16:27, Thursday, 24 January, 2013

There is one evening obs I remember with especial vividness, not because we saw anything particularly out of the ordinary, but rather because of how it felt.  I was with Julia and Jackson’s cousin, who had never really been out in a reserve before.  (Many, if not most, Africans have never seen the parks within their own country because they can’t afford it – an infuriating topic for a different day.)   Homey gray clouds hung low over the savanna, and everything was bathed in a sort of hush.  We knew rain would come, we just didn’t know when, and we knew it wouldn’t be a heavy rain.  Driving around in such an atmosphere made me want to write all kinds of poems, perhaps one about what it would feel like to be a topi on such a perfect evening, when all hung sedate and still, or maybe about that acacia tree standing alone beneath the world’s biggest and gentlest blanket.  Finally we found a hyena, perhaps an hour into obs.  It was Swil (Serena Williams), and we followed her to where Buar (Buenos Aires) and Mork were loping to the east.  We watched in quiet fascination as Buar and Mork waded into a pool of water and each pulled out a stored piece of skin to snack on.  Swil wandered off into the gray by herself.  I felt like going with her and cuddling up next to her in some tall grass to watch the rain and night come.  Unfortunately I’m not a hyena, so when the nice rain came we had to return home early.  Bullocks on having to count a car that might get stuck.

Another night in October, after an eventful obs session alone (I was the only RA in camp at the time), I had to drive and pick up Wilson, back from his wedding leave, at the village of Sekanani.  Driving solitary in the dark where animals bigger than my car might step out ahead concocted a most marvelous feeling of vulnerability and excitement.  It turned out to be one of the neatest night drives I have had, yet I wasn’t offroad for a second.  Elephants munched right by the road, elephants that I didn’t notice until mere meters away (funny how well such a mammoth creature can hide).  Cape buffalo lined the road where there were gaps in the elephants.  A group of four lions, two subadult males and two females on the prowl, crossed the road directly in front of me, a picture of smooth and silent power.  Even a hyena loped across the road near Sarova Lodge, and good thing, because everyone knows no night is complete without an extra hyena.  I felt so intriguingly small in this Jurassic Park.  Then, I nearly became disoriented because I couldn’t figure out what was producing the huge lamp-like glow behind the mountain I was heading toward.  What on earth?  There are certainly no villages around these parts large enough to make such light.  Then the sun rose; or that’s what it looked like.  I have never witnessed such a moon.  It bathed everything in moonshadow such that I could suddenly picture Kat Stevens’ song somewhere other than at home in the winter, when the moon lines our maple tree’s branches in flawless intricacy on the snow.  Except the shadows here are more compact and move for reasons other than the wind.

One more snippet before I run off to obs – one night at Pothole Den, the excellent Talek West den without any bushes that the hyenas didn’t stay at for long (of course), Hydrogen and Helium were wandering about the main hole.  Suddenly Burger walked up, and the two immediately went to either side of her and started to ears-back groom her face.  Burger just stood there and accepted it all as though she thought herself some queen.  After a while, Hydrogen must have wanted Burger all to himself.  So, being the dominate cub, he lunged Helium away.  But when Hydrogen was reabsorbed in vigorous grooming, Helium snuck back in to continue grooming his side.  This face grooming is one of my favorite hyena behaviors, so sweet and affiliative.  Apparently that night was a younger cubs/subs groom older cubs/subs’ faces kind of night, because ten minutes later we found Gala doing the same thing to Satyr.

13:42, Friday, 25 January, 2013

Alright, auctioneer time.

Story about poop: We collected Warwick’s poop one day, and I offered to scrape it.  Benson, who had already been preparing to scrape it, uncharacteristically agreed and stepped aside.  Thinking nothing of it, I knelt down to stuff/pour the liquidy stink into the tubes.  But it wouldn’t go into the tubes, and initially I couldn’t figure out why; it was all stuck together in a foot long string of some sort.  As the realization hit me and I exclaimed, Benson started laughing from the lab tent.  It was an enormous tape worm!  He had seen it while collecting the poop, and so knowingly allowed me to do the dirty work.  I threatened to toss it at him, and busted out laughing at his devious ways. In the end he graciously pulled on gloves and knelt down to help me cut the dead worm into manageable pieces.  Should have known something was up!

Some lovely hyena moments: little black cubs’ ears poking out of the den holes, with nothing else to be seen.  A thing I will never stop loving or cracking up aboutt.  Tracking Moon Pie to where she was snuggled up beneath a bush in the midst of a herd of elephants.  Tiny Gala aggressing on fully grown hyenas and watching them “politely” appease, not because she posed any threat without Helios around, but rather because when you’re a hyena you don’t question rank.  Funny animals.  Happening upon Helios and her daughters and sons (Amazon, Buar, Atacama, Acon, and Pantanal) hunting in a group when we ventured out at four in the morning to get to Prozac earlier than normal – we lost them in the dark, but watching the chase was thrilling, probably one of the only things that could thrill me at four in the morning.  Meeting the hyenas Brazil and Hillary Clinton in Prozac; Brazil is Hillary’s mother, and always having been fascinated by the first ladies lineage, I was delighted to come across these two at last.  I also became aquainted with Al Gore, the female with very recognizable butt spots.  Going through pictures of her later at the table, Charlie: “I never thought I’d say this, but I really like Al Gore’s butt.”  Listening to the Talek East hyenas at night when their den was close to camp, and finding myself whispering what I knew to be happening.  “Someone is likely t2 lunging at someone else, who giggles, probably ears back and backing off.  Oh, there’s a t3 bite given that intense squeal.  Listen to that cub squitter!  Where is its mother?”  This job is doing something to my head.  Standing on top of the car when Helios had her natal den back in the bushes at the “Kinda See ‘Em” dens.  Gosh dangit, I was tired of not being able to see anything!  However, the hyenas noticed our birds’ eye view, and we didn’t get much viewing.  Still fun!  Naming Maree’s cubs in the boxers lineage Blue Bomber and Red Rocker.  Picking up a dead signal from Mill’s collar and realizing with relief that it just fell off; removing the telemetry from the car and hand-tracking that collar for an hour out in the open (liberation!) before triumphantly finding it beneath a bush, and later feeling somewhat proud of Mills for outsmarting us when we found her and her four-week-old cub (Whachamacallit, candy bars lineage) at a natal den.  Endor coming to the den with his head horrendously split open, blood dripping into his eyes.  Worrying about him endlessly, and then watching him heal in the amazing way that hyenas do.  All that is left over is a misshapen skull sporting a huge bump in the middle of his forehead; I told him not to worry, it’s endearing, and the ladies will love it.  Discovering Parcheesi and Burger feeding on a warthog head, only to hear massive giggling from the nearby bushes, easing the car into the bushes, listening to the giggles in despair because we couldn’t see what was going on, then finally relenting to risk pulling a couple feet further ahead and behold!  The hyenas surrounding and eventually chasing off two subadult males, also chewing on a warthog.  Bad day for warthogs.

Other animals: baboons getting into the cabinet by the table.  They love to pull down the sugar and chew on the tea bags, and someone should really teach them to play board games so that they can do more than scatter our whole collection across the ground.  Not to mention the havoc they reek by the kitchen tent; being stronger than monkeys, they can easily pull down the large garbage can.  Watching marabou storks adapting to anthropogenic influence, nesting in acacias in the middle of Nairobi.  Walking to get the car registration, and hello, right in the middle of the parking lot there sits a marabou sitting with its knees bent forward.  Up close on the ground they are quite an intimidatingly large bird.  Dwarf mongooses (yay!) showing up in camp unexpectedly.  Imitating their alarm call to see what they’d do, and watching them all lift their heads and look around for the danger in complete earnest.  An aardvark hanging out by Dave’s den so that we saw it not once but twice, two different nights.  I’m starting to give in and agree that it’s not all that rare to see an aardvark; I think it’s just that most people aren’t out in the night like we are.  One of the times we saw this aardvark, Dickson (Wilson’s younger brother) was with us.  His eyes got so wide, it was excellent!  Watching vultures walk around with their wings stretched to the side in a Big Mama from The Fox and the Hound waddle  style (the part where she sings about hunters to Tod), and having Charlie muse that they look to be airing out their armpits.  In fact, that’s exactly what it looks like! :D Moses the male monkey coming about while I’m eating lunch and folding his hands while sitting perfectly politely below me, looking up at me with begging eyes and making it very difficult to resist sharing.  But then there’s Dinkleberg, the monkey that despises Charlie, and his boldness makes me remember why it isn’t a good idea to feed a monkey.  Although Charlie has never fed him or done anything to him, Dinkleberg follows him to his tent and threat yawns at him.  Hilarious.  He has also mock-charged at him, so that I’ll come to the lab tent and find them having a stare-down, broom in Charlie’s hand.  Delightfully, Dinkleberg respects my authority more than Charlie’s, but there have been a couple times I’ve had to grab the broom as well, just in case.  Once he was bold enough to walk unflinchingly across the table and steal food right from my plate, even as I pulled it away!  A character, and we always know it’s him because he’s missing the ring finger on his right hand.  Continually watching younger vervets behave out my tent window, one leap-frogging over the back of another to get to its mother, who immediately started grooming it.  Finding a subadult leopard in Prozac.  Crowned plovers going berserk chasing one another through the sky and on the ground, giving off their obnoxious call (the one that Dave loves so much) until one finally backed off and we saw the reason for the drama as the remaining male and an apparent female copulated for about half a second.  Such a fuss for that?  Eating spaghetti at dinner and feeling a brush on my arm, looking down to find a little black hand reaching for my garlic bread that was sitting on the table.  Karma crawled up right up onto the arm of my chair beneath my elbow, and looked up at me in expectation and timidity when she couldn’t quite reach the bread.  Of course I obliged, extremely pleased but surprised I didn’t hear the normal thump on the tent post that announces her arrival.  Naming a buffalo with a unique ear Jebediah, regularly seeing Derrick the one-horned impala, periodically happening upon Gary the one horned giraffe.

And so much more, but here’s to progress!  Progress and an extremely sore right pinky finger.