There is no better place to see the effects of climate change in Kenya than in the arid north. The first signs of an impending drought, the fifth in the past 10 years, can be seen in the Mathews Range in Samburu, northern Kenya, in a conservancy bordering the Samburu National Reserve.

A group of men from Engelai, a remote village have trekked for four days with a herd of 300 cattle, all three to five year old bulls. They are half way to Lewa Downs, their destination. The cattle have been bought by the Northern Rangelands Trust (NRT) in an ongoing project to save the community from losing them to the drought.

The Trust offers the communities good prices for the cattle, the bulls are kept in quarantine and fattened at the ol Pejeta Conservancy and later sold for beef.

“We buy the cattle during the drought from the local communities,” says Patrick Ekodere, the NRT livestock manager, as we watch the cattle resting in the meagre shade of the sparse trees. “This helps the communities sustain themselves.”

NRT, established in 2004, is a trailblazer in community wildlife conservancies, pioneering the model with Lewa Downs. Bordering national parks and reserves, NRT research shows an increase in wildlife numbers in the conservancies, including wildlife such as elephants migrating in and out of the rangelands. Using the traditional system of dry and wet season grazing to heal the rangelands, the NRT model is based on setting land aside for wildlife, settlements and tourist facilities.

In the middle of the dry arid Samburu plains is the spectacular Mathews Range, jutting out of the flat arid plains. It is dubbed an “island” because of its rich flora and fauna. Stretching 80 kilometers by 10 to 15 kilometers in width, it is a collection of four massifs.

The southern end boasts the highest peak, Warges which at 8,000 feet which towers over the town of Wamba on the plains. The lower ranges dotted by the homesteads of the pastoral Samburu and little villages are hot and arid, dominated by thorny acacias, dry luggas and patches of red bare earth that signify overgrased land.

The contrast in landscape is fascinating when it changes to the high forest glades – 300 square kilometres layered in different types of forest belts with different species of trees, Croton megalocarpus and other hardwoods skyrocket a mind boggling 30 metres high, yet the higher zone nearer the peaks boast of much taller and bigger trees like the East African Cedar.

An endemic cycad, Encephalarctos tegulaneus on the Mathews Range, is dubbed the “living fossil” for this ancient plant can withstand fire and grows barely five millimeters a year — a 15-foot cycad could easily be several hundreds of years old. It also boasts of the only s pecies of cactus indigenous to Africa – Rhipsalis baccifera. Unlike the normal cactus, this one grows like an epiphyte on the higher branches of trees.

Ice-cold crystal clear water gushes down the Ngeng River, the only permanent river in a 100 kilometre radius, eventually seeping underground into Lorian Swamp. An assortment of birds makes it a fascinating journey with close to 350 species recorded.

Difference

There is however a visible difference in the mountain from the previous year. The drought in the arid plains has brough the pastoralists.

There are herds of cattle everywhere, their bells tinkling and young morans breaking into song that reverberate in the valleys. In the background, there’s a constant sound of axes felling branches for the cows to feed on. And there are flies everywhere, which were markedly absent the year before.

Drought is nothing new in this part of northern Kenya. The place is arid with little rainfall.

“There were droughts in 2004, 2009, 2010 and 2011. We’ve seen five increasing droughts in the past 10 years whereas prior to that, the droughts occurred once every 10 years,” said Dr Luca Borghesio, a forest biologist and ornithologist studying the dynamics of change and the drivers of change in the Mathews Range for the past seven years.

“The men have been in the forest since March,” says Ben Lenarerei from Engelai village. “We are eagerly waiting for the rains.”

The stress on the forest is showing.

“All the species are suffering and some have disappeared like the Abyssinian ground-thrush, which was here last year,” says Borghesio. “The canopy is much more open with little forest undergrowth. Last year, it was much greener.” The forest is littered with crisp leaves that crackle as we tread on them.

“The people are cutting the trees that have diameters that are easy to chop with an axe,” he continues. “With the drought every two to three years, the trees cannot regenerate.” The river though has the same flow as last year because the trees at higher levels are still untouched.

Using a clinometer, his research assistant measures the amount of sunlight that the trees get and what influence that has on the growth and survival of the tree. It’s an exact science with data meticulously entered every night by Borghesio — and he does it every year.

Other variables are recorded too — the height, space between trees, species of birds, insects and other animals around the trees and so on. Using fly traps stationed along the study area, the insects are counted every day.

“Counting insects is to estimate the activity in the forest and because insects are food for many other animals, we want to know the food base and how it changes over time,” he says.

“With no paths on the higher peaks, trees soar hundreds of feet high. Towering croton trees that seem healthy at first show signs of stress and the major die-back caused by the drought of 2009. The trees survived the drought but in the following years we saw the death of large trees at a rate above normal. The effect of drought can go on for many years,” continues Borghesio.

At the same time, the number of frugivores like Yellow-whiskered Greenbuls fluctuate from year to year depending on the fruit availability, according to Borghesio. But for the Abyssinian ground-thrush, which is very territorial and moves little inside the forest, things are bad with its, showing an 80 per cent decline in eight years.

In 2014, not a single one is seen. Population of an increasing number of non-forest bird species like the Grey-backed Camaroptera, a widespread bird outside the forest, have increased following a series of droughts.

Forests are not static ecosystems, says Borghesio. They are dynamic – and to manage forests means understanding them — which comes with research and close monitoring.

From the scientist’s point of view, the future of the forest lies outside of the forest. Helping the pastoralists is key. This is done by providing grazing land and watering points outside the forest including encouraging better management of pastures. It will help keep the cattle out of the forest.

There’s also change coming with younger, educated Samburu who may herald a new era for Mathews Range.

“I want to invest in my future,” remarks Burton Lenanyokie, the young Samburu manager of Ngilai Conservation Project. He has a degree in business administration from Kenya Methodist University.

“But not with thousands of cattle. We need to shift our investment opportunities and wildlife is an important resource, as it has brought tourism here. So there are opportunities for the communities opening their land as conservancies.”