then a thing of awkward movement, a stagger, a fall, up again, another fall. Within moments, it was properly on its feet and getting its bearings. Mom and milk being primary coordinates.
‘The wildebeest cows drop their young in a synchronised birthing that sees some 300,000 to 400,000 calves born within a few short weeks, eight and a half months after the rut,’ said Paul in a hushed voice.
We remained parked for a long time. All around us were other newborns, bobbing about on Plasticine legs or gamboling along on their first frolicking escapades. A baby wildebeest gains coordination faster than any other ungulate. I was astonished to learn that it can run with the herd at the age of five minutes and is able to outrun a lion soon thereafter!
The cows looked on seemingly with both pride and concern. And the concern was justified. I watched as a jackal approached one baby, trying to grab hold of a stick-like leg. But a group of mothers quickly intervened. Heads down, horns scything, they chased the pesky dog away.
But bigger predators were in the offing too. We drove on across the plain, where scenes of high drama were playing themselves out. We passed large packs of hyena and every now and then a group of lion, many of them fat, bloody-faced and recumbent from all the meaty bounty. ‘It may seem that the wildebeest are doing the predators a favour by dropping their young all at the same time,’ said Paul. ‘But in fact a surfeit of wildebeest veal in a very short period results in the predators’ becoming satiated. They’re simply unable to consume as much as they would if the calving happened over a longer period. The predators thus have only a limited impact on the population of newborn calves. Any calves born outside the peak are far more likely to perish.’
Just then, a group of lionesses broke from cover and bounded towards a herd. The wildebeest took off in thundering flight. One baby had lost touch with its mother and slipped behind the bunch. In a flash, a lionesses had brought it to the ground with one flick of a plate-sized paw. The cats leapt onto the hapless babe as they tore at its flesh.
It was over in seconds.
Sitting around the campfire that night, we marvelled at the spectacle we’d witnessed. What made it even more special was that this was low tourism season. Having so few tourists, spread over the vastness of the southern plains, made this a unique and soulful experience – a true luxury Tanzanian safari.
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