19:30, 22 July, 2013

Hopefully the writer’s block I have been experiencing has run its course.  It’s time I stop evading and just write.  Bugger all if it’s not as good as I’d hoped.

Late November – Mid December (Continued)

Have you ever experienced something so beautiful it made you choke up?  I never thought I could be like my parents or my best friend, who tend to choke up at every birthday card or touching movie (sorry to blow your cover, Dad).  I wasn’t exempt from this happening to me, it just didn’t happen as often as it did with some people – until I went to Kenya.  There are some things there that just make you believe.  Like the stars.  I’ve written about the stars in the Masai Mara several times before, but I can’t stop.  It’s like trying to describe seeing a piece of God, and one just can’t stop because although there’s no way to put it into words, you can’t possibly let it go unsung.  One night in early December I was looking up as Charlie was driving us home, and it broke loose.  Luckily the conversation had lulled, so merely turning my head sufficed to keep him from seeing the teardrops suspended beneath my eyes.  Sometimes I hope that whatever heaven or the afterlife is, it’s a mirror of an untouched earth, predation free with every animal, plant, and person that ever lived here.  Then I saw those stars, and wonder if possibly there is another dimension with a backdrop even more beautiful.  I cannot imagine such a thing, and I love the natural earth so much I feel like a traitor suggesting there could be a place more beautiful, but it is my hope that describing some of the reactions those stars elicited in me will bring some of their glory more successfully than the inadequate synonyms for “exquisite” currently available in the English language.

One morning in Prozac we discovered what it was like to be part of a herd.  Driving along, we were suddenly enveloped in a group of topi running across the road.  It was quite the feeling, right up against all those brown and black streaks mixing together with each individual’s rocking stride.  The young topi of October had grown.  Their light brown fur was darkening so that their legs included a hint of black, their shoulders and hips and backs bronzing ever so slightly.  They also looked less like adorable baby female moose, their horns having erupted in little nubs.  While stopped and waiting for the herd we had been initiated into to finish running about us, we watched some of the younger guys turning toward each other on the road to test out their new horns in sparring battles, falling behind the adults.

False alarms were everywhere.  Clouds, but never any rain.  Day in, day out, 5:00 wake up time.   Day in, day out, crunch time during the day before returning to the hyenas at 1700 hours.  Glorious, really, but it must be noted that the transcriptions were piling up.  And it worried us to see a drought that didn’t want to lift.  One evening in early December, we set out on evening obs.  Charlie and Wilson went to Talek West, while Benson and I set off to find the Impossibles, who had again disappeared (darling Fig Tree).  The clouds rolled in, low and comfortable-like, so that the whole savanna felt wrapped in a blanket; all of the grass and balanites and animals seemed more one, smaller and closer.  Still, given the track record of the past couple weeks, we didn’t expect rain. 

So we kept on, nearly having a heart attack when we picked up Carol Doda.  Following the signal proved she was across the river.  So that’s where they had run off to!  We began to drive toward Helicopter Crossing when the others texted us of rain in Talek West.  Helicopter Crossing looked too steep, but we couldn’t pass up the chance to check Intrepid Lugga Crossing; this lead was too good to pass up!  And besides, there wasn’t rain where we were.  The vote of two was unanimous.  We drove on under the loving clouds, past herds of elephants.  I had to empty myself awfully, and we couldn’t find a place where no elephants were in sight, so eventually I had to settle for a distance of about 250m and crouch in the grass behind the car.  It made me miss my childhood dog Belle, as the evening resembled the cloudy ones of Michigan, and I used to crouch down to dog height and run through the tall grass around home.  None of the elephants noticed, and we continued on.  We found the crossing, but another text of “You guys should probably come in now, it’s still coming” sent us toward home.  Then it came, and we yelled in jubilation as the drops rolled down.  It took Benson much longer than normal to drive home, but he did a heroic job as we slipped and slid through the mud.  And somewhere around the Fig Tree/Talek border, we nearly hit it.  Benson swerved came to an abrupt halt.  I had no idea what was going on, until he got out and pointed to a hedgehog behind us in the middle of the road.  I tell you, if I ever feel half the love for a boy that I felt for that hedgehog, he’s in.  A real wild hedgehog, just as freakin’ adorable as you can imagine. I had only ever seen one briefly running about during IRES, and immediately ran over and crouched down by where it had gone to the side of the road.  Once it saw me there, it coiled into a tight ball.  I couldn’t help myself, and stroked its outward-pointed quills.  It fussed and spit, its quills popping out further as it rolled even tighter, a lively little brown and white cactus.  If only it could have understood how much I loved it, it wouldn’t have been scared for an instant.  Benson laughed and shuddered at the fact that I had touched it; a lot of Kenyans seem repelled by the idea of touching small wild animals.  We pulled ourselves away from the pokey tennis ball of joy and continued our journey home.  I think I e-mailed about everyone in my address book concerning that hedgehog the next day.

Taupe was a lovely mother; but of course, being one of Morpheus’s kids.  She had a great role model growing up.  We drove to Central Park Den one night to find her lying in the front vantage den hole, miniature Cindy Lou Who and Grinch stumbling and climbing all over her.  She nervously watched us for a bit.  It’s always nerve-racking when someone else discovers your treasure, but she settled down, and I saw something I hadn’t yet seen.  Taupe began licking the waste off of her babies, nearly knocking them into forward somersaults with her big tongue.  Their little squeals were hilarious, tiny tails forced upward with her nose and mouth smelling and licking beneath them.  Dave started talking about how humans probably did this at one point; after all, recycled nutrients.  Thanks for that thought, Dave.  Yummy.  Gotta love the extent of evolutionary advantageous behaviors.