
The wonder that is the Serengeti is something not easily described with words, or even through pictures. When I returned home and attempted to convey my experiences, the closest I came to explaining it was that it feels as if the beginning and the end of the world is there. Every colour, sound, and texture in existence seems to coalesce in that great expanse of land.
As is to be expected when venturing out in the Serengeti, there are many different groups on tours, all hoping to catch a glimpse of something special. My group was one of many – far too many to count – and we had spent the last two days with our trusted and skilled tour guide roaming through the savannah, witnessing one majestic scene after another.

Even though there is no shortage of the impala in the Serengeti, the privilege of seeing one up close for more than a brief second is not afforded to everyone. We were lucky to be the only vehicle in the area because, since the impala are a notoriously cautious species, usually the mere presence of unfamiliar or unwanted company is enough for them to leap into the air and bounce away to safety. This behaviour is known as ‘stotting’, and is clearly displayed when other species are preying upon them: they will distinctly leap in the air through a series of jumps and kick their hindlegs mid-air, before landing on all fours and then bounding away. There are a number of potential explanations for this behaviour, since the action of springing into the air increases the visibility of the prey while also exerting additional energy that could be used trying to escape. Some possible theories include that this behaviour may signal to their predator that they would be challenging to catch and therefore a waste of time; that they are alerting the rest of their herd to the looming danger; or that they are alerting their predator that it has been seen and therefore does not have the benefit of a surprise attack.
As we quietly approached, we were mindful of maintaining a respectful distance and were fortunate to spend a few magical moments in the presence of a juvenile male impala. I was transfixed by the fibres of his glossy, silky fur, which somehow seemed to absorb and reflect light all at once. By the black speckles on his mouth, the delicate eyelashes, the tips of his ears, the ridges of his horns. Though their gentle characteristics seem to resemble that of a deer, they are actually part of the antelope family. Of the two main types of impala – the common impala and the black-faced impala – it was the former of the two that I saw and of which there are an abundance of, and the latter that are classified as vulnerable, with less than 1000 remaining in the wild.
When we first encountered him, he was alone and grazing in the high grass. Our driver indicated that it was likely that the rest of the herd wasn’t far away but out of our line of sight.
As we settled ourselves, I took a few slow shots with my camera aimed at my feet in order to get a feel for his reaction to the sound of the shutter, with every intention of stowing my camera away if it seemed to frighten him in any way. To this day, I am still surprised by his fearlessness and apparent disinterest in our presence and the clicks of the cameras. I managed to take four photos during our time together before he casually walked off into the distance to carry on with his day.

From my perspective, it’s often quite rare for the true grace and beauty of something as you experience it in the flesh, to be fully captured and conveyed in a two-dimensional photo. It wasn’t until later that night when I reviewed the photos in my tent that I was struck by just how arresting this young guy was, because in those photos, I could see absolutely everything I saw and felt in his presence earlier that day.



Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.