Showdown In The Serengeti

The heavy downpours were down to a trickle. The vast rolling expanse of the Serengeti savannahs was carpeted with a vibrant green cover. A pleasant breeze blew over the plains; whistling merrily. The grass grew long and thick, a source of food along ancient migration routes for great herds of wildebeest. Herds that plod on resolutely to a destination that’s imprinted on their DNA. Zebras, elands, gazelles, ambled alongside the wildebeest, also seeking greener pastures. Elephants remained their usual impassive selfs. Though their young ran around chortling with glee, their trunks punctuating the air with joyous squeals. The rivers gurgled joyfully. Hippos, despite their lethargic leanings, actually frolicked in flooded waterholes. Wildflowers were in full bloom. And birds trilled their immense delight at the prettiness of it all. 

The mood was intense though for a pack of hyenas. For two days they were shadowing a small herd

of Cape Buffaloes - a species so feared that even lions despite their overwhelming bravado wouldn’t dare to cross paths. The hyenas were not interested in taking on the buffaloes. Truth be told, they could take down a buffalo if the need arises. But the risks are great. They also knew the ailing calf that was stumbling alongside the herd would sooner than later cease to stumble. So, they tracked the herd patiently. Stopped where they stopped. Drank where they drank. A safe distance was always maintained. They respected the surly reputations of Cape Buffalos and their ferocious charges. Many have misjudged the speed of these charges and have found themselves flung high in the air with a mere flick of the horns. Wicked gleaming horns that are the stuff of nightmares. For both animals and big game hunters. 

The hyenas knew the dangers well. And they knew how to avoid unnecessary trouble. The heavens again opened up, signaling that the rainy season is not officially over. The hyenas made themselves comfortable beneath an Acacia tree. And waited. Always keeping the hulking beasts in sight. The hunger was great. But patience was in spades too. The waiting game continued.

As dawn broke on the third day, the calf finally sank to its knees, and collapsed. A final gust of breath became one with the morning mist. The hyenas sprang into action. Within minutes they successfully implemented their divide and conquer policy and split the herd. They basically ran around the herd (again keeping a safe distance) and enticed them to chase. A maneuver that always helps in scattering the herd in all directions. This approach also created an opportunity for their leader and another hyena to head straight for the dead calf. Their powerful jaws firmly clamped around the calf’s neck and leg, the two hyenas half-dragged half-carried the calf away before the herd realized what happened. The hyenas ran themselves ragged but managed to get the calf behind a kopje or a rocky outcrop. It was then they realized that the kopje was home to a pride of lions.

A pack of hyenas can also take on a lion. But a pride was a different matter altogether. It was a no-contest. A few angry snarls later, the hyenas beat a hasty retreat. They rejoined their pack. However, disheartened by the entire experience, the leader flopped down in the middle of the dirt track that passes itself off as the Serengeti highway.

A Cape Jackal who prided itself on its ability to find food anywhere - big insects, rodents and even plants are part of its diet - appeared out of the bush. It trotted over to the hyena, locking eyes with it, emitting a few yelps. I may be wrong. But it almost seemed like the jackal was mocking the hyena for losing its meal despite the Herculean efforts and Machiavellian planning.