Citizen Blog » Corinne Kendall

Happy Reunion

Corinne Kendall — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 11:40:50 +0000

For the past three years, I have been adamant that it would be impossible to re-trap a tagged vulture. The birds simply go too far – spending much of the year outside of the Mara in areas where I can’t trap – too quickly and are thus difficult to locate even when a backpack is sending you their location. Today I proved myself wrong.

Lillian is a young Lappet-faced vulture that I trapped in April of 2010. She currently has the longest working GSM-GPS unit and has been reliably sending her location four times a day for the last 16 months, giving me an incredible amount of data. Lillian has become something of a favorite as I have also resighted her more times than nearly any other bird.

After the initial trapping, we relocated her on a nest and were able to see her several times during those first few months when she was returning to her little home atop a small Gardenia tree each evening. Then in June I respotted her during some surveys in Serengeti National Park, Tanzania and starting a few weeks ago I had been seeing her every few days in the Mara.

Four days ago I saw her at a carcass with a lovely full crop, showing that despite being young she had learned how to hold her own and fight for a meal. Then yesterday I saw her sitting atop a short tree late in the evening settling in comfortably for the night. She was so low that it seemed you could almost reach her toes from the bottom of the tree and I had now seen her so many times that she seemed to be begging to be re-trapped so with the rains coming in we decided to give it a go early the next morning. The unit had stopped working about ten days previously and I figured this might be our last chance to take the unit off her.

Re-trapping Lillian would give us several advantages. For one, it would give us an opportunity to see how she was doing and ensure that the unit and backpack were not harming her in any way and perhaps improve on design for the future. It would also give us an opportunity to get the unit refurbished, far cheaper than purchase of a new unit, we could send the unit back and get a new one made from the old parts at a fraction of the cost.

Finally, we could remove the backpack. Although the Teflon straps should wear through on their own, it would likely be another year before the unit would fall off without our assistance. Thus if we could actually trap Lillian again we could take it off a bit earlier, saving her the trouble of carrying around a 100 gram weight with no working battery.

At 5 AM I was up and ready for action. Would she still be roosting in the same tree? Would we really be able to catch her? What other dangers would be waiting for us in the bush around her roost? We drove out in the dark of night, spotlight in hand with a plan that had thus far never worked. When we arrived at the tree, we untied our newest trap of choice, a long pole with a noose at the end. The idea would be to spotlight the bird so she would sit still, while looping the noose around her neck.

Then when she jumped from the tree we could carefully lower her to the ground and cut the backpack off. Last time we had tried this a pride of lions had followed us to the tree and I was a bit more wary this time as we stepped out of the car onto the dark savannah. I scanned around with the stoplight but no eyes appeared and we walked towards the tree with the pole. Everything was working well; Lillian sat calmly in the tree as I shined the light on her and my field assistant, Wilson had the noose only inches from her beak, but then she flew.

I followed her down and found myself chasing after her on foot. In the dark, it seemed likely that she would be hesitant to take off and I might be able to sneak up behind her. She leaned forward as she trudged through the grass and I was amazed at her walking speed as I stepped gingerly behind her. After several minutes of walking I turned the light off for only a second, hoping to race up and grab her in the moment of darkness, but she took off again and this time I wasn’t able to see where she went. Realizing that I was now some distance from the car we turned around and hustled back, the moaning call of nearby hyenas following us as we did.

The pole secured to the top of the vehicle we hatched a new plan to chase her while it was still dark. Now all we had to do was find her again. Given that Lillian is an 8 kg bird this might not seem so difficult, but she is also brown and can easily tuck behind a bush or into a grass tuff or perhaps strenuously flap her way back into a tree, so it took us an hour. When we finally found her the sun was just beginning to breach the horizon but it was still cool and the air was calm. Amazingly she was still on the ground and had probably been tromping around trying to avoid these unusual predators (us) for the last hour. She was already exhausted, so it wasn’t long before I leapt from the car again and found myself chasing her on foot.

Running down a bird is a rather unusual experience. She was too tired to take off but that didn’t stop her from the occasional flap and she continually turned around (swiveling her flexible head) to squawk angrily beak opened wide. For my part, I just ran paying little attention to the other animals that hustled out of our way, my focus was the bird and nothing else. Eventually I caught up to her and tossed my jacket over her head. She lay down calmly in defeat and I quickly snipped the backpack straps removing the unit. She had a few missing feathers but was no worse the wear for caring our precious device for over a year.

We had learned so much from her already but now she could go 100 grams lighter. When we pulled the jacket off she sat and stared at me, unsure how to proceed. I walked up and gave her a gentle push on the tail feathers, which was greeted with one last meager attempt at a bite. Then she was up and off again. When we came back to check on her a few hours later, we found her sitting happily at a new carcass (wing tag still attached so we could identify her). I wondered as I always do after a capture, if we would ever see her again.

Wild Tsavo

Corinne Kendall — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 11:37:58 +0000

Based on our movement work, we know that vultures from the Mara spend about five percent of their time in the two Tsavo National Parks. For this reason, I decided that it might be worth exploring the area one more time to get a feel for this unique ecosystem during the dry season as well.

If the Mara is the land of plenty, then Tsavo is the world of giants. Huge red-dusted elephants walk silently upon the dry earth and dig incredible holes in their constant search for water. Beautiful baobabs are scattered around, their fuzzy fruits littering the ground as their impressive trunks and finger-like branches cover the landscape.

Hyraxes can be seen in the many rocky outcroppings and we were lucky to find one climbing a small branch reaching hopefully for some tiny green berries. Pale chanting goshawks were the bird of plenty here though we saw only a handful of vultures.

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Two Units in the Hand

Corinne Kendall — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 11:53:56 +0000

When something miraculous happens you don’t really expect it to happen again, so when we found another bird with a backpack that had given up the ghost I didn’t really think we could trap it. In fact it seemed fool-harden to even try, but the Ruppell’s vulture in question was already panting from its fights at the carcass and was very very full.

The backpack in question had also slipped into a rather uncomfortable position and so I felt anxious to trap the bird not just to release it from the weight, but also from the discomfort of the unit. Plus catching it would mean one more unit that could be refurbished and thus a bit more information that we could gain about these amazing birds.

So with no further adieu we were off and chasing the bird. It didn’t take long until I found myself outside the car running alongside it as it turned its snake-like neck in my direction. Ruppell’s vultures are considerably more aggressive than Lappet-faced and I gave it some distance before finally throwing the blanket over its head. I pulled out my Swiss army knife and with four swift snips the backpack was off and the bird was on its way.

Unit in hand I could now read the number and figure out which bird this was exactly (it didn’t have a wing tag like the other one). I had caught this bird in August last year in the Mara of course only to have its unit appear to stop working in December. It wouldn’t be until March that I got signal from the bird again since it made the longest journey of any of our study birds.

This bird had gone all the way to Ethiopia and crossed into Sudan where it had spent nearly three months. Now a full year later it had returned to feed on the wildebeest in Kenya’s Mara and (unexpectedly for the bird) to suffer the same fate of being trapped again, though this time to have a little weight removed rather than added.

I really couldn’t believe it – I had just touched a bird that had been to two countries that I have never seen, a bird that had travelled thousands of kilometers to be here again; a bird that had truly taught us something with the unit and would now gift us a little more information with its unit back in my hand.

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A Birth at a Carcass

Corinne Kendall — Wed, 28 Sep 2011 15:30:32 +0000

I was admiring the usual hoopla of twenty vultures grappling for a small kill when a few of the Marabou storks wandered behind the vehicle. They seemed to have found something more interesting than the meat in front of them and I turned around to see what they were up to.

A small black lump sat on the ground about 100 meters behind us and the Marabous rushed it in their usual excitement to have found a new food source. But their joy was short lived as an angry Thompson gazelle mother, tail still raised from the pain of having just given birth, came rushing at the much larger birds.

Tiny horns pointed forward she chased the birds away from her very new calf. As the Marabou storks scattered, a Lappet-faced vulture landed to see what the commotion was about. It too was chased off within moments. Predators evaded, the mother now stood licking her newborn, pushing it to stand as she cleaned it of the afterbirth.

The calf seemed tired but alert and tried straightening its little legs in a hapless effort to get up. It took nearly forty minutes, but the calf finally found the strength, motivated it seemed by the swollen teats of its mother that hung just behind its reach, and stood wobbly for the first time. It latched on and suckled as its mother continued her cleansing.

A Pile of Vultures

Corinne Kendall — Wed, 21 Sep 2011 11:27:17 +0000

It isn’t often that you get to watch a carcass from start to finish, but I got lucky. We came upon a single lioness finishing off a fresh wildebeest kill.

On her own, she was only able to consume perhaps a quarter of the carcass and with vultures, hyenas, and jackals gathering around the lion was beginning to feel the pressure. So she left. Two hyenas moved in first feeding for a half hour they ate the bulk of the carcass with the occasional jackal or vulture rushing in to steal a soft piece of organs.

Then it was the jackal’s turn. The pair rushed the vultures viciously, leaping and snarling to keep them away. The little dogs fed greedily, but their small stomaches were soon rounded and they slowly moved away. Down to the last half, the vultures swarmed, forming perhaps the most perfect pile I am yet to have seen.

The wriggling brown mass of wings bounced above its prey as all fifty heads vanished into the food. Occassionally a full bird would eject itself from the mass standing on top of its comrades to gain enough leverage to leap away. Even with the mammals gone, the feeding frenzy of White-backed vultures was soon interrupted by their larger brethren, the Lappet-faced vultures. A pair jumped onto the mass, biting down on the backs of the birds beneath it.

Once removed, the damage to the carcass was clear, perhaps only ten percent remained. The Lappet-faced vultures fed slowly and laboriously, ripping and tearing the last few tough pieces of tissue, while Hooded vultures wandered the edges of the carcass finding small treasures in the intestinal remnants. A pair of Tawny eagles made a brief appearance, but could do little more than steal a small piece of organs to fly away with as the vultures so clearly dominated the scene.

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In The Tree

Corinne Kendall — Mon, 19 Sep 2011 11:10:09 +0000

Carcasses can be found almost everywhere. Over the course of the migration, thousands will be found in the river. Lions and hyenas often enjoy dragging their kills into the darkest recesses of the bush but more often then not, carcasses are lying out in the open plains just waiting for the vultures to find them.

On rare occasions, dead animals can get dragged into trees. In my first year, I had the pleasure of watching two White-headed vultures feed on a treed Thompson gazelle carcass before being pushed off by some tourists who seemed more interested in the carcass than the birds.

Today we came across a treed wildbeest, the head dangling from a branch with much of the body consumed. Sitting behind it was the cause – a large female leopard fast asleep after her efforts lay stretched limbs hanging below the branches and head resting on her paw. She was completely at peace – content with today’s efforts and meal.

We sat with her for a while and eventually she decided to get up. Her eyes opened first and were slowly followed by her sitting up, looking rather unsure that she was really ready to leave. She hissed a few times while moving the carcass around, trying to decide it was worth leaving.

When she finally leapt down, it was to grab one last piece (part of the spine), which she wandered off with, back into the bush. The carcass was well hidden beneath the branches and although vultures flew overhead I was pretty sure none would land here.

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Hot Air Safari

Corinne Kendall — Tue, 13 Sep 2011 23:09:57 +0000

A balloon ride seems like a quintessential part of the Mara experience, yet I have never taken the time to experience it. Every morning I watch 10 to 20 balloons take off and soar above the Mara like a chain of Christmas lights they flicker on and off as the burners lift them higher into the sky.

Today I finally got a chance to see what it is all about. Ballooning makes for an early start and I was up and excited at 5:30 AM. After a quick drive in the park I found myself standing next to a turned over basket and a huge green and yellow balloon slowly being inflated with a small fan. I’d seen this done before – a sideways take-off – but I wasn’t really sure how it would work.

As the pilot readied the giant burner, the passengers were loaded into the four compartments to either side of the balloon. 16 people were lifted or gently pushed into a sitting position, lying on their back and looking up with legs tucked around a small seat and camera wedged between their knees. The first blast of the burner was loud and intensely hot, warming the skin on my face as the rest of me felt cool in the early morning air.

It took perhaps a hundred blasts to warm the air in the already inflated balloon so that lift-off could begin. I clung to two ropes as the balloon slowly tipped upright. I couldn’t really tell if we were still on the ground or not, the only confirmation was the fingertips of the eight workers who were helping to stabalize the balloon before we started to soar.

A few minutes after the fingers at disappeared, we were told to stand and found ourselves just a few feet of the ground, gently dragging through the tall grass.

Then the flight really got going. The wind pushed us along as we tettered up and down, viewing the landscape from first high above and then nearly gliding at the height of a car through the grass so that we could take a closer look at a small pride of lions. From above, I tried to imagine what a vulture must look for when it sees the Mara this way.

I looked down to find that tall grass was only a minor impediment to my search at this height and looked out to visualize how a flying bird might look for fellow vultures who are dropping down to a carcass as they find a kill. Either way the views were spectacular. You could see for miles in all directions and from the air, the wildebeest migration truly took shape.

You could see all the formations the animals were in as they either stood and grazed, readied themselves for an attack (mainly from the other balloons that came a bit close and scattered the immense herds), or continued to migrate, forming tiny single file lines that stretched on for a hundred animals or triangular formations with just a few animals up front and many piling in behind.

We spotted two leopards just in time to see them chase each other into the bushes. Then as we came over a small forest we could see the trees rustle and hear the crunch of the elephants within. The gray masses pushed through the large trees as if they were toothpicks. The Mara river stretching out ahead of us, I knew it was nearly time for our landing.

The balloon lowered and we were instructed to sit down and lean back. Despite the lack of seatbelts, I felt secure in the giant wicker basket thanks to the tight configuration we were in. The other passengers were literally holding me into my seat as they squished in next to me. We landed with a bump rather than a sudden stop and it took a few minutes for us to drag and bounce before the balloon slowed.

As we came to a stop, the wind pulled the balloon onwards and the basket tipped as if in slow motion until we were once again on our backs. We wiggled out to find ourselves kilometers from where we had started and not too far from an carcass where the birds had flown off as several more balloons came crashing to the ground.

Over champagne and baked beans, I contemplated the views. What a way to see the Mara. Though the animals were the same, my perspective on them had been totally different. The vulture’s eye view, via balloon, was such a spectacular way to see the environment and jealously I wished I could start every day with such a view as the birds do.

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Banded Attack

Corinne Kendall — Fri, 09 Sep 2011 10:58:14 +0000

Carcasses are interesting because you never quite know who will show up. This morning I found a nearly finished carcass with a few jackals gnawing away at the bones and some vultures waiting nearby. The jackals looked full and I knew that soon it would be the vultures turn to eat.

In the distance (and seemingly unrelated) were a small group of banded mongoose. The loose knit group of mongoose were wandering and foraging as one often sees them doing and appeared to be unaware of the birds just ahead of them.

Martial eagles and other raptors will happily feed on mongoose and typically the “sentinel” mongoose who is keeping watch is quick to sound the alarm is such dangerous predators are seen nearby.

But can mongoose tell the difference between an eagle and a vulture?

Certainly Lappet-faced vultures are of comparable size to Martial and somewhat similar in coloration and shape. I was about to find out.

As the mongoose neared the carcass, several large adults stood upright and the previously dispersed group began to come together into a tight circle. What had previously been thirty or so individual foragers was now a large mass of wiggling bodies all working as one. The mass approached the carcass at speed and the jackals moved off.

The Lappet-faced vulture flew off and the White-backed hopped away. The Marabou seemed more intriguied and when it took a snap at the family of mongoose, it soon realized it was outnumbered. The mongoose rushed at the attacking stork and quickly chased it away as well.

Like a swarm of bees, they then surrounded the carcass and few of the larger animals appeared to be feeding. Within a few seconds, they had lost interest in the meat and quickly scurried away, finally allowing the vultures to feed.

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Snake in the Grass

Corinne Kendall — Tue, 23 Aug 2011 11:10:12 +0000

Marabou holding three foot snake

As I watched the squabbling vultures at a nearly finished wildebeest carcass, I noticed a Marabou stork behaving strangely. It jerked from side to side and leaned close to the ground as if about to pick something up, only to jump back again wings spread. I focused my binoculars on the bird to get a pick at what was happening.

Lying in front of the cunning Marabou lay a long slim green snake, head raised in attack as the bird reached for it again. The snake lunged but the Marabou still got in a nice bite to the back and easily avoided the fangs. Again and again the snake lunged and the Marabou ducked until finally the Marabou grabbed the snake by the head.

By this time another stork and an inquisitive African white-backed vulture had come to see what their friend might have. Given that sharing such a meal was unlikely, the disappointed birds walked way, shrugging their shoulders (as vultures always do) as they raced back to the carcass.

Snake in beak the Marabou shook its prey and the snake writhed, coiling its mass with little way of escaping. Within minutes the battle was over but the war was not yet one.

The Marabou now held in its mouth a three foot snake that hung limply, but how to swallow such a beast would be a bit of a challenge.

The first attempt the Marabou managed to get the snake about two feet down its throat before spitting it up again to try a new position. The second attempt went much smoother and like a magician pulling a long colorful line of scarves from his sleeve, the snake disappeared into the gullet of the stork.

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Anecdotes

Corinne Kendall — Wed, 17 Aug 2011 13:51:37 +0000

The focus in the Mara is generally on the carnivores (and in my case the vultures), but there are so many other fascinating little creatures to behold in this amazing savannah. Banded and dwarf mongoose are common and I often stop to watch the antics of these social little creatures.

Most recently I even saw a small group of banded mongoose at the crossing, darting among the vultures and Marabou storks in search of some wildebeest meat. Then while over in Musiara marsh I had some great views of this dwarf mongoose. The tiny creature wandered around in search of its small insect prey only to find a nice hollow tree to scavenge through.

Yesterday I spotted this grey kestrel right along the road. It was waiting patiently along a termite mound as flighted new queens erupted from the ground, preparing to search for a new place to start a colony as the smell of rain blessed the air. The kestrel got a few termites before being chased off by a rather aggressive White-bellied bustard who wanted to claim the mound for his own use.

At lunch I had an exciting run-in with another small creature. As I took my seat on the ground looking across the plains for my picnic lunch, my guide scared an Agama lizard that had been hiding a few feet away. Startled, the lizard booked it towards the nearest tree, which happened to me in my general direction. I barely caught sight of it as it raced into me and then up into the safety of the tree.

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