Sea of Stripes

By Lory Herbison Frame • Photos by George Frame

One day I watched as hundreds of zebras walked through the bright green grass to a water hole on the Serengeti Plain. It appeared to be one huge herd, but it was really dozens of zebra families. If you looked closely, you could tell where one family ended and the next one began.

Young zebras usually stay near their family. The author kept her eyes on one who did not.

A zebra I’d named Milia was neck-wrestling with his older half-brother Mifuo. The two zebras had the same father, Farasi, but different mothers. Their father and their mothers and Mifuo’s little sister clustered together, but all around them were thousands of black and white stripes. The family found this comforting. Zebras like being near other zebras.

Milia nipped the skin on his brother’s neck, and Mifuo reared up and then turned to kick out at his pursuer. They galloped around their mothers.

Suddenly they heard the wheezing brays of other stallions and mares. The sounds got closer as alarm spread through the herd. Farasi brayed and tossed his head. The ground shook, and the sea of zebra stripes began moving.

Milia spun in fright, looking for his mother’s familiar markings, but black and white stripes jerked up and down and sped around him in such numbers that he was confused. Then he heard his mother’s familiar voice braying and hurried to run alongside her.

Farasi dropped back, prepared to defend his family from any predator coming behind. Other families were running alongside them, mares and stallions trying to keep their young next to them.

Fifteen minutes later, the herd finally slowed. The whoops and cackling of spotted hyenas were fading in the distance. Milia trembled and leaned weakly against his mother’s flank. He was three years old and full grown, but she gently nibbled his back and face as if he were a newborn foal. They were safe.

Farasi the stallion paced and looked around restlessly. Hundreds of tired, panting zebras stood around, taking stock and counting noses. Stripes were everywhere. But where was his other son? Where was Mifuo?

Mifuo had been cut off from his brother almost at once. As the fleeing herd thundered past him, he followed his instinct. Don’t run apart! Don’t attract a predator’s attention to yourself. Stay with other zebras. Look for stripes and stay with them.

Later, peace descended on the plain and zebras all around him grew calm, but Mifuo’s fear grew. He walked among thousands of stripes, where he felt safe, but he was very much by himself.

When he approached another family, the stallion supposed that Mifuo had come to steal his mares and hurried forward to block his way. They briefly touched noses before the hostile stallion jerked away and kicked out at Mifuo with his hoofs.

Then Mifuo wandered into a group of “bachelors.” Many of them were older, but they didn’t mind his joining them. In fact, Mifuo was having rather a good time with so many playmates. They neck-wrestled and chased one another and tried to get fillies to leave their families and come with them. Mifuo had never been so busy.

All this time, Mifuo’s father, Farasi, was looking for him. After a few days, Mifuo noticed a stallion walking through the herd toward him, ears up, head nodding, and mouth nibbling. That’s how a zebra conveys friendly intentions when he gets among lots of stripes, and Farasi was just making sure that nobody misunderstood. The stallion was checking out every zebra that didn’t seem to belong to a family.

When Farasi saw his son from afar, he must have recognized his stripes because he hurried to him. They touched noses. Farasi nuzzled, nibbled, and gently plucked his son’s face with his teeth and soft lips. Mifuo seemed to like it, and groomed him back. Then Farasi turned and led Mifuo away from the bachelors, through the vast sea of stripes, back to his own family.

Mifuo seemed quite willing to go. Maybe he was relieved to be back with his family. But maybe next year he would leave the family to begin life on his own.