WOW!! This particular afternoon took a very quick turn.

Driving out of Pioneer camp, we felt like we had to make the mandatory stop at the waterhole that is pretty much unavoidable when driving out of camp. With the weather heating up, we thought we might bump into some animals coming down for a drink. To our surprise, there stood a lonely male hippo grazing on the opposite bank, and not just any hippo but a massive bull. Suddenly, his grazing came to an abrupt halt, and he lifted his head and disappeared into the thicket. Something felt wrong.

For myself, the scarring on a hippo is a symbol of the strength that is tried and tested behind closed doors daily by these amazing animals. They are stories of triumph and defeat.

To try to follow him, we looped around the waterhole only to find his tracks had already crossed the road. He was moving quickly. Tracker Freddy knew where he was heading; we looped yet again to another waterhole. When we arrived, the waterhole was already full of hippos. A relaxed pod lounged shoulder to shoulder, grunting softly, the surface broken only by blinking eyes and twitching ears. It looked peaceful. The kind of scene you expect to see when getting to a waterhole.

Then the water exploded.

The big bull hippo came crashing over the dam wall and into the water. Sending a wave across the surface as if to announce himself. His arrival was violent and purposeful. This was not going to be an ordinary bath. After analysing his surroundings, he swam with intent straight toward the centre of the pod.

The first of many collisions of these two hippos happened across the water, near the other side of the waterhole. A brief look at the power both animals possess.

Among the group was a much younger male hippo. Still bold and reckless, far too confident for his own good. We had been watching him posturing and nudging the females, flirting in that awkward teenage way, completely unaware that the rightful owner of this harem was already back in the room. As the ripples from the big male spread across the pan, tracker Freddy’s next words of wisdom were whispered across the vehicle: “Get your cameras ready”!

The water went flat. An awkward stillness rose in what was becoming a very intense moment. For about thirty seconds, nothing happened. The young male’s head popped out of the water. The tension could be cut with a knife. Then the water erupted. Over two tons of muscle burst from the pan as the big bull lunged at the youngster. Mouths opened wider than you think nature should allow, exposing their impressive canines, only used for fighting and defence. They collide with each other on numerous occasions. The big male had made it clear, the youngster had overstepped the boundaries and was now going to pay.

As the fight continued, it was obvious the challenger was a lot smaller than the big, dominant bull that had returned to his harem. Had he bitten off more than he could chew?

For the next 30 minutes, we watched this bout continue. The young male would sneak away only to be tracked down in the water and attacked again. The two of them would burst out of the water, mouths open, teeth baring as if two giants had decided to wage war on each other. Surprisingly, the young male retaliated with a lot of courage, meeting the bull head-on. The once peaceful waterhole was churned to froth.

The tusk-like canines and incisors of a hippo are only used for self-defence and fighting. Constantly sharpened by the abrasion with the pair on the opposite jaw, and can easily penetrate the 6cm thick hide of any contender.

Every charge from the bull was deliberate and heavy. The young male still had some firepower in the tank, but by the 20-minute mark, he was starting to slow. His movements became shorter and more desperate until finally the message got through. After one last collision, the young male turned away and retreated to the far end of the waterhole. He sat there, defeated. In the meantime, the dominant male had returned to his harem and now rested peacefully with the pod.

In this photo, the size difference of these two males is obvious, with the head of the smaller contender nearly fitting entirely in the mouth of the dominant male hippo.

The chaos in the waterhole dissolved as quickly as it had begun.  We sat in silence, cameras still raised and hearts still racing. It felt as though we had just witnessed a private moment in the hidden life of hippos. These amazing animals are often dismissed as lazy water dwellers, but this sighting proved every bit of that sentence wrong. To witness the raw power of such a magnificent beast is rare to see, and this is an afternoon I’m going to remember for a very long time.

The mouth of a hippo can open to nearly 180 degrees, allowing those sharp canines and incisors to be exposed during battle. The force of this hippo nearly popped the entire body of the smaller hippo out of the water before he turned and retreated to the far end of the waterhole.

It’s important to remember this was not about aggression for the sake of it. It was about territory, about breeding rights and most importantly about survival. As gruesome as encounters like this are, it is life out in the bush. In the hippo world, strength is not just shown; it is tried and tested and often defended violently.

And remember that lonely bull the afternoon started with? He was not lost; he was on his way to reclaim what was his.