Why Vets From Skukuza Find It Hard To Offer Help To The Wounded Sabie Park Giraffe's?

To administer to giraffe must present quite a problem to vets. Just think of the complications of a sore throat! Vets from Skukuza at times do have to hurry to the aid of giraffe patients. In 1996 the sinew of a cow’s heel was torn by the snare of unscrupulous poachers. In April 2003 a bull giraffe became caught in a snare around one of his hind legs.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t recorded how the docter went about repairing the sinew, or how successful the orthopedic procedure was. Hopefully, the cow was more fortunate than her calf of about two weeks of age. While its mother was receiving treatment, a raging bull injured the calf so badly that it had to be put down.

The snare around the hind leg of the bull in the 2003 incident was fortunately not very tight. He was anaesthetized only lightly, and the wire was removed. With the help of a lot of willing hands, the huge animal was placed back on his feet. On the road again!

A special Sabiepark joy is to wake up in the morning, and to see through the bedroom window a string of long necks towering above the trees on your erf. One morning at Tarlehoet a tiny giraffe visited with a large old bull. Truly an odd couple. The little one was full of pranks. It trotted around the old bull and playfully kept bumping into him. The patriarch patiently endured this youthful boisterousness.

WAKE UP. A bull is helped back on its feet after a wire snare was removed. On the right – in front – is Gait-Jan Sterk of Sabiepark.

The patriarch patiently endured this youthful boisterousness.

The head of a giraffe is oddly shaped, like that of a camel. Giraffe and camel were probably related in the distant past. However, I came across an old book in which the name “camelopard” appears. In a dictionary, I discovered that this strange word was derived from medieval Latin (camelopardus) and Greek (camelopardalis). “Pardalis” is related to leopard. “The giraffe was thought to have a head like a camel’s and spots like a leopard’s,” according to the Collins English Dictionary. It makes sense. The derivation of “giraffe” is probably from the Arabian zaraffah.

One afternoon a group of these leopard-camels (camel-leopards?) slowly approached our home, among them a baby from which its umbilical cord was still dangling below. At the same time a troop of baboons appeared. Tokkie chased away these “sickletails” with shouts and body movements that reminded of the haka of the All Black rugby players. This strange behaviour made the giraffe hesitate. They turned off and moved in the direction of the Van Tonder house. But, still within striking distance, the baby felt like a few sips of mother’s milk. The long lens was quickly at hand. Unfortunately, a raisin-tree obscured the view. The automatic focus went haywire.

Another fine photo opportunity was presented by two giraffe stripping some leaves off a knob-thorn tree close to our front stoep. One almost bent double when he stared at Tokkie drinking coffee at the table. My dear wife grabbed the nearest camera and “shot” , in her view, a winner: the giraffe’s head and neck neatly framed in the stoep-opening. Just one snag. There was no film in the camera!

Our collection, however, is not only a record of failures. We have a beautiful photo of a giraffe feasting on the new green leaves of the spike-thorn right next to our front stoep. We also have one of two babies near the Tarlehoet name-board, another of an inquisitive fellow who almost leans on my shoulder near the braai, and of yet another Nosy Parker which Tokkie had “caught” at the kitchen window. He stretches his neck, screws his head around in order to get a better view of the house, and cocks his ears to try and understand a strange household sound.

Sabiepark’s giraffe population has dwindled alarmingly since 1998. Thirteen of them have been sold that year for ecological reasons: not on account of too little food, but because of the damage their hooves caused to the sensitive grassland. Yes, giraffe really make their mark. And large bulls have little compassion on young trees. They purposely walk over them. While the 13 were being herded by helicopters, another 10 mysteriously disappeared.

One theory has it that they crossed the river into the Kruger. I, for one, cannot picture 10 giraffe galloping through the Sabie!

In 2000 more calamity followed. Leopards caught two; lions a third. An old bull trod through the flimsy lid of a septic tank. For a long time he was stuck there. He died a cruel, lonely death. Later on crocodiles came from the river to feed on the carcass.

We were sad about the dwindling numbers, but on 30 December 2002 we received a fax from Sabiepark – a message which caused both joy and a bit of jealousy. This was Mariza’s message: “We are witnesses to the fact that the next giraffe to be born in Sabiepark was produced on Tarlehoet! What a spectacle! Hope J. (Johan) has good photos.” J. had, but when things started happening, he had to shoot quickly.

Mariza’s message warmed our hearts immensely. Giraffe babies are more than welcome in Sabiepark. The more giraffe, the merrier.

Naturally we were a bit jealous!

Tokkie and I once witnessed two giraffe suitors involved in a love game – like an old-fashioned minuet, round and round they danced. But then they suddenly became bashful. While we were stretching our necks, they disappeared into the bush to complete the deed. And how spectacular such a union could be, we could only surmise.

CREATING NEW LIFE. Two giraffe copulating very near the Tarlehoet stoep.

Anyone who has ever been at a waterhole watching the operation of a giraffe having a drink, would know what I mean. Even this simple task is no kid’s play. First, the front legs are planted wide apart. Then the long body is contorted until the mouth and water meet one another. Eventually the water is drawn upward — through the long “cooldrink straw”.

Forget about having a drink or making love. According to Sabieparkers, the birth of a baby giraffe is really something to write home about. The gangling new-born falls two metres far into a life. That bouncing entry is certain to evince prolonged applause. Its fall could easily be more than two metres – with resulting concussion – if the mother does not, with excellent timing, bend her hind legs at the exact critical moment.

When the new baby, dizzy from the fall, eventually manages to stand, the spectators really cheer. It’s a Herculean feat.