Maasai Mara, Kenya
Aug 5, 2024
The thousands upon thousands of wildebeest that dot the plains of the Maasai Mara had me feeling deflated. Oh no, I thought, the migration must have already happened. Although typically taking place in the first week of August, it is subject to Nature’s whims. This year it started in the third week of July. But this is not something that is over in a day or two; there were still some herds in Tanzania that had yet to cross, I was told. We could but try. Off I went in Henry’s vehicle with the radio squawking.
A tip from a ranger friend of Henry’s and we were headed to the Sand River, one of the spots to where the wildebeest cross. There were over twenty vehicles, all of them watching intently for movement. Such is the fever that has us enthralled. In the distance, we could see the herds massing on the other side of the river. Would they cross? There are so many tales heard at camps and lodges of waiting and watching only to see them decide to turn back, capricious creatures.
But wait, aren’t they heading down? And oh look, there are some of them already on this side. So they are crossing! Yes! Yes! Yes! As usual, all the vehicles plunge madly down to the edge of the river, jockeying for a good spot. My view is through a small hole in the foliage, so boxed in are we by other vehicles, the trees and the bush. But I feast my eyes on the seemingly unending stream that comes rushing down the sandy slope. It is a mad, mindless rush as they stampede down and splash through the shallow bed. The adults, the foals, every single one of them in this crazy concerted stampede to reach the opposite bank. From my vantage point I cannot see them climb up the bank on the near side but the furious sounds of splashing and scrambling over stones resounds. Wow, I think, wow! I am mesmerized as I watch.
But once in a while, a few of them stop. They pause to drink and some look confused; they do not quite know which way to go. Oh wait, some of the stragglers seem to be turning back. They had come down the next slope; likely the bank on the opposite side was too steep to climb. So here they are, turning back. Still in that mad rush, still running, but going back. Will they try crossing at the same place again? Will they try at another point along the Mara river? It is anybody’s guess.
As we leave the river’s edge we see them still. A long column of the wildebeests that just crossed. They are still running across the wide plains, somehow knowing which way to go. The mad urge to run dissipates finally and they pause. And graze and stare at the metal intruders.
As the dying rays of the sun bathe the savannah in its golden glow, I see them everywhere. The massive herds grunt and graze as they move across the vast plains. The dark dots amid all the yellow blanket the surface all the way to the horizon.
ITCHY FEET TRAVELS 