An Elephant Bull Called Elizabeth and Other Short Stories from Africa

The Trapped Elephant Calf

Not all elephant rescues have such a defined and happy ending as in my last story.  In fact I wonder to this day whether or not I did the right thing; I still hope that it was a rescue and not condemning an elephant calf to a slow and tortuous death, but I will never be sure.

The incident in question took place in the hills of Matusadona National Park well back from the shores of Lake Kariba.  I was never happier in those days than when on time off and going on extended walks, back pack on and the nearest vehicle, boat or plane many, many hard miles walk away.  The feeling of isolation and being immersed in a true wilderness was a balm on the soul.  Different friends would accompany me, some of them on a regular basis, Gordon McMaster was one such friend and was with me on this particular trip. 

It was hot, we were thirsty and needed water.  To this end we trudged wearily up the dry watercourse at the bottom of a steep sided valley, hoping for a pool of drinkable water.  Up ahead there was a section of exposed rock that, in wetter times, obviously formed a set of rapids. During the dry season it was a likely place to look for water as, often as not, the downstream end of such a feature has been scoured out to a good depth, deep enough to hold a pool of water long after the last rain fall of the previous wet season.

As we approached something odd caught our eye.  An animal of some sort was constantly popping up and then sinking back down into the filthy water trapped in one of the pot holes worn out of the bed-rock by water action. The glimpse of a curved, dark, glistening shape popping up and then diving was a riddle.  It looked for all the world like an otter endlessly repeating the same movement over and over again.  Surely any self respecting otter would have long since found better swimming in the inlets and coves of Lake Kariba as the dry season progressed?

Only when we were virtually on top of the animal was the mystery solved. An elephant calf had become trapped, the water was too deep for it to stand and breath so the poor thing was pushing off from the bottom of the pool, just high enough to take a breath through the tip of its raised trunk, before subsiding into the depths once more. We were seeing the little hump on its back that would show, by a couple of inches, every time it came up for air.

My first urge, rather than rushing in to help, was safety. Such a young calf was absolutely still following its mother close at heel, she had to be somewhere nearby and was unlikely to be friendly to anyone approaching her trapped offspring. Gordon and I fair legged it up the side of the valley to find a good perch from which to scan the valley floor. There were no leaves on the trees and, anyway, the vegetation was sparse. It was not long before it became apparent that the calf's mother, along with the rest of the herd, had been forced to abandon it and go in search of food at a difficult time of year.

Feeling that it was safe Gordon and I decided to try and help and we descended from our lofty viewing spot.  On pondering the task before us it was apparent that the problem was that the pothole was deep and, though young, the elephant was certainly not light, it far outweighed Gordon and I combined. Slipping into the confines of the deep, straight walled pothole with an animal likely to panic at my presence and more than twice my weight did not seem wise. Briefly I considered putting the animal out of its misery but we had no radio contact with Parks Headquarters to obtain permission and doing so without permission had the potential to end very badly for me should the very rare anti-poaching patrol be nearby and react to a gunshot.

There was only one thing for it, get in and try. I opted to strip down and jump in whilst Gordon was ready to pull me out if anything happened. Unsurprisingly, in retrospect, the calf did not panic, it was past having the energy to do so. In fact, if anything, it seemed to understand and co-operated. When I got behind it and pushed, rather than fight back it did its best to get it legs up and try get out. With Gordon pulling, me pushing and the calf doing its best, we actually managed achieve our objective and get it out.

For a moment its position was precarious. Weakened by the extended swim the calf wobbled, side on to the pothole, looking for all the world as if it were about to collapse and fall back in. Quick action was needed and I got behind it to try and push it away from the danger. Weakened it may have been but there was no way in hell anyone was going to push it anywhere. Legs locked the calf leant back against me, grumbled and refused to budge. Several heaves later it was obvious that a new tact was needed. Moving to the front I tried to lead the head strong little animal; to my surprise it reacted instantly following me without hesitation I had, after all, just pulled it out the water hadn't I?

The problem now was what to do with this little elephant? In reality it was a National Park and I ought to have left it to drown, let nature take its course. That I could not do.  What a terrible way to die. Nor could I put it out its misery both because of the emotional tie I feel toward elephant and because it was risking my career to kill an elephant, even in dire circumstances, if not in self defence. Lastly National Parks personal were unlikely, even if I could get hold of them, to spend resources looking after a young elephant when Zimbabwe actually has a problem of too many elephants and not enough funding to begin with.

Casting around to look for tracks I found where the herd, incapable of extracting the calf from this natural trap, had, eventually walked away.  The spoor led up the side of the hill the dung left behind marking the spoor as around twelve hours old give or take a couple of hours. If an elephant simply walks in a straight line it can cover an enormous distance in that time, if it feeds as it goes and stops to sleep then it might not go very far. 

Leading it along Gordon and I took the calf over to where we had found the herd's tracks but, whilst we were with it, it showed no inclination to do anything other than follow us.  Feeling that there was better chance of the calf finding its herd using its own ability to communicate over a great distance, which elephants can do using low frequency sound that we humans can not hear, alongside an acute sense of smell to follow the herds trail, the decision was made to leave the calf to use these resources rather than passively traipse along behind two clueless humans.

Running off Gordon and I hid. After having initially made to follow the calf lost sight of us and stood for a bit.  Watching from cover we waited and hoped.  It did not take long before the animal seemed to shrug off any disappointment at being abandoned a second time and simply turned and ambled off straight up the path.  It did not wander left or right or even look back rather it followed the exact trail that its family had used on leaving.  Apparently it knew what it was doing. 

As I said at the beginning, I wonder if we gave the little thing a chance or just prolonged its end!?  Did it catch up with its mother or did it wander aimlessly until too weak to keep going?