Produced by: Mohsin Shaikh
Credit: Nick Brandt/Courtesy of Hasted Kraeutler Gallery
Lake Natron’s red waters shimmer with life and death—flamingos dance above, while calcified corpses of birds and bats lie perfectly preserved below, as if frozen mid-flight.
With a pH nearing 10.5, Natron’s waters are as caustic as ammonia. A splash here can burn skin and blind eyes. For most life, it’s toxic. For some, it’s paradise.
Photographer Nick Brandt’s haunting portraits of calcified creatures line the lake's edge—bats mid-screech, birds frozen in their final flight, eerily intact, eerily silent.
Credit: Nick Brandt/Courtesy of Hasted Kraeutler Gallery
Despite the lake’s hostility, 75% of the world’s lesser flamingos hatch here. Tough legs, saline-proof skin, and algae-rich waters make this death lake a cradle of life.
Flamingos don’t just survive—they flourish, feeding on red-pigmented algae that turn the lake blood-like during drought. The visuals are surreal. The science, astonishing.
When water recedes, salt-loving haloarchaea explode in number—turning the lake’s surface into a surreal red-orange canvas only visible from the skies or space.
During dry seasons, crusty salt islands emerge—perfect for nesting. No predators. No intruders. Just sun, salt, and a secure cradle for the flamingos’ delicate eggs.
Sitting atop the East African Rift, Natron owes its chemistry to deep earth drama—volcanic flows infuse its waters with corrosive salts, turning it into a natural cauldron.
No one truly knows how the animals die. Do they misjudge the shimmering surface? Do fumes lure them to their end? The lake gives no answers—only statues of what once lived.
Credit: Nick Brandt/Courtesy of Hasted Kraeutler Gallery