Under Samburu's acacia trees and ancient stars

In the early 2000s, along the banks of the Ewaso Ng'iro River in the heart of Kenya's Samburu National Reserve, rangers and herders encountered a moment so unexpected that it stirred unease and admiration. A lioness was moving through the bush with a newborn beisa oryx calf following her, stumbling on thin legs, small enough to fit between her forepaws.

The calf was barely a week old, but it should not have lasted minutes. Instead, it stayed with the lioness for days. She lay beside it during the heat of the day, shielded it from the sun, and drove away predators that wandered too close.

For days, then weeks, the unlikely pair were seen together. The lioness, later named Kamunyak, which means "the blessed one" in the Samburu language, cared for the oryx calf as if it were her own.

The story ends sadly, as stories from the wild often do. When Kamunyak left briefly to drink from the river, another lion killed the calf. According to local accounts, the lioness searched the area for days before disappearing into the wilderness. Whether that final detail belongs to fact or memory hardly matters. The story has lived on for more than two decades, retold by Samburu elders as a lesson rather than an anomaly.