We departed Samburu at 07:00, heading southwest to our safari's second destination. On this drive alone, we crossed the equator three times, and witnessed the extremes of poverty and wealth that coexist in Kenya.

Near Isiolo, we saw bundles of tree branches, tied and standing on end, outside homes that were little more than sheds. George explained that the residents were felling their own scarce trees to sell the wood for charcoal, thereby accelerating the desertification of an already drought-ravaged region. Such are the hardships of life in northern Kenya.

Closer to Nakuru, we drove past a farm so large that it contained its own private airstrip. George said the farm was still owned by the same British family that owned it in 1963, when Kenya achieved independence.

George then expressed an interesting opinion. He believes that Kenya gained its independence twenty years too soon. In George's view, had British colonial rule lasted two more decades, present-day Kenya would enjoy far better infrastructure than what it has.

Before 14:00, we reached Lake Nakuru National Park. Completely enclosed within this park is Lake Nakuru, one of the soda lakes in the Great Rift Valley. The lake's water level has fluctuated significantly over the past twenty years, producing views like these along its shoreline:

The most famous sight along the shores of Lake Nakuru is the lesser flamingo (phoeniconaias minor). These birds come here in the thousands - sometimes in the millions - to feed on the algae that flourishes in the soda lake.

A cormorant passes in front of a stand of flamingos.

Here, too, I saw my first marabou stork (leptoptilos crumenifer).

The Doctor and The Woman had encountered these creatures in Uganda, and had described to me how visually unappealing they are - but some things must be seen to be truly understood.

Some fun facts about this creature, which is colloquially known as the "undertaker bird" because of its appearance when seen from behind:

Its diet consists mainly of carrion, scraps and feces. Accordingly, it has evolved a hairless head and neck (feathers would just get clotted with blood and feces) that gives it the appearance of a burn victim. That's not evident in the photo above, but it's clear in this photo from the gallery "13 of the ugliest animals on the planet".
It practices urohidrosis. In other words, it defecates on its own legs in order to cool down. (Birds don't sweat, so this method of evaporative cooling is useful in a hot climate.) This practice may also decontaminate the bird's legs: you can pick up a lot of bacteria when you spend your day standing in carrion, scraps and (other animals') feces.
Its legs bend backward at the knee. That's just... wrong.

Driving away from the shore, we saw an impala with a broken horn. Said George, dispassionately: "He'll be a loser all his life."

As if to prove George's point, two young males began fighting nearby.

Then we encountered the African or cape buffalo (syncerus caffer). Three of the Big Five down, two to go.

I saw many cape buffalo in Nakuru and Maasai Mara. Every time I saw one, I was transfixed - not in the literal sense, fortunately - by its horns. Unlike many other ungulates, the cape buffalo has horns that are fused at the base. Later, I learned that this type of bone formation is known as a "boss". At the time, however, the phrase that kept coming to my mind was "horn wig". I imagined myself counselling one of these creatures: Dude, it happens to everyone in the herd! You know: you reach a certain age, maybe your joints stiffen up, or the hide starts to sag in places, and the next thing you know, your horns are falling out. Don't fight it; just accept it! You're not fooling anyone with that horn wig, you know...

The black rhinoceros is another of Big Five member that inhabits Lake Nakuru National Park - but we didn't see it there. Later, George learned why. Prior to our arrival, the park's buffalo had acquired a disease that was thinning the herd and threatening to spread to the other animals. The park rangers checked the spread of this disease by vaccinating the animals, which they do with a dart gun. This benevolent shooting saved the animals, but it also drove the rhinos into hiding.

Of the three parks we visited on our safari, I enjoyed Lake Nakuru the least. This had nothing to do with the plants or animals, and everything to do with the people - and by "people", I mean "locals". Perhaps you're thinking it's a bit rich for a tourist to criticize the locals, but hear me out:

In the Maasai language, nakuru means "dust" or "dusty place". The name fits the place.
Nakuru National Park abuts Nakuru (pop. 300,000+), Kenya's fourth-largest city.
The proximity of the park makes it a popular attraction for the locals. Naturally, these locals enter the park in their own vehicles, which tend to be small passenger cars.
The locals' preferred method of exploring the park seems to be to race around the park at high speeds, windows closed, oblivious to the choking clouds of dust they're throwing in the faces of tourists in open-topped vehicles (such as, for example, the Mystery Machine).

Fortunately, we spent fewer than twenty-four hours here before setting off for our safari's third and final destination: Maasai Mara.