but we have not yet seen the two sisters interact aggressively since Murphy died, so we don’t know yet what will happen. But in any case, we hope the new queen has a long and successful reign as alpha female.

Welcome to the world!

Tracy and Brian and I were driving home from a foray this morning into the territory of the Mara River clan, when we stumbled upon a female giraffe standing out in the middle of a hug tall-grass plain all by herself. Or so we thought until we noticed a wee head with huge ears poking out of the grass at her feet. This female giraffe had just given birth a couple of minutes earlier; the afterbirth was still emerging, the baby was coated in amniotic fluid, and it couldn't yet stand up. The mother kept scanning the horizon as though on the lookout for potential danger to her newborn. She repeatedly switched between scanning and nudging her infant as though to encourage it to get up. As occurs in many species of mammals, it appeared that this female had given birth at a place and time of day when her baby would face the fewest risks. Although the Mara is teeming with large carnivores that would happily take advantage of a vulnerable infant like this one, none were about on this plain at 9:30 this morning.

We were all thrilled and fascinated to be so privileged as to witness this initial interaction of a newborn giraffe with its world, so we stuck around and watched for awhile. The baby tried several times to stand, but kept tumbling back into the grass at its mother's feet before it finally made it up onto its very wobbly legs. The mother promptly began licking the amniotic fluid off the calf, but that was apparently just too much for it, and the baby tumbled back into the grass again. Finally, the calf made it to its feet again, and this time seemed a bit steadier.

After standing against its mothers' forelegs for a few minutes, the calf began nosing around until, after several minutes, it finally stumbled upon the mothers' teats. It appeared to take several minutes of suckling (quite noisily!) for the mother's milk to start flowing, but when we drove away the calf was happily nursing below it's mother's belly.

31 March 2011...still a bit late

I am not claiming that I experience an acute sense of awareness either to reality or some state of elevated artistic appreciation at 5:45 in the morning, but let me continue.  The past two mornings, though not spectacular to speak of, have stuck in my mind.

March 30^th and we have made it down the High Road and entered Happy Zebra territory.  I am driving a small Suski manual transmission vehicle.  This vehicle has a short enough wheel base to ensure you spend some quality time up off of your seat as you bounce from one destination to the next.  As I drive one hand is dedicated to steering, shifting, and general control of the vehicle.  The other hand and about 95% of my conscious attention floats a full open top mug of coffee with a mix of diligence and desperation.  The road is slicked with just enough mud that the loose tail end of the Susuki does not allow much opportunity for drinking my coffee.  Somewhat predisposed with my commuting frustrations I am abruptly brought out of my sulking condition at the sight of a large yellow mass of fur.  Usually if a large yellowish furry mass if forced upon me in a drowsy state it means my dog, Gunnison, has decided I have slept long enough.  (Ok this may be a stretch...but remotely similar?)

Yesterday the yellowish fur belonged to a male lion sacked out in the middle of the road.  Given little actual choice, but not wishing otherwise, I slowed the vehicle to a stop about 15m from the lion and I think you could say we shared a moment.  You know the kind, similar to most of those drowsy encounters we have around coffee pots and in break rooms in offices and on commutes…a few cups down and complete thoughts begin to form and it looks like we’ll at least make it until lunch.  Soon the sun broke, my coffee was nearing its end and the lion had stood to leave.  As he walked off the road the lion let out bellowing roar (I had no idea you could feel that in your chest when so close by) and I agreed it was time to part…things to do places to be.  But as I drove off I was already anticipating the next time we might share a causal drink; I am hoping an evening beer.

Today it is March 31 and I am the passenger instead of the driver.  Maybe because I was relieved of the responsibility of driving the car, or maybe with this freedom and two available hands I was able to achieve a more caffeinated state by 6:15am…either way I felt more aware today then yesterday.  Cast in the mist evaporating off the river and recently flooded swamp that makes up the lowland part of North territory, I could not see much beyond the hood of our vehicle.  This morning what I saw would impress upon me less than what I would smell.

Carried on the droplets of aerosolized water came an unforgettably familiar smell dating to summers of my past.  Half a world away I could only imagine John Deere, a milk parlor, Holsteins, and a dairy farm tucked neatly into a valley of the Appalachian Mountains.  The catalyst carrying me back to the Reunioun was the smell of bovids; here African Buffalo, and there milk cows but indiscernible to the nose.  Though I enjoyed the comfort of these memories, I wonder…starting the day now as late as 5:30am, have I grown soft with some age.  If I recall milking is underway by 4am.

I had no intention of continuing on with today’s events but then again I also did not invite the lions to camp this evening.  To start evening obs were canceled because of rain.  I began to read “Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers” by Dr. Robert Sapolsky.  The book opens with some generalizations about stress responses and how humans and other animals are well adapted to deal with acute stressors.  Sapolsky continues by addressing relationships of the ever more common human (particularly westernized) diseases and stress…the luxury to worry chronically?

This being said, I had begun reading this afternoon/evening as a last resort.  Caught up in complications of my dead computer batter, cloud cover (limiting solar power), and the camp confining rain I was left with nothing but time.  So I began to worry about emailing edits back to co-authors on a manuscript we are writing, the small but ever growing pile of data transcriptions I wanted to type, and a number of other equally trivial personal business matters I wanted to cross off my list.  Not long after reading through Sapolsky’s opening text I was beginning to feel all too familiar with the over activated allostatic compensation which in time would likely be the death of me.  But at last relief.

Sometime after 5pm, what started as distant roars was moving increasingly closer to camp.  Around this time I saw a group of impala out on the breakfast plain (the grass plain which we view from our lab tent) were becoming noticeably aware.  I would soon learn that the worries of these Impala were sufficiently more justified than my own anticipatory anxiety caused by laptop failure. 

Seeing the first two lionesses from where I had been reading I moved to the edge of camp for a better view.  From my new vantage (between 50-100 yds of where the lions were moving up the hill through the thicket) crouched by a bush I saw another lioness.  She also saw me and after making her awareness to my presence known with a stare, she also continued up the hill.  A few other lions passed through and occasionally one would roar but otherwise went by making no disturbance.  As the roaring faded up over the hill I realized my laptop had lost priority.  I think I owe that lioness who took the time to stare at me a ‘thanks’.  On the ground removed from the ‘luxury’ of a safari vehicle I had a glimpse of that adaptive stress response Sapolsky described…acute stressor, HPA cascade, allostatic compensation, and realization that oh yeah it is nice to be alive.  I am not envious of the impala or zebra etc., but I can appreciate the change in perspective that can only come from encounters with the likes of lions and tigers and bears.

As I said the roaring from x number of lionesses and juvenile lions had trailed off into the night and by around 7:00pm so had my thinking of it.  Nearing dinner, Meg the other RA, was making her way down the path to the vehicles.  She was on her way to pick up John and Linda (dog trainers working with the Ranger out post starting a program that would use hounds to track poachers in the Mara).  Little more than halfway down the path, Meg mentions that I ought to come take a look…

                The lions were back, but his time moving silently past the camp shower, the vehicles and a few tents at the east side of camp.  Illuminated by head lamps 7 or so pairs of eye shines made their way through our camp and again out of sight.

                For dinner we enjoyed a fried feast of somosa and french fries in excess, washed down with warm Tusker (an African lager).  John and Linda shared pictures from the day’s poacher camp raid.  Poachers (mostly from Tanzania) in pursuit of bush meat use snares and a variety of other tools to catch and kill hippos, zebras, wildebeest and other animals that happen into their traps.  Snares are made from steel tire cords (the rubber is burnt off) and the poachers use spears for hippos, as well as bows and arrows (tipped with various toxic plant and cobra venom based concoctions).  Once killed bush meat is taken out of sight into a thicket where the poachers camp.  The meat is cut off the animal in haste and laid out on leaves to dry before transport…FDA approved fast food.

Well anyway less I further digress. the five poachers apprehended this day were tipped off by a marauding hyena and the careful observations of John and Linda.  The hyena must have raided the poacher camp and was seen eating a suspiciously symmetrical, geometric chunk of hippo meat.  In short the location of the clepto-hyena lead the rangers to the poacher camp to make the arrest.

                Dinner ended and the night was drawing to a close (it was already 8:30-9:00pm).  Meg left with our visitors to take them home as I carried the dishes to the kitchen tent.  As the car was preparing to leave the driveway, I could not figure out why Moses, Jorgi (camp caretakers) and I were being high beamed in the kitchen tent.

                The group of 7-11 lions had silently re-emerged.  This time they weaved in and out of the trees and on the paths around the kitchen tent.  What struck me was not their numbers or an overt sense of danger or aggression from the lions, but rather their self-invited comfort in our camp.  At times only 10m from the tents they readily helped themselves to drinks of water from our buckets and traveled the trails as it though it was the reason why those paths were maintained.

                I am no lion expert and have yet only seen a small number of lions.  Still compared to the lazy sun bathing kitty cats that have thus been my lion experience, this evenings lions seemed different.  This inclination started when I first met the stare of the lioness initially passing by camp earlier that evening.  My presumption continued to develop finding some confirmation, or at least exaggeration (product of a naïve mind conditioned by experiences in safe woods full of Bambi and bunnies back in the US) in the activity of the lions last seen around the kitchen tent.  Their movements, motivated; their stares, apathetic to our presence; and their proximity, though slightly surreal, undeniable.

Apparently ‘simba’ never comes into tents and knows that people are not food.  Still it has been a long time since the buffet of wildebeest last left the Mara.  It is not unreasonable to think one might get hungry awaiting the migration’s return.

Serena Camp

23 March 2011

4:30 in the morning and fast approaching the time we collectively (I mean both myself and the other RA, Meg) gather at the lab tent.  This morning’s rain plays the tarp overhead like a snare drum.  Maybe the running water and a need to part with a previous day’s worth of chai or, the slight discomfort caused by the humid microclimate that is my tent when it rains; I stepped through the zipper doors to better assess the situation.  The problem with the rain is simply its persistence. 

I guess I should back up and explain the daily routine for an RA in hyena camp.  At large my job is the observation and behavioral data collection of three clans of hyenas.  Each of these clans contains 10-20 adult females (the dominant social rank), a similar number of sub-adults, a similar number of adult males (the subordinate social rank), and any number of cubs.  Using distinct spot patterns and facial/ear scars all of the 130 plus hyenas must be known as an individual.  Because of their crepuscular nature, hyena observations occur seven days a week from first light to mid morning and from late afternoon until dark.  In addition to behavioral data we collect “fresh” fecal sample for DNA and hormone analysis, as well as a number of other various data collections aimed to investigate different aspects of hyena condition.   Finally while in the field we conduct bi-monthy prey transects to monitor density of various prey (herbivores from antelopes to elephants), and we are constantly keeping a running list of all predator sightings.  To date I have seen cheetahs, lions, banded mongoose, bat-eared fox, black backed jackal, and of course spotted hyenas.

During the day back at camp data is transcribed, some basic camp chores are carried out according to schedule, and camp finances are maintained.  Serena camp as I inhabit it (in no particular order) looks as follows (see attached photos)

d

“March 23, 2011 MMW and ZML leave camp at 5:45 am for obs (observations) at Happy Zebra territory.”  “Note at 5:50 slight rain begins.”  “ 6:06 enter Happy Zebra."  "Note: Same minute rain has increased.”  “6:20 leave Happy Zebra; tracks to wet to off-road.”

As I have indicated the biggest problem faced to date has to do with restricted road use and high likelihood that any intrepid driving effort would result in our vehicle stuck in mud. It seems best described as a war between rain and sun.  In a battle played out on the roads leading to hyena dens, the rain is winning and the roads are left a casualty of the opposing forces.  Talk of April’s scheduled rainy season has lost certain appeal.

20 March 2011

As I may have mentioned it has been raining here quite a bit, which is fairly annoying for two reasons.  First it means that my struggling computer battery is most often left wanting in terms of power.  When not plugged in the battery dies in a matter of minutes and I am unable to send emails and otherwise stay in contact.  This coupled with the fact that we cannot go out to do our daily work do to the likelihood of damaging the roads, has admittedly, lent to some boredom. 

For example after a day of reading field protocols and some other various forms of literature, I found myself unable to pull my view from a small toad.  At around 8pm, a termite hatch had begun and seemed destine to cause some annoyance during what would soon be our dinner (the other aspect of camp that I currently most look forward too...and even in the face of events just short of apocalyptic this likely won't change; the food is great and I like to eat.) 

Anyway, the toad also arriving at the table for dinner, began a tireless effort to eat nearly a dozen or so of the flying termites, which were about 1/15 the size of the toad.  In certain order and with some patience this toad collected termites that having about as much grace as a whirly-gig (falling maple tree seeds) inevitably were stuck buzzing and crawling around on the tarp floor.  In their struggle to evade the toad I noticed that some termites were shedding their wings.  I do not know if this is to facilitate dispersal or mating or some other phenomenon.  Either way their success this particular night fell short by the efforts of the toad.  Although I can't speak to its comfort, the fattened toad slipped off into the dark, appetite satiated, sometime during which I was lost in my own gorging of a cabbage dish, chipotte, and curry (peppers, onions, tomatoes, garlic, sweet potatoes, and curry sauce).

After dinner, more tired of reading than tired I made my way to my tent where I was lulled to sleep by the sound of lion roars and hyena whoops.  Today I awoke to a leopard growling in camp (they make this chugging kind of sawing sound), but there was again no chance of going into the field because of rain.  However, provided a brief spell of sunlight I have been able to write about my time the past few days at Serena Camp (located in the Masai Mara).

14 March 2011

My name is Zach Laubach and through a fortunate sequence of events I have I arrived in Nairobi, Kenya on Saturday the 12^th of March, to work as a Research Assistant studying spotted hyenas.  By fortunate I mean for a number of reasons: the applicability of this experience in terms career aspirations (I am interested in the behavioral ecology of large mammalian carnivores), the timing of this opportunity fell neatly into place in both my academic and personal life, and I found my way onto a plane that actually landed in the appropriate destination (though I’d just as soon not hash out these particulars unaided by a cold drink!)  Aside from a few airline hassles, the flight went through without hitch and I was picked up by another Research Assistant (RA) working on the Hyena project.  Sunday we went around and began an errand list which was completed today.  These chores included buying groceries and supplies, acquiring research clearance from Kenya Wildlife Service, and car maintenance.  

About the garage where the car got fixed… turns out the owner is a 50 something year old British guy named Ian.  This is a guy I like and will enjoy any opportunity to spend time with.  The proud owner of three female English Black Labs, Ian is an avid bird hunter, dog trainer, and sit back and drink beer kind of story teller.  Apparently there are two hunting seasons for birds in Kenya, spring and fall.  Ian has even duck hunted in Africa… though significant bodies of water limit the opportunities, if located these hot spots have tons of ducks and a few often irritated hippos.  This came about after I saw some paintings of dogs retrieving ducks in Ian’s house, and I ventured to mention Gun (my Chesapeke Bay Retriever).  Needless to say this guy’s stories were tireless, and I think his reluctance to let us go only began to wane after we had set up a tentative time to continue the discussion over beer and photos from First Flight (our duck hunting club back in Michigan).