This past week has been a week of collaborations.
Last week I joined Ph.D. student, Meredith Palmer, in a day of field work. She works as a part of both Serengeti Lion Project and Snapshot Serengeti. Part of her work entails visiting the project’s camera traps and playing recorded lion roars with the intent of introducing the threat of predation to study the long-term predator responses of species in the area.
The modest appearance of the audio equipment cannot prepare you for just how loud this playback gets. When we stopped at the first camera, Meredith connected her iPhone to the speakers, and when the roar began, the speakers vibrated (along with my head), and I laughed in surprise. Is this how loud an actual lion would be if I were standing right beside it while it roared? Every note the lion sang echoed through my body.
I looked around to see if there were any animals reacting to the artificial predator, but there were none in sight. There were, however, topi and two ostriches at the next site.
When the roars began at this site, the topi that were just relaxing – some sound asleep – in the tall grass, stood up, vigilant. After a short time, they began to move off in a single file line – not without a couple glances in our direction. The pair of ostriches remained in the area, yet they also stood from their slumber, watching us intently, looking for the source of the roar.
These animals were not the only ones fooled by Meredith’s playback. At another camera site, just as we were finishing up, I looked out the window to find two tourist vehicles on the side of the road with people standing through the pop-top roofs, binoculars upright, searching for the roaring lion. Both Meredith and I laughed as we joined the main road again, watching the first of the two tourist cars drive away at the sight of us. “Sorry, there’s no lion!”
I asked Meredith if she’d ever attracted any lions with her playbacks. It turns out that she does get some lions every now and then with these exercises, but the scariest and most dangerous reaction she has experienced has been that of elephants.
If there is ever a playback in a site which is already occupied by a herd of elephants, Meredith told me she will not play the roar as long as they are present. She’s had them charge the car at the sound of the roar more than once. Other animals’ reactions are nothing compared to the elephants’ – even a little Thomson’s gazelle, who typically will stay in the area for the duration of the playback, but evacuate in the long-run.
Lacey was interested in working with Meredith during one of our drone flights in order to film the wildebeests’ reaction to the threat of predation. So, this past weekend, that’s precisely what we did.
We flew above the herd, making sure to capture Meredith in the field of view as well, so that, upon reviewing the footage, we could determine how much distance the wildebeests put between themselves and Meredith in response to the roars.
The habitat type we filmed in was a dense woodland, quite different from our typical grassland or savanna. It is interesting to see that, even before Meredith began the playback, the herd had already formed a torus around her vehicle. Collectively, the herd stood their ground and remained vigilant throughout the duration of the recording. A few individuals would have sudden panicked behaviors, running through the herd, but outside of that, the wildebeests remained still.
This is similar to what they do when the threat of predation is real, and the predator is alive and well, directly in their line of view. We have observed herds forming shoulder-to-shoulder lines facing the lion, cheetah, or hyaena in front of them and either following them if the predator was walking or diligently watching if the predator was standing still or bedded.
One of the more striking predator responses was one that we witnessed this morning: A herd of over 1000 wildebeests was travelling in a linear fashion, about 4 or 5 animals across the line, when one spotted hyaena popped up from the grass. The individuals in the front of the line stopped and perked up, watching for the hyaena’s next move. After a tense pause, the leading ‘beests all uniformly changed direction, steering completely away from the hyaena, and the entire herd followed. It seems that there was a mutual agreement between predator and prey at that moment, as the hyaena walked down the hill in the other direction.
The reason that this predator response is relatively striking is that it was in reaction to only one hyaena – and on top of that, one hyaena that was sitting still. The herds we have observed have barely batted an eye at an entire clan of hyaenas 100m away, or one hyaena running through the herd itself. There are a number of factors that could have influenced this behavior, including the height of the grass and time of day – factors which can play to the predator’s advantage.
It will be interesting to see if we can capture any more behavior like this in our ground-truthing work today and tomorrow! We are especially grateful to Meredith Palmer for being a part of this and helping us out with studying the wildebeests’ predator response.
– Jazmin