The Wild Edit / 01.5
When Safari Does More Harm / Than Good
12 Minute Read
Few experiences haunt seasoned safari professionals more than those where human interference turns majestic wildlife encounters into harmful spectacles. Safari tourism is indispensable for funding conservation and keeping Africa’s wild places economically viable for their respective countries, yet it can too easily tip into degradation with sometimes fatal consequences. A string of recent incidents underscore how social media, a lack of respect and generally deplorable behavior is a lose-lose for both the safari industry and wildlife.
Leopard On The Roof
In March 2025, visitors in South Africa’s Kruger National Park were stunned when a curious young leopard leapt onto the front of a safari vehicle operated by Hoyo Hoyo Safari Lodge. The guide and guests remained unnervingly calm, taking photos of the two-year-old leopard just inches away. While the video of this encounter went viral as an “exceptionally rare” thrill, many wildlife experts were alarmed. The lodge acknowledged the danger, noting it’s “not a scenario we would ever wish to see repeated”. Critics argued the guide should have gently deterred the leopard by starting the engine or making noise rather than allow it to climb on the vehicle.
Such restraint, though less “Instagrammable,” would prevent habituating a wild cat to close human contact. When predators lose their natural fear of humans, it crosses a dangerous threshold. A habituated “problem animal” that approaches humans can ultimately face euthanasia for public safety. In this case, the guide’s composure kept everyone safe in the moment, but the long-term cost of that wow moment may be a leopard that no longer sees human beings as a threat, which could lead to a potentially tragic outcome for the animal.
The Great Migration Traffic Jam
In July 2025, veteran guide Nick Kleer witnessed an unsettling scene during the Great Migration in Tanzania’s Serengeti. More than 150 safari vehicles had swarmed a single Mara River crossing point, essentially encircling a wildebeest herd. The animals, unsure where to cross amid the sea of Land Cruisers, grew confused and panicked as drivers jockeyed for the best view. According to Kleer, vehicles blocked the herd’s traditional pathways so completely that many wildebeest couldn’t find a way through. Tourists even got out of cars and crowded the riverbank for closer shots, further alarming the herd. “It was total chaos,” Kleer said of the scene, describing how some wildebeests turned back while others were pushed to jump off cliffs, resulting in injuries and deaths. He posted a video of the traffic jam in outrage, calling it “disgraceful,” and the internet agreed.
Conservationists and safari professionals likened the tourists’ frenzy for the perfect photo to “trophy hunting with cameras,” as vehicles essentially hunted for the best shot at the expense of the animals’ welfare. The comparison isn’t that much of a stretch when dozens of land cruisers chase a crossing, tearing up riverbanks and stressing wildlife. The public outcry after this incident forced the safari industry to confront an uncomfortable truth: overtourism is threatening East Africa’s most iconic wildlife spectacle.
Migration Mara Edition: Humans On Foot
This problem has not been confined to vehicles. Similar misbehavior has been reported across the border in Kenya’s Maasai Mara, where a few tourists (and even guides) where literally stepping out of their vehicles during river crossings. A viral video in 2025 captured tourists leaping from safari vehicles and clustering on the Mara riverbank, obstructing migrating wildebeest and putting themselves in danger. In one clip at the Purungat Bridge area, people on foot essentially became a human wall that blocked the herd’s path.
The results were as expected: migration routes disrupted, animals stressed and confused, and the sanctity of this natural spectacle utterly lost. The backlash was swift. Wildlife authorities condemned the behavior, reminding the public that leaving vehicles in such situations is strictly prohibited. In Tanzania, park rangers at a Kogatende crossing raced in to order tourists back into their vehicles when a similar scene unfolded. The Tanzania National Parks Authority even identified the offending vehicles and promised disciplinary action against the guides responsible. The Tanzania Association of Tour Operators (TATO) called the incident a “serious breach of ethics…violat[ing] the Safari Guide Code,” noting that such conduct “does not reflect” Tanzania’s standards.
These incidents reinforced a key point: when tourists literally insert themselves into wildlife dramas, it imperils animals and people alike. Trampled young, separated herds, or defensive attacks are very real risks. It’s telling that Nick Kleer (who filmed the Serengeti chaos) lamented that when guides allow crowds to swarm on foot, “the herds panic. Some scatter, others leap from cliffs… It causes chaos, injuries and unnecessary deaths.
Such interference doesn’t just endanger wildlife in the moment; it also erodes a park’s reputation as a wild, unspoiled destination. Tourists come for an authentic wilderness experience, not a circus of people chasing animals. Thankfully, Kenya appears to be heeding these warnings. Mara Reserve officials have reportedly stepped up enforcement, with rangers and tour operators cooperating to prevent more of these “dramatic scenes”. Hopefully better management and guide training can restore respect at these crossings, even if fueled by bad publicity.
Cheetah Claws Guide & Vehicle
Not all boundary-crossing encounters are as obviously chaotic. Sometimes they masquerade as “magical” intimate moments, prompting an even more insidious ethical lapse. Recently, footage from Zambia’s remote Busanga Plains (in Kafue National Park) showed a young cheetah approaching a parked safari vehicle. The cat playfully clawed at the guide’s poncho dangling from the side and then, with a burst of curiosity, leapt onto the vehicle’s roof. What could have been a brief, teachable moment in keeping distance instead turned into a social media post.
The guide had ample opportunity to gently reverse and increase the space, or to shoo the cheetah off for everyone’s safety. Instead, everyone kept filming as the cheetah made itself at home on the hood. The video inevitably found its way to Instagram and Facebook, framed as a heartwarming first encounter for the young cheetah, having “never seen a vehicle” before. Yet many safari veterans felt it was a textbook example of what not to do. Allowing a big cat (even a curious subadult cheetah) to climb on a vehicle habituates it to humans and vehicles, undermining its natural wariness.
If that cheetah grows accustomed to hopping on safari cars, future visitors could be at risk and the cheetah could be branded a problem animal. As one conservation-minded guide noted, if you’re busy looking at wildlife through a phone screen rather than keeping a respectful distance, “you are not in control. And, if something goes wrong, the animal pays the price”. In this Busanga case, nothing “went wrong” in the moment, but the decision to prioritize viral content over ethics crossed a line.
Beer For An Elephant
Perhaps the most egregious recent example of safari misbehavior came not from a guide, but a tourist in Kenya who treated a wild animal like a drinking buddy. In the now-deleted video that surfaced in August 2025, a Spanish visitor (Instagram handle @Skydive_Kenya) is seen at Ol Jogi Wildlife Conservancy in Laikipia, offering his beer to a friendly bull elephant. The man cheerfully sips from a can of Tusker (a popular Kenyan lager) then pours the remaining beer down the elephant’s trunk. He even quipped in his caption about sharing a Tusker with a tusked friend.
The footage, originally filmed in 2024, sparked immediate outrage online and was quickly deleted, but by then it had spread widely (and resurfaced a year later to renewed anger). Conservationists and the Kenyan public were appalled at the blatant disrespect and risk in the stunt. Ol Jogi Conservancy staff responded with a rare public statement: “This behavior is unacceptable, dangerous, and completely against our values,” they wrote, confirming the tourist’s actions had been dealt with internally. The elephant in question, a mature bull named Bupa who has lived under protection at Ol Jogi for years, was unharmed. But as an Ol Jogi spokesperson told the BBC, “We can’t allow that to happen… We don’t even allow people to go near the elephants.”
In other words, this tourist had to violate multiple rules (and common sense) to execute his “prank.” Kenya Wildlife Service opened an investigation to identify the man behind the since-deleted posts, and social media users called for him to be fined, deported, and banned from all wildlife areas. Troublingly, this was not an isolated lapse for the individual and his Instagram account showed videos of close encounters with other wild animals, including feeding carrots to a rhinoceros at Ol Pejeta Conservancy (another violation of park rules). This incident lays bare a sobering reality: in the quest for viral travel content, some tourists are not just bending the rules, but shattering them.
Giving an elephant beer might seem ridiculous or funny to a clueless onlooker, but it underscores a deeper issue of entitlement and ignorance. Wild animals are not props or pets; treating them as such puts both the animals and people in peril. Moreover, it tarnishes the hard-won trust conservancies have built with local wildlife. As Ol Jogi emphasized, Bupa is a habituated elephant “cared for closely… as an ambassador” for conservation. Such animals allow people a wondrous glimpse of nature, but that trust can be easily abused. One stupid stunt can undo years of careful community wildlife coexistence efforts.
Why These Incidents Hurt Conservation - And The Industry
At their best, safaris are opportunities for humbling observation; they are respectful, quiet, and profoundly moving. However, when the lines blur between observing and intruding, the consequences ripple far beyond a single viral post. Why do these incidents spark such fury among conservationists and responsible safari operators? Because they undermine the very ethic that keeps wildlife safe and wild.
When a leopard or cheetah is allowed (or enticed) to climb on vehicles, or when elephants are hand-fed by tourists, those animals begin to associate people with treats or harmless curiosity. It might create “cool” selfies today, but it dramatically heightens the risk of future conflict. A wild animal that approaches humans or settlements looking for food or attention is likely to be labeled a threat. Ultimately, it’s the animal that pays, often with its life. No photo op is worth turning a majestic creature into a problem statistic.
The wildebeest migration is a prime example that crowding or cutting off migration corridors doesn’t just inconvenience the animals; it can cause trampling, drownings, or orphaned young that get separated in the chaos. In the Mara and Serengeti, panicked herds have literally jumped off cliffs or missed critical crossings due to vehicle blockades. These are avoidable tragedies. Moreover, constant harassment can alter wildlife habits. Big cats may abandon kills if too many vehicles swarm, or change hunting times. Elephants harassed by crowds might avoid certain waterholes. Over time, these changes degrade the ecosystem’s health. A pack of wild dogs abandoned their den in Mana Pools a few years ago, disturbed by too many visitors in close proximity. All of the puppies died.
Perhaps one of the most damaging effects is how these viral spectacles redefine what tourists expect from a safari. The more that sensational, up-close encounters are glorified online, the more future guests come to demand them. Patience, distance, and respect start to seem “boring” by comparison. This creates a destructive feedback loop: guides face pressure to deliver ever-more thrilling interactions, which leads to rule-bending and risk-taking, which then normalizes the behavior for viewers back home. The cycle erodes safari etiquette from both ends. As veteran guide Adam Bannister observed, “Wildlife appreciation used to be quiet reverence… Now, for some, it has morphed into ‘look at me’” content creation. In chasing dramatic selfies, we cheapen the experience and forget the true wonder of watching animals simply be themselves.
In short, these incidents don’t just endanger individual animals or tourists in the moment. They chip away at the entire foundation of conservation tourism. If safaris lose their meaning and become a free-for-all of daredevils, wildlife loses its sanctuary and its dignity. The stakes are incredibly high, and everyone from local guides to international travelers has a role in upholding the unwritten contract of safari: to enter, witness, and depart without leaving a trace.
The Social Media Dilemma: Likes Over Life
It’s impossible to examine this issue without discussing the role of social media. Nearly every example above was amplified by platforms like Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, or YouTube, with even safari operators being the original posters of content in some instances. On one hand, social media outrage has helped expose bad behavior (the Serengeti traffic jam and the beer-to-elephant video might never have been addressed so decisively without public pressure online). On the other hand, the drive to create viral content is clearly fueling much of the misbehavior in the first place. We are living in an era of safari “influencers” and viral tour guides, where the temptation to capture extreme wildlife encounters on camera is leading some to manufacture those moments at any cost.
Social media algorithms reward spectacle over substance: the craziest footage gets the most likes and shares. As a result, a subset of tour guides, tourists, and content creators are essentially competing in a dangerous popularity contest out in the bush. Bannister, a longtime guide and author, put it bluntly: “We are witnessing a shift where the image has become more important than the animal”. In fact, in some cases the image of actually getting the shot (think selfies with massive camera on foot with lions) becomes the real trophy, above even the wildlife photo itself. This mindset is warping priorities in the field. Increasingly, “the loudest, boldest and most outrageous content wins. The losers, inevitably, are the animals.”
Consider the “guide influencers” who have sprung up: charismatic private safari guides with huge online followings, who promise their guests an up-close, cinematic adventure. Many are excellent naturalists and storytellers, but a troubling number have drifted into performative antics. Local camp guides often complain that these visiting stars push them to bend rules: drive closer, stay longer, or maybe let the client hop out for a low-angle shot. Local guides are put in a difficult position, feeling they often can’t say “no” to these big names with big followings lest they risk their own reputation or that of the company they work for. In the end, the influencer-guide gets their dramatic footage, the tourist gets a thrill and the wildlife gets stressed. Meanwhile, the millions of social media viewers see this and think it’s normal or acceptable to, say, crouch next to a cheetah or park in the middle of a stampeding herd.
The responsibility here isn’t only on the individuals, but also on the platforms and the broader audience. Social media companies have community standards, but content that endangers wildlife doesn’t typically violate policies and often slips through. There is no easy algorithm to flag “this safari video was unethical.” Thus, it falls to the community: ethical tour operators, guides, travelers, and armchair enthusiasts call out bad behavior and refuse to glorify it with likes. Encouragingly, that’s starting to happen.
We’ve seen photographers and guides publicly shame peers for breaking rules. In the wake of these viral incidents, many commenters emphatically side with the animals, not the content-makers, demanding sanctions and change. Social media can be a megaphone for either vanity or accountability. The safari industry must nudge it toward the latter and use these platforms to educate and inspire respect, rather than as highlight reels of the most extreme, ill-advised encounters.
Reinforcing Ethics
The silver lining to these controversies is the opportunity for the safari industry to reaffirm its core ethic of respect. Money and marketing may fuel the safari business, but without wildlife welfare, there is no product left to sell. The responsibility to put wildlife first shouldn’t rest on individual guides’ shoulders alone. Safari operators, travel consultants, and even guests each have a role in restoring balance.
Tour operators can unite to present a unified front: wildlife well-being is simply non-negotiable. Marketing teams can help by painting an honest picture of safari, one that celebrates respect over reckless proximity. And travelers themselves, once aware, often become the strongest advocates for responsible behavior. After all, anyone drawn to see wild lions or elephants surely wants those animals to thrive in the wild, not in captivity or conflict. In the end, a safari should not be judged by how close we got, but by how deeply we understood and respected what we saw.
Staff must also be equipped with the confidence and authority to say no when guests push boundaries. That means formal training in how to manage difficult requests, and, more importantly, a guarantee that guides will be backed by their companies when they put the welfare of wildlife first. Too often, guides are left to carry the weight of guest expectations alone. No one should risk their job because they chose ethics over entertainment.
What happens in the bush is only half the story. The other half unfolds behind the scenes: how safaris are marketed, sold, and framed for the world. Here lies a responsibility as great as any field protocol: the responsibility to tell the story of safari truthfully, ethically, and with wildlife at the center.
And so, marketing departments must get on board too. The responsibility is on all of us in the industry to be voices for the voiceless, even when faced with demanding guests or competitive pressures. Guides on the ground should never feel alone in enforcing ethics and they need the full weight of their employers, colleagues, and governing bodies backing them up. When faced with the choice, social media managers should opt to not share sensational footage that promotes irresponsible behavior or dangerous interactions. Instead, marketing can highlight the awe of observing natural behavior from a respectful distance. Selling a safari should come with the honest caveat that it’s unscripted and not a zoo, and that is precisely why it’s worth experiencing.
Safari-goers, especially first-timers, often simply don’t know what’s acceptable and what’s not. It’s our duty as industry professionals to teach them. Social media literacy is part of education too, perhaps a gentle ask that, if guests do take videos, they share them responsibly (no glorifying dangerous behavior). Context matters and many travelers are eager to do the right thing once they know what that is. Not every visitor arrives with a deep understanding of animal behavior or conservation; that’s why they’re with us. By the end of their safari, they should not only have seen amazing animals, but also leave as ambassadors for those animals.
As we’ve written in The Wild Edit Follower Count Doesn’t Matter, building real community is far more valuable than chasing vanity metrics. Viral wildlife clips spread fast because they are the exception, not the rule. But chasing virality doesn’t create guests who care about conservation or communities. It attracts fleeting followers who vanish as soon as the next extraordinary clip fails to appear. Worse, it rewards and normalizes behavior that should never be encouraged in the first place.
This is why marketing and social media teams hold so much power. They set expectations long before a guest ever lands. If we portray safari as a string of too-up-close-and-personal encounters, guests will arrive expecting them and may pressure guides to deliver. But if we frame safari as the unscripted experience it truly is, guests learn to value patience, distance, and respect. Every post, caption, and brochure is an opportunity to educate: to explain why some moments should never happen, and why restraint is itself an act of reverence.
Fortunately, the spotlight on the recent migration chaos in the Serengeti and Maasai Mara has prompted tangible change. Both Tanzanian and Kenyan park authorities have stepped up enforcement, promising fines, penalties, and stricter vehicle limits in response to the public outcry. This is progress, but it cannot rest solely on the shoulders of governments and rangers. The responsibility belongs to everyone who touches this industry, from lodge owners to marketing managers, from frontline guides to international agents.
The truth is simple: safari depends on wildlife, and wildlife depends on our restraint. If we sell safari as spectacle, we risk losing both. But if we market and manage it as it should be, ethical, respectful, and conservation and community focused, we protect not only the animals and the humans, but also the soul of safari itself.
