Although the day dawned like any other, it turned out to be one during which we would save another precious life.
Five long weeks earlier – in mid-April – I’d stumbled upon an injured adult female elephant in the open area of Kanondo, wandering without any members of her family. And struggling to walk. The human-inflicted wound on her back right leg was horrific, the deadly length of copper wire clearly visible. Without hesitation I phoned two nearby darters, who were immediately on their way. (After nearly ten years in the Hwange bush I’d only recently resorted to buying a mobile phone. Econet signal was now available around much of the Hwange Estate. In truth I hated the contact-me-anytime intrusion, but it was in fact a godsend when the need arose to contact someone for help.) The seriously injured elephant – unusually and obligingly – remained in the open. It always feels like an eternity to me, but the necessary equipment was collected quickly and the dart prepared. I was able to drive the darter close, and the dart hit its target. Tragically, the immobilisation drug did not, however, inject. Now in thick bush – with another dart prepared and loaded – a second chance didn’t prove possible. It was just one of those heartbreaking things.
Although I knew that this elephant must be a Presidential one – given her calm demeanour and close acceptance of my 4×4 – I couldn’t immediately identify who she was. Back in my rondavel that night I flicked through identification photographs and discovered that she was Adwina from the ‘A’ family – a horribly injured elephant, wandering alone out there in the darkness.
That next week was particularly awful. I searched and searched, and couldn’t find her. In the wee hours of the mornings, lying awake and reliving over and over the misfortune of the failed darting attempt, I found myself wishing that I hadn’t established her name. It’s so much more personal when you know someone’s name.
Petrol was a horribly expensive US$1.40 per litre, and my 30-year-old vehicle managed only 4 kilometres to the litre. But how do you put a cost, and a limit, on an innocent animal’s life? I drove (as always on the lookout for signs of poaching, snared animals, and other suspicious activity) for more time and distance than I usually would, digging deep into my own savings. And long weeks passed.
More than a month had passed in fact, and there’d been no sign of Adwina. There’d been days when I thought she may well be dead. Even so I double-checked every elephant of her size that I saw, to ensure that it wasn’t her. The rains were over and elephant sightings were increasing. “We’re going to find her this week” I declared, not actually believing it myself.
It was around midday when I left for my daily round of patrols and monitoring. I’d been at Kanondo for almost an hour when I saw just her head in thick bush. It’s times like these that I become – inwardly, secretly – somewhat of a basket-case! My heart pounds and my hands shake. I fumbled with my mobile phone…
Esther van der Meer and husband Hans – attached to the nearby Painted Dog Conservation Project – were the ones who successfully darted snared Gwyneth in late 2009. (See the March 2010 Getaway article on my website www.sharonpincott.com to read about this desnaring.) They were the ones available today.
‘She’s here Esther, at Kanondo,’ I blurt into my mobile, pretending to be calmer than I am. This wasn’t the time to talk too much; they needed to pack their 4×4 quickly and race the 15 kilometres to Kanondo. It was only a few minutes later and I was back on my mobile again: ‘She’s already moving off,’ I warned. Thankfully, they were already on their way. And then I’m back on my mobile yet again: ‘I’m not sure that I can hold her much longer. Please, we need a tracker…’
I circle around and ‘herd’ Adwina back and forward, back and forward, trying not to let her cross the road that I’m on, into thicker bush. In desperation, I phone for a Hwange Safari Lodge vehicle to join me; to help keep an eye on where she’s headed.
That vehicle arrives, but damn! Adwina runs across the road I’m on. I can hear Esther’s vehicle, and drive madly towards her, needing to get to the next road, to try to ensure that Adwina doesn’t cross that one now. Hans is driving and Esther is as calm, cool and professional as always – which does nothing to soothe my own thumping heart! Thank goodness one of us is so in control. She’s about to prepare the dart (the drug potentially deadly if spilled on human skin), and has a tracker onboard.
By the time the dart and gun are ready Adwina is still somewhere in between the two sandy roads. But the bush is very thick. We’re all looking in the wrong direction when Adwina eventually crosses. I get a good glimpse however, and manage to confirm that it’s definitely her. Our tracker, Mkhalalwa Moyo, quickly leads Esther and Hans in after her on foot.
It proves fruitless though. There are sounds of elephants everywhere, and the risk of walking straight into one in the thick bush is high. Eventually, I see all three of them retreating back towards the vehicles. My hands cover my eyes in disappointment. ‘We just can’t miss her twice’ I whisper to myself… Yet it looks as if we have.
It doesn’t make a lot of sense for the darting team to hang around too much longer, since the chances of Adwina returning to the open area of Kanondo seem low. Perhaps, though, if some of the elephants we’re hearing turn out to be her family, there’s a chance that she will. We wait together for a while longer – but encounter only lone bulls.
Eventually, I return to Kanondo alone – just in case she reappears.
An Ivory Lodge game-drive vehicle arrives with some American tourists onboard. I show guide, Dumi, the gruesome photographs I’ve just taken of Adwina and ask him – as I’d done already – to keep a constant eye out for her. The ‘W’ family have appeared, sent perhaps to ease my aching heart. There’s a bateleur eagle in the sky – a spirit messenger some believe. I decide to drive with the Ivory Lodge vehicle to the mineral licks, where Whole, Whosit, Wish, Willa and other family members enjoy the minerals, and then surround our vehicles. ‘I could just cry,’ the American man says with sincerity. And I smile. This is the effect that the ohh-so-trusting Presidential Elephants so often have on people. We speak about this remarkably friendly ‘W’ family, and also about Adwina and the darting attempt. And then all of a sudden Adwina appears just a few hundred metres away, about to splash soothing mud on her wound.
If I thought my heart was pounding earlier, now it was definitely about to jump out of my chest. One phonecall and Esther, Hans and Mkhalalwa are immediately on their way back.
Adwina does it to us again though. She starts to move off, well before the darting team can get to us. I race around to the same road I was on earlier, asking Dumi and his guests to stay put and keep an eye on her from where they sit. Once again I ‘herd’ Adwina back and forward, back and forward. Oh no, it feels like we’re going to lose her yet again …
I hear Esther’s vehicle, and get a glimpse of Dumi’s guests waving coloured cloth in the air; someone’s sweater perhaps. Hans now sees where Adwina is (since by now there’s scores of elephants here), and he drives towards her. Esther knows that I’m struggling to hold her, and like me, fears that we’ll lose her again if she crosses this road. She has one chance to successfully get the dart in – and it’s not a very good one, since she’s very close to the limit of the dart gun’s range; about 35 metres away, and there’s no time to lose. Adwina isn’t staying still, but with calm skill the dart hits, albeit a little precariously, on the side of her butt.
Through the leafy bush I see the pink-feathered dart protruding from her rump and breathe a huge – huge! – sigh of relief. Simultaneously, my mobile rings and it’s Esther confirming that the dart’s in, and that I should keep up with Adwina and see where she falls – assuming enough of the drug has in fact been injected to bring her down. Esther sounds confident. Calm and confident, as always.
Adwina’s head and trunk eventually start to droop (while I’m thinking that I could do with abit of immobilisation myself!) And soon she’s down.
[In case it’s not obvious, you need to double-click each of the smaller photographs to enlarge them, and then place your pointer over the photograph to read the caption. Click on the arrow to scroll through the line of smaller photographs.]
We hurry in our two vehicles towards her fallen body. And then the operation is in full-swing. There are elephants all around us, but none are ‘A’ family members and they’re kindly keeping their distance. The wound is indeed horrific; the length of copper wire even more sickening up-close. Esther and Hans treat the wound; I tip water over Adwina’s ear to help keep her temperature stable; and Mkhalalwa ensures that her breathing is not obscured.
I invite the Ivory Lodge game-drive vehicle to come in quietly, to witness this life-saving procedure. They are thrilled of course, and definitely ready to cry now! Soon the wound is well treated and we move off, so that Esther can safely administer the reversal drug alone. My whole body is shaking; impossible to relax until Adwina’s back on her feet.
And soon she is. It’s taken less than 30 minutes from the time the dart hit to seeing her back on her feet. Five long weeks of searching, but just minutes of team-work once she was found.
Adwina wanders off, a little dazed of course, across that road she’s now welcome to travel, without interference from me. Her family’s still nowhere in sight, nor is her calf. But I know that she’ll be okay. The resilience of these animals is remarkable; so long as the deadly wire is removed, the chances of a full recovery are high no matter how bad the wound.
It’s now a time for celebration, and we all sit in our vehicles next to the newly scooped pan at Kanondo, full of water from the generous wet season, surrounded by the ‘W’ family – who chose to stick around, and seem to want to help us celebrate. Esther’s gift from me is to meet the beloved Whole. But it’s Whole’s adult daughter, the cheeky Whosit, who insists on standing right beside Esther’s open window.
I stayed out alone under the almost full moon, drinking a beer handed to me from the Ivory Lodge cooler-box (I don’t particularly like beer, but with my heart still pounding something alcoholic was definitely needed!) – at one with the ‘W’ family. It was a truly beautiful – and satisfying – evening. Whosit’s first-born, Wish, placed her trunk right inside my window and then proceeded to give my 4×4 a good shake! Not funny perhaps, but it made me laugh out-loud just the same. This little Wish – born in February – is already a wee monster! (If you haven’t already, read my February 2010 Getaway article titled ‘A wish on the way’.) That evening I made my own wish; that we would never have to do another snare removal.
A few days later while I was out again with Ivory Lodge guests (this time from Australia), we stumbled upon Adwina at Kanondo splashing mud on her desnared leg. She was still without her family, but she was fine. The back portion of her wound had been horribly raw and deep, and a little blood still oozed from it. But she could now put her full weight on that leg. She was going to be okay.
Although I’m yet to see Adwina again, she’s since been sighted by one of the dependable lion researchers (himself qualified to dart), with a calf in tow.
