Tale guide

To save a life in the wild is magical

Hwange National Park (formerly known as Wanke) is a perfect example of how the unchecked growth in elephant herds will ultimately decimate the vegetation to such an extent that natural water courses will fade away and the desert will encroach.

The reserve lies on the road between Bulawayo and Victoria Falls in the west of Zimbabwe and borders on the Kalahari sands of Botswana.

A group of us stayed in Ivory Lodge, a unique concession on the edge of the park and from there we made a number of trips into the reserve on an open game vehicle accompanied by a ranger.

On one such trip we drove into a wide expanse of desert sand stretching far into the distance on all sides and where the horizon could be made out by the line of trees and shrubs far in the distance.

We drove up to a wooden viewing platform that was built high on stilts and which offered visitors a panoramic view over a man-made water hole.

The difference between natural water holes and ones made by man such as the one we observed, is the fact that the latter are sometimes circular concrete dams with low walls making it difficult for animals to walk into the water.

A windmill or an electric water pump is required nearby to provide regular supply.

It was wintertime and the natural waterholes had mostly dried up and hundreds of elephants were making their way from different directions towards the only source of fresh water within miles and as they approached the small dam, their numbers often became overwhelming, necessitating an increasing backup of animals all jostling to reach the edge to drink.

As we observed the constant melee and watched as the dust swirled around the hundreds of feet as the elephants tried to force their way to the water’s edge, we noticed that one female elephant was becoming increasingly distressed.

Before long we noticed that a baby elephant had fallen into the waterhole and despite her best efforts, the mother was unable to help her baby out.

Every time the mother was able to maneuver herself so that she could extend her trunk behind her calf’s hind legs, her footing was dislodged by other elephants pushing their way to the water.

Her predicament was disturbing and as the imminent danger increased, so the atmosphere on the viewing platform became tenser. Eventually we agreed that we could no longer stand by and watch the calamity unfolding before our eyes.

In the certain knowledge that the calf would eventually collapse from fatigue and drown, we decided to intervene.

The decision to try and change the course of events was fundamentally a very dangerous one and as most of the men had many years of experience of the untamed African wilderness, everyone profoundly understood the risks they were about to take on.

About five of the chaps ran down to the truck and our ranger radioed for backup. Soon thereafter, two more rangers arrived on the scene in a Land Rover.

Everyone quickly reviewed the situation, and everyone agreed that intervention was the decent thing to do despite the golden rule of non-interference in the ways of nature.

We rationalized that the calamity had been created by the man-made waterhole and we were driven by an overwhelming desire to make good.

What transpired was to be a never-to-be-forgotten experience which I would not have believed if I had not witnessed the same with my own eyes.

After collecting a number of stones, the men sped off in the two vehicles towards the elephants crowding, pushing and shoving around the water hole.

The vehicles split up and as they approached the animals the men on the back of the vehicles started to holler and slap the sides of the trucks to create as much noise as possible.

Amazingly the elephants became scared and started to peal off in different directions.

Between the onslaught of the noisy intruders and the lure of much needed water, some elephants were evidently undecided for a moment, until they were further harassed by the rocks being launched from the vehicles.

Eventually and after a number of like mannered drive-bys, the elephants began to disperse and move away from the waterhole very much like a herd of cattle would respond to a herdsman.

But the female stayed with her youngster seemingly undisturbed by the surrounding commotion. It was as if she knew that we were there to help her.

I couldn’t believe it. Once the space around the female had been opened up by the withdrawal of the frightened elephants, she was able to concentrate on turning her calf so that its forelegs perched on the wall. Then she placed her trunk between the hind legs of the calf and lifted and pulled it towards her until it finally scrambled up onto firm ground.

Without so much as a look back, mother and calf trotted off towards the horizon to the collective delight and cheers of everyone.

I took a number of photographs which make up the slide show below and which, to an extent, illustrate the events of that afternoon.

However, they don’t do justice to the bravery, effort and sheer determination displayed by the two vehicle teams who took on hundreds of thirsty elephants to save the life of one young calf.

It was a magical ending and a warm feeling that we and the rangers were able to celebrate late into the evening.

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