The Great Migration - When Crossings Go Wrong
Nature’s World Cup. The Greatest Show on Earth. A Natural Wonder of the World. Chaos. All of these terms are used, often, to describe The Great Migration. Every year it fills natural history documentaries, attracts the world’s greatest photographers, draws in hundreds of thousands of tourists and generates Kenya’s lodges, parks and communities many, many millions of dollars. But why?
The wildebeest, as an individual, is by no means a revered sighting. Without wanting to offend one, they are not particularly attractive and the less said about their intelligence the better. As a species they are instinctive, relying on safety in numbers for their thriving success. As a collective though, they become something much greater. A driving coalition of over a million animals, migrating year round, in pursuit of the fresh grass provided by Africa’s plentiful and varied wet seasons.
Following a ‘dropping’ season in the Southern Serengeti, in which over 500,000 wildebeest are born between January and March (over 5,500 per day), the migration heads north. Having passed through the Western Serengeti it typically arrives in Kenya by July, and so, over the following three months, the Masai Mara becomes one of the most dramatic game reserves in the world.
From August till the end of October this year I will be documenting this drama, watching it all unfold through my camera lens. Having been here through the migration in 2019, this year has already surpassed its predecessor in terms of numbers of animals and crossings. Whether this is down to increased rainfall (and therefore abundance of grass), planned and controlled burnings or a drop in tourist numbers is open for debate. One thing is for certain though, the last two weeks have served up some truly incredible moments.
The main attraction of the migration in Kenya is river crossings. In order to access fresh grazing areas the wildebeest must move between the Mara Triangle, the Mara Reserve and the areas many independent conservancies. To do this they must cross a variety of rivers, risking life and limb in the process. Some crossings can last moments, as a few hundred dart across almost un noticed by the many crocodiles lying in wait for such events. Others however, last hours, as thousands of wildebeest leap in to the shallow waters one after another.
I took this image on Wednesday this week (August 19th to be exact). Arriving at the river at 7:30 a.m - an unusual time to find so many crossing - it was clear it had been in progress a while. On the bank opposite, hundreds waited their turn, on the bank below though something seemed wrong.
Usually, once safely across, the wildebeest climb the bank and race on to the plane. 30 feet below our car though was a confused pile up. Hundreds of grunting wildebeest, rather than celebrating freedom were in a panic. The bank, in places, was too steep for them to get out. Some animals, as you can see on the right hand side of the image chose to retreat to the far bank, again flirting with the chance of death by crocodile. Others pushed on, somehow climbing an almost vertical cliff face. For many though, catastrophe. The sheer number of animals in the panicked melee meant that turning back was impossible, and, with the route ahead blocked by the slow process of those attempting to climb the cliff face, the animals pushing forward from the back were crushing and killing those in front.
Tragically, the end result was, at an estimate, 100 wasted lives. The pile of carcasses was by far the most morbid sight of my career and yet I could not take my eyes off it. Animals that had survived so much, defeated by something as trivial as a steep bank.
I have heard about moments like this but never seen it for myself. Indeed having spoken to a film maker who have visited the Mara for over 30 years it is only the third time he has seen it. This led to an interesting internal conundrum; as a photographer what is the right course of action? This is something I may, and certainly hope, never to see again, but should I photograph it? What purpose would the images serve? There certainly won’t be anyone wishing to hang a print of it on their wall while many Instagram users would likely recoil at the sight. But yet I felt compelled to document it.
Wildlife photography is not just photographing elephants at sunset, or lions at sunrise. It is at its simplest, one photographers interpretation of a scene. I had a scene, admittedly an unpleasant one, therefore I felt I should photograph it. It resulted in a strange feeling; for the first time I took no pleasure in taking an image. Usually at a sighting I love the feeling of trying to capture the moment in front of me. With this though, that certainly was not the case.
That afternoon, having finished watching the crossing in the morning, I headed in to the Mara Triangle so I could see the devastation from the other side. The scavengers were yet to detect what would be, to them, a feast. This meant the carcasses were untouched and the scene an eery one given the chaos of the crossing a few hours earlier. Seeing so many animals but hearing silence was a peculiar sensation.
I appreciate that this may not be the style of image, nor the kind of story you thought you may expect to read on a wildlife photography website. It certainly is not one I anticipated writing when arriving in Kenya three weeks ago. These images depict nature at its cruelest, but they are an anomaly.
The migration, despite what these images show, is more successful than it ever has been. Wildebeest numbers continue to rise and the role they play in the Mara-Serengeti eco-system is crucial. The bodies of the fallen provide food for countless scavengers. Vultures, for instance, a species suffering such a decline in numbers, are able to feed on the remains of carcasses left by predators. The grass that had grown so long through the excessive rains Kenya experienced, will now be eaten by the wildebeest and zebra, allowing fresh shoots to grow in their place. This will also allow other grass eating species safer grazing territory. Long grass is a warthog or antelopes worst nightmare. They favour shorter grass where they can see the surrounding area. Long grass provides predators too much cover and grazers not enough protection.
The presence of the wildebeest in the Mara results in happy predators, happier scavengers and safer grazers. Everyone wins when the wildebeest are in town.
