The spot lamp sweeps across the track as the Land Rover trundles forward, kicking up the unmistakable scent of the African bush at night. That pool of light reveals fleeting flashes of mopane and acacia trees, gently swaying grass, the sluggish ripples of the Lubi River. I peer into the inky black, thirsty for telltale twin pinpricks.
Suddenly a pair of green-yellow spots appears overhead, a glimpse of mottled fur. Genet? No – the eyes are too far apart. Cutting the engine, we sigh to a halt.
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The spotter angles his beam near those unblinking sparks – and there, lounging on the branch, paws dangling louchely like the supermodel she is: leopard. Her eyes remain fixed on us – not baleful, not wary, just supremely at home in the night. Eventually, I remember to breathe.
Encountering such a creature in the wild – I met that magnificent predator in Zambia’s South Luangwa National Park – is electrifying enough during the day. When darkness falls, the sensation is magnified exponentially.
Perhaps you’ve experienced a jolt as a deer, startled by your headlights, leaps off the road ahead. Or tracked the flicker of bats’ gossamer wings overhead. Or staked out a badger sett, watching the pied mammal snuffle out for its nightly foraging foray.
If so, you’ll recognise that watching – or, often, hearing – wildlife after sundown means entering another, thrillingly unfamiliar world. It’s a world nature-lovers are increasingly keen to explore.
What is noctourism?
‘Noctourism’ is a burgeoning trend: a 2024 Booking.com survey of people from 33 countries suggested that 62 per cent considered visiting darker-sky destinations. Astrotourism – eclipse-chasing, tracking meteor showers, viewing the aurora – is booming.
But while many travellers head to the 230-plus dark sky places designated by DarkSky International for stargazing experiences, others yearn to watch nocturnal and crepuscular wildlife – of which there’s an astonishing diversity.
Which animals can you see at night?
That includes around 69 per cent of all mammals. Some two-thirds of invertebrates, too, are partially or wholly nocturnal, often performing vital ecosystem functions: moths exploiting night-flowering plants are more efficient pollinators than bees.
A smaller but sizeable proportion of birds are active after dark: more than 200 species of owl, of course, plus nightjars, frogmouths, potoos, night herons and New Zealand’s totemic kiwis, whose bills are equipped with nostrils at the tip, plus sensory pits detecting vibrations from invertebrate prey in the soil.
Many amphibians and reptiles avoid the dehydrating heat and increased predation risk of daylight. Geckos snaffle invertebrates after dusk, while frogs and toads undertake migrations to ancestral breeding ponds.
Six of the seven species of sea turtle typically haul out on to beaches to dig nests and lay eggs at night, five of them in Costa Rica. The periodic arribada (mass arrival) of olive ridley turtles at Ostional is an extraordinary spectacle.
The desire to witness such behaviours and little-seen species is one factor behind the boom in nocturnal wildlife watching.
Why is noctourism so popular?
“In the past five years or so, the number of people wanting to get out at night to seek rare mammals has grown,” reports Tom Mabbett, operations manager at Naturetrek. “For example, this year we’re running seven departures of our trip to Deramakot Forest Reserve in Sabah, Malaysian Borneo, where we spend hours each night searching for elusive mammals including the Sunda clouded leopard.”
It’s not just about novelty, though. “Without being able to rely on your sight, your other senses are heightened,” says Justin Francis of Responsible Travel.
“You become more aware of your vulnerability in the landscape, and more in tune with the smells and sounds of the wilderness around you.”
Ian Loyd, product manager and tour leader at Wildlife Worldwide and The Travelling Naturalist, agrees. “Nighttime wildlife watching is a hugely immersive experience. You’re so much more focused, and there is less distraction, so you pick up on the calls of owls, rustling in the bushes, eyeshine. It provides a very special and exciting window into the wild world.”
It’s also an undeniably primal thrill. “I joined an expert guide for wolf trekking in Italy’s Apennines,” recalls Megan Eaves-Egenes, author of Nightfaring: In Search of the Disappearing Darkness.
“In the pre-dawn hours we heard wolves howling. They were several miles away, but the sound just filled the valley like an ambulance siren – incredibly loud. It was a powerful reminder of why being outside after dark sparks fear, an ancient response from the days when humans weren’t predators but prey.”
Indeed, research has shown that humans are innately prone to more intense fear at night. It seems that light suppresses activity in the amygdala – the brain’s ‘fear centre’ – which prompts our fight or flight responses. So it’s not surprising that nocturnal encounters, especially with predators, are more spine-tingling.
Adaptations of nocturnal animals
Unlike diurnal humans, nocturnal creatures have evolved diverse adaptations to thrive in darkness. Some have large eyes, equipped with many rods (photoreceptors detecting light, crucial for vision in dim conditions) but fewer cones detecting colours.
A reflective layer called the tapetum lucidum behind the retina increases light sensitivity, and produces the eyeshine so helpful when spotlighting lions and leopards, crocodiles, owls and spiders on a night safari.
Bats, of course, use sonar to hunt and navigate in darkness. Pit vipers and other snake species have sensors detecting infra-red radiation, a little like thermal imaging. Raccoons have extremely sensitive and dexterous ‘fingers’, digits used to explore and identify food objects at night. Spiders sense vibrations of potential prey caught in webs.
Other adaptations are more photogenic. A number of nocturnal insects, as well as fish, crustaceans, molluscs and jellyfish living in gloomy ocean depths, create bioluminescence by synthesising or absorbing luciferins – molecules that react with oxygen to produce light. The results can be magical: fireflies flashing across a meadow to attract mates, for example.
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In Waitomo Caves, New Zealand, ‘black-water rafting’ sees visitors floating beneath constellations of glow-worms – actually the larvae of fungus gnats luring invertebrate prey.
Then there’s the ethereal light show produced by tiny dinoflagellates in a few enchanted spots – perhaps most famously Mosquito Bay on Vieques, Puerto Rico, cited as the brightest bioluminescent bay in Guinness World Records. It’s best experienced aboard a kayak, leaving a wake of incandescent ripples.
On land or at sea
Aquatic nocturnal experiences are among the most memorable. Snorkellers and scuba divers meet a new cast of submarine characters at night, when many species venture out to feed and breed.
Various sharks – night, zebra, whitetip reef – are typically nocturnal: the heart-in-mouth lurch as a razor-toothed torpedo flashes though your torch beam is indescribable. Dive Australia’s Great Barrier Reef on the right night and you might also find yourself enveloped by a blizzard of coral eggs and sperm, produced in mass spawning events after a full moon, usually in the austral spring (October to December).
On land, activities may be determined by the presence or absence of large predators. In East and Southern Africa, night drives are the norm, showcasing lions and leopards as well as genets, civets, caracals, porcupines and honey badgers, and occasionally yielding coveted sightings of pangolins, aardvarks or aardwolves.
Across the Atlantic in Brazil’s Pantanal, the world’s largest tropical wetland region, vehicle safaris seek out jaguars, ocelots, giant anteaters, tamanduas and armadillos.
Walking safaris augment night drives in destinations such as Sri Lanka, where the focus is typically on observing unique behaviours of smaller cats.
“On a recent visit, we found a big male fishing cat that started hunting as we watched, using a red-filtered light to avoid disturbing him,” recalls Ian. “He slunk down to the edge of a small water body, and began tapping gently on the surface – mimicking an insect in order to attract fish, which he plucked out and ate.”
Night walks in Costa Rica’s cloud forest, where around four-fifths of animal inhabitants are nocturnal, might yield sightings of kinkajous – the arboreal ‘honey bears’ that use their long, slender tongues to lick nectar from flowers – sloths and toucans, as well as snakes, insects and spiders.
Madagascar is another destination with a substantial proportion of night-active species, including the world’s smallest primate, Madame Berthe’s mouse lemur; the Malagasy giant jumping rat – another Critically Endangered creature; and the eerie, bat-eared aye-aye, a large lemur that uses its skeletal middle finger to extract larvae from wood.
It’s possible to watch nocturnal wildlife without moving at all. Hides in Sweden and Finland are equipped for overnight observation of brown bears, with wolf or wolverine occasional bonus sightings.
And a number of high-end African camps offer ‘star beds’, with only a mosquito net between you and the Milky Way. (Fear not: they’re set on platforms safe from predators, often overlooking water holes for watching animals coming to drink.)
Technological advances are improving prospects of spotting camouflaged and coy animals. “Thermal-imaging cameras and scopes can be game-changing, particularly for finding small animals in open landscapes – African grasslands, open woodland, wetlands, steppe and mountain habitats,” enthuses Ian.
“It might be a nightjar roosting on the ground, or a small cat stalking a wetland that you could easily miss scanning the landscape with a torch: they’re so cryptic and, if they’re not moving, you won’t pick up eyeshine.”
Ecotourism and conservation
This kind of tourism can benefit conservation, addressing the fact that nocturnal animals are, by their nature, typically less evident, so they – and their habitats – may receive less protection.
“A lot of these species don’t attract as much conservation funding and awareness,” says Ian. “Noctourism can help. For example, South Africa’s Karoo is a great destination for elusive insectivorous species such as the aardwolf and aardvark. It’s largely used for sheep farming and, until quite recently, even smaller predators such as caracals were persecuted.
“The rise in ecotourism, particularly targeting these nocturnal species, has led some farmers to recognise the value of protecting these animals. Caracal numbers are reportedly increasing, and more land is being given over to nature.”
There’s a balance to be struck, of course. “Tourism can be hugely beneficial, funding rangers, research and ongoing conservation work,” notes Justin.
“But it will also have impacts on wildlife, particularly disturbance – arguably more so at night when many animals are hunting, seeking water and, in busier reserves, enjoying quiet after daytime safari trucks have dispersed. Choosing a responsible safari with a local guide who understands wildlife behaviour intimately is essential to minimise disturbance and maximise the conservation benefits.”
Also, consider your individual actions. Don’t shine bright lights directly at an animal with sensitive night vision – you could temporarily blind it, reducing its ability to hunt or evade predation. Point the beam a little to one side. Using red or orange-yellow filters reduces negative impacts.
And turn off your camera’s flash, instead increasing the ISO. Train yourself to develop awareness and confidence in this unfamiliar environment.
“Many of us, especially women, are taught to fear being outside at night,” says Megan. “We need to learn to enjoy it. Thanks to smartphones, we’re even more vision-focused than ever. So take some deep breaths, relax, be quiet. Allow about 20 minutes in darkness for your eyes to adjust, and focus on your other senses: listen, smell, discover things that you wouldn’t otherwise notice. It’s relearning to use those senses that reward us with unique wildlife experiences.”
