That’s what Mr Nixon said about Lake Manyara National Park.
Our relationship with Mr Nixon was only a few hours old, so we were not yet sure what to think. By the end of the week we would trust him with our lives.
An “island” of pink flamingos on the bed of Lake Manyara. The lake is broad and shallow, growing in the rainy season and shrinking in the dry season.
The sign at the entrance read “Home of Tree Climbing Lions.”
“They say that,” he commented, “but it is more likely that we’ll see them climbing in the Serengeti.”
Still, I thought it best to keep one eye skyward. Having 400 pounds of tooth and claw drop onto your head would be a terrible surprise—not to mention a messy end to the lovely Tanzanian safari Vicki and I had planned.
Lake Manyara has a storied past; the early Tarzan movies were filmed here, and Ernest Hemingway once called this region of alkali water and mahogany forests “the loveliest I have seen in Africa.”
The dirt road into Lake Manyara National Park. Lake Manyara sits in the Great Rift Valley and is one of Africa’s largest lakes. Like Israel’s Dead Sea, it has no outlet. Unlike Israel’s Dead Sea it is shallow and alkaline.
Mr. Nixon parked our Land Cruiser—affectionately dubbed "Toyota-in-Khaki" (or TIK)—outside the ranger station and pulled the brake.
“Let me get the papers.”
A few minutes later he returned. “Come look at this.”
In the grass behind our vehicle lay several piles of dung. “Elephant droppin’s,” he said, “about a day old.” He took a stick and stirred the gooey mass. “Look at the seeds. The elephants eat the fruit and spread the seeds; the birds come down and eat them from the droppin’s.”
“A solid strategy for the plant,” I noted.
“Ugh,” said Vicki.
“Exactly,” Nixon replied with a grin.
Lessons in nature.
While the elephant responsible was nowhere to be seen, it wasn't long before monkeys appeared on both sides of the road. A bit later, a troop of no less than 200 baboons crossed our path. It was an impressive sight, but we instinctively drew back; their sheer numbers, weeping sores, and toothy muzzles were intimidating.
Most of the afternoon we rode with TIK’s top popped up. Vicki and I could stand between the seats for a 360-degree view. Mr Nixon navigated the yawning potholes and taught us about the buffalo, impala, gnu, zebra, and warthog.
“But I really love the birds.”
TIK had a pop-up lid that allowed us to view the surroundings in the shade. It is a good thing there are no seat-belt laws in Tanzania.
As it turned out, Lake Manyara wasn't the place for tree-climbing lions or massive herds, but it was a true pilgrimage for bird lovers. More than 400 species frequent the park, some migrating from distant corners of the earth and others staying for good. Peering through Mr. Nixon’s binoculars, we saw a kaleidoscope of orange bellies, yellow beaks, and purple wings.
Mr. Nixon’s stories of their habits and legends were thoroughly entertaining. The most memorable sight was the flamingos, gathered like a shimmering island of pink in the shallow waters, though the bee-eaters, herons, and pelicans were just as striking. Lake Manyara is a bird-watcher's paradise—and the perfect place to begin an African adventure.
A yellow-billed stork comes in for a landing. His gear is slightly askew.
If you would like to read more about the area of Lake Manyara, check out our observations from a previous visit here.
I love Africa but my regular summer work is in Israel-Palestine.
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