A Dream is Born, but do Dreams come true?

July 01 2024

For the Love of an Elephant - by Cathy Buckle "Letter from Zimbabwe" 8th August 2024

An elephant with a very swollen lower leg was standing in the hot, dry bush. Something was wrong, its foot was big and the skin peeling and Kelly watched for a few minutes, took photographs and then phoned Blake Muil. Blake, heading the Rukuru Conservation Unit, went into action immediately; after 30 years of living in the bush and working in the wildlife business, he knew time was critical.

From the pictures it looked like there were two snares on the elephant’s lower leg. They had probably been set near a waterhole where poachers set lines of as many as 100 snares attached to trees all around the water with thorn branches placed in between leaving animals no way to get to the water without getting caught.

The young elephant bull was on the boundary of Rukuru and another property in the Zambezi Valley and these cable snares had probably been on its leg for about two months, gradually going deeper and deeper into its flesh and eventually cutting off the blood supply to the elephant’s foot. Blake knew that intervention was needed urgently before this young bull would lose its foot.

Blake went immediately to the National Parks offices in Marongora to ask for help. A team of Scouts would be taken to the last known location of the elephant and they would start tracking from there. The young bull probably wouldn’t have gone too far with its limited mobility on a painful and very swollen leg. Checking water sources first, the Scouts soon picked up the elephant’s track in the soft sand; it wasn’t hard identifying the spoor which was scuffed and dragged. A few days after it had first been seen, the elephant was located by the tracking team and by then the National Parks head Vet was also available.

The young elephant was darted and the veterinary team got straight to work. There were two snares on the elephant’s back leg, deeply embedded in the flesh above its foot. Two big incisions were made and the wire cable snares exposed. The twisted wires were carefully cut and extracted and the wounds cleaned and sterilized. Antibiotics were injected, the wounds closed and packed and then it was time to administer the reversal drug.

The vet slipped the needle into one of the pronounced blood vessels in the back of the elephant’s ear and told everyone to start moving away. From a safe distance they watched and waited. For the love of an elephant had they all managed to save this young bull? This now was the critical moment. Would the elephant make it? The adrenalin was palpable. “How many minutes,” the vet called out? Someone answered. The tension was thick in the air, the seconds ticked past and they waited to see if the elephant would come round.

The first sign was a puff of dust as the elephant exhaled, its trunk lying flat on the ground. Then another puff of dust. The elephant’s head came up and flopped back down. Its trunk came up, slowly the elephant rocked itself and managed to sit up.

“Excellent,” the vet whispered. “So our boy is waking up nicely after about three or four minutes,” he said. “Up, up, up my boy,” he said, tenderness and emotion clear in his voice. The elephant struggled up onto its feet and there was an audible sigh of relief, a little nervous laughter, whispered chatter. “Well done guys,” the National Park’s head Vet said, “well done, well done.” Everyone shook hands; fantastic teamwork from everyone involved had saved this young elephant bull.

Wonderful work like this needs all our support. Support for transport and fuel, for food and allowances for the trackers; for the vet and the drugs he needs for darting and treatment and then of course for the follow-up monitoring in the weeks to come by Blake and his team and then for the next animal and the next.

This wonderful story from Zimbabwe highlights the fantastic response from National Parks: professional, dedicated and efficient. Blake Muil and the Rukuru Conservation Unit and their helpers need support to continue this critical work for the future of our Zimbabwe; they are there, out of the spotlight, boots on the ground, day after day, saving the wilderness for us and the generations yet to come. Please click this link to support this amazing work. https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=2TNMPJHYHN948

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If you would like to read more about Cathy’s work, please visit her website or subscribe to her letters. There is no charge for the emails “Letter From Zimbabwe” but donations are welcome: https://cathybuckle.co.zw/

Searching for elephant…

Would we find any elephant? From above, all I could see was miles and miles of rough and rugged bush, an untouched wilderness? No!
I could see straight narrow paths. Who on earth would go out there to make a path? Poachers? I felt a chill run down my spine.
Or could these neat paths have been created by animals…?

Our small plane touched down in a clearing surrounded by tall trees. There was even a small building with a sign displaying ‘Wankie National Park’ – the old sign had not yet been replaced with the new African name of Hwange. We had come to visit Zimbabwe’s largest National Park and my hopes were high to see some of Africa’s most iconic wildlife. Would we see much after years of horrific civil war and brutal guerrilla fighting? Where there were no institutions to curb poaching!

From our lodge we looked over an open area with a waterhole attracting some animals. A herd of impala, a family of warthogs and a few zebras were present. Later in the evening a lone elephant came to drink from the pan. There was only a short distance from the lodge’s viewing terrace to the pan, so the animals were amazingly close. I was fascinated by this huge grey mammal, how quietly he approached the pan, how calmly he used his trunk to suck up the water and empty it into his mouth. No hurry, no stress. I was intrigued by this massive creature and couldn’t wait to see more! I had a sudden sense of anguish… surely there would be more?

The next day we joined a safari tour. We were picked up outside the lodge by, to my astonishment, a young girl, she looked as if she was in her late teens, but I guess she was in her early twenties. Her long brown hair tied back in a messy ponytail, obviously to stop the wind from blowing it all over her face, as it does in an open safari vehicle. She was dressed in safari colours, a dark green jacket and long baggy beige trousers – she was tucked into a man’s safari uniform. The safari company had obviously not considered employing a female guide. We later learnt that she was studying zoology in the UK and was earning a little extra cash by taking hotel guests on game drives into the national park.

It was winter, so the mornings were brisk, and driving in an open vehicle proved to be quite cool – in both senses of the word: cool because it was fun and cool because it was damn cold, at least until the sun rose above the trees and sent warming rays down on the land.

We were travelling in a rickety old green Landy (Land Rover). No roof and not even a windscreen, so there was nothing to block the view or shield the headwind, so my hair was tossed into looking like a “well used mop”. But I was not going to worry about my looks now. I actually felt a sense of freedom – who cares how my hair was!? There were two ‘custom made’ benches, covered in dark green canvas, attached to the cargo-bed. It wasn’t comfortable, but in my eyes it was the perfect safari vehicle. We were in the bush and ‘roughing it’ was part of the authentic experience.

We saw many animals, far more than I had ever seen before. It was so exciting! Some open vleis and savannah areas had more game than others and our guide appeared to know the best spots. We covered quite a distance from pan to pan (waterholes), spotting various animals, birds and even the odd crocodile in a larger pool – it must have had a very long walk from the nearest river. It is quite amazing to think that this creature, which mainly lived and survived in the water, would travel such distances over dry land. Imagine ‘bumping into’ a wandering crocodile on a nature walk or a stroll down the road!

This, I can’t say, pretty-looking reptile obviously has a very good instinct for survival. No wonder when you learn that crocodiles share a heritage with dinosaurs as part of a group known as the archosaurs (‘ruling reptiles’), which date back to the Early Triassic Period (250 million years ago). The earliest crocodile, meanwhile, evolved around 95 million years ago. It certainly had a long time to learn nature’s survival techniques!

Later in the afternoon we stopped at a large pan for a refreshment break. There was not much going on, just a small group of bachelor impalas hanging around. The young males, no longer allowed to mingle with the females, had formed their own small herd. With more pairs of eyes on the lookout for predators, they could effectively minimise the risk of becoming prey themselves. While a few put their heads down to drink from the edge of the pan, others kept watch. Some bumped their horns together, playfully, but in preparation for the real contest when they would challenge the one dominant ram of the herd – a great achievement, but one that would come with a huge responsibility to protect perhaps 50+ ewes and their offspring from predators and other young bachelors trying to mate with a willing female. The result would be a busy life for the protector of the herd, with very little time to feed or rest. As the dominant ‘king’ weakens, a younger and stronger animal will seize the opportunity to knock him off his throne. However, with little experience, he may only be the heir for a few days before he too is replaced by a former playmate. But these rams are essentially bringing new blood into the herd and ensuring the survival of strong and healthy animals – as our guide explained to us.

The sun, now a yellow glowing ball kissing a deep orange sky, was already low and the olive grey vegetation of acacias and leadwood bushes surrounding the pan now cast long shadows across the open area between the water’s edge and the tree line. A 30 metre stretch of dusty ground offered no hiding place or shelter for any animal trying to quench its thirst. The young bachelors were constantly on the lookout for the aloof predator. We had been watching over this pan for a while, we had also noticed a few zebra mingling in the bushes nearby, and a troop of baboons had also come down to the water’s edge, cupping their hands they scooped up the water to drink. But otherwise not much was happening, so we too had a refreshing drink – orange juice from the Mazoe orange plantation and some biscuits were passed around and we all started chatting, taking our attention away from our surroundings. After not so long I was ready to move on, we’d seen plenty of these animals, and I was desperate to see elephant! I was starting to feel disappointed, even impatient when our guide didn’t look like she wanted to drive on. I wondered why she was waiting. Was she waiting?

Suddenly she hushed us and we all fell silent, trying to stretch our ears and listen for some clue… yes, there was some rustling of bushes and the odd crack of a branch.

There were definitely more animals stirring in the bushes, we just couldn’t see them.

And then the first elephant moved out into the open.

Then another, and another, and another.…

It was as if someone had given the command and the army moved forward. I was in awe. A whole herd of elephants, the big mamas hastily reaching the water’s edge, the little ‘uns running straight into the shallow water and splashing around like children being allowed to jump into a paddling pool after a hot and dusty walk.

Yet this army wasn’t alone – more battalions followed, coming from every direction, even from behind where our Landy was parked. Some groups, having quenched their thirst, moved back to allow others to reach the water. There was no pushing or shoving. Each elephant got its fair share of water and let others through. Only the babies splashed around; their little trunks were not developed enough to suck up water, so they drank by dipping their mouths into it. And while they were knee-deep, they took advantage and had a little splash around until mama, or auntie, said it was enough.

The teenagers – still having the need to show off their strength – came to check us out, making short ‘mock runs’ towards us and flapping their huge ears. As we (or rather our guide) didn’t react, their burst of aggression quickly fizzled out. All they could do was retreat, look a bit embarrassed and then turn away with their heads held high, as if to say… “I showed them who’s boss here!”

I think over 200 elephants must have passed by this pan in the twilight of the evening.

I stood in awe and wonder at this magnificent spectacle of nature. I felt honoured that we, as intruders, were allowed into the space of the elephants’ evening congregation and social gathering. We were obviously not intruders but visitors!

It suddenly dawned on me that the tracks I saw yesterday from the small plane looking down over the wilderness… could they be elephant tracks?

What a fantastic job this young zoology student had! It gave me goose bumps and I felt a tinge of envy. I would LOVE to do that! I couldn’t imagine a better job than guiding people into the outback to show them the secrets of the wilderness and the treasures of nature.

If only I could be a safari guide. But I hadn’t studied zoology.

Nevertheless, a dream was born. If only dreams could come true!