Bedtime on the Platte

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The flight of tens of thousands of giant sandhill cranes, a migration that follows the order of a million years of evolution, happens as we go about our March drudgery. As we scowl at the frozen potholes or stare listlessly out the window at a slate stillness, the sandhill cranes arrive in the American midwest. We might not be so miserable every day in March but it can't be denied that the month is arguably the most challenging, as winter has most of us Northern hemisphere-types dreaming of color and life.  But out there, in the chilly stillness of Nebraska, a giant, diaphanous cloud reveals itself to be nothing of the sort. This is no single organism, but a formation flight of ten thousand birds. Right behind it…another. They are everywhere overhead, jockeying for a tiny sleeping space on  riverine islands, filling the sky with a stereophonic chorus, an ancient calling. It's bedtime on the Platte River. 

Last March, I spent  a cold few days in Nebraska with fellow photographer and friend Neil Dampier (his very kick-ass website is www.neildampier.com). Although we enjoyed all the charms we didn't even know existed in wintertime Nebraska (Hamm's beer in a can, anyone? A keno lesson at the local bar n' grill?), nothing compared to the real reason we were there. Cranes. No need to delve into wikifacts here , except to say that this migration is huge, important, decidedly American, loud-as-hell, and affirming in a way that only huge nature can be affirming. The stopover in Nebraska is vital for the cranes to bulk up for their trip up to Northern Canada, Alaska and Siberia, where they breed. Something this big has to capture the attention of everyone within earshot or sight of these steroidal-like birds, to make us all look up and ponder their ancestral ways, their reason for being, and maybe our own, right? Right?? Well, not really-at least not according to the front desk girl at the Kearney Quality Inn off I-80. She hadn't noticed them. I believe she said she had never seen one.

How can you not notice this over your head???

I have  to say here and now that this non-thirst for knowledge, of disinterest in her nearly-immediate space was depressing, but we were glad that the lobby wasn't filled with photographers  in camo gear and lenses larger than ours. (We had thought the very high price for such a spartan hotel was due to the migration, anticipating a bird nerd riot at check-in, but soon found out it was thanks to a fancy food show in town.) 

We entered our mauve room.  I immediately went to the window, which faced west, the direction of the Platte,  but which overlooked a Mexican restaurant with a half-Irish name: Carlos O'Kelly's. Above, a mob of cranes. Grabbing Neil's binocs, I muttered something that came from nowhere  and that Neil rips on me about to this day. I peered up at them, the whole lot of them, huge and packed tightly together and out came these  awestruck words: "Total formation."  I am not a birder. Really. Or a nerd. I'm telling you.

After a nap to dissolve the 0330 wakeup in Maryland that same morning, we got our gear in order and planned the rest of the day. Since the sandhill cranes were mostly foraging around farm fields in the area at this hour, we decided to provision and then head to a spot near the river about an hour before sunset. We asked the front desk girl about food options (" I don't eat out") and about where I might find a 3-volt battery for some camera equipment ("maybe the Dollar Store?") and bolted. 

In town, we headed for the liquor store.  It was cold! What else do you expect? We also wanted to ask the college students who worked there where to eat later. After getting some local knowledge, we bought the local beer (the aforementioned Hamm's),  and  a small bottle of whiskey, because we were basically pretending to be Nat Geo photographers and they probably drink that stuff when they're cold. I got the battery and then we headed west. 

Sandhill crane over a cornfield. Since it's winter, this leftover corn from last year's harvest is useless to the farmer, and the cranes are welcomed to clear it.

Hamm's for Nat Geo photographer wannabes

This would take us across I-80 into the sprawling farm fields that lay flush with waste corn , which is non-viable farmed corn from the previous season, prime feed for sandhill cranes. We pulled over almost at the first field we saw, and took a minute to assess the scene. Cranes were in the field , picking at the corn and grooming.  Later, we would see the dance they are famous for (seen below). 

But for now, we watched them feed and then got to see them takeoff and land. The landings  are the best. Some come in gracefully on a downwind, peering below on their base leg and swooping in dramatically for a five-star touchdown. Others, as they say…not so much. The awkward ones are the best. They flare too high, correct, hang a leg down, wobble to and fro, and touch down fast, nearly falling forward like a cartoon version of reality. But most are graceful. 

The top left crane was awkward, wobbling left and right and generally looking less sure of himself on this approach. Fun to watch!

They remain skittish of humans, being trophies for hunters in some states (not Nebraska, more on that another time), but a car serves as a blind of sorts, so hanging the camera out the rented Jetta works pretty well.  We got a few preliminary shots then made plans to head to the Platte. Fort Kearney State Park has a viewing bridge over the river and that became our go-to  spot for sunsets and sunrises the next few days. 

My impressions of that first sunset/moonrise: COLD. LOUD. COLD.  The cacophony we came for arrived decidedly, as the cranes left whatever field they were in on the other side of the trees and took to the dusky skies. In the distance, tremendous masses of white wings appeared stationary enough for us to mistake them for a MOUNTAIN RANGE (no joke, and we do know that Nebraska is generally paper-flat, so it was that dramatic). These turned out to be another mass of migrating bird, snow geese, seen in the photo below just above the tree line.

As more and more people made their way to the bridge (some with cameras, some with binocs, most from Nebraska, judging from their red jerseys, but not the mass of humanity I had conjured), the air got colder and colder and the full moon rose above the horizon. It was a beautiful sight. My fingers were numb. Tripods luckily held our cameras because frozen fingers don't do that so well-we had underestimated the effects of teen temperatures. But the sounds of the sandhill cranes prevailed, as did the technical satisfaction  of composing shots of them silhouetted against sunset and a winter moon.

The hundreds and thousands (!) of cranes maneuvered for a tiny spot to set themselves for the night, massing together, a giant slumber party. These sleeping spots were on the many islands that lay in the river, keeping them safe from predators like coyote.  Here the ancient calling would eventually subside to silence as it got dark.  Most of the birds landed too far from us to get any great photos, especially in the dying light, but it didn't matter. It was actually better, really. The draw of the camera can be impressive, pulling a photographer away from experiencing in an effort to "get the shot". This kind of experiential  event doesn't allow that. The decibel level commands a higher state , a requirement to look around, to look away from the viewfinder, to just stand and be. I know the front desk girl would love it if she tried! Total. Formation.

A sandhill crane engages in play; he would throw a wood chip in the air and catch it in his beak

A downhome Nebraska diner we visited several times during the shoot

Nebraskans!

Neil and I on the Platte River after a very early morning photo shoot

Sandhill cranes taking flight, Nebraska

All crane images and more can be viewed or purchased at www.mapphotographic.com; find the gallery directly here: http://bit.ly/1abdbTf. 50% of the profit from all images will be donated to the National Audobon Society Rowe Sanctuary. The sanctuary is dedicated to the conservation of sandhill cranes, whooping cranes and other migratory birds, and their habitat along the Platte River in south central Nebraska. 

Zimbabwe: A Walk in the Wild, Wild World/ Part 3

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The Melee (continued)

When we last left off, the lion pride had been charged by the alpha buffalo and forced to take refuge up against a termite mound that was attached to the base of a tree.

  Photo by Rob Janisch                                      

You may also recall the command from our guide, Andy : "Get up the tree, NOW!" Nancy was up in about 5 seconds (despite her lack of practice), me next, then Clea, and finally, Rob. All three guides were making sure we were as safe as possible. Andy stayed at the base of the tree with his shotgun ready, waving his free arm in the air and yelling at the approaching lions, "this is OUR tree!" 

The lions, in their urgency to flee the enraged buffalo herd, were looking for any cover they could find, including "our" mahogany. Andy's actions were meant to alter the lions' mental calculus: subtract this tree from your equation, oh kings and queens!  It wasn't immediately successful; some of them continued heading toward us, arcing to the right and left. Nance and I, crouching on outer reaches of a strong branch to make room, couldn't see much, but we did hear Clea's increasing alarm as she said distinctly, "Andrew! Get up this tree!". Yeah, a guide was telling a guide to get up the tree. It was crazy town down there. (Andy, incidentally, did not get up the tree)

The pride bunched up against the tree

Buffalo aggressively attacking the lion pride

Some words about the shotgun: this would be a last resort, to ensure the safety of Andy's guests (that would be us, thank you). Usually a shot in the air is enough to repel almost any animal, but if absolutely necessary, a wild animal would be shot to defend us. This is extremely rare, and some guides, in some situations,  would view it as a personal failure. But they are trained to do it. Luckily in our case, it was not necessary-and we would have been devastated if it had. The lions retreated to other areas and eventually we were able to come down. 

Meanwhile, the melee was ongoing. The cubs were in very real danger. The buffalo herd had forced a few of the lions, including the wildly meowing cubs, onto the termite mound. 

Lions on termite mound

They were almost surrounded when the mother decided to spirit them away. They boldly walked past a gauntlet of buffalo and she hid them behind another large termite mound, away from danger. Rob was impressed with her, he told us later.

Mother lion and her cubs, on safer ground

The  repositioning continued. A large, older lioness with a distinctive previous injury to her eye, tired of the action and  came toward us, stopping less than 75 feet away to rest. 

Another lion, this one a male, moved away from the kill zone, but then around toward us. Andy, Rob and Clea conferred, and it was back up the tree for us. 

This time, we were not alone up in the tree branches. Nancy had thought earlier it was possible there were snakes or even a leopard already in the tree. Alas, it was she who exclaimed, "hey, guess what's up here?". It was a leopard kill. The skeletal carcass of an impala. Man, was Mana Pools a wild place or what?

Rob with bones from leopard kill

We stayed up in the tree for a while, until there was a distinct shift in the atmosphere. The buffalo, possibly feeling they had properly avenged their fallen brother or sister (without trying to humanize them too much here) or simply ready to move on, indicated retreat. Vultures appeared.

The mother, in another bold, impressively arrogant move, led her cubs back past the herd, as if to teach her young ones who the real royalty was.

Mother leading her cubs back to the kill

The entire area had been clouded with dust, kicked up by hoofs and paws, which had given it an unreal quality; dreamy in that way where there is gauzy haze, a lack of clarity. But in the cooling of tempers and animal egos, the dust was now falling gently, like mist or even light snow. It was over.

AFTERMATH

The lions eventually reclaimed their kill and went back to feeding, almost as if nothing had happened. We came down from the tree. Rob, ever observant, announced the hilarious news that during the height of action, a squirrel made an appearance out of a large hole in the trunk of the termite tree. He peeked his head out, realized the action all around, and disappeared back into the tree.  The cubs, seemingly with newfound bravado, practically crawled entirely into the body cavity of the fallen buffalo. A photo captured the first real proof that the lions cared we were there. One of them looked directly at us:

Although we had to climb a tree twice to escape the danger they presented, the lions never really seemed interested in us. We were bystanders, trying not to direct or affect the outcome of the interplay between species. It was their world, truly wild, and I will always feel fortunate to have been made to feel like the world was not ours. Here, it belonged to them.

The next day, we went to the site of the action to walk it, to  better get a sense of the scale and the distances between the trees,  between species. The guides expected to find a carcass, maybe some bones. But beside a bit of grass which probably resided inside the fallen buffalo for a short time before meeting its fate, and a few obvious paw and hoof prints, there was nothing. Hardly a trace existed to help tell the tale from the day before of the tremendous, clashing, beautiful violence that is wild nature.

***

Rob being Rob

Clea, Andy, Nance and I. Photo by Rob

Special thanks to the  guiding services of Kavinga Safaris' Andrew Smith and Clea Bridges, who we can't recommend more highly. They continue to guide in Zimbabwe independently and can be reached at: bateleurs@hotmail.co.uk and cleabridges@yahoo.com. Rob Janisch is mostly just around for juvenile entertainment, but despite this, is actually a fantastic guide as well. He guides in several different countries in Africa, and can be reached at rhjanisch@gmail.com. To purchase photos from this post, please visit  http://goo.gl/vJwQk . 50% of the proceeds of all photos from this event will go to The Zambezi Society, which works to keep Mana Pools wild.  

Zimbabwe: A Walk in the Wild, Wild World/ Part 2

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Predators/Prey

Lion with its jaws clamped on the throat of the unlucky buffalo. This method probably results in less pain for the prey, though not for altruistic reasons.

The dangerous run we had just made was quickly forgotten, and replaced with the sensory deluge just 150 feet from us.  The entire pride of 11 lions was upon the young, unlucky cape buffalo as a few others from its herd looked on.  Although this part of wildlife viewing is not always for everyone, it's important to realize that this is as pure as nature gets. There has been a lot of talk about us humans forgetting where our food is from, or even forgetting what we are eating. Not so in the animal kingdom. Wild lions eat meat exclusively, and have done so for millions of years. Some predators, like the wild dogs mentioned in the last post,  sometimes eat their prey alive, which would certainly be difficult to watch. They do this not out of cruelty, but because of their lower status on the predator food chain, where they stand to have their prey stolen by larger competition like lions and hyena. They have to eat fast. Lions don't have this problem, and this may explain their way of dealing with prey: they go for the neck and wait until breathing has stopped to feed.  Some would say this is much less traumatic for the unlucky prey (yes, I know, they are eventually going to be eaten, but work with me here).  By the time we got to the mahogany tree,  the buffalo had most likely stopped breathing, since the lions had just starting feeding.

The lion cubs, though not active in the take-down, most definitely enjoyed the fruits of the pride's labor

We were so close to the scene that we could hear both the sounds of the feeding, and also the agitated calling of the herd closest to the kill. It was incredible to see the primordial reaction of the rest of the herd. They didn't simply flee to safety; they stayed,  unsure of what to do, but unable to leave their unlucky kin. Keeping  at a respectful distance, they leaned in to catch the scents of the scene, assessing,  perhaps,  the condition of this unlucky one.  They didn't yet know it was gone.

The herd returns to rescue the fallen member, not knowing it is too late

The Melee

As we took in the incredibly primal scene so close to us, the rest of the herd, the ones who had posed us danger just minutes before, began to file in and gather. Andy's situational radar spiked and he told us that it was probably going to get exciting. "We may even be going up this tree", he said. Nervous laughter.  An obvious leader of the herd, an alpha male, eventually emerged, distinguishing himself by making his way to the front and displaying aggressively: nostrils flaring, loud mooing, testicles showing, head nodding low as to show his horns. This encouraged some of the other members of the herd to move closer with him to the fallen one. The lions, up until this point, were ignoring the herd. Occasionally, one would look up for a second, but then go right back to feeding. One exception was the mother of the cubs. She didn't eat at all. Eventually, though, the buffalo got too close and a line was crossed: the lions all stopped feeding and went into defense mode; a face-to-face standoff began.

Lion-Buffalo stand-off. Who will prevail?

The sounds emanating from these age-old foes started to reach an ancient, supremely wild crescendo. The lions were snarling , the fur on their faces matted with blood and pulled back in a rictus, enormous dagger-like teeth bared. Rhythm similar to  motorcycle engines filled the dangerous air, rising and falling, like  steroidal purring  from a monster house cat. Muscles of  both feline and ungulate flexed, and the eyes of some of the buffalo bulged grotesquely.  Tails snapped the dust. And roaring. Yes, even roaring, like in your nightmares. A peripheral glance and some imagination would yield a scene of two armies with swords, leaned in , ready for the clash.

Our heart rates were most definitely accelerated. I looked away from the camera viewfinder at Nance and we had the following words:

Mike: "Do you want to practice climbing the tree, just in case?"  [She crumples her face as if I am crazy]

           "Well, Nance, when's the last time you climbed a tree??" 

Nancy: "When's the last time YOU climbed a tree??"  

Mike: "Exactly!!!"

 

The mother of the  two cubs, realizing the danger ahead, signaled for them to go, and they did. With their little heads entirely covered in the blood of their prey, they walked purposefully to the termite mound as buffalo started to fan out, surrounding the pride in a semi-circle. The cubs started loudly meowing. 

Then, it all happened very quickly. The alpha buffalo made a leap to the fallen one, putting his nose right into the body. A few of the  lions, all sinew and muscle, blew away from the prey in different directions, like an explosion. Andy: "GET UP THE TREE. NOW!" Other lions remained and roared louder, intently staring the alpha down, in a perfectly staggered row, almost as one. The cubs, meanwhile, were in mortal danger.

Alpha buffalo trying to reclaim the fallen buffalo 

        

The alpha buffalo, realizing the young kin was dead did what to anyone had to look like one thing: got revenge. He turned his attention to the pride, and with some of the other large bulls, lunged directly at them, scattering them this time in all directions, but mostly toward the tree with the termite mound.

One lion remains crouched, not willing to give in...

...until the buffalo goes into a full-on charge

NEXT UP:
PART 3:  MORE OF THE MELEE, FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS TO THE LIONS, THE BUFFALO, THE HUMANS (!) AND... AFTERMATH

Zimbabwe: A Walk in the Wild, Wild World/ Part 1

Part 1 
For all photos, click on them for full-size

The end of 2012 had my wife Nancy and I being commanded to "get up the tree!" by a very competent safari guide named Andy. As you can see from the photo below, with the leaves peeking into the right corner, we did as we were told...quickly.

LIONS VS BUFFALO HERD, ZIMBABWE

The experience, which even Andy said was something like mind-blowing,  ended an unforgettable morning at Mana Pools, a wild-to-the-extreme wilderness area (and National Park) in Zimbabwe. Earlier, in fact, just minutes after waking inside our tent along the banks of the Zambezi, we were watching a pack of wild African painted dogs. They were just a few hundred feet from our campsite, and were finishing off their predatory ways for the night. But that story is for later. This post belongs to those lion and buffalo up there. 

HAND-DRAWN MAP DEPICTING LION VS BUFFALO STANDOFF AT MANA POOLS. THIS WAS SKETCHED OVER BEERS, WHICH WERE USEFUL IN CALMING OUR NERVES AFTER THE EVENT

The Lions

Andy ( bateleurs@hotmail.co.uk )and his assistant learner-guide, Clea, got word that there was a pride of lion near the main dirt track that safari vehicles and cars use. While Mana Pools is super- wild, the authorities paradoxically  allow people to simply walk in the wilderness, at their own risk. So we were a little snooty about just driving up to a pride and watching them from the vehicle. This is the main way everyone observes lions almost anywhere else in Africa; but we were not just anywhere.  We were at Mana Pools. Since it was early and the 5 of us (including our friend Rob, who was a guide as well) were game, we headed for the lions. We found a handsome pride, with several males and females of various ages, including two young cubs. 

LIONS AS VIEWED FROM JEEP

After allowing us to admire them for a few minutes, the pride abruptly got up and started walking north, toward the Zambezi river.  Andy asked Nancy and I whether we wanted to follow them. ON FOOT. Uh, YEAH?! This, of course, is what any young but experienced guide wants to hear from his guests. Because when you're on foot in the wilderness near large predators, you never know what's going to happen. The guides are supremely safety minded, and Andy especially, but they are also wildlife lovers. Following lions on foot has to be a thrill every time, so he was probably happy we didn't say something lame, like, "nah, let's go have breakfast". We got out of the vehicle with minimal gear--water, a few cameras and binoculars, and Andy's shotgun, and when the distance between us was sufficient, started following the pride. They tracked slowly over undulating plains dotted with acacia, mahogany, and other trees, the morning light reverential. Andy, ever vigilant , was especially careful not to sneak up on elephants with calfs. On foot, you are fully part of the story and the guide's goal is to have it end well.  The lions eventually settled near a large tree with a termite mound built around part of its trunk, a fact that turned out to be auspicious for them, as you'll later see.

PART OF THE PRIDE NEAR TREE WITH TERMITE MOUND. THEY HAD OBVIOUSLY FED DURING THE NIGHT, AND SEEMED UNINTERESTED IN SURROUNDING PREY, LIKE THE IMPALA BEHIND THEM

We made it to a large mahogany tree (important later) and spent some time looking through the binocs and shooting some photos of the pride. Andy, Clea and Rob were like roving androids, their heads swiveling like finely-oiled machinery, to and fro, back and forth, finely aware of our situation, which was fluid...always fluid. Andy was the first to realize that a large herd of buffalo, perhaps 150-200, were going to be passing though the area between us and our vehicle, where we had just walked to get to this spot. "How about we embed ourselves in that fallen-down tree over there, and watch the herd go by?", he asked us. "We'll be in a great spot to observe them, but safe since we could just jump up on the tree if they come at us" Uh, YEAH?!

We made our way over there, walking low to the ground as we left the area where the lions were. It took about 8 minutes to walk over the undulating terrain to get to the large fallen tree (fallen by elephants) and embed ourselves in its branches. Then the buffalo arrived.

The Buffalo 
Since the wind was coming from the direction they were approaching from, they couldn't smell us until they passed us. But as soon as they did, you can see from the photo that we were detected. This was unnerving, since buffalo are one of the most dangerous animals in Africa to humans. Andy, Clea and Rob had planned well, however, and we were safely ensconced in the large branches of the fallen tree.  If there was trouble, we could always jump up on the larger limb and fan out horizontally, which would put us a few feet up over the ground. The long line of buffalo streamed past us and it was fascinating to see the beasts up close. Some had young with them, which were pretty small, but the bulls were just huge, with dagger-sharp horns. Without the protection of the tree branches surrounding us, we would have been terrified this close to this many buffalo. 

The Attack

Andy, the binoculars pressed to his eyes, scanned the area where we had come from, where the lions were. "Oh…hmmm, we might have something here." Pause. Excited. "Looks like part of the herd split off and are going to file right past the pride!" We looked that way, but it was difficult to see since the terrain between us and the lions was hilly, they were far away, and we were trying to be alert to the buffalo herd, most of which had gone by. Rob also looked toward the lions and his trained eye was able to see what we could not. After a minute or so, they both burst out with the report: " A lioness has jumped one! They've got one!" Despite their apparent disinterest in prey, opportunity walking right past turned out to be too strong to resist. Andy, Rob and Clea scanned our situation and assessed that the last of the buffalo herd had passed us. "Let's go!" We rapidly uncoupled from the fallen tree and started making way in the increasingly hot morning air to the area where we observed the lions earlier. Nancy wanted to stop to look through her binocs but Andy said it would be better to make our way to the action and we would see everything then. I was excited to get photos, and was tucked in right behind Andy. I looked back to to check on Nance, and although she was bogged down with binocs, a camera and a canteen, she was ok, with Rob  safely bringing up the rear and Clea in the middle. Then the situation changed, quickly. The part of the herd that had passed us had stopped, sensing the lion attack. Worse: they had changed direction, toward us. We were exposed, with no trees for cover, just open, hilly land. 

Danger!

Suddenly, moving quickly became less about positioning for good viewing and more about reducing our exposure to the buffalo. Andy quickly and firmly told us that we had to run, that we were in danger of the buffalo herd, which, in their increasing alarm, were probably going to run into the wind…at us.  We increased our pace. Like the rest of us, Nancy was having a hard time running with the camera and binocs and canteen hanging off of her and did not grasp the severity of the situation until Rob, in his polite South African lilt, said these now legendary words: "Naan-cy, might you run a little fah-stah, as our LIVES may be in dan-gah". I turned to see her frustration, and also her realization…like, "what? Oh, this isn't about getting a good picture anymore…we are in trouble!" Clea was more direct. "RUN, NANCY, RUN!"  The buffalo were coming, luckily not at full-speed. Instead of the low area Andy had picked to get us away from the buffalo, he saw a way to get us to safety and also view the events unfolding. The large mahogany tree from before.

The Mahogany Tree

We all made it to the tree where we wound up spending almost 2 hours…2 of the most exciting hours of our lives. 

Part 2 , featuring The Melee, is up next...