Killer cheetah

Cheetahs are pretty big cats, but in most cases if a cheetah encounters leopard, lion, or a hyena (hyenas are neither cats nor dogs), it will almost always retreat or give up kill. Cheetahs specialize in killing Thompson's gazelle (Tommie), a relatively small and fast animal. We have recently seen one male cheetah almost on a daily basis.

We first saw it scent marking territory not too far from our camp. Then we saw it emerging from the bushes one day and Ben said, "It looks like it is going to hunt." Being the diligent HYENA researchers that we are, we left the cheetah to look for hyenas. About 30 minutes later we saw the cheetah scarfing down a Tommie. We had never seen a cheetah hunt, so we were disappointed.

The next day we were on our way home from our morning observations when I spotted the same cheetah crouched about 30 meters from our truck. This cheetah was definitely stalking prey. I didn't want to talk, because the cheetah was close enough that my voice may have disturbed it, so I tapped Ben on the shoulder and quietly said, "cheetah." He slowed down and came to a stop just past the cheetah. I reached in the backseat for my video camera. Before I could get the camera ready, the hunt was on! There was a group of Tommie's about 150 meters away from the cheetah and it seemed an insurmountable distance to cover. I tried to get video for a second and realized it was futile and just sat riveted watching the fastest land animal on earth pursue its quarry. The cheetah closed the gap between itself and the cheetahs in about 5 seconds and chased a small Tommy over a hill. We lost sight of it at this point. We drove over the hill and saw the cheetah carrying the Tommy in its mouth. The chase covered about 300-400 meters in less than 20 seconds, resulting in a nice meal for the cheetah.

A few days later we were once again on our way home and Ben spotted something lying behind a bush. We drove closer to investigate and discovered it was a dead impala. Not just a dead impala, but a large adult male impala. I have seen male impala stand its ground against hungry hyenas, so killing an adult male impala is no small feat. They are fast enough to outrun most predators and strong enough to fend off the smaller predators. Not so on this day.

As the impala came into full view, we saw our friendly cheetah had already eaten the entire left leg of this impala! The cheetah looked fat and seemed to be taking a break from eating. We watched for a few minutes and the cheetah decided it could pack a few more pounds of meat away.

My initial thought was that the impala may have died from some other cause, such as disease, since there was no blood on the impala, except the leg where the cheetah had eaten. After taking a closer look with the binoculars we could see puncture holes in the neck of the impala where the cheetah had clamped it canines around the throat of the recently departed impala.

Later in the evening, another researcher stopped by the kill site and said the cheetah had eaten all four legs (that is where the most muscle tissue is) and most of the high calorie internal organs. Then a young hyena, named Acadia, approached the carcass and began nibbling. After a few nibbles, Acadia pulled the carcass away from the obese cheetah. Had the cheetah not been eating for 3 straight hours, it may have put up a fight. Acadia is about 16 months old and has a long way to go before being a full-size hyena, but an impressive feat none-the-less, taking a fresh kill from a killer cheetah like this one.












Why did I eat so much?

Battles in the Mara

Over the past few weeks we have witnessed some intense battles for territory among the many ungulates in the Mara. We first saw two male impalas going head to head about 5 meters from the road we were driving down. Normally an impala will quickly move out of the way when a vehicle approaches, but these brutes were oblivious to our Land Cruiser. With heads low to the ground, they locked their impressive horns and dug their hooves in for traction. I was amazed at how perfectly the horns on these two guys complemented each other. They seemed to fit together like a lock and key. From what I have observed, the variation among impala horns appears to be quite small, with most horns looking identical to the untrained eye.

These two males pushed back and forth, twisting their heads and trying to gain the advantage. This went on for a minute or two, when out of nowhere another male came charging in. He had no intention of waiting to find out the winner. Personally, I would have let them fight it out and then taken on the winner, but hey, I am no impala. The new challenger quickly charged in to show he was the boss. After that a chase ensued where it appeared at times that two of the impala were chasing the other one. The next moment is looked like they were all at war, without alliances between any of the males. The chase quickly carried them about 500 meters away and out of sight. I suspect the third male was the rightful territory owner and the initial two brawlers were bachelors looking to acquire a territory and harem of their own.

In the two weeks following the impala rumble, I have witnessed many battles between male topi. These battles have been less intense than the impala battle. At times the Topi appear as if they are ready to fight to the death, then the next minute they will pause, lift their back leg to scratch a fly of their face, take a look around, and then back to the action. Some of these fights may be between friendly males, just gearing up for future battles. In the past two days we have seen many tiny topi that were born in the last day or two. These new babies will need to nurse for a while before the mothers are ready mate again, at which point I expect the level of competition between the male topis to heat up.

Babysitting in the bush

While working at the lab tent this morning, I heard the unmistakable shrieks of fighting baboons in the bushes next to me. Since baboon brawls are a daily occurrence here, I ignored the screams and got back to work.

About a minute later, a baby impala staggered up to the tent and stared imploringly at me. For a moment, I stared back, confused.

Our camp attendant, Philomen, had seen the events unfold: first, a fight had broken out between several baboons. They raced through a nearby herd of impala, and in the chaos, this foal had been separated from its mother. He couldn’t have been more than a week or two old.

The tiny impala must have been injured in the chase, and he was bleeding from a small wound on its side. Clearly lost and scared, he stood just inches from me, trembling on long, spindly legs. Instinctively, I reached out to reassure the frightened little guy. He nuzzled right up to my hand, and I could feel his tiny heart racing. He lay down next to me, with his head at my feet.

Twenty minutes later, I heard a rustling in the bushes and another impala appeared. My new friend clambored awkwardly to his feet and reunited with his mother. She groomed him vigorously, licking the blood off his side. The two disappeared into the bushes; the baby wobbled along in front, and his mother followed close behind. A happy ending.