Following The Herds
There will never be a time like this again in the Masai Mara. Usually one of the most visited game reserves in the world, I have had moments of despair in the past as the animal to human ratio skews heavily in favour of two legged tourists. Now though, it is different. While so many are unable to travel, be it through government restrictions, confidence in travelling or inability to finance a previously planned trip, I have been incredibly fortunate to spend the last three months in the Mara.
The result of this has been a photographic experience unlike any I have witnessed before - admittedly at 26 this may not be the most impressive of statements - however, to have been in the Mara on days and weeks where it has been as close to empty as I will most likely ever see it, is spectacular.
As a result, morning and evening, I find myself looking for species I may normally avoid. This time of the year in the Mara can, occasionally, be a nightmare at big cat sightings. The quality of guiding by some camps here borders on harassment - and that might be a kind assessment. As such, I avoid any kind of scenario like that as a pig avoids a barbecue, and focus on the Mara’s less photographed but equally interesting species. However, this year, I have made the most of the quiet and focussed on the big cats, the Mara’s more coveted ‘attraction’ but most of all, elephants.
I make no secret of enjoying this more than anything else on safari. Any moment spent in in an elephant’s company is time well spent. Their constant need to consume food - an adult male elephant will eat up to 130kg’s of food a day - means they are always grazing, and the continuous movement of their trunk combined with their quest for an almost insatiable amount of food, means you always have a chance of an interesting image.
When it comes to photographing elephants, there are a few images that constantly stick in my mind. Peter Beard took an aerial shot of over 500 elephants in Mkomazi Game Reserve (now a national park), the likes of which we may never see again. Whilst Nick Brandt has taken images on the dry lake bed of Amboselli that provide a constant source of inspiration. It is images like this that spring to mind when ever I photograph elephants.
I have always believed the Mara is a haven for photographing the world’s largest land animal. However many favour Amboselli due to the size of its elephants, the seasonally dry lake bed and visually dominant backdrop of Mt. Kilimanjaro. Here in the Mara though, the vibrant scenery, the Oloololo escarpment and giant - often cloud strewn - horizons combine for phenomenal image settings.
Over the last couple of years I have tried to capture an image that does the area and species justice. But the constant presence of other cars has made it a challenge, either by appearing in the background of images or influencing a herds behaviour. Now though, with the Mara mostly devoid of land cruisers, the chances of getting the type of image I envisage are higher.
The number of elephants in the Mara will be determined by a census next year, so when researching for this piece I got in touch with the Mara Elephant Project (MEP) to discuss the Mara elephant population and how it has fared through the poisonous poaching pandemic.
Since its foundation in 2011, the MEP has played a crucial role in protecting the regions elephants and other wildlife. The year after their conception there were 96 elephants killed by poachers in the Mara, almost two a week! Every year since though this number has declined, to the point that in 2019 there were only three elephants poached here. That is a remarkable turnaround in under a decade and a testament to the 105,000 patrol miles their rangers covered in 2019 alone.
Poaching, sadly, is only half the story though. Human elephant conflict (HEC) is going in the opposite direction to poaching, with the number of incidents doubling between 2016 (91) and 2019 (181). This is a problem conservation organisations face the world over - how to combat an ever increasing human population encroaching on wildlife habitat. Poaching has been, without doubt, the cause of the decline in elephant numbers in the last 40 years. However, human wildlife conflict is going to prove just as much of a challenge, particularly when the ‘enemy’ is not an armed bandit, but the human population itself.
There is no universal answer to human wildlife conflict, short of the world population miraculously shrinking. MEP are constantly investigating new conflict resolution techniques and already use helicopters, elephant collars and boots on the ground in an attempt to ensure less harmful interaction between elephants and communities. Their work no doubt prevents dozens (if not more) of unnecessary deaths a year, but in 2019 twelve elephants were lost to HEC. Four times the number that were lost to poaching.
It is this front line work, provided by MEP, the Kenya Wildlife Service and many others in the Mara, that have made photographing elephants here so exciting. Most evenings now I find myself lying on the floor of my safari vehicle, doors off and an elephant in my camera’s viewfinder. Earlier this month though, it was not just one elephant, it was 70.
Living in groups of related females, elephant families have complex social structures that vary in size. Here in the Mara there is an abundance of grass and vegetation for them, with water readily accessible year round thanks to the Mara River and numerous marshes. As a result the only times I have usually found groups this big are around water sources during dry seasons, usually the Musiara Marsh just outside my cottage at Governors’ Camp. So it was a rare treat to find so many elephants grouped together on an open plain. The health of the group was displayed by the number of young calfs it contained. To watch them run amongst the legs of their considerably larger mothers, aunts or sisters, chasing birds or another elephant’s tail was enough even to make the grumpiest of viewers smile.
Except there was no one else there. Simply me, Anthony (my guide) and an 18 year old land rover. With the engine off we sat in the car with Anthony watching the herd while I moved between the gap where my door was supposed to be and the back of the car, searching for the best angle to take a photo.
I was desperate for a shot that showed all the elephants, but they were all well dispersed (a sign of a relaxed herd) and to do so would have made them appear as ants and lose visual impact. So instead, we waited for them to approach, knowing they would eventually walk in the direction of our car. And so they did, to the point that within half an hour of arriving our car was totally surrounded on all sides by elephants happily pulling up grass, chewing through it, spilling half out of the sides of their mouths and then repeating the process. None seemed to even acknowledge our presence in their midst, save for one young calf, a little more than a year old, who charged up to the car, flapped its ears, ran round in a circle and continued to stare at us. All until its mother gave a light rumble of her stomach as if to say, “grow up”, which caused the youngster to immediately relax and return to her side.
The rest of the evening carried on as if we were not even there, the only noise the constant tug of grass being pulled out, roots and all, by 70 hungry elephants. The images and the memories from that evening will long be a safari favourite, with this being the one I feel may stay on my wall at home for years to come. For me it will be a constant reminder of what it was like to spend three months in a near empty Mara, as well as the rewards of the hard work put in by so many rangers here daily. Without their dedication, I wonder if such a sight would be possible.
If you would like to find out more about the work MEP do, or even consider supporting them, you can find out more about them here. A tireless, innovative organisation who I and any other visitor to the Mara owe a great deal of thanks.