Climate Change Is Shaping the Serengeti

Photograph by Adam Moore

“We came to the Serengeti expecting to document wildlife, to see for ourselves one of Earth’s most incredible wonders. But we quickly realized we were witnessing something far more urgent. Climate change is so far away from a buzzword here,” writes Andi Cross.

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By Andi Cross

There is a moment when you arrive in the Serengeti that feels like stepping into a wildlife documentary you’ve seen before. The landscape is iconic – vast plains stretch endlessly, punctuated by rocky kopjes and lone acacia trees. Herds graze in the distance under a soft haze of heat, and for a second, it feels like time slows down. But that illusion does not last long.

Upon our arrival here, local experts informed us that things were noticeably off. The rains had lingered longer than they should have. Patches of mud clung to the tires as we made our way into the bush, even though this was supposed to be dry season. The air was heavier than expected, and the usual rhythms of this famed place – particularly the Great Migration – were said to be scattered. The wildebeest, according to those who know this park intimately, were in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Elephants lingered near areas they typically avoided this time of year, while water pooled in places that should have been bone-dry.

We came to the Serengeti expecting to document wildlife, to see for ourselves one of Earth’s most incredible wonders. But we quickly realized we were witnessing something far more urgent. Climate change is so far away from a buzzword here. It is something extremely visible – shaping the land, shifting age-old migration patterns, and leaving the area’s experts with more questions than answers. Here, no one is afraid to talk about it.

The Serengeti, like so many parts of the world, is in a state of transition. This visit starkly illustrated that even Earth’s most legendary wilds are not immune to human impact.Spanning approximately 30,000 square kilometers across northern Tanzania and southwestern Kenya, the Serengeti is one of the last remaining strongholds of a truly wild, large-scale ecosystem. This region supports an extraordinary range of biodiversity – from the “Big Five” to over 500 species of birds, countless insect varieties, and even microorganisms that keep its ancient soils fertile. It is the only place where large-scale terrestrial migration still occurs with such size and consistency. But that balance has become increasingly unstable.

Confidence is needed to trek the bush alone in Tanzania. Photo: Adam Moore.

A critical artery within this ecosystem is the Mara River. Originating in Kenya’s highlands, the river cuts through the Serengeti before eventually feeding into Lake Victoria. It is the only perennial river in the northern Serengeti, and without it, the Great Migration as we know it would not be possible. Wildebeest, zebras, elephants, and predators all rely on this water source, particularly during the dry season. 

In recent years, however, the Mara River has become increasingly threatened. Prolonged droughts, paired with deforestation, agricultural expansion, and dam development in the upper basin, are dramatically reducing its flow and ecological function​. A weakened river disrupts migration paths, strains predator-prey dynamics, and jeopardizes the survival of species that depend on predictable water access​.

Rising temperatures and erratic rainfall are also shifting the patterns of life here. Once predictable seasonal cycles are now interrupted. Invasive plant species like Aspilia and Kakiweed now thrive unexpectedly, overtaking the native vegetation. Guides from the Elewana Collection, who champion sustainable tourism throughout Kenya and Tanzania, flagged concerns about how these changes might be affecting animals like elephants, who now forage plants we do not fully understand. But are they adjusting, or unknowingly consuming something harmful? The Serengeti is still breathtaking and powerful in presence. But underneath its beauty, the system is straining – and those who call this place home feel it every day.

The great migration. Photo: Adam Moore.

The Great Migration is often described as one of the most spectacular wildlife events on the planet. And we can safely say, the version we saw of it, certainly is. 

Over a million wildebeest, along with hundreds of thousands of zebras and antelope, move across the Serengeti and into Kenya’s Maasai Mara in search of water and grazing grounds. And the true scale is hard to grasp until you are dead in the center of it. Until dust rises from the plains as hooves stampede past, all because a cheetah and its cub are on the hunt. That is when you realize you are witnessing something ancient unfold in real time. But Elewana’s Pioneer Camp, sitting in the center of it all, could not help but admit that what we were seeing was a far cry from business as usual out here on the Serengeti. 

Instead of tracking north during the dry season, large groups lingered in the western corridor, pulled by unexpected, heavy rainfall and delayed dry conditions. Some herds made it to the Maasai Mara as they usually do, but once there, they did not stay long. They turned around almost as quickly as they arrived, backtracking in a way that left even seasoned guides lost and confused.

Angela Desdery, a guide with the Pioneer Camp, confirmed what we were seeing. She has spent the last few years observing these shifts up close – first as a porter on Kilimanjaro, and now as one of the few women guiding in the Serengeti. 

According to her, this is not a one-off fluke. Last year followed the same confusing pattern. Rainfall kept creeping into the dry months, throwing off the delicate cues that drive migration. The animals, she said, are clearly working to adapt. But it is apparent there is disorientation.

Meeting Angela Desdery at the Serengeti Pioneer Camp. Photo: Marla Tomorug.

When the timing of the migration changes, everything downstream changes too – literally and figuratively. Predators have to shift their hunting grounds. Calving season is disrupted. Grasslands are either overgrazed or left untouched. It is a cascading effect, and it is happening faster than the guides, wardens, rangers and conservationists here imagined. For all the science and satellite data in the world, there is no substitute for lived experience. The people who call this place a second home – those who spend their days in the bush, reading the land and tracking movement – are often the first to notice when something is changing and to what degree. Desdery could not help but emphasize the severity of it all. 

“Many of these environmental shifts are occurring in areas that are not immediately visible to visitors. While the presence of megafauna like elephants and lions might suggest a thriving ecosystem, a closer examination reveals the underlying issues,” she shared. She encouraged us to observe the subtler signs—the health of smaller species and their habitats – which often serve as early indicators of ecological imbalance. For instance, shifts in rainfall patterns can lead to changes in vegetation, directly impacting the availability of food and shelter for these smaller creatures. She went on to explain, “Such disruptions can create a butterfly effect through the food chain, which ultimately alters the entire ecosystem.”

Wildlife is equally resilient and fragile. Photo: Adam Moore

While the challenges facing the Serengeti are profound, they are not going unanswered. Local organizations and community-led initiatives are actively safeguarding these ecosystems. The Grumeti Fund, for example, manages over 350,000 acres in the western Serengeti and has successfully restored wildlife populations, including the critically endangered Eastern Black Rhinos. The Serengeti Preservation Foundation tackles conservation through education and media advocacy, equipping local voices with the tools to drive awareness and action from within. Meanwhile, individuals like Angela bridge conservation and tourism, inspiring visitors to appreciate-and protect this fragile ecosystem.

There is something humbling about standing in the middle of the Serengeti, knowing that a place this vast is shifting under the weight of modern pressures. It forces you to think about more than just the science or the statistics. It makes you think bigger – such as wondering how systems collapse, how they survive, and how much time we really have to course correct. What struck our team the most was the resilience of the place, even as it teeters on edge. The migration still happens, even if it is off-beat. The predators still adapt. The guides still lead, adjusting their knowledge to match a moving target. It is a living example of how nature tries to recalibrate when conditions change and pressure mounts. But that resilience has limits.

Angela at work, guiding our team to the edges.

The Serengeti showed us that adaptation is not the same as recovery. Just because wildlife still persists does not simply mean all is well. Just because a river has not dried completely does not mean it will not in time. These kinds of changes do not announce themselves with a single traumatic event. They arrive slowly – season by season, rainstorm by rainstorm – until one day you realize the ecosystems you once knew are not the same anymore. Or, in some cases, are not there at all.

For us, the Serengeti was a case study in urgency, making it clear that climate change isn’t something that might happen. It is already here. And it is altering some of the most iconic landscapes on the only planet we call home. It showed us how critical it is to amplify the voices of those living and working on the frontlines – because they are beyond speculation. They are presently observing and adapting. And these powerful voices are in many cases, the only thing standing between these irreplaceable wilds and their destruction.

Featured image: Adam Moore.

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This story is part of an editorial collaboration between Earth.Org and Edges of Earth Expedition, a team dedicated to uncovering powerful stories from the frontlines of the climate crisis. Leading the charge is Andi Cross –an expeditionist, impact strategist, writer, and SSI divemaster –who has spent over two years traveling the world, immersing herself in the realities of environmental change.

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