Kudu are widespread in eastern and southern Africa, but sparsely populated in their range and difficult to see. I’ve only seen them in Botswana so it was very exciting to observe a small herd in Kenya last month. It was mid-day and the light and setting were tough, but I did my best. Their horns (males only) are among the most striking in the animal kingdom, spiraling up to three full twists and reaching lengths of over 70 inches. But when I think of kudu, I think of Ernest Hemingway, who wrote of them often. During his first African safari, he was obsessed with tracking and shooting a greater kudu, so much so that he famously passed up other trophy opportunities while in pursuit of the elusive, “spiral-horned antelope.” This obsession appears in his nonfiction book Green Hills of Africa, where he writes at length about the kudu’s beauty, grace, and difficulty to hunt. He refers to the greater kudu as a near-mythical creature, calling it “the most beautiful animal” and describing the pursuit as a kind of noble, poetic quest. He often tied the hunt for kudu to deeper themes of masculinity, failure, and artistic struggle. There’s another story that after several failed attempts and days of tracking, Hemingway finally shot a kudu, only to feel a strange mix of pride and sadness, a recurring emotional undercurrent in his reflections on hunting. The kudu became part of his personal mythology, standing as a representation of the ultimate challenge in the African wild. And yes, I was an English literature major in college and read a lot of Hemingway, perhaps sparking the desire to one day make it to Africa. Nikon Z8 with Nikkor 500mm PF lens, ISO 560, f/6.3 at 1/800th of a second.

Right outside our tent in Kenya, two African scops owls would just be getting home each morning while we headed out, and just starting their hunt each evening while we were heading in. During daylight, you really had to look closely to find them as they perched in a different spot each day and had great camouflage. In fact, if threatened, they’re known to elongate their bodies and narrow their eyes to mimic a broken branch, making them nearly invisible. We were careful not to disturb them, however, when they were at rest. This image was taken at night, on our way to dinner, using the light from our guard’s flashlight. They told us they were pearl-spotted owlets, which I was skeptical of. Once home, I realized my hunch was right and they were scops owls. Nikon Z8 with Nikkor 500mm PF lens, ISO 1600, f/5.6 at 1/125th of a second, flashlight.

Butt shots of wildlife rarely work. In fact, I’m constantly deleting all the butts that find their way to my camera traps. This one, however, is a rare exception. It’s actually one of my favorite shots from our recent trip to Kenya. I was using my monopod-mounted-camera-on-the-ground technique but was a bit late and the elephants had mostly passed. I kept shooting with the remote trigger, however, hoping for the best. The big elephant blocking the sun and creating rays in the sky, the raised foot of the little guy, and the distant elephant in profile all came together to make the composition. It does look a little like AI. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or bad. Either way, I hope you like it as much as I do. If anything, it gives me hope for more workable butt shots in the future. Nikon Z8 with Nikkor 24-70mm lens (at 24mm) ISO 100, f/4 at 1/500th of a second, Sirui monopod and Vello remote trigger.

On our Kenyan tours, we always include contrasting national parks for the greatest variety of wildlife and landscapes. This is a male gerenuk, a specialty of northern parks. Extremely long necks allow gerenuks to reach vegetation that other grazers can’t (not withstanding giraffes and elephants, of course). Males have horns whereas females do not. They also have much thicker necks than females. Nikon Z8 with Nikkor 500mm PF lens, ISO 1800, f/5.6 at 1/500th of a second.

This lioness found a great perch to spend the morning. Her male counterpart was bedded down in nearby bushes, but she had the prime spot atop a small grassy butte. We watched her for quite some time and even left for a while to have breakfast before returning to find her in the same place. At one point she looked skyward as a bush pilot was bringing in the next round of wide-eyed safari goers. Nikon 8 with Nikkor 70-200mm lens (at 80mm) ISO 140, f/8 at 1/800th of a second.

June marks the beginning of the long dry season in Kenya. That said, the weather can be unpredictable and you never know what you’re going to get. More often than not, however, sunny skies are the norm this time of year. As a photographer, I love the cloudy, dramatic skies that are more typical of the rainy season. But on cloudless days, there is a fifteen minute period each morning when a large ball of fire rises over the savanna. It becomes a mad dash to find whatever wildlife we can to place in front of it. On this particular morning, one of northern Kenya’s specialities — beisa oryx, also known as East African oryx — found their way between my lens and the sun. More on these guys in upcoming posts. Nikon Z8 with Nikkor 500mm PF lens, ISO 280, f/5.6 at 1/250th of a second.