10:41, Saturday, 16 July 2011

That night Weni came with us obs. While talking with her, I discovered that she has already has two children, ages three and four, although she can’t be any older than me. When I asked her their names, she told me Abigail and Brian. I said those are nice names, but she shook her head and smilingly said no. Then I realized, and asked her, “Moses alichagua?’ Yes, Moses had been the one to choose the names. Poor Weni probably had no say.

It had been a few days since we had seen any lions, but we found a lioness that night. I think she was a new one. Julia became nervous when she walked right past our window; I have become desensitized, convinced that they are no threat when one is in a car, and a minimal one at best when out. When Zach got out to collect poop once, a whole group of them made to run away. Kind of sad, really; what have we done that such a magnificent creature will cower at our sight? Hopefully they were just startled, because they settled back in eventually, the confident king of the jungle look back in their amber eyes as they watched him. But a lone wildebeest ran straight towards this particular lioness, either a daredevil or a tool in need of sharpening (probably the latter). She crouched low and wiggled her butt as though going to pounce, but must have realized she wasn’t hungry and didn’t want to waste the energy. That wildebeest should have had a “Kids, don’t try this at home” sign on its butt.

Julia is collecting saliva for stress hormone analysis of the cubs in both Serena and Talek, so she put out milksickles attached to rope for them to chew on, leaving some saliva behind. It’s always fun trying to explain to Kenyans like Weni why in the heck we are sticking paper towel coated in frozen milk and attached to strings out the window of a car, especially when you lack adequate vocabulary and have to say things like “She is studying the water of the mouth”. Poor Weni, probably trying not to be rude, nodded as though our nonsensical antics were commonplace. However, they really work! Sergeant Pepper even came limping out of the den in search of some of the tasty treat; I just wanted to pick him up and rub my face in his fur and tell him how happy I am that he is alive, much like Kay must have felt when her favorite hyena Cochise got bit in the face by a cobra, only to come out of the bushes two days later totally fine. Another cub tugged so hard on the milksickle that when it finally flung out of its jaws, it came whizzing back through the window and out the other side, narrowly missing Dave’s face in the process. Even a couple of the adults, including Sauer and AWP, became interested in the milk. I always forget how truly large hyenas are until a full-grown one stands right below your car window.

A beautiful rainbow shrouded in haze shown in the eastern sky. I cannot get over the sky here; I could just lay and stare at it an entire day without getting bored. Some days there are huge clouds, mounds upon mounds of them piling castles in the air, brilliantly limned edges absolutely striking against their smooth dark gray. Other days you want nothing more than to fall in the pure blue that stretches as far as the eyes can see; enormous white puffs that might fill the whole sky at home eat away sadness. And the sun, though I know aforementioned, is unreal, especially when combined with the clouds. Sometimes it will throw all of its rays in every direction around a cloud, and you’re sure a Seraph, or maybe even God himself, is about to descend down to the earth. Still other times the clouds spread like waves on a seashore, reaching out just like water over the sand, and the way the sun glints on their edges reminds you that we have a long ways to go before harnessing the endless colors of nature. And I still love how the sky is so vast that it can be storming, lightning forks flashing, on one end of the horizon, while a perfect sunset takes place on the other.

I will end my sky discussion by mentioning something I have afore neglected to; the night that Sarah Skinner came with us on obs, when we were returning home from dropping her off at the public campsite, the stars brought tears to my eyes. Something about that night must have been particularly clear, because I had no idea that our universe could even hold so many brilliantly shining stars. The Milky Way was perfectly visible flowing throughout them, a thousand constellations known only to generations past covering every inch and corner. I was speechless, and I wanted to go swimming in the deep blue amongst those million twinkling entities, and feel nothing but what I then felt for the rest of my life.

The next morning, the fourteenth, brought us a hopeless search for a wildebeest kill seen by JP in his balloon. It was truly unfortunate that we couldn’t find it, as apparently lions and hyenas were interacting like mad at the sight. I decided to take a nap before breakfast when we returned, and therefore learned just how much can change during a nap; when I awoke it promptly became apparent that we were leaving for Talek within the next few hours. Brian and his girlfriend had returned with one of the fixed cars. The sudden uprooting from a place that had grown so dear settled in my chest and throat in a cold-like discomfort for the remainder of the day. Not only was it time to say goodbye to Philiman, Moses and Weni, Amanda and Chris, but I hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to my favorite group of five Happy Zebra lions, or to Rotten, or Ratchet, Skittles or our crazy secretary bird, etc. etc., not to mention that Dave’s silliness wouldn’t be there to keep me awake on morning obs. I’m overly sentimental, yes, but I was really going to miss that camp. Our mongooses and baboons hadn’t returned in a few days either, our little green snake wasn’t around, and our “civet” (which we now believe has been a genet all along) had disappeared. So many things to miss, but I trusted the other girls that I would love the Talek camp as well. Although still slightly homesick for the wildness of Serena, they were absolutely right, but I am going to have to save describing our similarly awesome new camp for next time as my battery is at 3%.

16:25

Just past the driveway, a line of wildebeest bade us farewell, running across the road precisely in front of our car. Thank goodness we had gotten to witness the migration, even if we didn’t see our old familiar grass fields worn down to nothing. I may never know how much the grass affected my detection ability, but I fear it is going to be an unwelcome caveat at the end of my paper. Basically, we swapped spots with the wildebeest. Very few are left in Talek, although on the way here we saw a perfectly single file, snaking line of them coming down a hill to our right. I don’t think I’ve seen any animals other than ants line up quite like that. Lia said that wildebeest vocalizations remind her of Chubacka (Lord only knows how to spell that) from Star Wars, and she is absolutely right! I also can’t help but think of Beast from Beauty and the Beast every time I see them.

It is amazing how much the geography changed from Serena to here. This is the side I was more familiar with during BEAM, but after the past month it seems foreign again. The grass from there to here became extremely short, even more so since the wildebeest left. The truly flat-topped acacia trees and general bush scrub are more common over here, as opposed to thickets and intermittent forests of trees. The land itself still appears far-reaching, but the grass is green and short instead of amber and long, with gorgeous mountains in the distance. There are people along the edges of the park here- HUGE difference. The Maasai herd their cows, sheep, and goats across the land in their long red shukas or colorful kangas, sometimes illegally within the boundaries of the park, and we often hear cowbells in the distance. We drove by Talek town just today, and it is twice the size that it was two years ago. That probably accounts for the occasional piece of takataka (litter/trash) in the park that I hadn’t noticed before. But viewing the simple homes made of mud and dung, the circular bomas made of branches that serve as corrals, the women and children walking across the African plain, I feel again enchanted by the two hundred year old culture here, the oldest and least changed on earth. If these people are threatening the environment, it is only a miniscule fraction of what the average American does every day. They just happen to live in an area that begs preservation fervently (not that anywhere doesn’t) due to its uniquely large and rich biodiversity. I just hope they realize their treasure faster than history suggests they will.

Our camp is amazing, right along the Talek River back in the bush. A long stone path winds throughout, and the camp is much more extensive than Serena, since it is about twenty years older. The tents are spaced along the main path, as well as along stoneless, offshooting ones. Ours is right next to Julia’s at the end, with a desk beneath the awning where I sat and did work today while the vervet monkeys jumped from the bushy trees to the tent roofs overhead. Our tent is even more luxurious than in Serena; we have a shelf and a nightstand, and Lia’s bed is very large. There is also a pretty straw-woven rug running down the center of the floor. The shower has a hot water option if you light a fire under a little thing of kerosene that heats the water; I figured I’d keep braving the cold showers to keep from unnecessarily burning fuel, but man is it ever tempting to take a warm one! The choo is surrounded by tarp, also something new; what am I to do with this newfound privacy? The library in the solar tent (separate from the lab tent) is even more extensive than that in Serena, and there is another extra storage tent where darting supplies are kept.

The staff here is so nice! They help ease the sadness of having to leave Philiman, Moses and Jorgio behind. First there is Benson, who is one of the sweetest, most soft-mannered people I have ever met. He is probably my age, a native Kenyan, and his wife Margaret is almost due to have a baby, so I fear he will have to leave unexpectedly sometime soon. But he is training to be an RA, and gives me hope that there are Kenyans who have a passion for wildlife. Benson can ID hyenas within a split second, and he calls certain individuals his “very good friends;” he takes joy in their behavior the way a real researcher does. He’s great. Then there is Old Man (Mzee) Joseph, a guy who Kay says was “just a kid” when she started here. He has such a kind smile, and I look forward to getting to know him more, especially since he is apparently one of the characters referred to in A Primate’s Memoir, although probably under a different name. Then there is Jackson, who is very smiley, again probably around my age but with two children. He asked if I have children and a husband....um, nope! I briefly met young Joseph (all these Josephs have me missing my Joseph), but haven’t talked to him much yet. I think he is one of the askari, or night guards. The other night guard is Steven!!! Steven is the man whose manyatta we visited during BEAM; he is such a good guy. I feel safe with him protecting the camp at night.

Kelsey came to dinner. Kelsey is the baby genet that comes around because everyone here feeds her scraps, and I cannot express how much I love her. She is so delicately adorable and beautiful, her little ears twitching back and forth as she comes up and takes food right from your hand. I got her to let me touch her tail last night. She is out-of-this-world cute, especially when she stands on her little hind legs to look off into the night. Her mother, Roberta, comes around for brief periods as well, but she is much more skittish and has to be thrown food. As if I didn’t look forward to dinnertime enough as is, now I’m simply beside myself, setting aside huge chunks of food and nearly grinning my face off when she finally comes around.

The sounds of the night have changed, with the exception of our good ole’ hyenas. Instead of lions, elephants, and hippos, we now have fruit bats that vocalize at three in the morning, sounding exactly like a beeping alarm clock. It only took me a couple of nights to stop hearing them, but that first night the beeping was all I heard in my dreams and on and off waking. We still have hippos in the Talek (apparently Kay’s tent is directly above a hippo pool), but apparently they aren’t as talkative as the ones in West. Giraffes are said to wander through the camp at night as well. Cool!