The Southern Serengeti

Days are measured by sunrise and sunset, not days of the week or numerical dates. Changing landscapes mark time passing.  A peaceful, tranquil state meshing with a heightened sense of awareness.  

The jolting of the LandCruiser over dirt and bush and rock, sand rivers, pools of water and washes.  No hurrying, no worrying as we amble through the endless southern Serengeti plains, noticing all the animals we have already studied in detail.  But today is different, we are looking for the cats: lion, cheetah, leopard; simba, duma, chui. 

Constantly scanning the horizon.  Stop, scan, move ahead. Stop, scan, move toward tall grass.  Stop, look, move.  Searching in umbrella trees, prickly acacias, watering holes, tall grasses. Relying on the skilled eyes, experience, and intuition of Tumaini to guide us through the plains.  

Our usual joking banter is tempered, quiet, serious. 

My light beige hat now covered with layers of dust: sienna, copper, gray.  My exposed skin gritty, like the pages in my journal.  My lips dry and chalky.

A carcass surrounded by both white back and griffin vultures, necks elongated picking through the remains. Maribou storks join them.

The hours pass by...

Then we see them, lions, simba. 5 females, 2 males. Mature, the males full maned. We drive toward them, getting close enough to see with our eyes the details of their large teeth, golden eyes, pink noses and tongues, massive paws, long tails, battle scars.  Briefly I see cubs, buried in the tall grass, basketball sized lumps of golden fur.  Our patience paid off...