March 9-13th, Lake Nakuru Park

Sunbird Ecolodge was a beautiful place to spend the last few days of our trip, situated on the edge of a canyon overlooking Lake Nakuru below, where Greater and Lesser Flamingos flock to fish for crustaceans in the brackish water. Brightly colored birds (Grenadiers and swallows) eat seed from feeders outside of our room.

Lake Nakuru

On our second day at the lodge, Milcah Cheru, a wildlife guide and botanist who works at Sunbird takes Dr. Steve and I down to the lake, where we see flamingos, spoonbills, the Sacred Ibis, and other shorebirds. Milcah tells us to be wary of the Sacred Ibis. In Kenya, parents tell their children that if they go and speak to a Sacred Ibis, the bird will follow them home and eat off their ears. Milcah's botanical knowledge is extensive, and Dr. Steve and I learn a great deal about the local species of trees and shrubs. There is the Fever Tree, which is a den for mosquitoes carrying the yellow fever, a wild mint shrub, as well as an abundance of Aloe vera.

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On our third day at Sunbird Dr. Steve and I head to Nakuru national park for a half day drive through the wilderness. April, a cheerful American also staying at the lodge -- on leave from her USAID job -- joins our adventure. To get to the park we pass through the city of Naivasha, a quick-paced, built-up town about ten kilometers west of Sunbird Lodge.

At the park entrance, baboons (some with young babies swinging from their backs) walk aimlessly among the human visitors. After paying the fee we pass through the park gates and head to the lake, where thick flocks of storks and cranes gather in numbers. Eagles roost in the Acacia trees above the truck, and gazelles stroll warily amid tall blond grasses. It is here that we come into contact with the most dangerous animal in all of Africa, and probably the world: the infamously irritated water buffalo.

Herds of them in fact. An adult male water buffalo has a helmet of horns nearly a foot thick that wind out into menacing points; framing a massive face that silently says, "You don't want to f*** with this." But, the lethargic buffaloes take little interest in our passing truck as they lazily chew cod and grass; occasionally shaking an army of flies from their hide. As we continue our drive, we pass herds of Zebra and a solitary Giraffe before winding our way up to a high plateau, where we are rewarded with an expansive view of the valley below.

Careening over the ruts in the road on the far side of Lake Nakuru, our driver slows the engine as we approach a family of white rhinoceros: three adults and a baby, passed out cold in the heat of the day. They are unreal creatures, and, like so many of Africa's animals, appear to have sprung to life from the pages of a Dr. Seuss book. Herds of Giraffe run wild between the shaded trees, their long necks whipping to the beat of massive hooves. As we leave the forest and re-enter the plains, our driver slows a second time, creeping up behind a group of trucks huddled at the base of a large acacia tree. Lying in the shade of the great tree not five feet from the side of the road there is a pride of lions: two young males and a mature female.

The lions, thankfully, seem wholly uninterested in the tourists, who themselves seem wholly oblivious to the fact that they are within easy striking distance of one of the world’s most dangerous and powerful predators. One English couple has their six year old daughter climb out on the roof of their truck to get a better view of the lions, while a courageous group of American teenagers snap photos from the hood of their van--with lunch-sized legs dangling over the windshield. In our truck, meanwhile, April silently slides the window shut as I remember to breathe. Horrific visions from “The Ghost in the Darkness” of full grown men being dragged screaming from tents come to mind.

The lions are the exact shade of the surrounding grasses, and we are fortunate to see them so close. After a few minutes of constant attention from the tourists, the older female raises herself up on legs the size of my waist and ambles into the bush; vanishing after walking twenty or thirty feet.

Past the acacia tree, we drive into a landscape blackened by a ten-thousand acre wildfire that occurred the week before. Smoke-colored bones stand out against the black earth, and the landscape feels alien, almost lunar. The last animals we see before leaving the park are a family of beautiful
Columbus monkeys, with long, regal tails and luxurious 
black and white coats.