Animal Encounters - First Elephant

As a Field Entomologist in Tsetse Control in Rhodesia (1967-68), much of my time was spent in pretty remote areas of “the bush.”  I would write to my parents, who were living in South Africa at the time and describe my employment as “working in a zoo,” only there were no cages. I had a camera with me, but took far too few photographs.  I also always had a rifle with me.  Occasionally I could provide a little fresh meat for our camp and only once did I almost have to use my .375 magnum to protect myself.

During the height of the rainy season, from December through March, movement in many back-country areas was limited by wet and often impassable roads. The weather from April through October was about as predictable as weather could be, sunny dry days, cool clear nights.

As anyone who has been “on safari” in Africa can testify, when around wildlife there is always an unexpected event or sighting around the next bend in the road.  It may not occur for many, many, hours, or even days, but it always leaves an indelible memory.  Just as you begin to wonder where the game is, it pops up to excite and amaze you. This was certainly my experience as a young, enthusiastic lover of all wild places and animals, suddenly finding myself in a professional situation that few have an opportunity to experience in their lives. Growing up through my teen years, I was able to join my dad on occasional hunts for small game. These were always enjoyable and taught me solid lessons, but I have never been, nor would I ever describe myself as a “hunter.” The main lessons I learned were how to shoot well and how to treat a firearm with great respect.

Being in Tsetse Control did not give anyone a license or permission to hunt.  We were able to shoot only in clearly designated areas and under strict guidelines. There was never an attempt to take on the role of the professional game rangers and wardens of the Department of National Parks and Wildlife Management.

One of the most memorable days of my life was the first time I saw elephant in the wild.  I had seen them many times in game reserves, from behind a fence or from the safety of a car but never while on foot.   I had spent several weeks on a spraying operation in a remote area on the southern edge of the Zambezi Escarpment due south of Lake Kariba.  These operations were conducted for 25 consecutive days, beginning on the first day of each month.  Everyone would go for “R & R” from the 25^th to the 31^st to make up for the weekends that we had worked. Field Officers would return to Salisbury (now Harare) for a well deserved break, and to re-provision for the following month. The laborers; most recruited from local villages, would return home to their families and their chores.

Elephant footprints (spoor) in sand

On this occasion, in August 1967, my boss Bill Casey had arranged to take me to a Tsetse Research station called Reckomechi.  I rendezvoused with Bill in the small town of Makuti and left my Land Rover at the local Government depot while we continued in his vehicle.  From Makuti, the two-lane paved highway descends almost immediately into the Zambezi Valley in long sweeping curves through dense bush.  The valley floor is flat and the most noticeable change in vegetation is the increased number of baobab trees; those huge grey hulks that seem as though they have been thrust into the earth upside down.  As the highway flattens out to cross the valley floor north to the Zambezi River and the Zambian border post called Beit Bridge, we turned right onto a dusty road heading east toward Mana Pools, the renowned Game Reserve.

The dirt road is straight, except for a few times when its geometrically perfect bearing was impeded by an old baobab tree; then it would bend just enough to skirt the obstruction.  After about 30 miles on this hot, dusty road we passed the turn to Mana Pools and soon arrived at Reckomtjie, a loose assemblage of metal prefab buildings which served as labs, offices and accommodations.  We met the Tsetse Officer in charge and his wife and as the late afternoon shadows began to lengthen, Bill Casey suggested we take a walk to the nearby Reckomtjie River.  So, we made our way through the small vegetable garden at the back of the house and followed a narrow path descending into the river.  The river, as is typical in this area, was lined on either side by huge, old hardwood trees, teak, ebony and ironwood.  The wide sandy river bed appeared completely dry although from the holes that had been dug by elephant, there was obviously water not too far below the surface. We reach the bed of the river and crossed a narrow sandy area before climbing up onto a large earth mound, about 10-12 feet high, fortified by a number of large trees. It was literally an island in the dry river bed which was about 40 yards wide at this point.

Looking directly north, the sand ran straight into the shade of overhanging trees, as though disappearing into a tunnel.  Behind us, to the south, the river bed ran up against a vertical red earthen cliff as it turned to the left and began its ascent into the distant hills. I could imagine how it might be during the rains, when thunderstorms would build over the higher country and the rushing torrents would spill into the valley along this dry sandy highway.  Bill and I sat down on top of our “island” and enjoyed the peace and quiet for a few minutes.  Before long we saw the grey, ambling hulks of a herd of elephant begin to appear out of the shadows to the north.  They were walking purposefully, in single file, with an old matriarch in the lead. As they got closer, we could see there were perhaps twenty animals in the group, mostly females, with several calves and a few immature males.  It reminded me of the tame elephants I had seen as a young boy at Ringling Brothers Circus, when the elephants would enter the big top and walk around the ring holding each other by the tail.

Now of course they smelled us and the column slowed briefly. Then they separated into two lines, with one row passing on our left and the other to our right.  From our small hilltop, we could almost have reached out and touched them. As they passed, we were close enough for them to see us, and a few lifted their trunks to test the air.  I realized that, in the excitement of the moment, I had been holding my breath.  I also remember how quietly these huge, gentle animals were moving.  As the last one passed, we turned to watch them continue up-river and soon disappear around the bend below the cliffs.

This herd had come out of the vast Mana Pools Game Reserve and, had probably not been poached or hunted.  This explained their acceptance of the smell of humans and the fact that, despite the presence of young in their herd, we were not perceived as a threat.  In the near future I would encounter elephant in other parts of the country and in different circumstances where the smell of humans would throw them into a panic. The following morning, I walked up-river from this spot and saw where the herd had excavated holes in the riverbed and exposed pools of water.  During this time of the year, when rain would not come for many more months, elephants provide a source of water for many other wildlife species by digging into the dry river beds. 

Water revealed by elephant in a dry river bed.

It’s 44 years later and I still have the sharpest memories of that late afternoon in the Reckometjie River.  That was the moment when I began a love affair with elephants and started to develop an understanding of just how remarkably intelligent and gentle they are.  

Next - encounter with a Cape Buffalo, and then a black mamba and an eland.