Update Big Cat Diary

Welcome to the Masai Mara in Kenya, one of the best places on Earth for watching wildlife.

Six months ago,

we came to see some of those most charismatic creatures, the big cats.

Every week for six weeks we tracked two groups of lions,

two families of cheetah

and a mother leopard and her cub as they went about their business.

The drama of their lives proved so compelling that we've come back for an update.

First, let's look at some magical moments from September.

Among my personal favourites of all the cats

is this beautiful lady.

Kidogo here is one of two cheetah mothers we followed during autumn,

and when we first found her, she had in tow two tiny cubs.

Kidogo, whose name means "small" in Swahili, was an amazing character.

Sleek, light and sharp-witted, she was almost certainly very young.

Her cubs were probably her first,

and it was clear from Kidogo's own behaviour

that there was a great deal of kitten left in her.

While we made Big Cat Diary, I spent most of my time with this family,

and so could appreciate the subtle changes in Kidogo, especially her hunting technique.

At first, she didn't take it seriously,

but as the cubs grew more demanding, she developed her ability to select a suitable target.

This was more so once the Thomson's gazelles started giving birth.

Kidogo often had a choice:

to search for the fawns, which she could be sure to catch,

or to go for a territorial male,

who, though more difficult to catch, would make a much bigger meal.

Her choice is made.

The effort of the chase paid off with a meal to last her family at least two days.

Cheetahs, although magnificent hunters, are delicately built.

They often lose their kills

to hyenas, lions or even vultures.

So Kidogo had to drag her kill to cover as fast as possible.

Perhaps surprisingly, that cover

was sometimes one of our cars.

All our cats were extremely used to vehicles,

and despite our efforts to keep a respectable distance,

Kidogo and her cubs would often seek us out.

They even used our cars as a playground and a climbing frame.

Once, I was watching Kidogo's cubs perfect their climbing

when a terrible thing happened.

The little female had caught her leg in a hole,

and now was left hanging.

I was in a panic. There was nothing I could do with Kidogo there.

It would cause her dreadful upset.

But my instinct was to dash over and try to help the youngster.

Her brother didn't understand the problem, and thought it was a game.

Fortunately, my immediate dilemma was answered by the cub herself.

But even though she managed to pull herself up into the tree,

I felt sure her leg would be permanently damaged by the fall.

The wait for her to pluck up courage to come down again

was horribly tense.

Unbelievably, and to my very great relief,

she immediately started charging around again,

with no sign of damage to the leg.

One very notable development over the weeks

was the male cub's character change.

His games grew continually rougher,

to the point where his sister was intimidated.

He adopted the classic threat posture, hackles raised.

The cubs were getting to the age when they'd start learning to hunt.

By the last week, Kidogo's attitude to hunting had sharpened greatly.

Perhaps it was the influence of the two ever more hungry mouths to feed.

Once her attention was fixed on a potential meal,

she was concentration personified.

Rarely had we seen her phenomenal turn of speed better illustrated.

She never even touched the gazelle,

which tripped and damaged a leg.

The lack of a killing bite was not brutality,

but an essential life-lesson for her cubs.

This was the first time

they'd been left to kill their prey.

The male's instinct and ability were remarkably efficient.

As we left Kidogo and her family,

the future looked optimistic.

On our return, our hopes for Kidogo and her cubs have been realised.

Here she is, in all her glory, only last week.

With her, two very healthy, lively cubs.

They couldn't be in better shape.

Though they've grown,

both the male and female cub are still full of fun.

It seems, too, that much of the overt aggression has gone from the male's play.

Cheetahs, perhaps more than any other big cat,

continue to depend on their mother, often for well over a year.

This has as much to do with learning how to avoid danger

as it does catching food.

Kidogo's young are no exception,

and, though able to assist with hunting, they're not independent.

It's still usually down to their mother to initiate a hunt.

With the dry conditions that have prevailed over the last few months,

there's little cover to help Kidogo in her stalk towards her target.

Though Kidogo tripped the impala,

she leaves it to her now very competent cubs to finish the job.

During the chase, however, Kidogo badly sprained her ankle,

further proof of the fragility of these high-specification predators.

The survival of these cats still hangs in a delicate balance.

A simple sprained ankle can mean failure

for a hunter, like a cheetah, operating at the limits of its physical capabilities.

Kidogo should get over that leg injury,

but we'll continue to chart her progress.

Our other cheetah mother, Fundi, had older cubs when we found her,

but then, as now, she gave us a run-around!

Six months ago, Fundi and her two ten-month-old cubs

proved very difficult to keep up with.

One of the reasons they proved so elusive

was the hassle they were getting from hyenas

and other large predators.

The hyenas were only after scraps, but were unwelcome nonetheless.

The cubs were always looking for a chance to hone their hunting skills.

If any more vulnerable creatures came their way,

they gave them a lot of stick.

This was an aardwolf, a small type of hyena which eats termites.

A bat-eared fox isn't a common item on cheetah menus,

but it was good target practice!

In fact, the cheetah could easily outrun the fox,

and was more interested in the chase than a meal.

Once, the cubs even took on one of their greatest adversaries,

the hyena.

But, in this case,

a young, solitary one.

Perhaps surprisingly, even a male baboon could move the cheetahs on.

But the baboon DOES have longer canine teeth than the average lion.

Fundi was always a cheetah that preferred to hunt in thick cover,

and time and again, she and her cubs

would disappear for days, leaving us to piece together their adventures.

On our return to the Mara, Fundi continues to prove elusive.

We have heard, though, that she and her now-independent cubs are doing well and keeping to thick cover.

Clearly, she hasn't changed very much.

While we recorded their every move, the big cats simply ignored us and got on with business as usual.

But producing Big Cat Diary, getting the pictures on screen within a week of recording them,

required a revolutionary approach to film making.

During our stay in the Mara, six film crews followed the action,

over 11,000 man-hours in the field.

We covered 45,000 kilometres, got stuck 420 times

and had 360 punctures.

We shot over 80km of videotape during the day

and at night.

The results were edited in the field to become the Big Cat Diary.

All of that effort went into producing images like these.

This was one of two prides of lions we followed

and was known as the Big Pride.

With seven females,

17 cubs and four adult males,

it was truly a very big pride indeed!

With so many mouths to feed,

we thought they'd be struggling,

but this was a very efficient hunting unit.

Their territory contained a plentiful supply of food,

and with so many mature females to gather it, the cubs flourished.

However, they hunted almost entirely in the hours of darkness.

It increased their chances of success

and it avoided conflict with the many Masai people

who shared the same area with their cattle by day.

Under cover of complete darkness,

their hunting trips were revealed with our special night cameras.

Even nimble-footed species, like gazelle, were caught by surprise.

But though highly skilled, the Big Pride were not infallible.

Even for such a powerful hunting force, a buffalo is a challenge.

The Big Pride were, however, prepared to have a go.

They rarely went a whole night without success,

and of all the big cats we watched, these did seem the king of beasts.

This was a lion pride at the very height of its fortunes. With plenty of food and a stable territory,

even the big males tolerated the young cubs.

Up to a point, that is.

Though occasionally argumentative,

there was little tension between these lions,

considering their number.

The adult males had, at best, three years to ensure

that their progeny would survive to reproduce.

As things were, they looked to have a rosy future,

for the time being, at least.

It's exceptional for so many cubs to survive.

Usually, about half die in their first year.

But if these cubs were the picture of health,

the situation was quite different elsewhere.

The other group we followed in the autumn were these, the Marsh Pride.

Unlike their counterparts on the hill, survival for them was harder.

At first glance, the marsh territory looked to be lush and healthy.

But unseasonably wet weather meant the expected numbers of migratory wildebeest hadn't reached the Mara

and animals were spoilt for choice when looking for drinking water.

So the Marsh Pride had to attack anything within reach,

regardless of their chances of success.

All too often, the result was failure.

Animals that shared the marsh territory regardless of conditions were wart hogs.

But though they may be fairly small,

they're alert, and those little legs can go at tremendous speed.

Time after time,

the Marsh Lions' hunting failed.

Even when they did secure a meal, it barely whetted their appetite.

As if the lack of prey wasn't enough,

the Marsh Pride had trouble with their social life.

An invading male attempted a takeover.

If he overpowered the females, he'd almost certainly kill or chase off the cubs.

The Marsh females' victory was short-lived.

With renewed confidence, the invading male drove home his attack.

The dispute resulted in confusion and a split in the Marsh Pride.

We never saw several members again.

On the rare occasion when the females secured a larger meal,

tensions ran high as each lion argued over its share.

In such poor times,

newcomers, even distant relatives, were a threat to meagre supplies.

An injured lioness, probably an old pride member, looked for support from the others.

Under the circumstances,

the weak were a liability and had to be chased away.

Lions have to be pragmatists.

The fittest must survive to have a chance of producing further generations.

That is why the Marsh females were so defensive of their territory.

Despite the hardship,

several of them had given birth.

Cubs conceived in better times were born to three adult lionesses.

Completely helpless, dependent on their mothers for milk,

these cubs could have little concept of their uncertain future.

There were so many things that would affect their chances,

but the single biggest threat lay in the extraordinary weather.

RUMBLE OF THUNDER

During our stay last September,

we were deluged by incredibly heavy rain.

Trying to film was a nightmare.

Our vehicles got stuck over and over again.

For the cats, the cooler days meant they could hunt in comfort.

But this made little difference to the Marsh lions.

With lush grazing everywhere,

the usual herds coming to the marsh to drink were absent.

The weather is still influencing these lions' lives,

but now for the better.

Since we left in the autumn, it has been unseasonally dry.

This has forced thousands of wildebeest and zebra into the marsh.

The change in the weather came at just the right time.

The sudden shift from rain to drought

has spelt disaster for some creatures, but not this pride.

The cubs we watched in the autumn, who seemed so vulnerable,

are a great success story.

Just as their mothers were reaching the point of having to abandon them,

game flooded into their territory and it's remained ever since.

The result - a fine troupe of cubs, now six months old and growing fast.

In addition to the three litters born last September,

there are some new arrivals.

The youngest cubs are just beginning to explore,

and provide irresistible playmates for their older cousins.

The whole pride now is clearly more relaxed than when we last saw them.

All the tension which grew out of the food shortage has evaporated.

The five females rarely have to travel more than a kilometre from the nursery to hunt.

Frequently, they're shadowed by the older cubs.

Unlike the big pride, who still hunt mainly at night,

the Marsh females are having tremendous success through the day.

Their territory is in the heart of the game reserve, so they're undisturbed by people on foot.

The heat of the day forces the wildebeest into the marsh.

The lions simply have to position themselves along their path.

Though two females are visible,

the grass around the wildebeest conceals a further three.

Meals like this are now a regular occurrence.

If this weather lasts, things look good for the Marsh Pride.

The marsh is strikingly different from the autumn.

The land all around is incredibly arid,

forcing thousands of animals to come in search of water,

illustrating why this is such important territory for the lions.

The third species of cat we followed is a leopard -

a female, called Half Tail for obvious reasons, and her cub.

Most leopards are very shy.

But Half Tail was remarkable in her complete indifference to humans and their cars.

She was also very active by day - an obvious advantage for filming.

On this occasion,

she had her sights set on a pair of fighting impala.

Leopards can't sprint over great distances like a cheetah.

They rely on stealth and concealment.

That her target was preoccupied with a squabble

gave her the freedom to approach much more rapidly than usual.

Having closed the distance, Half Tail once again illustrated her mastery of stealth.

Every time the gazelle lifted its head, she froze.

But once she felt certain she wasn't being watched,

she inched forward in a display of powerful restraint.

In this way,

leopards creep up to within a metre of their prey before being detected.

HOARSE BARK

She was unlucky.

An alarm bark from another impala alerted the herd.

Half Tail could only leave with as much dignity as she could muster.

When a leopard is stalking, it keeps its tail close to the ground.

When relaxed, it holds it high.

But with Half Tail,

this didn't produce the visible signal of indifference, as intended.

Moving blatantly through the grass, she produced a ripple of alarm.

MONKEY BARKS

Vervet monkeys have a specific alarm call to say a leopard is near.

One reason Half Tail was so active during the day

was that she was hunting for two.

When we first started to chart her progress,

her six-month-old cub relied on her completely for food.

The little female cub, despite being mobile, was very vulnerable.

Leopards are powerful predators, but no match for a lion or hyena.

Indeed, in 12 years,

Half Tail has only successfully reared two other cubs.

Whenever hyenas did turn up in search of food scraps,

we really did fear for the cub's safety.

With the cub hiding in the grass,

Half Tail distracted the hyenas until they grew bored and left.

The bond between mother and daughter

was incredibly close.

And though beyond the point of weaning,

the cub was still receiving regular milk meals.

Leopards invest a huge amount of care and effort in rearing cubs.

Even so, this little cat had a very slim chance of survival.

About three weeks into our stay,

Half Tail managed to kill an adult male impala.

And in true leopard style, took it into the safety of a large tree.

Though requiring a monumental show of strength,

this ensured that the meal was safe from prowling hyenas and lions.

However, there was a risk that Half Tail may lose her meal

to a scavenger from above.

By dragging the kill into the densest part of the foliage,

she and her cub were able to gorge on it for several days.

Tree climbing comes as second nature to a young leopard.

But getting down again demands a little more practice.

As the cub grew,

she was left for longer periods alone in the gorge.

But far from staying hidden, she practised her hunting technique.

It was the agama lizards which proved to be a favourite target.

And when Half Tail returned from a fruitless hunting trip,

she came in for a bit of stick from her cub.

FIERCE GROWLING

Gradually, these games became rougher and more high-spirited.

They also served to hone the little female's hunting skills.

It wasn't unusual for Half Tail to initiate a chase with her cub.

Further proof of the special nature of their relationship.

Such a bond is vital for the cub,

who should stay with her mother for a year or more.

The lessons of independence which require such skill and precision, take a long time to learn.

One such life lesson

occured towards the end of our trip in the autumn.

Half Tail had killed a hare and given it to her cub to feed on.

But within minutes,

the hyenas homed in on the smell of fresh meat.

Half Tail, afraid for her cub's safety, moved in closer.

But the little cub saw her mother's approach as a threat to the meal

and warned her off in no uncertain terms.

She was oblivious of the danger that she herself was in.

Preoccupied by the scuffle,

the cub overlooked the approaching hyenas until the very last minute.

Safe from the hyena's crushing jaws,

she could eat in peace, leaving her mother to fend off the intruders.

SHE GROWLS

But eventually, the pressure got too much, even for Half Tail.

After a stand-off of over an hour, the hyenas drifted away.

But both leopards stayed in the trees until much later that evening.

Leopards are much more successful when they hunt at night.

This didn't stop Half Tail making the most of every opportunity.

After a couple of failed attempts,

she decided to conceal herself on a rocky slope and wait.

With Half Tail completely hidden,

animal after animal brushed within metres of her.

She could explode into action at any moment.

The kongoni calf only just managed to escape Half Tail's attack.

As we prepared to leave,

the cub, though developing quickly, still had a great deal to learn

and would depend on Half Tail for food and protection for some time to come.

It's taken us a while to catch up with Half Tail again.

Hardly surprising!

There she is, perfectly camouflaged, sleeping in the tree.

Indeed, if there was any cat that we felt had a secure future,

it was Half Tail.

We couldn't have been more wrong.

Just after Christmas, and during our absence,

Half Tail suffered a potentially mortal blow.

She was discovered with an arrow sticking through the top of her nose and into her mouth.

A vet was called immediately

and, with difficutly, Half Tail was sedated to remove the arrow.

Naturally fearful,

Half Tail complicated matters by taking refuge in a hole.

Within minutes, the operation had been completed.

Only time could tell if Half Tail would survive.

And our most recent pictures of her, recorded less than a week ago,

speak for themselves.

Half Tail has made a 100% recovery.

And she barely has a scar to show for her ordeal.

To add to our relief and our delight,

Half Tail's cub is also doing very well.

At one year, she's almost fully independent.

And, apart from her tail,

looks very much like her mother.

She now hunts for herself much of the time,

and has adopted all the feline grace

of her kind.

She's lost something of the kitten in her.

She's less inclined to burst out into bouts of play.

But she's lost none of her charm.

From time to time, the two of them are still getting together.

Sometimes it's to share a meal,

sometimes simply to be close to each other.

A further illustration of the special relationship between a mother leopard and her cub.

This is a real success story for Half Tail,

who, despite the hardships,

has now raised a third cub in a little over 12 years.

It is such a privilege to share the fortunes and the problems of these magnificent cats.

Theirs is a story that has no ending, but it is a great story.

Subtitles by BBC Subtitling - 1997