Back home in Elephant Country – longing for a deeper sense of purpose (Part I)

April 25 2025

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/

And now what?

The air was warm and humid, with an occasional breeze carrying a fine mist over the path. Large droplets clung to the African Ebony trees, the frayed palm fronds, the hanging vines, and the lush greenery of this rainforest – a microclimate born of the spray from the nearby Victoria Falls. With every surge, a cascade of water poured down like warm rain, soaking the vegetation along the falls’ edge. Visitors, eager to witness this natural wonder, had to be prepared to get drenched to the skin or clad themselves in rainproof wear. I chose to wander along the periphery, feeling the cool droplets of the Zambezi River against my skin. Having traveled through vast, untamed wilderness, it was surely imbued with a sense of magical energy — though at the time, I wasn’t fully aware of nature’s hidden forces. Yet, there was a deep sense of peace as I stood before the falls, where, at its peak, 500 million liters of water per minute thunder over the sheer rock face, crashing onto the giant basalt boulders 80 meters below, creating the aptly named “Boiling Pot.”

In an instant, this mighty 1.7-kilometer-wide river narrows to just 100 meters before continuing its journey through the Batoka Gorge, zigzagging through narrow chasms until the cliffs give way to gentler landscapes. There, the river winds through rural farmlands, heading toward Lake Kariba, where it spreads out into a vast, tranquil expanse. One might think the river has slowed to a crawl, as it gently caresses the bare tree trunks along the shallow shorelines. Yet, 300 kilometers downstream, it’s once again squeezed through the Kariba Dam wall, where the Zambezi resumes its journey, now breathing life into Zimbabwe’s northeastern corner, home to the UNESCO World Heritage-listed Mana Pools National Park, celebrated for its rare beauty and unique ecosystems.

Further still, the Zambezi makes its way into Mozambique, eventually reaching the Indian Ocean, completing its 2,600-kilometer journey through Africa’s wild and untamed heart.

Once again, I was back in Elephant country – Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe. It felt peaceful to be surrounded by such serene wilderness, nestled within a national park where wildlife was never far away. Warthogs, monkeys, baboons, and impalas grazing on the manicured lawns of the well-watered hotel gardens. During the dry season, even elephants would wander into town – looking for a lush tree to devour.

For the past seven months, I had traveled with a group of 18 adventurous souls from all corners of the globe. Together, we completed (and survived!) a truly wild journey through Africa. I had flown into Casablanca, Morocco, to join this group of young strangers, and was warmly welcomed — especially by my new tent mate, Stefanie, who quickly took me under her wing and introduced me to the group’s community rules for our shared adventure.

Our final destination was Zimbabwe, though it wasn’t quite a ‘tip-to-toe’ trip, as we had to skip the ‘toe’ — the Republic of South Africa. The country was in the midst of preparing for the birth of the new South Africa, and tensions ran high. Racism, political unrest, and fear were rife, and tourists were warned by their governments to avoid traveling there. Many of the other countries we’d passed through also had regions flagged as unsafe by Home Affairs. Yet, despite the challenges — from near-war in some places, to refugee crises in others, to the looming threats of malaria, typhoid, and crime in Nigeria — we made it through unscathed, and I couldn’t help but feel that we had a whole troop of guardian angels watching over us.

We had now arrived in Zimbabwe, (then) a peace-loving country with a booming tourism industry. It is the ultimate destination for anyone seeking wilderness, big game, safari adventures, and adrenaline-filled activities — all easily accessible from the so-called ‘adrenaline capital of Africa’, Victoria Falls. Here, you can go white-water rafting in the gorge below the falls, bungy jump from the 100-meter-high Victoria Falls Railway Bridge, canoe past hippos on the slow-moving Zambezi River, enjoy tea on Livingstone Island overlooking the drop into the gorge, ride an African elephant, shop for souvenirs and African arts, and so much more. It’s truly a traveler’s paradise!

Victoria Falls had a party atmosphere that kicked off as soon as the sun set, and all of this excitement thrived with only one pub and one nightclub. It was the place where the travel world converged. Overland trucks from every direction — North, South, East, and West — rolled into this small town, bringing adventure-seekers, mostly in their early 20s, with an insatiable thirst for thrill and freedom. Here, they could truly let loose, with no judgment about their appearance, no reprimands for foul language, and no pressure to be punctual for dinner. This was where the last few dollars from a traveler’s money belt were spent on unforgettable experiences, good food, and plenty of booze.

After an unforgettable week of activities and partying, our group finally split, and we said our emotional goodbyes as most of them headed home to their respective countries.

I had no clear plans for the future. I wanted to stay longer in this place, but my soul was searching for something deeper. Not just any task, but something meaningful — I longed to find my place in the world, to be more connected to nature and in some way contribute to it. Yet, I had no idea where or how to begin. In many ways, I felt lost—especially after such an adrenaline-packed week and countless adventures throughout our journey across the ‘Mother Continent’. So, I lingered.

I traveled to Harare to reconnect with old friends from my days at the University of Zimbabwe, visited Bulawayo, the country’s second-largest city, and embarked on an unforgettable two-week journey to Mozambique, where endless stretches of golden sandy beaches met the warm embrace of the Indian Ocean.

Then, out of the blue, someone asked if I would be interested in joining a safari trip to Namibia and back. I jumped at the chance! Though I wouldn’t be paid for my help, I could join the adventure for free. All I had to do was act as a translator for a mixed group of English and German-speaking tourists. That would be ‘easy-peasy’. What a stroke of luck!

Little did I know, this would turn out to be the ‘trip of a lifetime’ — though not in the way I had imagined. In short, it became a real nightmare, one I’d never wish to repeat!

Stay tuned for the next episode, where I’ll share the story of how a group of 16 tourists and four staff members nearly perished in the vast, untamed wilderness of the Kalahari Desert.