19:00, Thursday, 2 August, 2012

Golly, so much for staying on top of writing this week.  At least this time it wasn’t my fault, as my free time has been spent recovering.  The night of the 29^th I became very ill, waking up to puke every hour.  I have never wanted my mom so badly.  For once I was relieved that no one was poking about outside my tent so that I could remove the horrendous smell of my ever-full bucket.  On one trip back in I couldn’t even make it back to my bed without collapsing on the floor.  It took all of my willpower to get up and close the zipper; only Kay’s stories of hyenas entering opened tents could have gotten me up, and that’s exactly what did it.  The rest of the night I fretted about dehydration; every time I tried to replace my lost water, it came right back up again.  Visions of being flown to Nairobi for an iv and reinstating my dad’s shingles, the ones he got when Joe ended up in some random hospital in El Salvador, waved through my head.  Luckily the morning brought an ability to drink the water Dr. Michelle brought me.  It exhausted me to walk to the kitchen tent and back, and I went all day only eating the two slices of bread that Nora very sweetly delivered.  It was an experience, but all is right now Dad, so no shingles! 

Jackson was diagnosed with typhoid two days later.  Thank goodness he is okay now, having gone to the doctor.  It would seem like quite the coincidence for us to get sick with two different things so close together; I’m intrigued to know if something you have been vaccinated with can still give you symptoms before your body recognizes it.

All of that aside, I am stuck trying to organize everything that’s happened yet again.  I think I will try something new and write about each day by date.  Good thing I keep a few scattered notes; the days run together like you wouldn’t believe!

The night of the 23^rd brought lightning that was nothing but beautiful.  Normally lightning strikes an evolutionary response within you as something dangerous, even if you are not conscientiously afraid.  This lightning was different.  There was no rain accompanying it, and it held only beauty.  The terror was oddly absent as it lit absolutely everything for a second at a time, the night falling immediately back to black.  It was forkless and incredibly bright, illuminating the savanna, bushes, acacia trees, and animals in static glow as electrons jumped from cloud to cloud.  I wanted it to continue forever.

On the 24^th we did a startle-response test at the den.  Nora is piloting a study for Julia, who wants to compare the response of cubs to a pop-gun in undisturbed Serena versus here.  Interestingly, the cubs in Serena couldn’t care less when the pop gun goes off, while the cubs here who live near people stop, pause, and then become frightened and dart off.  Humans seem to have a big effect on their psyche.

The pop gun has given us entertainment in other ways.  One night out on obs, Benson and Charlie, Ian and I were headed to Fig Tree when the other car suddenly pulled up beside us.  Nora hung out the window, Tyler’s do-rag tied around her mouth as she held the teeny pop gun out of the window like a bandit, sending us all into fits of laughter.  We quickly returned the favor by speeding up slightly to catch them, jokingly (and very carefully) holding Charlie’s jack knife out the window yelling “Arrrrr!”.  Fisi camp mini weapon wars.

22:00

Returning home from night obs on the 24^th, Nora was driving.  She proclaimed how much she appreciated driving here after being in Serena; here she didn’t have to worry about running into hippos.  Not five minutes later, we came upon some oddly orange-glowing eyes, set far apart.  The headlights revealed the very first hippo we’d come upon in the car all summer!  The rest of us found it a lot funnier than she did.  No one could ever convince me God doesn’t have a sense of humor.

Kelsey enjoyed the guacamole I held out on my hand for her that night.  Her raspy tongue tickled my fingers.  I’m convinced she knows me, because regardless of where I sit she always comes to my chair first.  It makes me feel so good; how I love her!  I can recognize another genet that comes around now as well.  We call her Verna.  Verna is longer than Kelsey with a bigger face, and much shier.  I held out some bread for her one night, and she made me laugh aloud as she finally worked up the courage to come and get it.  She sprinted in, gently grabbed at one of my fingers with her mouth thinking it was the bread, and ran off empty-handed, looking confused when she reached the edge of the awning again, her courage having yielded nothing.  I could just see her wondering, how does Kelsey do it anyhow?

On the 25^th, Wilson gathered everyone in camp around the table and announced that he will soon be getting married!!!  His wedding will be in September, and everyone is invited, although Charlie and I will be the only ones still here at that time.  I am exquisitely excited to attend a Maasai wedding!  It is going to be very traditional.  When we asked Wilson about his wife-to-be, he said that his father arranged the marriage.  She is 17 to Wilson’s almost 25.  He knows and likes her, but it doesn’t sound like they know each other real well.  Usually I would feel bothered by a girl’s family choosing who she will marry, but she could only ever be lucky with a guy as sweet as Wilson.  I sure hope she realizes how great he is.  Two seconds following the announcement, Michelle blurts out, “So, when are the kids coming?”  Leave it to Michelle. 

The rest of that night the guys chuckled as we attempted to learn a popular Maasai song.  Wilson had written it down at our request, and all of us wazungu gathered around to sing (if one can call it that).  We were very good at the “eee” and “aaa” parts, but everything else needs some disciplined practice.  Following are the first two lines, the only ones that I (almost) have memorized (it is in Maa):

Emyiana enkaina naishooyo eee!

Peelangu enkaina (something) aaa aaa!

It’s such a culturally embedded song, about giving more than you receive, and I love it.  We want to get good and perform it at the school; I know that children would be flabbergasted and overjoyed to see some white people actually engaging in their culture.

The next morning Benson and I practiced singing the song on the way to Prozac territory.  At one point we decided to switch roles; Benson sang in a ridiculously high squeaky voice like a Maasai woman, and I belted in the lowest voice I possibly could.  We sounded absolutely ridiculous.  But hey – you’ve got to stay awake somehow at five in the morning!

Looking for your headlamp when it is on your head = time to go to sleep.  More tomorrow.

19:27, Wednesday, 25 July, 2012

I cannot believe the migration has not yet exploded.  Last year at this time the wildebeest were everywhere; this year the biggest herd I’ve witnessed consisted of about 300 individuals.  True, there are now zebra everywhere where before there were none; they tend to come first, so hopefully the troops are still on their way.  Unfortunately, the Tanzanian government allows great burns of the Serengeti Plains along the wildebeests’ path.  These burns are intended to slow the migration, keeping the wildebeest in Tanzania longer for the benefit of the country’s tourism industry.  From what I hear, the burns have been exceptional this year.  Can we ever learn to just leave things alone?  Is it really that hard?

I sure love having the zebra return.  They are beautiful animals, and rekindle the love I’ve always had for equines.  Their stripes are something truly amazing; they struck me the other day the way underappreciated things sometimes do.  Sure, zebras are black and white striped.  But no!  It’s more than that!  The stripes swirl and thin and thicken in all the right places, swaying in long arcs across the body to join fluidly in a pin-prick, invisible spot.  The lines on the face are thinner and flow out slightly around the eyes, only to converge beautifully into a velvety black muzzle.  These animals are a work of finest art, each unique.  Yesterday we came upon a female whose white stripes were much thicker than her black ones – anyone who saw her would settle the age-old question and assert that zebras are white with black stripes.  I’ve never seen a zebra like her.  Looking at a group of zebra, I get the feeling I’m looking at an optical illusion, the type of photo where the stripes start to blur together until you can no longer distinguish them.  If this occurs with my primate vision, the best in the mammalian kingdom, I have a hard time doubting that the evolution of stripes had something to do with predator evasion.  The newest hypothesis involves flies; supposedly zebra stripes work to dissuade flies in some way or another – who knew? 

If the adults aren’t cool enough, baby zebras are to die for.  Brown fuzz robs them of being anything but adorable – they cannot earn the artistic title bestowed by a magnificent sheen of their older counterparts, but they don’t need it.  CUTE!  Itty little heads and gangly proportions.  On the 22^nd we had to stop and oggle over a tiny one, pulling out our cameras.  Then, with all the classiness of the horses I’ve always known, it promptly posed in a pooping stance, remaining that way for what seemed like forever before darting off after its mother.  Typical.  Some of the baby zebras are hidden inside their mothers, and the poor females look like they’re going to pop, their bellies bulging with the fetus so that it looks like an enormous egg got lodged horizontally between their shoulders and hindquarters.  It pokes out awkwardly on either side and bounces up and down like a water balloon when they trot, appearing most uncomfortable.  We’re nervous driving up behind pregnant zebras on the road, worried even a slight startle will send them full-blown into untimely labor.

21:35, Friday, 27 July, 2012

Well, I hold the title.  Although Tyler and Charlie have both attempted to beat me, I have still eaten the most food in one sitting.  We have pancake wars; Joseph cooks up a gajillion delicious cakes.  Hungry as all get-out returning from obs, we tear in like we’ve been starved for a week.  I ate 12 ½ today, beaten only by Tyler’s 13 and Charlie’s 13 ½, but when adding in the four mango slices and one sizeable bit of pineapple I ate, I was the reigning champ.  And had there been more pancakes left, I probably would have run them even further into the ground.

I was all excited to announce, for my parents’ benefit, that it appeared the snake epidemic had ended.  Earlier in the week I noticed that our slender mongoose is hanging around again, and our slithery friends hadn’t been seen since I last watched the potential mamba slide past my tent.  I thought Mom and Dad might rest easier, plane tickets already bought and no turning back.  But Tyler’s unhappy “Ohhhhhhh, theeeeere’s a snake” two days ago has stopped that message dead in its tracks.  It’s the same one I saw before, headed toward my tent!  At least a meter and a half long, thick, gray-black. I yelled for the others to come see as it slid toward the back of the log outside my tent, the same spot it fancied before.  It was scared out of sight by the time Julie, a reluctant Tyler, and Ian gathered behind me.  However, about five minutes after they dispersed, as I sat on my bed working with the window unzipped to the screen, I watched it explore the log where I sit to brush my teeth (or rather used to sit).  Thank God for the sock that tightly closes where the zippers on my tent meet, because that snake poked its head out from under the log and looked curiously right at me, two feet away through the screen.  It might have thought my tent a fun place to explore had that blessed sock not been in place.  But really, that snake has been hanging around and we haven’t even known it.  All I have to do is be careful to make enough noise around my tent; it’s clear he/she wants to avoid confrontation.  And who knows?  Maybe it’s not even a mamba (kind of thrilling to think it might be though!).  Either way, I’ve named it to help its reputation.  (Names work wonders.  On my first trip to Africa, I saved a spider from my tentmate by having her name it.  She might be able to bring herself to harm any old spider, but she couldn’t harm Albert.)  I thought “Mo” would be a nice name for the mamba in question, but then I couldn’t resist Tyler’s suggestion of “Mia”...Mamba Mia.  Mia it is.

My ID’s have finally come together.  With my new binos sent from home, I can whip them out much faster.  The night still brings a challenge, especially when our maglights refuse to hold a charge at the den, where bushes complicate things enough in the daylight as is.  The other night we were watching the hyenas around one of the den holes, only to look down and check ourselves on a couple ID’s in the book.  When we looked up, the hyenas had been replaced by warthogs!  Where not two seconds before there had been hyenas, now the headlights shown on two warthogs that must have popped out of the den hole, the surrounding darkness swallowing the hyenas (unless our hyenas are actually transformers, in which case the secret it out and we need to define a new shorthand for the behavior “turns into warthog”).

Den succession is actually a very interesting topic.  I can’t remember the exact progression, but I know that hyenas don’t dig their own dens, instead stealing them from warthogs, who steal them from someone else, etc. right on down to the actual digger (whose important identity has slipped my memory).  Just this morning at Shit Show Den (aptly named), a warthog’s ears and head poked out of the hyena-less den hole.  It stayed like that for a couple minutes, hilariously staring at us while Nora snapped pictures, then all of a sudden pew! pew! pew!; the hole spouted three warthogs that tore away, tails in the air.  I never get tired of warthog-spewing den holes.  Gets me every time.

Be careful where you pee, especially if it is behind a large bush whose other side you cannot see.  Lesson number 5,000 in the book How to Relieve Yourself when Living in the African Bush.  I was following an earlier lesson while out on obs the other morning, namely never pee around an elephant that might freak out and charge you (common sense).  But in my avoidance of the elephant, I drove to a large bush appreciably far away, asking Julie to please keep an eye on the elephant and yell if it was in any way perturbed.  Never mind that Parcheesi might be sacked out right behind my carefully picked bush.  Poor Parcheesi, I gave her quite a scare!  Needless to say I decided to just wait, and popped back in the car to record her identity and the location of the infamous bush.  Geesh, can’t pee on the savanna because of tour cars.  Can’t pee near the lugga because of elephants.  Can’t pee in the bushes because of Parcheesies. 

On the morning of the 21^st, we came upon Lust and Sloth wandering about Lone Tree Plain.  All of a sudden, Sloth happened upon a hiding baby tommy in the grass, and I don’t know as I have ever seen anything so adorable as a cub hyena chasing a baby tommy.  It was miniaturized life!  I felt like I had gotten a lightning bolt in MarioCart and everyone around me had shrunk, including an adult hyena chasing an adult tommy.  Baby tommy got away, and Lust and Sloth returned toward the den, but not until after a good sprinting chase.

That same morning we saw Loki wandering with the entire carcass of an adult male tommy.  I’d never seen a kill so intact.  It’s entire head, back legs, and all the hide in between were present as it hung limp in her mouth, staring at us blankly upside-down.  Turquoise, Tellaviev (sp; our newest male), and Harlem followed Loki around like the cars of a train, but she wasn’t about to share.  Lucky for her Helios was nowhere to be seen.

I am meeting adult Fig Tree hyenas at last!  Compared to before, they are everywhere in their territory now.  I find their clan cozy compared to Talek West.  It’s about half the size, and the territory’s tall grass makes it feel peacefully quiet, removed from the areas of shorter grass more prone to tourists.  I love all of the Fig Tree hyenas, but as far as adults go, I have a special like for Lu (Lucy).  She is not nervous around the car like the others.  I don’t see her aggress too often, but yet she doesn’t take crap.  She’s the equivalent of a strong, reasonable but fearless woman in a world awaiting her.

As far as other animals go, we finally have two resident cheetahs!  I can’t remember what Tyler has named them (I’m having him help me with the big cat stuff for Dave), but they are both very handsome males – so handsome that, sadly, one of the times we saw them they were being totally hounded by about 30 tour cars, each violating the space limit a little more than the last to try and get in front.  It’s a tough problem; I just wish the rules were enforced more strictly by the park management like they are in our sister part of the park, the Mara Conservancy.  Aside from cheetahs, the resident lions have totally shifted since last summer; in just one year, I’m not recognizing any of them!  Pictures prove there is a whole new pride hanging around where only twelve months ago was firmly in the hands of M.J. Mewomorial, Mick Jagger, Kanye and their lionesses.  Now, in even more support of a total shift, the only lion I have recognized in Talek West is David Bowie, who lived way out in Prozac last year – an hour’s drive away!  There are some major overthrows going on somewhere.  It’s a shame no one is more seriously studying lions in the Mara.  Final non-Crocuta species account: baby banded mongooses = SQUEAK! (A.K.A. beyond adorable).  Imagine them, then multiply the cute by ten and cube it.  That’s what we saw a few days past.

I can’t believe the IRES boys, Nora, and Julie will be leaving in just over a week.  It really saddens me, the realization hitting me a couple evenings ago as we sat around the table playing banana grams, spoons, BS, and poker while Maina fixed the cars.  August already! I’m becoming afraid to blink my eyes should my plane be waiting when I open them! 

10:20, Tuesday, 24 July, 2012

Wow!  I am finally caught up on my work and simultaneously have a little computer battery to spare.

We have had indecisive weather the past week.  On the afternoon of July 17^th, I felt uncomfortably hot in shorts and a T-shirt.  I rarely become uncomfortably hot in any capacity, and I certainly hadn’t experienced that feeling in the dry heat of Kenya before.  Then, on the 18^th, I stayed in three layers for almost the entire day.  Benson gets especially distressed when it’s cold.  He wears a wool hat and pulls his hood up tight over and around it, rubbing his hands together and repeatedly exclaiming, “Cold!”.  Clearly, he needs to come to Michigan.  THEN he will know cold (given global warming doesn’t shift all of that in the near future).  The 19^th reminded me of autumn at home.  It was a lovely feeling, the earth blanketed in low gray clouds, the air cool just above discomfort.  It even smelled right, and the trees about my tent tend to drop lots of yellow and brown leaves on windy days, which it was, so they drifted down as if to convince me that home is here too. 

Moving beyond temperature, the dry season is definitely upon us.  We are half choked with dust driving down the Mara roads, and vehicles in the distance throw up a fantastic cloud as though Taz the blue devil is about.  My contacts quickly become uncomfortably coated in grit, so I blink like a swooning flirt throughout obs.  But hey – we haven’t been stuck in ages!  My rainboots are collecting dust bunnies under the bed, and I haven’t been down to the river to wash mud off my sandals in over a month.

Charlie received a big welcome from who we have now christened Gerald the Elephant (we saw who we think was the culprit next morning).  I had to dodge an enormous pile of ele poo walking down the path right in front of Charlie’s tent one of the first mornings after our return; I guess we don’t have to wonder what Gerald thinks of him!  I was so upset to see that I hadn’t woken up AGAIN to an elephant, with tall tree bushes half-smashed and branches everywhere announcing that Gerald’s visit had not been a quiet affair.  When I glared at Charlie, shaking my finger and saying, “You lucky lucky you,” he assured me he’d gladly trade.  “I thought I was going to die!”

We have been trying to dart a Talek East hyena, since it’s a good idea to practice on a different clan from that which you study.  That way, if it’s a bit shaky and the hyena has a lasting impression of the vehicle as a monstrous beast, we haven’t lost the confidence of one of our study subjects.  (Behavioral observation of carnivores does not work well if the subjects are scared of the car.)  Trying to dart Talek East comes with what I view as a sizeable bonus: half an hour of extra sleep.  We don’t have to leave until six as the territory is that which surrounds camp.  Since Nairobi, I haven’t been keeping up on my target practice much, so for now Benson is our main man.  He’s become quite the marksman.  On the 16^th, I was in the driving seat as we searched for a hyena.  Trekking through a new territory, albeit exciting, was not easy.  There is a topography shift across Sunrise Lugga, that which nearly constitutes the border between Talek East and West.  Instead of continuing with traditional grassy plan, the land becomes more bushy and hilly, with some areas of enormously tall grass.  I felt like someone out of one of Gary Larsen’s The Far Side cartoons as we chased a doubtlessly snickering hyena through grass that was taller than the roof of the car, expecting at any moment to fall into a hole and see the hyena dart off with a witty thought bubble making fun of our human oblivion placed perfectly above its head.  Eventually I decided the peril was too much for the car, and abandoned the adventure for the road in pursuit of someone less clever.

We finally discovered where all of the hyenas were, naturally across the lugga in an area of appreciably shorter grass on a comfortably flat plain.  Ten of them, plus the most beautiful hyena I’ve ever seen – light with striking black designs including a perfect circled triangle on its left shoulder (since I first discovered it in a territory we are newly charting, I quickly grabbed rights to name it José after my brother Joe - Joe was taken long ago in the master list), were gathered around a big male lion covered in blood, majestically licking the ribcage of a wildebeest carcass that he and his comrades had no doubt stolen from the surrounding hunters.  A couple of subadult male lions, adult lionesses, and subadult females were also present.  One of the subadult females needed to work on her stereotypical majestic lion appeal, as a long string of God-knows what organ hung grotesquely from her mouth as she unsuccessfully attempted to chew.  A subadult male lion wrenched my heart; he had an enormous bloody hole square in the middle of his forehead, and sat a bit off to the side blinking in the sunlight, clearly in pain.  I can only think an antelope or warthog horn could have resulted in such a gapingly deep wound.  Our old hyena Moon Pie’s broken jaw and this lion’s suffering remind me that hunting is perilous even for the fierce predator, whose prey ceaselessly fight to the death to protect their most prized possession of life.

Needless to say, this was nowhere near an ideal darting situation, and the story has remained the same since.  We just aren’t having any luck!  Yesterday was the first time we had the perfect situation – lone hyena, no lions, middle of a flat plain -  but then we discovered that hyenas can either army crawl or have secret underground bunkers; we watched our target sack out in the grass before being nowhere to be found when we drove over to the very place we watched her go down.  Another even more plausible hypothesis is that she had some of J.K. Rowling’s floo powder at hand.

We picked up Nora the same day we saw the lions and hyenas in East. Hooray!  She has returned to get a better feel for the Talek clans, made possible by Kay’s now-empty tent.  Therefore, we get Julie AND Nora, and are therefore one big happy Fisi Family.  Poor Joseph, Jackson, and Wilson have to cook heaps!

Was introduced to the Fig Tree cubs the night of the 16^th , against the backdrop of a mounded gently-dark gray and pink-topped cloud castle; the hyenas in the elusive Fig Tree clan are finally showing their faces.  The first hyena I named as a research assistant – Jar-Jar of the alien lineage – has grown into a beautiful little thing!  There are so many others to keep him company now – Pyro, Zurg, Marlin, Moma, Smithsonian, Mr. Darcy, Karen, and of course Elmo.  Little Karen’s face is so cute I had to be physically restrained from jumping out of the car and cuddling her; it’s becoming quite a worry, really.  While we were sitting watching the cubs, I got a most exciting text from Julie.  They had seen Yogurt nursing the two little black cubs at the den!!!  They knew I would be especially excited, continually mocked for my elaborate plans of “hiding the car in the bushes with everything but the headlights turned off” in order to confirm her motherhood...hard to effectively hide a bajillion-pound cruiser when you must see what’s happening, but I had to try for something.  Naturally no such plan was in place when Yogurt’s motherly stance was effortlessly happened upon, but I’m not complaining!  The little black cubs finally have names, although we had to expand the lineage to naturally-occuring gases in general since the only noble gas left was helium.  So now we have them: welcome to the master list, Hydrogen and Helium!

Speaking of Yogurt, we need a new category of morbidly obese since the night of the 16^th; I have never seen such a butterball hyena – I don’t even think any of the hyenas at the night of the bush buffalo feast  could have topped her.  She came loping (God knows how) into the den with the leg of some poor antelope, big as a hot air balloon with legs poking out below.  It was beyond ridiculous, and had us all in fits of laughter.  Good thing Alfredo stole the leg, or Yogurt might have had a coronary disaster on her paws.

The record-long transcription of the people in camp goes to me: 11 pages.  The clan war followed by a lion interaction and non-stop hyenas wandering in between honored me with a title that one can only appreciate after the fact.  UGH.  It took what seemed like forever to sort through everything on my chaotic DVR recording.  I earned the title on the 17^th, three days after the actual occurrence.  The same night I woke up to some strange dream rather than the sound of the elephants around my tent, but who cares how I woke up; the point is that I was awake, and they were there!  I beamed away into my pillow at their stomach sounds oscillating through the canvas as they munched on leaves.  I was hoping to hear them rumble to one another, so happy my heart could burst, but before I knew it I had fallen asleep to dream about elephants back home in America.  Maybe I’ll have to fly some home – no chance they'll exceed the weight limit.

It’s not only been elephants; our camp has been Grand Central Station lately.  A night following the elephants, I woke up to the thrilling presence of a sawing leopard directly outside my tent.  Of course it was wonderful and amazing, but my blood went cold at the thought that maybe I’d attracted it by sleep-talking, and it would know a gourmet cousin to its favorite foods of baboons and vervets lay but a canvas-width away.  But as usual, it moved off and I soon returned to one of my senseless dreams.  I nearly hit a giraffe pulling out of the driveway yesterday, a lion roared rather close during dinner last night, a very close elephant trumpet at dinner the night before.  Safari ant lines weave throughout camp; just when we thought they had gone, Maina was over working on one of our cars, and started doing a bit of a jig after lying under it.  He was full of the things, poor guy!  Yet I am endlessly fascinated by the sentinel lines and ladders they create around the manic flood of a main procession: two lines facing outward on either side or an encompassing tunnel interlaced like the metal nettish domes made out of interlocked triangles at a kid park.  The warriors, three times the size of the others with giant heads, look particularly menacing as they rear up on their hind legs and wield their pincers.  Charlie’s introduction to the bite of a warrior safari ant came the first day we returned from Nairobi...the wildlife sure isn't giving him any chance to get acclimated!

Also exciting, pair of white-tailed mongooses is hanging around Fig Tree, which is nice since we don’t get to see them all that often.  Until now I’ve never seen more than one at a time.  Further, spring hare have boinged by following emergence from Suicide Crossing a fair few times lately – I will never forget how big they appeared in the Natural History Museum after being dwarfed by the savanna out here.  Such delightful creatures, their locomotion exactly that of Tigger. Ah!  Just realized the time and I have to run; we are giving a talk to the Talek Schoolchildren (ages 3-16) about hyenas.  Since I haven’t posted in so long, I am going to forego proofreading and ask any readers to forgive undo wordiness and dragging on (my two main offences), plus spelling mistakes, typos, etc. 

10:20, Tuesday, 24 July, 2012

Wow!  I am finally caught up on my work and simultaneously have a little computer battery to spare.

We have had indecisive weather the past week.  On the afternoon of July 17^th, I felt uncomfortably hot in shorts and a T-shirt.  I rarely become uncomfortably hot in any capacity, and I certainly hadn’t experienced that feeling in the dry heat of Kenya before.  Then, on the 18^th, I stayed in three layers for almost the entire day.  Benson gets especially distressed when it’s cold.  He wears a wool hat and pulls his hood up tight over and around it, rubbing his hands together and repeatedly exclaiming, “Cold!”.  Clearly, he needs to come to Michigan.  THEN he will know cold (given global warming doesn’t shift all of that in the near future).  The 19^th reminded me of autumn at home.  It was a lovely feeling, the earth blanketed in low gray clouds, the air cool just above discomfort.  It even smelled right, and the trees about my tent tend to drop lots of yellow and brown leaves on windy days, which it was, so they drifted down as if to convince me that home is here too. 

Moving beyond temperature, the dry season is definitely upon us.  We are half choked with dust driving down the Mara roads, and vehicles in the distance throw up a fantastic cloud as though Taz the blue devil is about.  My contacts quickly become uncomfortably coated in grit, so I blink like a swooning flirt throughout obs.  But hey – we haven’t been stuck in ages!  My rainboots are collecting dust bunnies under the bed, and I haven’t been down to the river to wash mud off my sandals in over a month.

Charlie received a big welcome from who we have now christened Gerald the Elephant (we saw who we think was the culprit next morning).  I had to dodge an enormous pile of ele poo walking down the path right in front of Charlie’s tent one of the first mornings after our return; I guess we don’t have to wonder what Gerald thinks of him!  I was so upset to see that I hadn’t woken up AGAIN to an elephant, with tall tree bushes half-smashed and branches everywhere announcing that Gerald’s visit had not been a quiet affair.  When I glared at Charlie, shaking my finger and saying, “You lucky lucky you,” he assured me he’d gladly trade.  “I thought I was going to die!”

We have been trying to dart a Talek East hyena, since it’s a good idea to practice on a different clan from that which you study.  That way, if it’s a bit shaky and the hyena has a lasting impression of the vehicle as a monstrous beast, we haven’t lost the confidence of one of our study subjects.  (Behavioral observation of carnivores does not work well if the subjects are scared of the car.)  Trying to dart Talek East comes with what I view as a sizeable bonus: half an hour of extra sleep.  We don’t have to leave until six as the territory is that which surrounds camp.  Since Nairobi, I haven’t been keeping up on my target practice much, so for now Benson is our main man.  He’s become quite the marksman.  On the 16^th, I was in the driving seat as we searched for a hyena.  Trekking through a new territory, albeit exciting, was not easy.  There is a topography shift across Sunrise Lugga, that which nearly constitutes the border between Talek East and West.  Instead of continuing with traditional grassy plan, the land becomes more bushy and hilly, with some areas of enormously tall grass.  I felt like someone out of one of Gary Larsen’s The Far Side cartoons as we chased a doubtlessly snickering hyena through grass that was taller than the roof of the car, expecting at any moment to fall into a hole and see the hyena dart off with a witty thought bubble making fun of our human oblivion placed perfectly above its head.  Eventually I decided the peril was too much for the car, and abandoned the adventure for the road in pursuit of someone less clever.

We finally discovered where all of the hyenas were, naturally across the lugga in an area of appreciably shorter grass on a comfortably flat plain.  Ten of them, plus the most beautiful hyena I’ve ever seen – light with striking black designs including a perfect circled triangle on its left shoulder (since I first discovered it in a territory we are newly charting, I quickly grabbed rights to name it José after my brother Joe - Joe was taken long ago in the master list), were gathered around a big male lion covered in blood, majestically licking the ribcage of a wildebeest carcass that he and his comrades had no doubt stolen from the surrounding hunters.  A couple of subadult male lions, adult lionesses, and subadult females were also present.  One of the subadult females needed to work on her stereotypical majestic lion appeal, as a long string of God-knows what organ hung grotesquely from her mouth as she unsuccessfully attempted to chew.  A subadult male wrenched my heart; he had an enormous bloody hole square in the middle of his forehead, and sat a bit off to the side blinking in the sunlight, clearly in pain.  I can only think an antelope or warthog horn could have resulted in such a gapingly deep wound.  Our old hyena Moon Pie’s broken jaw and this lion’s suffering remind me that hunting is perilous even for the fierce predator, whose prey ceaselessly fight to the death to protect their most prized possession of life.

Needless to say, this was nowhere near an ideal darting situation, and the story has remained the same since.  We just aren’t having any luck!  Yesterday was the first time we had the perfect situation – lone hyena, no lions, middle of a flat plain -  but then we discovered that hyenas can either army crawl or have secret underground bunkers; we watched our target sack out in the grass before being nowhere to be found when we drove over to the very place we watched her go down.  Another even more plausible hypothesis is that she had some of J.K. Rowling’s floo powder at hand.

We picked up Nora the same day we saw the lions and hyenas in East. Hooray!  She has returned to get a better feel for the Talek clans, made possible by Kay’s now-empty tent.  Therefore, we get Julie AND Nora, and are therefore one big happy Fisi Family.  Poor Joseph, Jackson, and Wilson have to cook mounds!

Was introduced to the Fig Tree cubs the night of the 16^th , against the backdrop of a mounded gently-dark gray and pink-topped cloud castle; the hyenas in the elusive Fig Tree clan are finally showing their faces.  The first hyena I named as a research assistant – Jar-Jar of the alien lineage – has grown into a beautiful little thing!  There are so many others to keep him company now – Pyro, Zurg, Marlin, Moma, Smithsonian, Mr. Darcy, Karen.  Little Karen’s face is so cute I had to be physically restrained from jumping out of the car and cuddling her; it’s becoming an increasing worry with each passing day.  While we were sitting watching the cubs, I got a most exciting text from Julie.  They had seen Yogurt nursing the two little black cubs at the den!!!  They knew I would be especially excited, continually mocked for my elaborate plans of “hiding the car in the bushes with everything but the headlights turned off”...hard to effectively hide a bajillion-pound cruiser when you must see what’s happening, but I had to try for something.  Naturally no such plan was in place when Yogurt’s motherly stance was effortlessly happened upon, but I’m not complaining!  The little black cubs finally have names, although we had to expand the lineage to naturally-occuring gases in general since the only noble gas left was helium.  So now we have them: welcome to the master list, Hydrogen and Helium.

Speaking of Yogurt, we need a new category of morbidly obese since the night of the 16^th; I have never seen such a butterball hyena – I don’t even think any of the hyenas at the night of the dead buffalo feast in the bush could have topped her.  She came loping (God knows how) into the den with the leg of some poor antelope, big as a hot air balloon with legs poking out below.  It was RIDICULOUS, and had us all in fits of laughter.  Good thing Alfredo stole the leg, or Yogurt might have had a coronary disaster on her paws.

The record-long transcription of the people in camp goes to me: 11 pages.  The clan war followed by a lion interaction and non-stop hyenas wandering in between honored me with a title that one can only appreciate after the fact.  UGH.  It took what seemed like forever to sort through everything on my chaotic DVR recording.  I earned the title on the 17^th, three days after the actual occurrence.  I was rewarded the same night...I woke up to some strange dream rather than the sound of elephants around my tent, but who cares how I woke up; the point is that I was awake!  I beamed away into my pillow at their stomach sounds oscillating through the canvas as they munched on leaves.  I was hoping to hear them rumble to one another, so happy my heart could burst, but before I knew it I had fallen asleep to dream about elephants back home in America.  Maybe I’ll have to fly some home – bet they won’t exceed the weight limit.

It’s not only been elephants; in fact, our camp has been Grand Central Station lately.  A night following the elephants, I woke up to the thrilling presence of a sawing leopard directly outside my tent.  Of course it was wonderful and amazing, but my blood went cold at the thought that maybe I’d attracted it by sleep-talking, and it would know a cousin to its favorite foods of baboons and vervets lay but a canvas-width away.  But as usual, it moved off and I was soon off having one of my senseless dreams again.  I nearly hit a giraffe pulling out of the driveway yesterday, a lion roared considerably closer than any before has come in Talek Camp during dinner last night, an very close elephant trumpet at dinner the night before.  Safari ant lines weave throughout camp; just when we thought they had gone, Maina was over working on one of our cars, and started doing a bit of a jig after lying under it.  I am endlessly fascinated by the guarding lines and ladders they create around the main line, warriors looking particularly menacing as they rear up on their hind legs.  Charlie’s introduction to the bite of a safari ant came the first day after returning to Nairobi.  I guess the wildlife thinks he deserves no time to get acclimated.

Aso exciting, pair of white-tailed mongooses is hanging around Fig Tree, which is nice since we don’t get to see them all that often, and until now I’ve never seen more than one at a time.  Spring hare boing by right after we emerge from Suicide Crossing – I will never forget how big they appeared in the Natural History Museum after being dwarfed by the savanna out here.  Ah!  Just realized the time and I have to run; we are giving a talk to the Talek Schoolchildren (ages 3-16) about hyenas.  Since I haven’t posted in so long, I am going to forego proofreading and ask any readers to forgive undo wordiness and dragging on (my two main offences), spelling mistakes, etc. 

15:48, Sunday, 8 July, 2012

Happy birthday Caitlin Elizabeth Mary Marie Perpetua Pingel!  Thanks for being the best friend a girl could ever ask for.  SO THRILLED I get to see your face over skype today!

14:08, Saturday, 14 July, 2012

I cannot describe the happiness upon returning to camp after Nairobi.  The first few days there were lovely, and it’s good to have Charlie here now, but after a week cooped up in the cold cottage I could have kissed the vervets greeting me with jumps on top of my tent.  How I ran to hug Benson and Wilson and Joseph, Tyler and Ian and Julie!  How happy I was to see the hyenas!!!  How ecstatic when Karma and one of the genets showed up at dinner!

However, Nairobi still speaks of Africa, and there were good times in this city entirely different from any in the states.  It was certainly an adventure attempting to drive there – I have never witnessed such organized chaos.  No lanes, narrow streets with people and goats and dogs on the sides, big impatient buses and matatus.  My timid self was not very good at the necessary norm of sticking out a hand in demand that the traffic stop before pushing my way in, and I kept forgetting that right turns are the ones I need to check two lanes for (not left! I put Michelle and Charlie through many unnecessary waits).  Then driving stick shift on top of it all.  I was always in need of the biggest massage in the world when we returned to the cottage; as it was a few more knots were tied in my trapezius.  The actual driving to and from Nairobi was even more terrifying: driving up and down hills in fifth gear, having to pass loris, riding the escarpment with a sheer drop to the Great Rift Valley where people pass around curves and you wonder how on earth it is you haven’t witnessed any deaths, knuckles white as snow.  I’ll take our bumpy Mara any day of the year, thank you!  Take me home, country roads!

The cottage has a bit of an Anne of Green Gables feel, and the courtyard is lovely, filled with brightly colored flowers – oranges, purples, yellows and reds -  that reminded me of something Mom would love.  It seems to me it would take a lot of energy to be such a flower; it must be a laborious task to constantly scream such a vivid brilliance.  Nairobi was not devoid of animal life; we saw the biggest hornbill I’ve yet seen in the yard’s Jungle Book tree.  Skinks crawled in through the holes in the walls, brightly colored little sunbills adorned the bushes, I released a little cockroach out the door, ibises croaked throughout the day, a light blue heron did the craziest neck-wiggle-wobble dance right beneath my window before lurching forward to gobble a hidden lizard, and tree hyraxes threw us into a horror movie every night with their vocalizations that sound like three creaks on a floorboard followed by the scream of someone being murdered (cracked up nearly every time – silly how real it sounds).  Fruit bats chimed, sykes (sp) monkeys jumped in the branches and pooped on our car, and dogs barked – I about died of happiness playing with Ian (our mechanic’s) six dogs, returning covered in hair and dirt after every visit.  Horses are kept within hedgerow-lined yards, as well as cows, and goats started when I ran toward them during my couple jogs.  The Homo sapiens were ever-smiling, releasing their vocalizations of “Jambo” and “Morning to you.”

Frozen yogurt, ice cream, french fries, pizza, sandwiches, fish, KFC (there went my attempt at vegetarianism) followed by an order of meat for the first time in almost a year at a Chinese restaurant.  Apparently protein depravation kills all willpower, also evidenced by the fall of Michelle’s 7-year vegetarianism upon coming here; you would never guess the way she attacks meat now!  Our taste buds danced.

Our taste buds weren’t the only things that danced.  The night we arrived and the day before we picked up Charlie, Michelle and I went dancing.  It was another dancing experience to remember.  Some Iranian guys pulled nearly everyone into a circle like the one at the end of My Big Fat Greek Wedding.  None of us knew who the others were as we spun ‘round, hands on each others’ shoulders, all different ethnicities, taking turns in the middle, clapping and shouting for each person’s unique moves (some more unique than others).  It produced a glow in my chest.

It was exciting to see Charlie when I rode with Taxi Joseph to pick him up!  Michelle stayed back and attended to a fire that was out by the time we returned, along with the rest of our electricity.  Welcome to our dark and humble home Charlie, where the pizza is so good we eat it by candlelight! Oh, and here is your freezing room!  (July is the coldest month here.)  It felt delightfully like the 1800s cupping our hands around candle flames as we carried them upstairs to read by.  Fell asleep to the sound of Charlie’s wind-up flashlight.

Sunday morning Charlie and I went for a walk while Michelle skyped with Eli.  The streets were lined with pouring, deep-purple lilac-like flowers draped over trees and telephone poles.  We discovered a hidden valley between rolling red dirt mountains, including a miniature corn field.  A creek bubbled along through a strip of woods where people washed their clothes.  A few houses perched precariously on the far mountain, hanging clothes strung like Christmas garland.  We hiked down to the creek, a piece of heaven in the middle of a dangerous city, and jumped across red rocks to the other side.  We both very nearly fell in the water on the way over, before witnessing our stupidity on the way back as we followed some locals across a perfect rock bridge we’d missed.  Climbing up and down the mountains, lungs opening, we passed many people dressed up in lovely wraps and suits on their way to and from church  (I really hope to attend a church next time I have to go to Nairobi). 

We also visited the elephant orphanage one morning, and I saw Kilabasi, the orphan I adopted last summer!  Has she ever grown!  She is now 27 months old, and will be returned to the wild soon.  I would give almost anything for the job of those keepers, right in with the orphans, feeding them bottles and being fondly tickled by their trunks, returning the soccer balls they kick (yes, elephants apparently play soccer), sleeping on a raised cot in a stall with an elephant all night!!!  What I wouldn’t do!  Smartly, however, the orphanage only hires Kenyans. I learned that the oldest orphan is immediately recognized as matriarch of the group.  Even if the oldest isn’t the biggest, all of the elephants recognize it as the oldest, and make it their leader.  So neat!  They rumbled to one another, the littlest wearing blankets, draining milk bottles faster than Nicholis Ingle drains a beer at Crunchies (believe me, that’s impressive), poking about at one another and their keepers.  When I’m around elephants, I can feel the presence of beings that know more than our understanding will ever give them credit for.  And all their mothers killed by poachers.

Overall, got a lot of work done, survived riding downtown, put Charlie through some Bridget Jones movies, dueted Disney songs with Michelle, read The Life of Pi, paced around like an anxious mother while waiting to hear news of the hyenas (jumped up and down when I heard that Obama had been seen eating on a hippo carcass, snare wound looking well!!!), threw all my weight down aisles against carts full of camp supplies, slept and slept and slept, started to go crazy and cried relief when Ian said our car was finished. 

Savored every moment of the return.  Giraffes clumped under the shade of a tree, feeding elephants, lazy lions, the whole genre of antelope, jerky-walking secretary birds, five ostriches sitting all faced one direction and perfectly spaced (weird!) at dusk, ZEBRA AND WILDEBEEST (the migration has begun!!!  Good to see those crazy gnu dashing about and hear the zebra he-ha-he-ha-he-haing again), and...hyenas.  Seeing the cubs at the den was better than almost anything in the world.  Gypsum has definitely grown!  I thought maybe Foxtrot and Echo would be alright now that the migration is trickling in, but Foxtrot has been seen several times without Echo, and they were never apart.  My heart is broken.  It reminds me of when I got the call last summer that my cat Albus was now without his sister Minerva.  They were always together, and thinking of one without the other aches in the part of the heart that knows one of life’s cruelest emotions...loneliness. 

Certainly wasn’t eased back into transcribing!  Just caught up on all my work, only to have it backlogged again.  This morning I transcribed the aftermath of a clan war PLUS an intense lion/hyena interaction.  The clan war was between East and West again, and we found a latrine on the border so intense that we could smell the paste from the car.  Collected some paste and poop for some hormone analysis (Charlie just loved packing feces in a tube right prior to breakfast).  The lion interaction involved three adult female lions, three subadult males, and one subadult female.  The odd thing is that there wasn’t any food.  The lions just walked right on into a big group of hyenas, probably 30 and more arriving, chasing them about for no apparent reason, growls and roars to rival the hyenas’ whoops.  But the hyenas coalitioned together and held their ground.  It was almost like the lions stirred things up for fun, and the hyenas didn’t seem to mind the match either – a game of lion/hyena rugby, that’s what it felt like, yet maybe it was more intense than I perceived.  In the end no harm was done past perhaps terrifying a crowd of very vigilant zebra standing sixty meters away, all facing the spectacle and doubtless horrified at the sudden materialization of at least 50 carnivores right before their eyes.

Shadowfax and Pantanal are around again!  Navaho, too.  Maybe some of my worry is unfounded, but Centaur hitherto missing, and she used to be seen every day.  Gobi and Idi yet missing as well.

Still War and Peace, Dad, but too bad!

12:14, Sunday, 15 July, 2012

Safari ants on the way to the toilet.  Here we go again.

I have to write that the colors in the sky from a recent sunset made me want to die, die so that I could somehow be a part of it.  These pieces of something so magnificent make my mortal body ache in such a way I hope my soul will burst forth and fly past the confines of biology.  Another afternoon grew a new kind of stormy; the sky took on a deep blue that mirrored the ocean in an imitation I never imagined possible.  We were swimming beneath the world’s sixth ocean. And the moon rising as big as the sun above the mountains has burnt a new sulcus into my visual cortex, and this sulcus is deep as the Great Rift Valley.  A “witch ring”, as Tyler called it, around our very same moon had a similar effect; it appeared as a rainbow bed around the lamp that made our flashlights unnecessary.  This morning the moon was but God’s thumbnail again, him having recently clipped it.  Every phase of the moon is a lovely hurt.

Slept through elephants AGAIN last night.  No one could believe I didn’t hear them, as apparently they were right by our tents and very loud.  I am so upset!  If July didn’t get down to 50 at night I might leave my window open.  But it’s hard enough to get out from underneath the blankets in the freezing morning chill, only to put on layers that have gone cold during the night and steal all the warmth from your body.

The hyenas had a wildebeest head this morning.  The good times of great feast for them have begun! 

20:36, Tuesday, 3 July, 2012

I have no idea how to organize everything I have to write about.  Guess I’m just going to have to plunge in!

I’ll start by saying happy birthday to my Mom on June 30^th.  I love you more than I could ever say, and I wouldn’t trade being your daughter for anything in the world.  You’re the best. 

Also, happiest of birthdays to Tee on July 1^st.

And let’s commence further with the subjects of the hour: our hyenas.  A day or two after I last wrote, we saw the two little black 6-weekish old cubs come out of the bushes about 40 meters away from the nearest den hole, and behind them was...Yogurt!  Our suspicions all but confirmed!  She hung back very nervously as the two little heart-grabbers bounded curiously about the car, poking her head around bushes in a game of peek-a-boo in which the peek-a-booer was terrified.  I think this is as close as we’re going to get to affirming her parenthood – there is no way Yogurt is going to be comfortable enough to nurse around us!  We’d have to hide all night in the bushes to witness that one.  But we’ll just have to wait and see.  In the meantime, whoever came up with the lineage of “noble gases” for her family line had better discover a couple new elements that fit the column, because we are all but out of the 8 availables. 

Speaking of Yogurt’s noble gases, Argon was very amusing in her curiosity over a kori bustard some nights ago (Time is so weird out here; since the days of the week don’t really matter I quickly lose track of when things happen.  Everything blends so that the rising and setting of the sun alone determines our rhythm.  I quite like it.).  She watched it from behind as though unsure of what to do about it; looked as though she thought it a higher-ranking conspecific for a moment.  Once she figured out it wasn’t a hyena, much less a mammal, she approached to within about 5 meters from behind as though wanting to chase it and see what would happen.  She stopped and stared for a prolonged minute, ears perked forward and nose stuck out, then must have thought the better of it and left it to its business.  Probably good; holding the title of heaviest flying bird with the countenance of a prehistoric dinosaur has to count for some sort of ground-holding ability.

And while on the topic of interspecies interactions, I still can’t get over how well jackals and hyenas seem to get along.  There are repeated incidents where a hyena will approach within about a meter of a jackal, the two will look at each other as though old friends having a passing conversation, and then part ways in a casual manner.  Most recently this happened with Turquoise, then Oakland.  Even when hyenas aggress on jackals, it doesn’t seem menacing, certainly no more menacing than aggressing on another hyena.  It’s like the two species have a mutual agreement of tolerance and friendship.

Came upon the most amazing buffalo kill one morning.  Hyenas had run off with some scraps; of course Helios was hogging most of the food, exercising her queenship.  Further along, five jackals to the side throwing a jackal-party, at least that’s what it looked like, all chilling in a small area.  Lions were of course upon the main carcass, which looked as though it could feed the carnivores of the entire ecosystem until next Christmas.  There were two adult male lions – one was absolutely enormous, mouth stained heavily in blood, hugely fat so that it looked painful for him to walk.  He came right toward our car as we attempted to get ID photos (very hard when there are 25 tour vehicles on the nearby road whose pictures you don’t want to ruin), walking at us with those big yellow eyes that will always strike the flamingly wild chord within me.  He stopped about ten meters from our car, watching, before at last lumbering off, looking as though his weight should break the physical laws bodies are built around by cracking and disabling his paw bones.  Since I am going to be keeping track of lions again for Dave, who is currently in the other camp, I tossed out a request for names.  He will be Beethoven at Julie’s excellent suggestion, and the other close by Mozart.  Two lionesses were also on the kill; I think one may have been Nora, but we couldn’t get close enough to tell for sure.  Possible-Nora was resting her head on the leg of the dead buffalo, nearly asleep, a morbid use of something killed as a pillow.  A subadult male was also present, absorbed in snacking.

Returning to the kill the following morning, only the skull was left, and the hyenas were servicing the earth with their mighty jaws, cleaning up what everyone else had long turned their noses up at.  Radon, Gelato, Pene, Gaza, and Oakland were all there, as well as about 5 jackals.  Radon didn’t much like sharing with the jackals, and when I transcribed the scene I had him t2 lunging a jackal at least 20 times – very repetitive (hooray for copy and paste!).  Vultures patiently waited their turn on the outskirts.  All of a sudden this alien female we have been seeing shows up on the scene with a subadult following (likely her cub), and the strangest interactions take place!  She is allowed within 10 meters of the carcass before finally Gaza and Oakland get up and bristle-tail coalition at her, at which time she backs off with her ears back; yet she didn’t back off far and they lay down as though nothing happened.  Clearly she isn’t part of the clan, as she is below the males.  Yet somehow she is being accepted.  When the female approached the carcass again, Gaza stood and made to aggress at her, at which point she actually snapped at him!  He must have felt reproached and lost his will to bully, slunking off to lay again by the carcass while this female (Alien #394) walked up and got a scrap.  Such tolerance is unheard of!  The subadult was certainly nervous as can be during all of this, but was also permitted to feed on a scrap.  Further, there was a new male about that this nervous sub carpal crawled and squealed to, groveling on the ground.  Is it possible he is another new male (we’ve had at least three as of late), and therefore above these two aliens who we originally thought he was associated with?  The whole thing was very strange.  We speculated this female might be from Talek East, and since the Talek East and Talek West clans split in the not-so-distant past, she might be related to the West hyenas and allowed a green card.  It’s an exciting mystery that only further observation can solve.

Saw Blue for the first time since I arrived!  I was beginning to worry about her.  There are too many hyenas that seem to be approaching missing status lately!  I don’t like it.  Michelle is worried too, so I know it’s abnormal.  Blue was in an area of tall grass that apparently we need to pay more attention to.  Expensive hilarity in the same tall grass in the form of a target trial: we chased Morpheus around like a bunch of crazed lunatics, trying to catch her in the right position so Julie could deploy Target.  (If I haven’t already mentioned, Julie’s pilot study involves putting out a fake hyena – appropriately named Target - and measuring how hyenas of different social status and personality react to it.)  The hyenas have to be alone and walking down the road for a proper trial, and no tourists can be around.  Morpheus was on the road, off, on, off – finally consistently on, only to have a tour car drive up.  Chase in circles again, Ian in the pick-up trunk with target ready to go  – off on off – FINALLY we get it positioned and swerve to the side to videotape.

10:13, Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Had to stop at a very awkward moment last night because something sizeable was directly outside my tent, contacting the rain tarp so that I was too nervous to unzip my window and look out.  I thought I’d better stop typing and turn off the light in case it got scared or overly curious. Usually I have some idea of what is outside my tent, but this time I was stumped by its movements.  Bushbuck maybe?  (Later in the night I lay awake to the sound of a sawing leopard.  I doubt a leopard would get that close, but the thought is thrilling!)

Back to Morpheus’ target trial.  Morpheus approached closer than any hyena has; once she figured out it was a fraud, she began to nip investigatively at Target’s nose and butt.  Nothing harmful, just light mouthings.  Then out of nowhere Pan arrives.  Morpheus must be significantly frightened of her higher-ranking younger sister, because she immediately turned around and walked in the opposite direction, disappearing down the road as Pan approached Target.  After a while, she started to do the same mouthing thing that Morpheus had been doing.  Next it turned to light biting; we became slightly worried about the expensive target, but it didn’t look like any real damage was being done so we decided not to interrupt the data collection.  But then Pan suddenly knocked Target to the ground and began to drag her into the tall grass!  I quickly turned the car on and we leapt to her rescue, Pan refusing to let go until the car was literally about two feet from her, having detached the head and nearly making off with it as poor Target lay decapitated.  As it was, after reassembling Target, Pan’s hyena jaws had “only” completely bitten her nose off (I’m sure she ate it, being a spotted hyena), and significant chunks were taken from her butt (also doubtlessly ingested).  While terrified of Kay’s reaction, we also couldn’t stop laughing.  The whole thing had happened so fast, and so unexpectedly; man down on the field!  Target trials with high rankers = dangerous, note to selves.  Kay was not too upset, and said that the spots Pan attacked are points that an attacking aggressor often goes for.  This was not a random attack!  Preemptive strike of the first degree!  At any rate, poor Charlie (the coming RA) has to drag a brand new target along through the airport, along with the 50 pound bag I didn’t have room for, my new binos, and some other camp supplies.  And in the meantime, Target is humiliated, having lost the sense that most directed her in the world. 

The same night as Target’s makeover, Michelle excitedly called us.  A miracle occurred!  There was a roadkilled tommy on Sunrise Plain that no one had yet touched.  She and Tyler were tempted to go find Echo and Foxtrot and lead them to it, but rightly decided it unethical.  Then, out of nowhere, Foxtrot starts coming down the road!!!  He eventually saw it, and with Echo following shortly behind, they began to eat on it!  There are no words to describe how rare that nothing was yet eating that dead tommy, that two cubs should have it all to themselves.  And to make a good story better (although somewhat sad for the tommy), Foxtrot pulled a fully developed fetus out of the dead female!  He walked off to feed on that, leaving Echo with the female.  Two meals for the price of one!  The male Kyoto showed up, and Michelle and Tyler thought that for sure he would chase them off, but he just ate alongside them!!!  No words.  I don’t pretend to know how the universe works, but there are times I recognize God’s essence, and realize that all the nights laying awake trying to make sense of the horror and doubt and cruel aspects of nature should a good God exist have nothing against these small times when I know.

Saw Garbanzo and Chickpea nursing from Magenta the other night!  Discoveries in field science are just the best.  Time for them to lose their cub names and be dubbed Togepi and Oddish.  Magenta’s lineage is “Pokemon,” something I know nothing about having been the only kid who never really got into them.  But I know enough to know that there are some great names to be had!  Welcome to the master hyena list, Togepi and Oddish.

Learned something endearing about Gaza the other day.  Apparently he is always the one hanging out with new males, the welcoming one who comes forward as the first friend.  I also never realized how absolutely gorgeous Lamu is.  His spots make long sweeping loops across his side, on over his shoulder with only one dark spot nearly perfectly in the middle of the blank space it roofs.  Spotted hyena beauty is not only underappreciated, but rarely recognized.  Wish everyone could see them up close and come to realize that here uniquely strange coexists with a genre of beauty nowhere else seen in the animal kingdom.

Gelato and her younger brother Ziti are hanging out with the immigrant males like mad lately.  Females can get overdramatic sometimes, Gelato.  I understand.

Felt like Indiana Jones looking for Samburu’s collar yesterday with Benson and Tyler.  Lord, it was fun!  We had to drive from one side of the river to the other, tracking the lost collar to somewhere along the steep banks dropping off into a crocodilian river.  We crawled through the thorny bushes and held tight to the branches sticking out over the banks as we traversed the edges like rock climbers.  Once the dirt beneath my feet slipped and ran into the river below with movie-like patters as I hung from a branch I was ever-grateful for.  All I could do was smile as I regained my foothold.  Climbing along the banks of a river in Africa on a treasure hunt – I used to have to imagine things so great when I would play in the yard as a kid!  Crouching near the bottom at last with Benson and Tyler, we realized that the only place the collar could be, according to the tracking, was in the river, the area too deep to go fishing for it.  And you couldn’t pay any of us to go swimming in a river full of crocodiles!  Sorry collar.  Samburu must have been eaten by a crocodile :( ; I can’t imagine her trying to cross the river in such a place, and having seen a hyena swim very well with a hanging foot I have trouble believing she drowned, although she could have been swept downriver.  Thorns in hair and scratches through our shirts, we ascended carefully, happy as clams from the fun of it all upon pulling ourselves to the flat grass on top. 

Pole, Samburu.  Tutakukumbuka (we will miss you).

Happy 4^th of July, by the way!  Michelle made us all laugh the other day.  She was here for Madaraka Day on June 1^st, which celebrates Kenya’s independence from Britain.  Now we are going to celebrate the 4^th today.  “It’s so awkward having everyone celebrate independence from your country as you sit mute in their midst.”  It’s okay, Michelle. It’s not your fault England was an imperial arrogant land-stealing oppressor throughout history ;).  Unfortunately, we’ve been carrying on their lost legacy over the past decade.

12:02, Wednesday, July 4, 2012

My life is complete.  I saw my venomous snake.

Sitting in my tent transcribing on my bed, and I look up to find a dik-dik staring back at me.  I love how I see everything out that window; it’s like sitting in a deer blind, things not knowing you’re there so you can just watch them in their natural state.  However, this particular dik-dik was very alert in my direction.  I thought it must have spotted me, and looked back down at my computer screen in hopes of calming it.  Absorbed back in transcribing, then five minutes later I remember to look up and see if it’s still there.  My hand flew to my mouth as I saw a gray-black snake about a meter and a half long slithering along, fitting the description of a young black mamba.  It was not a meter from me where I sat on my bed, the snake that some dub the most venomous land snake, an animal that could kill me in twenty minutes should it so choose.  It was fantastic and terrifying and thrillingly exquisite all at once, everything I hoped seeing a snake out here would be, and I was perfectly safe in my tent with front row seats.  It slithered there for about five minutes, exploring up the log where I often sit, curling backwards back down, its tongue moving in and out.  Soon it glided away as quietly as it had come, and my hand finally left my mouth.  I was extremely jumpy for the next few days, but it was so worth it.  I was sure to tell the others, and we’ve all been stepping a bit more lightly since.  Tyler caught sight of a very black snake tail the other, and said it didn’t taper like this mamba’s did.  Seems like we have some new friends in camp; haven’t seen the mongooses around in a while, and I wonder if that’s why the snakes have come.  Either way, I remind myself that they are just as nervous around us as we are them, and have every right as we do to exist in peace.  People have lived here with snakes for ages, and the doctor we talked to when I was on BEAM had never treated a snake bite in all his years here. 

Out that same tent window two days later I had a huge baboon troop come very close, chill as could be while foraging in the trees.  A young one rode jockey on its mother’s back, and I gasped as I saw a baby hanging from another mother’s belly that couldn’t have been more than a couple days old, so black and pink and hanging by only its arms so its legs curled up as it swayed there, tiny and sweet.  I called the mother Lena – she must be a very good mother, because in her alertness she was the only one who suspected my presence, repeatedly looking up and staring at me as I held as still as I could.  I like her.

Saw a stunning shiny turquoisy-green lizard (such sheen!) sunning on a rock while driving out of camp for obs, one of a species I’ve never seen.  A robin chat (Kay’s favorite bird; they have orange bellies and black heads with one white stripe, always seemingly cheerful and bold, bobbing around like the robins back home) came within about six inches of me the other day.  It cocked its head and acted like it might decide to jump onto my lap as I sat washing my feet.  Discovered hornbills sing like opera ladies – I thought I was hearing one of the guys’ radios coming from their tent (vibrato lalalalala); turns out it was a hornbill!  Delightful.  Adult dung beetles rolling impala poop into the most perfect ball you’ve ever seen by the recovery bush, just like on the Discovery Channel.  I’ve never been so excited over something involving poop in my life.  Tyler came up with the name Eugene for the hippo we saw by the rock outcrop – really great hippo name!  And I’ve named an agama lizard that hangs around there Jorge; he is recognizable because his tail is about half the normal length, likely bitten by another male during a mating struggle.

I think Kelsey recognizes my voice!  She turned a bit the other day when she heard it.  She also didn’t hesitate to climb onto my lap the other afternoon when I set food there.  Tyler said, “You’re just the animal whisperer, aren’t you?”  I have never felt so complimented in my entire life.  Two nights ago at dinner Kelsey sat under my chair almost the entire meal, feeling safe from the bullying bushbabies as I kept shooing them away.  It was hard work keeping the peace; I held food out to the bushbabies so they would hop happily back into the bushes away from her, but it was difficult to extend my arm far enough so that they didn’t come too close to Kelsey.  Michelle said I sounded like a crazy person, gently scolding the bushbabies, “Be nice, there you go, now go on!”  Once I dropped Karma’s (the little bushbaby’s new name) food on the ground, and she grappled at my finger, looking up at me with her big eyes in confusion, ridiculous ears all perked forward.  So cuuuuuuuuute!  I would die to be able to cuddle him/her.  Karma has on a whole become quite bold.  On nights Kelsey is not around and I allow her close for her morsel, she will hop off with it and then return before I notice, until I look down to find her halfway up my chair, staring at me expectantly.  A long way from the bushbaby who huffed nervously like an Olympic sprinter and approached in jerky starts and stops. <3  I also caught her crawling awkwardly about after a toad the other night, so curious when it would hop, jumping back with her ears all out and the perpetually surprised look on her face.

We have been so busy lately!  We are trying to chart the East hyenas after the clan war, thinking we might study them again.  It was fun naming them; I named the most handsome male “Jose” after my brother Joe (Sorry Joe, “Joe” by itself was apparently used a while back).  Another female is named Caitlin, after my very best friend.  We also have a lot of work to do getting things around and ready to identify lions and cheetahs for Dave.  Not to mention transcriptions, keeping camp running, 6 hours of obs a day, running to get gas, going to Maina what seems like every other day for a new car problem, getting groceries, trying to re-chart Fig Tree and Prozac (the rain has kept us away), practicing for the darting that I am going to try tomorrow (we haven’t darted since Kay left), organizing salaries, updating hyena lists and boards, and then trying to find time to exercise, shower, and socialize.  I love every minute of it though!   At least my ID’s are finally coming together, although I am in a stage where my first instinct is always right, and then I spend 20 minutes trying to confirm who I already know to be the correct individual.  I am so scared of recording false data!  Michelle said she went through a similar phase of wasting time doubting herself, and that it will pass soon.  Hope so!  And my new binos should help.

Benson has been back for a few days now!  I had missed him so much – he is so wonderful.  I actually get the ball during soccer some again (he passes to me the most) – although I did find a guy who passed to me the other day that wasn’t Joseph, Benson, Jackson, or Wilson!  Miraculous.  I was joking around some days back and touched his head as though he were a child (that is how you say hello to children around he); boy did he ever turn around and chase me!  Hehe, know how to yank his chord now – always a good thing to know for good fun :P.  His wife and son are going to visit in either August or September, and I am SO EXCITED.  I love the people here so much.  Jackson hid behind a bush when I was coming up the path in the dark the other day, and about gave me a heart attack (seriously!) jumping out at me; I thought he was a hyena or leopard or something!  This time it was my turn to chase, and I wacked him with my headlamp strap as he giggled like a little kid.

11:25, Monday, 25 June, 2012

Well Dad, remember when I used to tell you I didn’t mean to do something, and you would say “well mean not to”?  I’m not sure that advice works for me out here.  Because I certainly meant not to get stuck on Thursday night; in fact, not minutes before getting stuck, I told Tyler and Ian, “Okay, we cannot get stuck, because we don’t have a phone.”  Someone upstairs has a questionable sense of humor. 

We were following the hyenas over toward Crocodile Den, excited to find out where everyone was going since Juno, Oakland, Alfredo?, and Alice were all headed in that direction with deliberation.  Ian swore there must be a secret hyena club meeting, perhaps to discuss how to save Echo and Foxtrot.  We had managed to follow Juno until she was almost to Crocodile Den, but it was getting dark.  I was afraid of getting stuck without a phone, so I reluctantly gave up the chase.  Trying to be responsible, only to lose the track to dark and find myself in probably the only wet patch for kilometers around since it hadn’t rained in ages.  And I could use none of the getting unstuck tools I had been taught as there were no rocks, no branches, no anything at a distance close enough to get to without risking being eaten or trampled.  There was nothing to do but wait and hope.

We sat in the dark for two hours, strategically leaving our lights off until it was late enough that the others might be missing us at the dinner table, and then turning the car on with them so as not to drain the battery.  I learned how to flash “SOS” based on Morse code from the boys: three fast for S, three slow for O, three fast for S.  We got through a lot of “would your rathers” and “out of these people who would you marry and why,”, before nearly giving up hope.  We had water and granola bars; we could have had one person on elephant watch while the other two slept.  But then the blessed headlights graced the hill; Kay to the rescue!  Unhappy, worried Kay to the rescue. :/  Shan’t be forgetting a cell phone again.  Cold pizza and everyone in bed when we got back.  Sitting around the table, I told Tyler and Ian I was glad it was them who were stuck with me.  They were calm as cucumbers the whole time, encouraging and sweet.  And I still love how there’s a new adventure at every turn out here.  I’m beginning to realize I am an adventure junkie.

22:20, Wednesday, 27 June, 2012

Nora left about a week ago for Serena, switching places with another graduate student named Julie.  We miss Nora tons, but Julie is also very fun to have around.  And I’m so glad there is finally another girl who will play soccer!  No longer the only one on the field who receives surprised yells when she does something halfway right.  And as a side note:  Joseph is absolutely amazing at soccer!  I personally think he belongs on an Kenya’s Olympic team.

Got water with Tyler the other day– we sang Disney songs on the way there and back to pass the time.  I feel like Jake and Joe would really understand how much I appreciated that (and happy birthday by the way, Jake!  yesterday.  Happy birthday very late also to Sam!).  While there, the normal water hose was broke, so we had to use this obnoxiously wide hose that shot water out at about a bajillion gallons a second.  Recipe for becoming muddy and soaked, that’s what it was.  Driving back a mess, I took a wrong turn.  We found ourselves on some gorgeous hills and had a very scenic drive before I nearly kissed the ground upon arriving back at camp.  Note to self: pay attention to which track you turn off of to get onto the main road.

We (Michelle, Eli, Julie, Tyler, Ian, and I) went to a birthday party in Talek town Friday night.  It was Delores’ 24^th birthday, a friend of Michelle’s.  I don’t think I have ever enjoyed a party so much.  It was in the courtyard of a stone hotel/bar, beneath the big equatorial stars on a pleasantly balmy night in humble Talek town.  There was African music and lots of Celine Deon (sp; she is a big hit here), and...I DANCED!  Not like I usually dance – my hips actually moved, and I didn’t feel self-conscious.  I just DANCED.  I don’t know what came over me, but I do know it made me so happy, and that people at home wouldn’t have recognized me.  Michelle and I were in the middle of the dancing circle at one point, and made up a bristle-tail dance in honor of the hyenas, holding our hands with fingers spread out like bristled tails by our bums.  Sometimes you just have to live up to being a bit off the mark, and I think Kay would have been proud. 

The best part of the party was mixing with the people there while dancing; we were no longer the wazungu (white people) riding about in a research car and turning heads, children pointing and saying, “Mzungu, mama!”.  We ceased to be apart and were accepted as a part, and it felt so wonderful.  I wish we were viewed like that all the time, but unfortunately our brains construct differences that aren’t there, only to turn around and generalize stereotypical similarities rooted in history and artificial truth.

It was wonderful when “Happy Birthday” was sung.  Delores’ closest friends danced and clapped, singing it over and over again beside “How old are you now?  How old are you now?”  Then there was a cake cutting song on top of it all; Delores seemed to be cutting the cake for ages, and I swear the “kata” (“cut”) song is still stuck in my head.  “Kata kata, usiogope!  Kata kata, ishirini na nne!”  (Cut cut, do not be afraid!  Cut cut, twenty-four!)  The cake was surprisingly delicious (desserts are not a common thing out here).  I may or may not have had more than my fair share...

The restrooms in Talek town are very male-centered, so we decided peeing to the side of the building between our cars in the dusty street was best.  A donkey gave me quite the start while I was in the process – never thought I’d live to see the day a donkey watched me pee literally in the middle of a  town, albeit dark.

The day after the party, we had a DNA extraction day.  When we shook up our prepared DNA tubes with isopropanol, you could see the DNA separating out!!!!!  I assume all the double helixes were clumped together, resulting in the twisted form of DNA visibly suspended in the tube.  Incredible.  The blueprint for each of our darted hyenas, right there before our eyes.  Science never gets old.

We have added to our 1-horned antelope group, expanded to include Giraffa camelopardalis (sp).  There is thus a one-horned giraffe named Gary to coincide with Sheila the one-horned grant, Jude the one-horned hartebeest, and Derrick the one-horned impala.  While driving around with Kay and Eli once, I suddenly yelled excitedly, “Sheila!!!”, and she screeched to a halt and looked around saying, “Where?!”. Erm, it’s just a one-horned grant we named.  She thought I was referring to some rare hyena or something, hence the dramatic stop.  I cannot help but wonder if she ever questions her choice of research assistants and graduate students based on how easily amused we are. :)

Unfortunately we have since picked up Samburu’s dead signal along the river; the collars start beeping at an accelerated pace if they are inactive for 24-48 hours, I think it is.  Eli looked for the collar down near the river, but no luck.  I wonder what happened to her, and I now know for sure there is no way I will be seeing Humphrey’s again.  :(  Seems to be rough times for the clan lately, but who am I to say whether this is abnormal?

9:34, Thursday, 28 June, 2012

Rain has limited our obs lately, giving us plenty chance to sleep in (“sleep in” having a new definition of 7:30 or so).  The morning in camp is seriously heaven.  Sun raying through waxy green leaves with that smell of post-rain earth ready to be inhaled at every step.  Shy dik-dik poking around the corners, fresh new day on the tip of every bird’s tongue.  Perfumed white flowers drifting down from trees in bloom.  There are many times out here that it suddenly hits me how overwhelmingly alive and exultant this place makes me feel, times it hits me that my being here is actually a reality, my burning dream unfolded.  These are some of the best realizations I’ve ever had.

Kay and Eli have left.  We miss them.  We grow pretty tight out here; hard not to when you live day in and day out with people.  It reminds me of college, how quickly attachments are made.  Dinner is not half as entertaining without Kay, and of course we miss Eli loads as well, especially poor Michelle.  But luckily she will be visiting America before too long, where she can see him again. 

Was sitting preparing for a hyena talk we gave to some tourists on my rock outcrop, peacefully writing up my piece in the 15:30 sun, when I was scared nearly out of my pants by the great blowing sound of a hippo directly in the pool below.  My heart skipped two paces, but once I realized there was no way that hippo could get up onto my rock without ample escape-time notice, I was delighted for its company and continued my work.  It’s head very rarely breached the surface; instead, it would descend, hidden beneath the muddy water, and I would see just its nostrils poke above the surface every now and again before going back down.  Chuckle-worthy indeed.  If it moved around beneath the water, little bubbles announced its whereabouts.  I sincerely like hippos, even if they are Africa’s most dangerous animal.  I shall have to think of a name for that one, likely a male since it was alone.

While out on obs, I periodically run into Isaac, one of the drivers from my BEAM trip three years ago.  It’s always nice to see him, and we help each other find the animals we need/want to see.  He smiles so big, and often wears a bright yellow shirt.  After last time I ran into him, we found elephants a bit further up the road, and a tiny one was playing in the mud again.  It would kneel down in it on one knee, the other front leg extended so that it looked very awkward, flaring its ears out, and near tipping over .  I could just hear it, “Come on, guys!  All we ever do is eat.  Look how fun this is!”  It looked like it nearly had an older kid convinced before we had to leave and get home for breakfast.

The hilux decided it didn’t want to open its gas gauge right before we had to drive to the talk (at least I got to see Maina again yesterday!  Always enjoy his company), so Julie, Michelle, and I piled into the new cruiser.  It was like something from a Three Stooges episode, the three of us cramped in that front seat, me in the middle with my legs to the side in order to make the stick accessible to Michelle and therefore basically on top Julie, each bump throwing us into each other and up in the air as we braced ourselves for dear life.  Fun times!  We met up with Steph’s husband Howard (whose tour group we were gave the talk to) shortly after entering the gorgeous wilder lands nearer Serena, and followed him toward their camp, happening upon...a hunting cheetah!!!  Poor tommies had no idea she was there.  We waited for about half an hour as she slunk closer, shoulders definitively raising, small head low.  I’ve never seen antelope 100% oblivious to the presence of a hunter; normally we count on them to find our carnivores.  The cheetah rolled playfully in the grass after every few creeps, tossing her legs in the air.  Perhaps her need for food wasn’t that dire, or perhaps it’s a normal thing for them to be so lackadaisical during a hunt?  Whatever the case, it was very cute.  Once she was in within 100 meters or so, she suddenly sprung up, and I have never seen anything so fast in my life.  Yes, you would expect cheetahs to make quick work of anything, but seeing it is a whole ‘nother story.  She shot in a perfect line, descending on that tommy in literally like 5 seconds.  We drove up to her after Howard’s tour cars (to my chagrin, as I’m always worried about alerting lions to the presence of a cheetah’s kill), and she bit its neck until it was suffocated, thankfully a fairly quick death for the female tommy (although once while the cheetah was catching its breath she sprung up and nearly got away!).  The cheetah breathed really hard and really fast for a long time before beginning to eat; it’s gotta be terribly hard and taxing work to sprint like that, especially under the midday equatorial sun.  She began by eating the rump of the antelope, which I learned is (oddly enough) every carnivore’s favorite portion of a kill.  Then she would stop and gasp again for breath.  AMAZING.  I can’t believe we got to see that.  Nature = best thing ever.  And it wasn’t quite as hard to watch as I anticipated; cats kill through suffocation rather than starting to eat things alive like hyenas, so it was quick work.  (Luckily, Michelle says that hyena prey usually goes into shock, no longer feeling the pain as they are eaten.  Hopefully the shock also impairs the cognition that would otherwise inform them of the current going-ons.)

The talk was great; I have never met people so interested in hyenas, with so many questions!  We must have been in the limelight for near 2 hours.  And we got lunch to top it off, a lunch that included STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE.  Before we left, we accidentally walked upon one of the gentlemen taking a leak, and quickly turned our heads, at which point he yelled, “Don’t worry, it’s not a psuedopenis, it’s a real penis!”...playing on the morphology of hyenas we had just enlightened him on.  Really.  He should teach a class in how to make an awkward moment maximally more awkward.