Mara River. Tanzania
Who knew that a group of zebras was known as a dazzle?
The things you learn while on safari. I have to admit, I never thought of zebras being all that dazzling. They either stand quietly munching on grass or prance about nervously, constantly looking over their shoulders. There is no in between.
When they do stand together, their black and white stripes merge creating a beast with ten heads and forty legs. It’s hard to tell where one starts and the other ends. Perhaps that qualifies as dazzling, if not downright confusing. Turns out this is a defense mechanism against predators. Yet another “who knew?”
So there I was on the banks of the Mara River in the northern Serengeti watching a dazzle of twenty-five zebra gather on a sandbar for a proverbial meeting of the minds. They looked like a huddle of football refs trying to sort out a controversial play. A few nodded, others shook their heads and kicked the mud. After a couple of minutes, the huddle broke and the zebras just stood there. Some turned their backs to the others as if to protest the outcome of the meeting. Crossing the Mara River is dangerous place for zebras, wildebeest, and any other creature daring to set foot or hoof in the murky greenish brown water. You’ve likely seen National Geographic footage of wildebeest jumping and thrashing through thigh deep water while hungry crocodiles chomp at their hind parts, some successful at securing a long awaited meal. Needless to say, the pending outcome of the current zebra meeting could be life and death decision.
They decided to bag it, at least for now and started to amble to the top of the river bank only to be greeted by a butt to nose line a half a mile long of homely and shuffling wildebeest. At any given time, there are upwards of two million wildebeest roaming, migrating and pooping all over the Serengeti. They are an ugly lot: half horse, half goat, and a face only a mother could love. I wondered if a newborn calf were presented with a mirror upon birth, the immediate reaction would be “son of a bitch!”
The zebras and wildebeests exchange pleasantries. They tend to hang out with each other. Unlike the zebras, the wildebeest were more motivated to cross the Mara on this September afternoon. It was just a matter of which brave soul would take the first plunge. Four brave wildebeest descended the bank together. Two timid zebras got in the cue. One wildebeest dipped a hoof in the water, another gave it a sniff, and the zebras twitched nervously waiting for further instructions.
Meanwhile and as expected, three crocodiles surfaced slowly and took a peek at the commotion on the bank. They liked what they saw and descended like U-Boats. While I really didn’t want to see the crocs grab a snack, it was nearly impossible not to be transfixed. I’m rooting for the underdog or under zebra in this case, but the crocs have home river advantage.
And so the crossing began. The wildebeest and zebras poured themselves into the river. Hundreds followed, bravely wading into the Mara. As they encountered deeper water, they resorted to jumping and splashing their way across the thirty meters or so the other side. To make matters more challenging, the swift current bent the straight line of swimmers to an S-curve that drifted toward the surfacing crocodiles.
The first dazzle of zebra made it across along with the first butt-ugly batch of wildebeest. Who knew that a group of wildebeest was called a butt-ugly batch? Actually, they are called a herd which is all to expected. We collectively breathed a sigh of relief that they made it across safely.
Then the interlude was interrupted by a desperate high pitched yip, honk, or more accurately a blood-curdling bray from a panicked zebra who made it safely to the other side without family in tow. It reminded me of the fear parents have when they temporarily misplace a child in a crowded shopping mall. I could feel its pain, fear, and frustration.
There was a pause in the crossing. The second shift of swimmers congregated on the river bank trying to decide when to take the next plunge. The three crocodiles and now one hippo had the Mara all to themselves. I have no doubt that it was the devotion to family and the overwhelming desire to put loved ones above all which led to the troubled zebra’s next, truly remarkable move. He/she bumped shoved his/her way through the crowd, descended the bank and jumped selfishly alone into the Mara.
The brave zebra jumped and thrashed his/her way for a few meters. I thought to myself this was same zebra that couldn’t make a decision ten minutes ago to put one hoof in the river but now has decided that family trumps possible death. The crocs surfaced. Our zebra was unfazed, focused solely on getting to the other side.
Suddenly, a hippo exploded out of the murky water between the zebra and a crocodile conveniently disrupting the path of the crocodile and the path of the zebra. I’m not sure if the hippo was looking to save the Zebra or just making a declarative statement that this section of the river was currently off limits to all.
The croc sank.
And, the zebra reached dry land safely and scurried up the hill where the family waited.
A few nodded as if to say thank you.
They stood there for a few seconds, turned and slowly walked away from the Mara, safe for now.