Part 2: Following a Cheetah and Cubs – Witnessing Survival

Surrounded by Eyes in the Grass

A Masai Mara journal of one mother, two cubs, and five fragile days in the wild.

Words & Photographs by Lona Downs

The light was golden. The silence was thick.
She scanned the horizon while her cubs stayed close.
Even in stillness, she had to read the wind.

She scanned the horizon while her cubs stayed close. Even moments of rest required vigilance.

Predators lingered at the edges.
None rushed in. None needed to.
They weren’t after her.
They were watching her cubs.

It was golden hour — and the most dangerous light of all.

The Watchers

Predators near, silence thick.

A lioness crouched not far away, her body still—eyes fixed.
A presence like that doesn’t need to move to be dangerous.

A female hyena pressed low into the grass, watching.
A slow threat. Patient. Calculating.

Even one baboon is trouble. A troop is worse. This one hovered nearby.

Two black-backed jackals trailed her across the plains, keeping just enough distance to avoid a chase — but never truly leaving.

Jackals often hunt in pairs, but even alone, this one watched her every step — silent, calculating, patient.

The Next Morning

By morning, the jackals were still with her.
They didn’t bark. They didn’t run.
They simply followed.

When she paused to rest, they crept in.
And then in a flash — she bolted.

The Chase

The jackal pair trailed her from dawn to dusk, always just beyond the line of safety. Watching. Waiting. Never far.

Without warning, she launched — fast and fierce.
No hesitation. No second chance.
No one bothered her cubs that day. She made sure of it.

The chase pushed him farther.
She wasn’t just warning — she was drawing a line.

They were far enough from the cubs now.
Her message was clear — and he didn’t like it.

After the Chase

We found her again two hours later.
She had made a small kill — just enough to feed the cubs.
There was no excess, only what was needed.

Under the brush, the cubs fed while she kept watch.
There was no feast — only enough. Caution lingered, even in the quiet.

Still wild, still small—and already marked by survival.

Even here, she stayed alert. No meal was ever guaranteed.

The kill was little more than a snack, enough to quiet their hunger but not to sustain them for long. She needed more strength if she was going to keep hunting for them.

Relief lingered only briefly. Out here, even a full belly doesn’t last long.

Tomorrow, the chase would begin again — and with it, the next chapter of her story. (Part Three coming soon.)

You can read a companion reflection on this moment in Echoes from the Wild — The Weight of Survival.

There’s more from this part of the world in the Africa gallery.
If you’d like to know how I ended up here — this is a bit of my story.