The Unfortunate Hyrax
Dear Kai, Cassia, Ali, Rami, Amelia and anyone else interested in a story about an unfortunate hyrax,
I’m writing you from Kenya, where I’m staying at the moment with my husband Pat. Most days, I sit at my computer and work on my thesis, which can be a bit tedious when I know there is so much nature to be explored outside. Luckily, I’m sitting by a window from which I can see all sorts of cool wildlife passing by.
There are some very noisy white-browed sparrow weavers building their nest, collecting twigs, grass and feathers. They weave these together into robust nests, which appear to precariously dangle from the tree branches but somehow stay intact even after heavy rainstorms. One morning, Pat and I saw them bravely defending their nests from a grey-headed bush shrike, who are known to snatch eggs from smaller bird nests. If you watch the video, you’ll hear the racket they make and Pat and I watching the drama unfold (and obviously rooting for the sparrow-weavers)
Dikdiks pass by too, these are small antilopes with little horns and big eyes. Right next to their eye is a scent gland, which they rub against twigs and bushes, marking their territory. It always seemed like a precarious place for a scent gland to me; who would want to put their eyes so close to these thorny acacia bushes that grow here? Agama lizards are also out and about. The male, with his bright orange head and dashing blue tail is hard to miss, whereas the female, with her sandy coloured scales becomes almost invisible against the dry vegetation in the background. Invisible to me that is, because the male has only got eyes for her, following her around and trying to impress her by showing off how many push-ups he can do in a row.
But the animal that has stolen my heart over the last weeks is the bush hyrax! These plump little critters mill about munching grass, soaking up the sun rays and despite their rotund little bodies, perform some formidable acrobatic feats. They have specialised padded feet which allow them to grip and climb over almost any surface, no matter how vertical. That being said, I have seen them take a tumble too - so their additional superpower has got to be perseverance. Hyraxes also have a large vocabulary, and I was treated to one of their most eardrum piercing calls: the territorial call. One brave male hyrax clambered atop Pat’s car and once he decided he was high enough off the ground for all the hyraxes to hear, proceeded to call and call, broadcasting his ownership over the territory, and perhaps also the car (we’ll have to see if Pat is going to hand over the keys).
One afternoon, Pat came back from a jog and told me: “You will not believe what I found… it’s not pretty, but you might want to come and take a look for yourself”. He took me up to the mechanic workshop, where cars get fixed and where a band of hyraxes live among the punctured tyres, piles of wood and other spare car parts. As I was approaching, I heard a hyrax call I hadn’t heard before, it sounded kind of spooky. When I got closer, I saw what Pat had been telling me about and what was probably the reason for the other nearby hyraxes being so on edge. A dead hyrax was lying in the middle of the road. It wasn’t clear what had killed it: a predator that took off before he could eat it? A car? A serous fight with another hyrax? While it was sad to see, it was also an opportunity to do some detective work. As you know, nature has a way of cleaning up after itself. For example, dung beetles collect droppings from various animals and roll them into nice round balls in which they can lay their eggs.
But what did nature have in store for this unfortunate hyrax? We decided to set up my camera trap to find out. So far, I had mostly caught pictures of dikdiks and other antelope on my camera trap. We put it at the right height for a scavenger, and I even crawled over the ground in front of it, to test whether the angle looked right. We went home that evening and there was only one thing to do: wait for nightfall and hope that the hyrax would attract some interesting nocturnal visitors.
The next day I woke up, feeling as excited as you would on Christmas morning. No time for breakfast, straight to the camera trap. The first thing I noticed? The hyrax was gone. Something had dragged it away… but what? I grabbed the camera trap and headed straight home. I opened the file on my computer and I could see that the camera had been triggered… multiple times!
I could barely contain my excitement: the first picture was a rusty-spotted genet staring straight into the camera. With a tail as long as its body, it circled and sniffed the hyrax. Cautiously at first, and then with more intent, the genet started feasting on various parts of the hyrax until he eventually dragged the hyrax out of camera view. Genets are facultative scavengers, which means they don’t rely on coming across dead animals to feed themselves, but will gladly take a bite if the opportunity presents itself.
About four hours later, another visitor: a spotted hyena. Seemingly skittish, he sniffed the area where the hyrax had been. He could probably tell that something tasty had been there, but he missed his chance! The spotted hyana is sometimes referred to as the laughing hyena because of the sound they make when they are fighting over a kill, which can sound like hysterical giggling. Of course, this particularly evening, there wasn’t anything for the hyena to fight or laugh about.
I hope you enjoyed the videos and the story. As you can see, nothing goes to waste in nature. A sad ending for one animal, means a meal for another. And aren’t we lucky we get to sit back and watch the show?
The End