How It Felt To Be On The Wrong Side Of The Two Elephant Bulls Who Where Peacefully Picking Their Dinner?
E-E-E-LE-PHANTS!
To the Kruger’s elephants the grass is greener, not only on the far side of the fence, but also across the river. The green-green hikers’ trail of Sabiepark draws the big feet like a magnet. Many hikers on this stretch have been surprised by elephants – their massive bodies dark and wet after wading through the Sabie River.
In winter, when the water level is low, adventurous elephants love to come and investigate “what’s for dinner” on the other side of the river. The reeds along the north bank is a favourite temptation. When the feast is over, steaming “visiting cards” abound along the narrow trail.
Our list of elephant-surprises along the hikers’ trail grows longer
In the good old days, before the trail was indefinitely closed, the trail was often blocked by these massive visitors. They loudly flapped their ears to scare off hikers. Nowadays, when a destruction squad invades that area and destroy trees, Sabiepark people just hear what sounds like canon fire. An invasion can last for hours. Damage can be enormous.
Tokkie and I have a quite long list of personal elephant surprises along the hikers’ trail. Seven “strange encounters of the large kind” during our first July vacation in Sabiepark in 1998 count among the treasured memories of two glorious months in the bush. Later years brought their own scores, but the score of 1998 is a record that stands firm.
The only place where one can come closer to an elephant than in our pristine bush in those wonderful days, is at a zoo or circus. To suddenly face such an enormous heap of meat, only 20 metres ahead, caused one’s heart to somersault. At least it provided excellent photo material. There was not always time to focus carefully, however. Some pictures are blurred. The camera “refused” to keep still. Photography can a rather challenging hobby.
Tokkie and I more than once had to beat rather undignified retreats, when a gigantic apparition suddenly appeared, flapped its ears and swung its trunk around. These trunks are often two metres long – the length of the neck of a giraffe. They weigh 100 kilograms or more – the mass of two impalas! (Just remain calm, the experts say. An elephant only really becomes dangerous when it draws its massive ears flat against the head and its equally massive trunk against the massive body. But I don’t know. At that stage, the distance between me and the elephant would have increased very quickly, and the loxodonta africa would only have seen my back!)
Once a elephant (I nearly used the word massive again!) unexpectantly appeared about 50 metres away on the trail. It looked calm and friendly as it was, bathed in late afternoon sunlight. The big guy did, however, not enjoy being photographed. When the second flash went off, the bounder started trampling restlessly. At first only the trunk swayed from side to side. Then the ears began to move. When he suddenly gave a concerted step in our direction, we did not wait a second longer.
Tokkie grabbed her hat in one hand and my cane in the other. I followed close on her heels, hesitating a second for “just one more photo”. For the retreat, I slung the camera strap around my neck. A short distance behind me the bull approached at a shuffle-step. I imagined that the distance between us was shrinking alarmingly. From behind I urged my wife to hurry. “Tokkie, can’t you move faster?” I exhorted her, short of breath.
For elephants I have a holy respect
There was a time when in our family circle I was the victim of disrespectful laughter about a certain scenario. In my mind’s eye I could see how we start on the trail without a single elephant in sight. Then, suddenly, we are confronted by an impenetrable wall of dark bodies and enormous white tusks, with nowhere to go. My daughter Marisa long ago ceased laughing at my “alarmist” forebodings…
She invited a group of friends to Sabiepark. They went hiking. On the return leg they were in a bit of hurry to get home and light a fire. In the process they walked a bit faster than recommended. Suddenly the leading hiker came to a dead stop. When he turned around, he was paler than the tusks of the elephant bull that blocked the entire path. Close behind the elephant stood his partner, which seemed even more colossal.
“E-e-e-le-phants!” The young man wanted to whisper, but the stammered announcement came out so loud that the elephants both cocked their ears. Marisa later remembered: “Moments ago we were in a hurry and hungry. Now we were paralysed, afraid and on the wrong side of two giants who were peacefully picking their dinner.”
The “expert” in the group quickly gave instructions on how to survive this crisis. “Elephants have excellent hearing and don’t miss a thing. But they have poor eyesight. If they rush we should move closer to one another and attempt to not appear like humans.” Mercifully, the elephants did not rush. But the sunlight was waning – and they stood like implants. What was to be done? The only option was to apply the art of leopard crawl, as perfected by Rudolph Strauli’s Springbok rugby players at “Camp Steelwire”. After their undignified crawl, our group fled in near panic to the safety of the car.
The only route elephants can follow from the Kruger to the trail, is through the river. For Sabieparkers such a crossing – not always high and dry – is a sensation, much like the epic Israelite exodus via the Red Sea. We know folk who have visited Sabiepark every winter for the past ten years, and had never witnessed this spectacle. The Van Deventers, however, were very fortunate. During our third midday “braai” at the picnic spot, unaware of any elephant presence, Tokkie’s finely-tuned ears picked up a cracking of branches.
The chicken kebabs were just turning a delicious golden brown, when a matriarch led her herd from the bush. She entered the water, followed by ten others. They came in tight formation through the water, their trunks and tails intertwined like links of a chain. Not long afterwards – our chops and special Free State “boerewors” (beef sausage) still on the coals – the rearguard followed. Same route. Same formation. Thank you, old faithfulls. Your “lunch- hour parade” was something very special to us and our guests.
THE GRASS across the river
is greener. Kruger elephants cross the Sabie River towards Sabiepark.