At home with the clan
As the rainy season brings wildebeest back to Zambia’s Liuwa Plain grasslands, spotted hyenas prepare for a feast
Complements the BBC One series Dynasties II, available now on iPlayer
“THERE’S ONE, 10 O’CLOCK!” My hearing was still muffled following an exuberant takeoff from the Mongu helipad by Rachele, my Italian pilot, yet her proclamation pierced the whirring blades like the shrill tone of a morning alarm. “Have you got it?”
I had barely raised the camera from my lap when she had managed to pull the equivalent of a handbrake turn, spinning the helicopter 180º on its nose and pointing me directly at the slow, loping target below. And there it was, a full-blown example of what I had come all this way to see: Crocuta crocuta – the oft-unloved but utterly compelling spotted hyena.
For the previous five minutes, I had moderately cursed my decision to request ‘doors off ’ as the chopper flew high across the Zambezi River, and had tugged gently at my seatbelt to reassure myself that I was safely strapped in. But now, catching my first glimpse of this apex predator making its way calmly through swaying grass and across open pans, I quickly forgot my fears.
Spread out below me was one of Zambia’s most spectacular, yet largely untrammelled wild spaces: Liuwa Plain National Park. This 3,660km² reserve protects a large proportion of the Barotse floodplain, an extensive area that houses several other game management zones stretching as far as the Angolan border. The park provides ample resources, which ensures a peaceful co-existence between people and wildlife.
Indeed, Liuwa has possibly one of the longest histories of wildlife protection on the continent. As far back as the 1880s, King Lubosi Lewanika, the ruling monarch of the Barotseland region, appointed his people as custodians of wildlife to protect his hunting grounds. But as traditions faded over time so did the fortunes of this beautiful landscape, despite becoming a national park in 1972, with rice farming in particular leading to a fragmentation of the grasslands that bind the ecosystem together. By the late 1990s, Liuwa was in danger of becoming another depressing conservation statistic.
Yet in 2003, things began to change. Liuwa came under the stewardship of the conservation organisation African Parks – and has since flourished. Steep declines in herbivore numbers have been averted, and eland and buffalo reintroduced, enabling predators to re-establish themselves in the park and a natural balance to be restored in the wider region. Some 10,000 people still depend on this area – many living within the park boundaries – for their livelihoods and subsistence, but poaching has been virtually eradicated and communities are engaged in a shining example of peaceful, mutuallybeneficial co-existence.
Wild dogs have recovered (sightings were previously more of transient than resident packs); generations of cheetahs are thriving; lion numbers are steadily increasing following successful re-introductions (a fact that might start to have some bearing on wider predator dynamics in coming years); and, right at the top of the pyramid – for now – hyenas are prospering.
You can see hyenas in many of Africa’s wild spaces, but there is something special about the clans that roam this almostforgotten corner of Zambia. Traditionally, spotted hyenas are portrayed as destitute, bin-raiding scavengers, but in reality they are fascinatingly gregarious, exhibit incredible tenderness and teamwork, are tolerant and curious in equal measure and, when needed, can resort to fearsome, bloody aggression. Facing little pressure from other, more dominant predators, Liuwa’s hyenas have assumed their rightful place as out-and-out hunters. This was why I chose this remote plain to photograph these fascinating animals, as did the crew of the BBC’s Dynasties II, who were on location in Liuwa at the same time.
Where is Liuwa?
Liuwa Plain National Park is in western Zambia. It covers 3,660km² and is dominated by a central plain that measures 70 by 35km.
The Greater Liuwa system houses 11 major hyena clans, four of which live on the plain itself. Of these, the South Clan is dominant and most observed (and stars in Dynasties II). Comprising at least 50 individuals, the group is an efficient, well-honed killing machine led by an alpha female whose immediate offspring have benefitted from her genetic dominance. Older members of this ruling line – perhaps around 10-12 individuals – form the second tier of management, with itinerant males at the bottom. Rarely are all clan members together, often spreading out across their territory, yet they are always imperceptibly in touch with each other.
Sandwiched between two rivers – the Luambimba to the north and the Luangiga to the south – Liuwa is the perfect setting to document this intricate society. First, given the large hyena population, it is relatively easy to locate clan members and follow their daily activities. Second, there is the wild beauty of the landscape itself. The plain, dotted with oases of raffia palms and the occasional grove of terminalia, mutata and acacia trees, stretches in every direction. It overflows in the wet season – when rain transforms a yellowing dustbowl into a verdant paradise – yet retains some water even in the driest months, providing critical resources for non-migratory wildlife, such as eland, buffalo and lechwe.
I arrived in Liuwa at the end of October. The rain was falling more regularly, triggering the emergence of carpets of flame lilies that set the terrain ablaze with reds and pinks. As the days rolled past, the daily weather pattern became increasingly predictable. In the afternoons, the unfettered canopy of blue would fold away as white clouds re-arranged themselves into brooding dark towers. The wind would pick up, rattling the leaves of the sparse trees. Wattled and crowned cranes would appear, their synchronised wingbeats resembling a carefully choreographed chorus line, then, like a ceiling buckling, the sky would open and millions of gallons of rainwater would dump itself on to the landscape at high velocity.
The rain signalled a lot more than just a change in the weather. Rain brings life – and the return of Liuwa’s migratory blue wildebeest herds in what is widely considered the second largest terrestrial migration in Africa, after that of the Serengeti-Mara.
Like their cousins in East Africa, the wildebeest of Liuwa respond to falling water. Up to 40,000 of these braying antelope trudge south on to the refreshed grassland as the rains start falling, accompanied by a few thousand zebras. Whether they have spent the dry season in the environs of Greater Liuwa, seeking food in the woodlands, or migrated as far as the Angolan border, the onset of the rains is a clarion call to return.
This time of plenty coincides with calving. Grazing is rich for mothers-to-be, and flooding the market with progeny essentially overloads the predator base. About 20 per cent of youngsters will survive those vulnerable early weeks, and keep their family lines going.
For the hyenas, the return of the wildebeest is the moment to capitalise. Clan dynamics shift as the animals understand this is their time to feast after months of comparative hunger. All take part in the hunt, apart from young cubs still in the den who remain entirely dependent on the adults and a few older females that stay behind to babysit. The clan breaks into small groups, relentlessly stalking and chasing down the incoming herds, picking off the young and, when numbers are sufficient, the adults too. Most forays take place at night or in the early hours, but some are undertaken during the day. After all, when you can’t guarantee your next meal, every opportunity is critical.
Not every hunting mission I witnessed was successful, but there was a steely determination about the South Clan. To watch them hunt was a heartstoppingly brutal reminder of the realities of the predator-prey relationship, and in the three weeks I spent with the family, I came to recognise their favourite tactics. A lone wildebeest, perhaps pregnant and lagging behind the herd, would be singled out. The chase would begin, the hyenas closing in with surprising pace. There is nothing sluggish about these predators when on a quest for food, and their endurance allowed them to keep going when others might have given up.
When the herd was more congested, the hyenas would simply run amok, chasing and sprinting directly into clusters of tightlypacked wildebeest to create bedlam and panic. Gaps would appear as the animals were forced apart, and calves would be separated from their mothers. Within seconds, they were taken down.
There is nothing clinical about a hyena hunting a wildebeest; death does not come swiftly with a clean bite to the neck such as that deployed by a big cat. Instead, starting at the back, the hunting pack would drag its quarry to the ground in a frenzied attack, commencing the feast while the victim was still struggling to escape.
I found locating clan members each day relatively straightforward. The family had a number of dens across a territory of several kilometres, and they were usually spread out across these. I’d be out by 5am, touring their favourite sites. During those early hours, I’d see a procession of adults and sub-adults coming to and from the den, some sporting the spoils of the previous night’s hunt; others, bellies full to bursting, looking for a place to rest and digest. In the midday heat, some would cool off in pans; others would retreat underground. With no obvious natural ground formations to take advantage of, the South Clan has instead managed to develop systems of tunnels and sleeping holes at a number of sites, and would occupy these with a one-eye-half-open type of vigilance.
In such a topographically bereft landscape, nice sleeping holes can prove irresistible. One late afternoon I saw two porcupines come swiftly flying out of a den entrance. The spiky squatters had obviously sneaked in during the night – and had the fright of their lives when the waking hyena cubs forced their sudden eviction. To watch the youngsters try and work out who and what these black and white visitors were was highly entertaining, but I was simultaneously struck by the nonchalance of the elder members of the clan, who barely raised an eyebrow at the unfolding ruckus.
Early mornings and early evenings yielded the most interaction. As the hyenas responded to an invisible summoning to arms for a night’s hunting, the cubs seemed to feed off the energy and become more active Asserting dominance over their siblings and showing deference to their elders was the norm, as well as a wide-eyed contemplation of their surroundings. As night fell, it was back into the bunker for the youngsters as the silhouettes of the hunting pack melted into the gloom.
As my three weeks with the South Clan drew to an end, I was beginning to get to know these animals. They may be ruthless hunters, yet they demonstrated remarkable tolerance of a crawling, khakiclad photographer on a daily basis. I had witnessed the incredible social dynamics this society creates, as well as moments of tenderness between mothers and cubs, gentle rivalry between siblings and impressive leadership by the alpha female. My respect for these animals was as strong as ever.
Long after the shoot had finished, I reflected that, in the language of the local Lozi people, Liuwa translates as ‘plain’. If there has ever been a bigger misnomer, I have yet to find it. The name ‘Plain Plain’ hardly sets the pulse racing, yet there is nothing dull or straightforward about this incredible place and the hyenas it supports. Long may it be preserved that way.
The last lady
Prior to African Parks taking over management of Liuwa in 2003, the wildlife here was in steep decline. Lions in particular had been badly hit, with the population obliterated during the 1990s by poachers. By 2002, just one lioness remained, known as Lady Liuwa. In 2008, African Parks began to reintroduce lions to the park. Lady Liuwa gradually became part of a pride that would eventually number 10 individuals. Eland and buffalo were restablished at the same time, providing a stable larder not only for the new lions, but for its other predators, including cheetahs and spotted hyenas. Lady Liuwa died in August 2017, an icon and a symbol of resilience.
Dynasties II: meet the stars
The new BBC series documents the challenges of raising a family in the wild
Puma
In remote Patagonia, a female puma, Rupestre, is raising four cubs. As well as facing the challenge of hunting guanaco to feed them, she must protect her territory from a rival female and prevent a male from killing her young.
Cheetah
On the grasslands of Zambia, Kali the cheetah is battling to raise her three daughters. So challenging is life here that only two of her previous 14 cubs have survived. Until her cubs can fend for themselves, she must hunt ever more dangerous prey – and hold on to it.
Elephant
Angelina is a female elephant and has just given birth to twins –a rare event in the elephant world. As they learn their way in the world, the calves are threatened with treacherously thick mud, aggression of bulls and an impending drought.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Andy Skillen has been a wildlife photographer and photojournalist for over 25 years, and has worked across the globe. See more of his work at faunavista.com.