The Elephant Whisperer: My Life With the Herd in the African Wild Lawrence Anthony (speld decodable readers txt) 📖

As we walked over I studied the grand, gnarled trunk closely. I always considered it a giant benign umbrella providing shelter for flocks of birds that chimed in perfect melody every morning. They were my bush alarm clock. I wondered what malignant ghosts were lurking in those branches … then quickly shook my head clear.

She began some sort of religious incantation. I stood by, hoping like hell she would finish soon.

‘It’s gone,’ she said after a few minutes, obviously pleased with herself.

As we were about to walk off, she turned and pointed to the sky.

‘See those clouds? They’re not clouds at all. They’re spaceships carrying evil aliens who are preventing the elephants from returning home.’

All I could see was some cotton-puffs of cumulus. She must have noticed my scepticism.

‘I should know,’ she said, patting her ample bosom and leaning in close. ‘I have travelled in them.’

The next day she walked into the kitchen to order her staple diet of peanut-butter sandwiches. But this time her instructions were that our ranger David must deliver the meal to her room.

The sandwiches were made to her specification: loaded with peanut butter and placed on a tray. As directed, David took the food and knocked on the door. It swung open and there in front of him was the psychic. She was stark naked.

David put the tray down and muttered, ‘Your sandwiches, ma’am.’ Then he turned and fled, his face the colour of beetroot.

Finally something real happened. KZN Wildlife phoned to say the herd would be delivered the following day.

Elephant capture is done throughout South Africa, butnot in KwaZulu-Natal. In fact the team at Umfolozi, who had famously pioneered capturing white rhino, saving the species from extinction, did not have the heavy equipment required for loading family groups, elephant herds, which comprise only adult females and their young. Babies are never separated during capture. Adult bulls are always transported individually. However, a new dual-purpose heavy trailer designed for transporting both giraffe and elephant had recently been purchased and now was the time to put it to the test. Which begged the questions: Would it be strong and large enough to accommodate all seven elephants? And would the team be able to move the hefty creatures into the trailer without the specialized equipment and sleds used elsewhere in the country? My elephants were going to be guinea pigs, so to speak.

I was comforted by the fact that my good friend Dave Cooper, Umfolozi’s internationally respected wildlife vet and probably the top rhino expert in the world, would be in charge of the welfare of the elephants.

Capture always takes place early in the day to avoid heat stress. At six o’clock a helicopter carrying an experienced marksman in the shooter’s seat thudded off to where the herd was last sighted. Dave remained on the ground so that any problems could be confronted as quickly as possible. After a few false alarms, the elephants were spotted and the pilot swooped down, coming in just above the treetops in a tight bank and then dropping until he was hovering almost on the ground to turn the now-running animals.

This is where African bush pilots’ famed flying skills come into their own. The pilot toyed with the chopper, swaying this way then that, first blocking then lifting then dropping, all while threatening, cajoling, and charging forward at the now frantic elephants, herding them towards a dirt track he could see scarring the plains several hundred yards ahead. That rudimentary road was pivotal as the ground crewneeded to get the heavy transport truck as close as possible to where the animals went down.

The marksman loaded the dart gun and readied himself as the pilot radioed his position to the ground crews.

The herd was now in full flight, crashing through the bush with the clattering chopper blades egging them on.

Suddenly Nana, family in tow, broke through the tree cover and into open ground at the area chosen for darting.

The pilot deftly shifted to just behind the stampeding animals, offering a clear view of their broad backs.

Crack! The .22 shell fired a hefty aluminium dart filled with M99, a powerful anaesthetic customized for elephants and other large herbivores, into Nana’s rump. The matriarch is always darted first followed by the other larger animals. The calves are darted last to prevent them from being trampled or smothered by the larger family members. Nana’s calf was in fact too small to safely dart from the air and Dave was warned to make up a dart and immobilize the calf on the ground.

As soon as one dart hit another was rapidly loaded and fired. The fluffy bright red feathers of the dart stuck out of the rumps of the running animals like beacons. The shooter must work quickly. Any delay between shots would have comatose elephants spread out all over the bush complicating matters immeasurably.

Once the last dart struck true the marksman gave a thumbs-up and the pilot gained altitude and hovered as first Nana, then the others started to stagger and sink to their knees before collapsing in slow motion. It is surreal when these galloping giants suddenly lose momentum and their tree-trunk legs turn to jelly as they buckle in the dust.

The ground team’s speeding trucks were now less than a mile away. The timing was spot on and the helicopter bumped gently down in a whirlwind of red dust.

Dave hurried to where Nana lay in the dirt. The baby,Mandla, was standing nervously next to her fallen body. He flapped his ears and reared his tiny trunk, instinctively trying to protect his prostrate mother. Dave got into position and fired a light plastic dart loaded with the smallest effective dose into the baby’s shoulder.

As Mandla’s knees folded, the vet broke a twig off a nearby guarri tree and placed it inside the end of Nana’s trunk to keep the airways open. He did the same to the other elephants, and then