November 21, 2013
Letaba Rest Camp.
It’s 3:30 in the afternoon and I’m writing this on a small
table in a screened porch at our bungalow in Letaba. This morning arrived dark, cool and blustery
with the threat of rain. During our
morning drive the rain arrived – first a fine drizzle and then a full-on
downpour. It’s now evolved into a long,
cool, soaking rain. It’s the kind of
rain the bush needs to truly come alive after the dry winter and I’m wondering
if it’s also the rain that will bring a termite emergence.
Our bungalow overlooks the wide, sandy course of the Letaba
River – probably 1000 meters across here.
I’m hearing constant bird calls, including the beautiful call of the
woodland kingfisher, a bird whose arrival signals the true beginning of spring
for the people of southern Africa. Downstream I can hear baboons making a fuss
about something.
We spent 3 very hot days/nights at Lower Sabie. It’s really beautiful country with fairly
dense bush crowding onto the roads. We
had a couple of lion sightings but they weren’t interesting photographically
and were the usual unpleasant tourist experiences. Something about being in the presence of
lions seems to shave about 25 points off most people’s IQ. Saw no leopards at all. What we did find were many rhino and that was
a joy. Rhino have come under terrible
pressure from poachers here. I don’t
know the current stats – last I looked something like 750 rhino had been killed
by poachers in South Africa this year.
Many in the Park itself. Our fear
was that they’d be less visible and more skittish, but we didn’t really find
that to be true. It’s probably not a good thing actually, but the white rhino
here seem very relaxed around vehicles and were grazing comfortably, with
young, within 30 feet of ours.
We did have an elephant adventure while driving back to the
camp at Lower Sabie two days ago. I’m
always cautious about elephants. They’re
the only animal that makes me nervous when I’m in a vehicle. They’re highly intelligent and sensitive. In
their world, their size, strength and intelligence means that they’re used to
being in charge. Sometimes they’re
obviously wary and intimidated by humans but here in this setting they’re often
not, and may often challenge you on the road. And they’re big and powerful
enough that they can and do damage or destroy vehicles. I’ve spent a fair
amount of time over the past six years observing elephants but I don’t feel
that I understand them well and don’t feel confident that I can necessarily
predict their behavior.
There are two scenarios that come up. The first is the bull elephant who
deliberately will approach you on the road, preventing you from proceding. I’ve
had this experience many times. The
elephant will be on the road, or eating just off the road. I’ll stop the car a considerable distance
away and turn off the engine, just to give the elephant space and let him do
his thing. Most of the time, they just
move off the road and you can resume your journey. Sometimes though, they quit eating and begin
walking right at you. They’re not
trumpeting or displaying any really overt signs of aggression (though sometimes
they may fondle their tusks which is meant to be a clear warning), but they’re
also walking directly toward you, not looking right or left, with some clear
intent. There are two schools of thought
about this. I back up. When the elephant is, say, within 40 meters, I’ll
start the car and back up a couple hundred meters and shut the car off and wait
for the elephant to lose interest and move off of the road. There’s a different school of thought that
holds that, when you back up like that, it becomes a game for the elephant and
keeps him interested in chasing you.
That school holds that you should just hold your ground and sit very
quietly in the car. After satisfying its
curiosity that you’re not a threat (theory states), the bull will just move
along. When I was with Albie, a trained
guide, we encountered some young bulls who refused to yield the road. Albie approached confidently, banging the top
of the cab with his hand and the elephants moved on. But Albie also suggested that I (as an
untrained person) continue to back up, and I do. I’m not willing to chance it, with my family,
in someone else’s vehicle. The
consequences of misjudging the situation could be serious.
The other situation that one encounters is the breeding herd
of elephants. This will be a group,
primarily of females and juveniles – infants to adolescents – and, while mature
bulls tend to travel separately, there may also be bulls hanging around hoping
for a date. Like mothers everywhere,
elephant mothers are extremely protective and can become very aggressive if
they feel their young are threatened.
You will often see breeding herds crossing the road. It’s not like the bulls – the females will
lead their young across the road, often with an adult female positioned between
the young and any vehicles on the road.
Then they move on. The fear is
that you won’t see them all in the dense bush and somehow come around a curve
and find that you have members of a breeding herd crossing both in front and
behind you. Especially in areas with
very dense bush, you could inadvertently put yourself in a position where you
bumble in between mother and young, so we try to be especially cautious and
aware around breeding herds.
Two days ago, we were heading back to Lower Sabie, traveling
north on the main road toward camp. The
traffic was light and there were no other vehicles around at the time.The bush
is pretty dense and crowds the road there, meaning that an elephant could
literally be 10 feet off of the road and you might not see it. We saw a healthy bull feeding near the road
on the left. It’s something you see 20
times a day. We slowed down and moved
into the other lane to give him plenty of room.
He didn’t react at all and so we moved on. About 200 meters later we saw a female step
out into the road. We slowed up and
stopped because we could see other elephants in the vicinity. Another female stepped into the road and we
could see two very young elephants in the bush behind her. We stayed parked to watch and the young did
step out onto the road and they stayed on the road. This was unusual because, in our experience,
mothers usually just escort the babies across.
She was standing in the road, browsing to the left while the juveniles
were standing on the right side of the road, also browsing.
At this point I glanced into the rear view mirror and saw
the bull we had passed walking onto the road.
And he turned and started walking toward us. Suddenly it seemed that we were not in a good
position at all but then he turned to his right and began eating off to the
side of the road. I began to relax and
turned my attention to mom and babies, where were still standing in the narrow,
two-lane road in front of us.
I glanced back up in the mirror and, damnit, the bull was
coming again, and fast. You notice
things at a time like that. I noticed
that as he walked rapidly toward us that there was a definite spring to his
stride that that his head was swinging back and forth as he came forward, head
on at us.
Now it was starting to seem like we were in a very tight
spot. I couldn’t move away from the bull
by going forward because of mom and kids and the bull was clearly on his way to
see us. I started up the car and began
to slowly roll forward, hoping that if I put just a little pressure on mom,
that she’d take the kids and move off the road.
She turned toward me and gave her head a violent shake, flapping her ears
– a clear warning that I was too close.
Gina’s telling me now to back up and I’m telling her that I can’t
because the bull was coming fast from behind.
I think that’s when she realized how close he was. It’s funny what you remember – she told me later
that she’d recognize that elephant anywhere because he had a distinctive little
hole in his left ear.
I moved the car forward again, hoping that the mom would
move and again she wheeled toward us and shook her head. By this time, I couldn’t even see the entire
elephant in my rear view mirror, he was that close. We were running out of options and Gina and I
were desperately trying to think through a plan. In about one more second, our only option
would have been to raise the windows and sit perfectly still and hope the bull
just sniffed us, lost interest and moved on.
But in that last moment, the mom glanced around to her left and the kids
wandered a little to the right, creating a small gap and I floored it. I didn’t look right or left, just focused
straight ahead. In my peripheral vision,
I saw one of the juveniles jump off to the right with a look of fear on his
face and I think I saw the mom whip around, but we got through. I never looked behind me at all.
Gina and I were both pretty shaken and I felt bad that I
stressed mom out. I do feel in my heart
that if we had sat still we’d probably have come out ok, but I could also
imagine a scenario that would go terribly wrong. Elephants have no reason to ‘like’ people –
we’re bad news to most animals of course. Elephants do attack cars here,
usually when tourists don’t have enough respect for the animals and put
themselves into a position where they’re too close and don’t pay enough
attention to body language. I’m not sure
what we should have done differently in our case, and hope to talk to a ranger
about this in the next couple of days. I
feel like we do respect elephants and that we do give them lots of space. But, there we were, like a couple of tourists
in a very tight spot. At the end of the
day, it becomes part of the adventure.
Especially once the adrenaline wears off. But, man, it was not fun in that moment when
it dawns on you that you’re running out of options. Custer must have felt something like that.




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