We had just arrived at Mjejane Game Reserve when we were greeted by a scene of wonder. Not far from the roadside stood a zebra mare and her newborn foal. The little one was visibly wobbly on its legs, struggling to steady itself in this brand-new world. Its mother nuzzled and licked it gently while a group of zebras stood nearby, seemingly watching over them—a silent testament to the strong social bonds in their herd.
Given the foal’s unsteady stance and the mare’s care, it must have been born incredibly recently. As we absorbed this tender moment, something else caught our attention—high above, vultures were circling. At first, we hadn’t given them much thought, but then a white-headed vulture swooped in, followed swiftly by another, and then another.
Nature’s perfect design
It became clear that they were after something left behind—the afterbirth. A battle ensued as they fought for scraps. White-backed vultures also joined the fray and each vulture jostled to claim its share. These scavengers, often seen as ominous, were in fact playing a vital role. The bush has its own way of maintaining balance, and here was nature’s clean-up crew, efficiently disposing of the remnants of new life, and ensuring that no trace of the birth remained for lurking predators to scent.
It was a striking contrast—the tenderness of a mother’s first moments with her newborn against the ruthless efficiency of the scavengers above. Yet it was all part of nature’s grand design, where nothing is wasted, and everything has its place. A maternity ward, cleaned and cleared by the creatures that so often symbolise death, yet here they were, serving life.
As we watched the foal take its first tentative steps, the vultures finished their work and disappeared into the sky, leaving behind a pristine landscape once more. Nature, as always, had thought of everything. Sarah Crone
