I need to start this blog off with a little mention of a former Londolozi Ranger. Many of you will agree that as we go through life, there are a handful of people who just make our lives that much easier. We love and appreciate them because there is seldom any drama. They just get the job done, and more often than not, execute it superbly. Many of you will remember her for various reasons, whether having had her as your ranger, interacting with her during your stay, or simply having read a handful of her blogs over the years. Anyway, Robyn Morrison left Londolozi over a year ago, and I am certain that the blog community misses her incredible blogs, which always brought forth the most phenomenal topics, often on the slightly more scientific side of things, and for me, I was enamoured by them. Recently, I received a message from Head Ranger James Souchon:

So even though there was absolutely no obligation whatsoever, here is a pretty interesting read from Robyn and great to feature another slightly scientific blog by her.

Long before we lived our lives according to clocks, calendars and countdowns, we lived according to the moon, to seasons, and to the inherent clocks ticking within our biology. This idea isn’t something new to us, but what was personally new to me was discovering that there is a whole biological field dedicated to this! Welcome to the field of chronobiology.

A once-in-a-lifetime shot of the Xinkhova Female in a dead deadwood.

I recently came across an article titled Animal Clocks: When Science Meets Nature, written in 2013 and published in the National Library of Medicine. Now, I’m fully aware that I’m referencing something from over a decade ago, and by scientific standards, this is outdated by at least 9 years. But I always like to remind myself of a saying one of my favourite lecturers carved in my mind:

“Science may age, but curiosity doesn’t.”

And if there’s one thing the bush teaches you over and over again, it’s that insight is timeless.

At the core of this blog is the Circadian Rhythm: our brain’s 24-hour internal clock that regulates cycles of alertness and sleepiness by responding to the changes of light and dark in our environment. Chronobiology is the broader field of science that studies these biological rhythms and their impact on living organisms. It’s the science behind animal clocks. And when I say animal, I’m including us, too.

This field explains something we instinctively feel but don’t really question: that behaviour isn’t just reactive, it’s rhythmic. It’s not just that animals “choose” to act a certain way – often, they are synced to forces they can’t even perceive consciously. Moonlight, sunrise, shifting temperatures, the lengthening of shadows. These aren’t just details in a game drive; they’re actual biological cues triggering hormonal changes, behavioural shifts, and survival strategies.

Shortening day length triggers hormonal changes in the male impala, which give rise to the rutting/breeding season. 

Leopards can be used as a great example. We often describe them as crepuscular, meaning they’re most active at dawn and dusk. But why? It’s not part of a schedule that they plan out for their day ahead. It’s a pattern, shaped by millions of years of evolution, timed with the planet’s light/dark cycle.

Inside every leopard is a molecular clock, ticking in sync with the 24-hour day, preparing its body to move, hunt, digest, and rest at just the right times. Even a full moon can disrupt this. We’ve seen leopards hesitate under the moon that’s just a bit too bright, changing routes or delaying hunts because their usual blanket of darkness is no longer there.

The full moon started to rise as the sun set. Our stars aligned when she walked up onto a termite mound covered in muddy water perfectly in line with the rising moon. Something I had only dreamt of seeing.

Birds give us another beautiful case study. You might’ve noticed how certain species begin their dawn chorus even before the first glimmer of sun hits the horizon. That’s not an accident. Their internal clocks are sensitive to tiny changes in light, helping them claim territory or attract mates at a time others are still waking up. In my mind, it just seems like evolution is rewarding punctuality.

Insects? Even more fascinating. And this is an example where chronobiology goes beyond the 24-hour rhythms. There’s a species of fruit fly that adjusts its mating call based on the moon’s phase. Some dung beetles use the Milky Way to orient themselves at night. That’s crazy. A beetle, smaller than your thumb, is reading the stars like a compass.

And here’s what’s most wild about this – we’re not exempt. We’ve just shielded ourselves from nature’s clock. But no matter how hard we shield, it still ticks inside us. Jet lag, winter blues (Seasonal Affective Disorder), and that feeling of restlessness when the seasons shift, all signs that we are also ruled by an internal clock shaped by the Earth’s spin and tilt.

The researchers in Animal Clocks argue that to truly understand chronobiology, we need to leave the lab and head into nature. Because the real rhythms – the unpredictable ones, the ones that are interrupted by drought or predator presence or amplified by moonlight – don’t happen under fluorescent lighting. They happen in places like this.

I’ve always loved the idea that being in the bush slows you down. But maybe it doesn’t slow you down. Maybe it just helps you sync back up. To remember that we are wild animals too, wired for rhythms, quietly responding to cues that the modern world has tried to muffle. And when we spend enough time out in the bush – waking up with the sun, eating when we’re hungry, moving with the heat, resting with the dark – we’re syncing back into something inherent within us, something that was never really gone.