The buffalo were nervous. Their ears twitched as they shifted uncomfortably. Visibly reaching a collective decision, they turned and started to walk away from our vantage point. It was at that point the first lioness appeared, padding purposefully through the long grass. First one, then another, then two more lionesses joined her. The buffalo started to run. So did the lions. The buffalo stampeded. Their galloping hooves threw up clouds of dust. And the lions were right on their tail. The herd turned as one to the right… except for one. One buffalo turned left. We have watched more than our fair share of David Attenborough documentaries. We knew what that meant. A lioness sprang onto the back of this lone buffalo, sinking claws and teeth into his black hide. That checked his run long enough for a second to leap aboard. He fought, bellowing and bucking. But the game was over for him. If he dislodged one lion another would take its place, using their superior numbers to tag-team him. One ran in from behind to nip at his hamstrings. One approached from the front and sank her jaws into his muzzle. Starved of breath he quietened. His bellows softened to snorts and then to gasping moans. He fell to his knees. Then, as one, the lionesses relaxed their grip and stepped back. It was over.

Before we arrived in Africa we had asked ourselves how we would react to seeing a hunt in progress. We had both agreed that we wouldn’t be ghoulish enough to want to watch that. But in reality the excitement and adrenalin of being front row at an event you would normally only see through a TV screen was electric. Conscious thought wasn’t an option in the moment. This was nature, red in tooth and claw, raw and alive on the Serengeti before us.

Of course, the fact that we witnessed this within the boundaries of the Serengeti National Park was in many ways a fluke. Not all visitors to the Serengeti will get to see an event like that. Nor do you have to be in the Serengeti to see it. There are no fences of note to restrict the movements of the animals – the annual Great Migration of the wildebeest circles from Tanzania to Kenya and back. The wider ‘Serengeti ecosystem’ spreads beyond the park borders. The previous day we had seen many of the same species several miles south around Lake Ndutu which lies just outside the National Park and within the contiguous Ngorongoro Conservation Area. Until I insisted that we enter the National Park proper our safari organiser had proposed to only go as far as Ndutu to offer much the same experience, but without the cost of park fees. But the National Park boundaries does guarantee a degree of protection to the animals and landscape and can certainly be classed as representative of the northern Tanzanian savannah.

(One fact to note: park fees are for 24 hours. So if you were to enter the park at, say 17:00 on a Monday, you would need to exit again by 17:00 the following day. This adds a degree of pressure to any wildlife spotting on the Tuesday afternoon because, no matter where you are or what you are watching, your guide will at some point need to make the decision to call a halt and high-tail it back to the park gates)

So, other than buffalo and lionesses (and the magnificently-maned male lion who appeared at one point to supervise and then, seemingly content that his dinner was imminent, amble away again) what did we see? Well, more lions: first at the Simba Kopjes just north of Naabi Hill Gate, then another pride with a different dead buffalo (the buffalo weren’t having much joy while we were there). Hartebeest, topi, giraffes, an early morning dik-dik. A platoon of elephants pushing through grass that really was as high as an elephant’s eye. Warthogs. A secretary bird making a nest in a tree, a goshawk swooping low, a goose chasing a black-tipped mongoose away from her eggs. A fleeting glimpse of a leopard as it rapidly disappeared up a tree trunk and into the foliage (that was to be our only leopard sighting of the holiday). And, at Retima, in a murky pool reeking of silage and a fishmonger’s stall, dozens of hippopotamuses, their piggy eyes protruding above the water, swishing their tails like propellers to splash water – and occasionally their own fresh faeces – over their backs. We watched one hippo picking his way across the rocks as daintily as a portly Victorian gent trying to make his way into the sea but being constantly thwarted by finding his route blocked by crocodiles or other hippos. (In comparison, we didn’t see wildebeest, zebras or gazelles, all of whom looked to be just east and south of the park boundaries. We also saw hyenas, jackals and a lazing cheetah outside the park).

A conclusion? If your aim is to go on safari and see the incredible wildlife of Tanzania, do you need to visit the Serengeti National Park? No. There are many other places you can see them with varying degrees of protection. If you have paid to enter the Ngorongoro Conservancy you can have a hugely fulfilling safari experience in the crater or in the wider Conservation Area. There are other national parks you can visit too – I would particularly recommend Tarangire for the sheer concentration of elephants. But that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t seek to visit the Serengeti. You are guaranteed a truly special experience.

There was a comic coda to the dramatic buffalo hunt we witnessed. Once the kill was confirmed the lionesses padded back to a tree to retrieve a bundle of tawny cubs. One led the cubs over to the buffalo. In single file they trotted on their too-large feet over to the body, inspected it, and then followed the lioness to the nearest patch of shade. But it was noon on the savannah and the nearest patch of shade just happened to be… underneath our Toyota Landcruiser.  We suddenly found ourselves the centre of attention from the other safari trucks that had pulled up. People pointed and laughed at us, cameras flashed. A good dozen-or-so safari-goers probably have very good photos of my puzzled face and a set of large paws poking out from underneath our truck. Then, one by one, the other trucks clattered off. Leaving us the question of how we dislodged a family of lions from beneath our chassis…

World Heritage-iness: 4.5

My Experience: 5

(Visited Feb 2015)