Meet BadBoy: My Best Friend, the Ostrich Who Does Whatever He Wants

From the dunes of Erg Lihoudi, this is entry #3 of Rmyla's Dune Diaries.

BadBoy is an ostrich. He is approximately 2.5 meters tall, built like a feathered freight train, and moves across the dunes of the Moroccan Sahara at speeds that will make you reconsider everything you think you know about birds. He is also the funniest person I know in this desert, and I know this desert well.

He is my best friend.

Baba has known him for years. BadBoy has been wandering the dunes of Erg Lihoudi long before Arawan had its name - before most of the Morocco tours passing through M'hamid knew this part of the Sahara was so exciting. He's decided, at some point, that Salem (Baba) is acceptable company. This is not something he has decided about most humans. BadBoy makes his own rules about who he likes.

He likes me. I've decided not to question it and simply accept that I have excellent taste in friends.

What He Actually Is

Before I tell you the funny parts, let me tell you the true parts, because guests sometimes confuse friendly with safe, and these are not the same thing.

BadBoy is a North African ostrich living wild in the Sahara desert outside M'hamid El Ghizlane. He is not a pet. He is not a prop. He is not something you feed or approach for a photo without understanding what you are approaching. An ostrich can run 70 kilometers an hour and their kick has ended things larger than a human. Nobody messes with BadBoy. Not the other animals out here in Erg Lihoudi. Not the wind. Nobody.

When I go out on desert safari with guests — riding the Amazigh Express alongside the jeep as we move through the dunes south of M'hamid — and BadBoy appears on the horizon, I watch people's faces. The size registers first. Then the speed. Then the silence of how he moves, how something that large can cross the Saharan sand like that, long legs eating up distance in a rhythm that looks effortless and wrong at the same time.

The desert makes him make sense. Out here in Erg Lihoudi, he is exactly what he is supposed to be.

That's the part worth seeing. That's the part no Morocco tour itinerary can really prepare you for.

When he comes close, Baba and I always remind guests: keep your distance, don't reach out, absolutely do not attempt to feed him. He is wild. He is confident. He does not need your snack.

The Part Where He Shows Up at the Picnic

Sometimes he roams past camp from the direction of the open desert just to say hello. No particular reason. He comes through Arawan's stretch of Erg Lihoudi, I see him, we acknowledge each other the way old friends do, and then he continues on his route like he had somewhere important to be.

But the best BadBoy moments — the ones that guests are still talking about on the drive back toward M'hamid and Tagounite — are the picnics.

We hold desert picnics out in the dunes of Erg Lihoudi. Blankets spread on the Saharan sand, lanterns lit, food laid out, music playing. It's one of the best things Arawan does, and it's one of those experiences that sets a real Moroccan desert camp apart from anything on a standard Morocco tour. The sky, the sand, the sound. Guests settle in. They relax in the way that only happens when you are genuinely far from everything else.

And then BadBoy arrives.

He doesn't announce himself. He simply appears at the edge of the picnic like he received an invitation no one remembers sending. He looks at the food. He looks at the people. He looks at me. He makes a decision.

He sits down.

When the music plays, BadBoy siestas. Not anxiously. Not briefly. He settles in with the full commitment of someone who has decided this is where he will be for the foreseeable future, eyes half-closed, the Sahara wind moving through his feathers, completely unbothered by the humans around him who are now laughing too hard to eat.

He does this regularly. We have not figured out how he knows when a picnic is happening. I have my theories, but they are mine.

What He Actually Teaches You

People come to the Sahara desert for many reasons. To disconnect. To see stars that are actually visible. To understand a landscape that does not negotiate with you.

There are Morocco tours that will take you through M'hamid, past Tagounite, through the edges of Erg Lihoudi, and back out again in a day. You will see the dunes. You will take the photos. And then you will leave without ever really understanding what lives out here.

BadBoy teaches something specific: that this desert belongs to the things that know it. He has been roaming Erg Lihoudi longer than the camp has had its name. He will be here after every guest goes home. He moves through the Sahara the way Baba moves through it — with the authority of someone who learned it from the inside out, the Amazigh way, generation by generation.

He's also genuinely hilarious at picnics. Both things are true.

If you're on a desert safari out of M'hamid and you see a very large bird watching you from the Erg Lihoudi dunes with what appears to be personal judgment — that's BadBoy. Stay calm. Don't feed him. Watch how he moves across the Saharan sand.

And if you're staying at Arawan and you're lucky enough to be at a picnic when the music starts, find a comfortable spot and settle in.

He has already chosen his.

—Rmyla 🐾

Bad Boy is a North African ostrich — 2.5 meters tall, built like a feathered freight train, and the undisputed owner of the open Sahara between Arawan Luxury Desert Camp and the dunes of Erg Lihoudi near M'hamid El Ghizlane, Morocco. He does not work here. He has simply decided that Salem is interesting, that Rmyla is his best friend, and that desert picnics are better with him in attendance. The Sahara belongs to those who know it. Bad Boy knows it better than anyone.