Fortunately it was the feed the elephants were after and the two adults yanked the remaining bags off the back and tried standing on them to smash them open. Frankie, frustrated in her attempts to open one bag, grabbed it by the corner with her trunk and flicked it high into the air – thankfully in the opposite direction from the now-sleeping rhino. It sailed above our heads for at least thirty yards and landed with a thud, scattering its contents. Given that the bag weighed 120 pounds and she had only grasped it with the tip of her trunk, the height and distance of the throw was truly awesome.
The elephants loped off after the broken bag and while they were busy gorging themselves we were able to sneak out to fix the Land Rover. It was a disconnected fuel line and soon we restarted it. Now knowing that they loved horse feed I radioed for more and we were able to lay juicy trails of food leading the herd far away from our new arrivals.
We weren’t so lucky with Mnumzane. He had unfinished business with the rhino, and soon lost interest in the scraps of feed on the ground, walking back towards where she lay.
There was nothing left to do but get between them and keep him away as best we could. My heart jumped at the thought, for even at his age he could easily toss our vehicle over if he wanted to. Bull elephants don’t like to be forced to do something against their will.
I drove past Mnumzane up to the drowsy rhino and blocked his path, leaving the motor running. He could easily walk around us of course, so the plan was to keep moving in front of him, obstructing him from the rhino and hope he got the message without feeling he had been interfered with. And particularly without provoking a charge.
On he came until he was about ten paces away and then stopped and watched us guardedly, assessing the situation with elephantine intelligence. As we predicted he started making a wide circle around the vehicle. Now came the tricky part because not only would he be much closer, but he would realize he was being thwarted.
‘Hold on,’ I said quietly as I gently moved the Landy forward to block him.
Again he stopped, this time less than five yards away and then he changed tack. I reversed and as we started moving his ears flared out and he swung to face us head-on. He had taken up the challenge and the tension in the Landy ratcheted up as he took an aggressive step towards us, head held high.
‘Shit!’ said David quietly.
‘No! Mnumzane, no!’ I called out the open window, ensuring that my voice conveyed intention rather than anger, or worse still fear. ‘No!’
Again he stepped forward, ears belligerently splayed, tail up. This was no game.
‘No, Mnumzane! No!’ I called again, as I reversed in a tight semicircle to keep him away. ‘No!’
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the rhino wake up, stumble to her feet and start moving off, giving us precious space in which to manoeuvre. Relieved, I swung the Landy around until we faced the temperamental elephant head-on with about ten yards separating us.
As we confronted each other he began swinging his front foot, a sure sign that he was going to charge. Without thinking I dropped the clutch and briefly lurched the Landy at him, and then again, challenging him directly.
‘Whoa!’ said David, gripping the dashboard. ‘Here he comes!’
Then as we braced for the inevitable charge, he suddenly broke and ran off at a gait, trunk held high. I had to press home our advantage and immediately followed him, goading him away until he reached thick bush and disappeared.
‘Flippin’ hell,’ said David, expelling breath with a whoosh. ‘That was a close one. I wouldn’t try that with an adult bull.’
He was absolutely right. Mnumzane’s youth was on our side, but it had worked and the rhino was safe. We posted a ranger with the rhino with instructions to call if any elephants reappeared and I went off to find Mnumzane and make my peace with him.
chapter seventeen
Frankie’s charge at Françoise and me, terrifying as it was, had in its own strange way strengthened the bond that I had been building with the herd. The fact that the matriarch Nana had not joined in was an impressive breakthrough. She had launched a few aggressive steps towards us, which is only to be expected of a wild elephant, but then she almost instantly halted. To me, the fact that she had not overreacted was significant.
Frankie, who had a sinister reputation already, had broken a full-blooded charge as soon as she recognized me – something virtually unheard of in the elephant world.
However, what happened a few months later, was even more surprising.
Françoise and I were fast asleep when Bijou’s persistent growling woke us. Bijou – jewel in French – is Françoise’s tiny Maltese poodle, the obligatory accoutrement of almost an entire nation of French women. Bijou enjoyed a privileged life beyond anything Max or Penny could ever hope to aspire to. She had the choice food, even real steak, and slept on the bed between us where for a time her major accomplishment was nearly destroying our sex life.
She was not a watchdog, so when she started growling I realized something serious was going on.
I jumped out of bed, grabbed my shotgun and then heard what the problem was – a heavy scraping on the roof accompanied by soft thuds. The other dogs were also alert. Penny’s hair stood stiff as wire on her back and she was crouching protectively next to Françoise. Max was sitting at the door, ears cocked but calm, watching me quizzically for instructions.
I pulled on some trousers and then tentatively opened the top half of the stable door leading to the garden, shotgun at the ready.
Whoa! A giant figure suddenly loomed up and I got the fright of my life, hastily stepping back and tripping over Max, then staggering backwards until I slammed into the opposite wall, sprawling in an undignified mess on the floor. I somehow managed to keep the cocked shotgun from hammering into the wall and discharging a shot.
For there, standing in the doorway, casually pulling the grass from our thatched roof was Nana.
Woken by the commotion, Françoise was sitting up in bed holding Bijou tightly – staring at the apparition in the doorway. Like her, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Of all the spooky things that I could have imagined outside my front door at some ungodly hour, a full-grown elephant was definitely not one of them.
Recovering my composure I got up and walked toward the door and – not really knowing what to do – began talking softly to her.
‘Hey, Nana, you scared the hell out of me. What are you doing here, you beautiful girl?’
I will always remember her response. She stretched out her trunk and I did likewise with my hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world. For a few magnetic moments we connected. I stood a little closer, taking care to stay at the edge of her reach so she couldn’t grab me, and she moved the tip of her trunk over my T-shirt and then touched me on the head and face. I held my ground, completely entranced by the exhilarating combination of danger and affection. Considering that she couldn’t see what she was doing as her eyes were above door level, she was surprisingly gentle.
She then lowered her head and moved forward, almost as if she was trying to come inside, and with that Bijou barked. The spell was broken.
I doubt whether many people have had a ten-foot, five-ton wild elephant trying to squeeze into their room via a narrow door, but take it from me, it is not a soothing experience.
Bijou and Penny went ballistic, sprinting around the room barking like banshees. Surprised, Nana backed off a few paces and flared her ears.
Alarmed that the dogs were going to be stomped flat, Françoise grabbed Penny and stuffed her into the bottom of a built-in clothes cupboard. She then rushed after Bijou who, assuming the unlikely role as protector of the realm, was now for reasons known only to her having a go at Max, shrieking at him in high-pitched Maltese. I’m convinced that Nana was just too awesome for the tiny poodle to grasp and thus she assumed all the confusion was to be blamed on a bemused Max, who sat patiently ignoring her.
Françoise caught her and as she was putting the semi-hyster
ical pooch into the cupboard, Penny pushed open her door and came back into the fray. She wasn’t going to let anything – not even an elephant – get between her and Françoise.
Françoise managed to scramble Penny into her arms again and as she pushed her back in the cupboard, Bijou bolted out. It was an absolute circus. Eventually we locked all three dogs in the bathroom, and I was able to concentrate on Nana.
With all the commotion she had moved off about ten paces and it was only then I saw that the entire herd was with her. I looked at my watch: 2 a.m.
‘This is amazing,’ I said to Françoise who had joined me at the door. ‘This is completely bloody amazing.’
‘What are they doing here?’
‘I have no idea. But we might as well enjoy it while it lasts.’
Enjoy it we did. There was an air of contentment as the animals strolled around the lawn in the moonlight, casting giant shadows across the garden like ghosts of the prehistoric world.
As they moved off to the front of the house I dashed across the lawn to the rangers’ quarters to wake David.
He shot up in his bed. ‘Poachers again?’
‘No. The elephants are here. Come quickly.’
‘What do you mean … here?’
‘Here at the house. They’re on the front lawn.’
‘Our front lawn? Our elephants … ?’
‘Come … get dressed.’
I rushed back to Françoise.
‘You’d better wash before you come near me,’ she said, pointing at me with feigned revulsion on her face. I looked at her, perplexed, then put my hand on my chest to feel a gooey, sticky mess.
‘Your head,’ she said, wrinkling her nose. ‘It’s also all over your head.’
I strode over to the mirror and saw exactly what she meant. I was covered in pachyderm slime. I must have had a half a pint of mucous from Nana’s trunk spread all over me.
‘I’ll wash later. David is joining us on the verandah. Let’s go and watch.’
I let Max out of the bathroom and the three of us sneaked across the lawn to the rangers’ house, keeping a sharp eye out for any stray jumbos and then went out onto the front verandah. Here Françoise had a grandstand view of the herd destroying her cherished garden; they pushed over trees, tore apart her favourite bushes and ate every flower they could find. I must say she seemed less entranced by the visit than I was.
David came out and joined us. ‘This is unbelievable. They’re all here,’ he said, eyes straining against the gloom, ‘except Mnumzane.’
‘No, he’s here too. I saw him earlier.’
David found him standing alone in the dark about twenty yards away. ‘Poor guy. They tolerate him, but only just. He’s got no adult relatives so he’s always a Johnny-come-lately. I really hope he turns out OK.’
‘He’s a big boy,’ I replied. ‘He’ll be fine.’
Nana looked up from the garden she was demolishing and with a bunch of prized shrubs in her mouth ambled over to us. Max, who had moved a few paces onto the lawn, silently retreated to the relative safety of the verandah and then followed Françoise when I suggested she go inside in case Nana got too close.
It was something I just couldn’t get used to; the daunting vision of this gargantuan form looming ominously closer, apparently fixated on demonstrating her affection by standing right next to me. It was like having an infatuated Tyrannosaurus rex showering attention on you. What was even more mind-blowing was that not that long ago she would happily have killed me.
We decided to play it safe and David and I moved back inside the double door and watched her imposing bulk approach. She stopped at the low verandah wall and for the second time that dark morning stretched out her trunk to me. She couldn’t reach me, so I decided to hang back and watch and wait.
However, I underestimated her persistence – and her strength. Frustrated at my reluctance to come to her, she decided to come to me, trying to squash her vast frame between the two brick pillars that straddled the verandah entrance. This obviously didn’t work, and we watched openmouthed as she then gently placed her forehead on the left pillar and gave an exploratory shove.
That certainly got my attention. I remembered what she had done to the gate poles at the boma and had no doubt she would bring the whole verandah roof down if she wanted to. I hastily stepped forward and she stopped shoving and lifted her trunk. Once again she snaked it over the top of my body. It was a good thing I hadn’t changed for I received another liberal basting of slime, while the sound of her deep rumbling stomach reverberated through the house, drowning out the thumping of my heart.
Satisfied, she eventually ambled away and joined the rest of the clan as they finished off the few remaining exotic plants in Françoise’s now obliterated garden.
Then suddenly an eight-week-old kitten we had slipped past us and completely oblivious of the herd walked out onto the lawn. We only noticed after it was too late and watched in horror – there was nothing we could do to get her back as she was now among the herd. The elephants got very interested in this tiny thing and all sauntered over for a close inspection. Still the tiny cat didn’t react – I think these alien creatures around it were simply too big for it to comprehend, just as they had been for Bijou. Soon it was surrounded and as the elephants put their trunks out, waving the tips around this tiny curiosity, it would swipe at them with its paw, playing with them.
Eventually the elephants got tired of it and walked off, leaving the kitten alone on the middle of the lawn.
Except Frankie. She initially walked away, and then when she was about twenty yards off, she suddenly turned and ran at it. It was a sight I don’t think I will ever see again – a five-ton elephant charging a five-ounce cat.
The kitten finally realized something was wrong and skittered back to us just in time.
We stayed up watching until 5 a.m. when, at the first hint of light, Nana moved off with the herd in tow. They were soon eaten up by the dense bush.
I stared after them. A sense of emptiness seeped into my universe. A part of me was leaving with them.
chapter eighteen
Later that morning I woke with a glorious glow of satisfaction. The herd’s visit to our home had graphically demonstrated that we had made substantial progress. To think that not so long ago I was begging for their lives while the Parks Board issued elephant rifles to their rangers with ‘shoot on sight’ instructions. Now I was trying to keep them out of our living room.
It seemed the rehabilitation of the herd was all over bar the shouting and we had reason to celebrate our achievements. But whoever came up with the maxim ‘pride comes before a fall’ certainly knew what he was talking about.
I was enjoying a leisurely late breakfast, still replaying Nana’s extraordinary nocturnal display of affection in my mind when I was bumped back to earth by a frantic call from the rangers.
‘Mkhulu! Mbomvu! We are in danger; the elephants are trying to kill us.’
It was Bheki breathlessly shouting out the emergency Mbomvu – Code Red, the bush equivalent of Mayday.
I grabbed the radio.
‘Mkhulu standing by. What’s your position?’
‘We are at the fence near the river where it leaves the reserve. The elephants are chasing us. We are running. Mkhulu, it is bad!’
I could hear the panic rising in the normally stoic ranger’s voice. They were many miles away on the other side of the reserve and there was no chance we could get to them in time. The herd had certainly moved along quickly to be so far away from our house. A few hours earlier they had been trampling Françoise’s garden flat.
‘How close are they?’ I shouted into the radio.
‘They are here. She is trying to kill us! The big ones want to kill us!’
Bheki is a hugely experienced ranger and the horror in his voice startled me. He also is one of the toughest men I know.
‘Get out, Bheki!’ I yelled into the radio. ‘Take your men through the fence, cut it or find a place
and go under.’
‘Ngwenya is out already. We are trying to go under.’
Then I heard two shots over the radio.
‘Shit! Bheki what’s happening? Who’s shooting?’
‘It’s Ngwenya. He’s shooting …’ The radio went off in mid sentence.
‘Go! Just get out!’ I shouted, desperately trying to make contact, but Bheki’s radio stayed dead.
David who had been listening ran off and brought the Land Rover over, driving across Françoise’s mutilated garden to our front door. I climbed in and he pulled off cursing the Landy’s infamously wide turning circle as he spun the wheels through the soft sand of demolished flower beds and sped for the gate.
‘Bheki, Bheki come in, come in.’
But there was no reply. The radio remained ominously silent for the forty minutes it took us to hurry across the reserve, bouncing across the ridged tracks at breakneck speed, not knowing what we would find, and not daring to imagine the worst.
Then about a hundred yards from the fence I saw the herd milling about restlessly. On the other side, barely visible in the thick bush huddled Bheki and his men. I did a quick head-count, first of the rangers, and then the elephant and exhaled deeply in absolute relief. They were all there.
Frankie noticed us first and angrily lifted her foot, stamping the ground until it trembled, shaking her mighty head. She was extremely agitated by whatever had happened and was letting us know it.
We pulled over and called out to the rangers who gingerly emerged from the thicket, all eyes on the herd now starting to move off.
‘Are you OK?’ I asked. ‘What happened?’
‘Ayish … Mkhulu, these elephant are crazy,’ Ngwenya said with a sweep of his arm at the departing herd. ‘We found them here on the fence and they wanted to kill us. They charged us and we ran and ran but they chased us. Then just as we thought we were finished, we found the stream that goes under the fence and we crawled out. The electricity was biting us but we had to go on. My radio is finished. It was in the water.’
I took out a pair of pliers, snipped the fence and lifted the electric wires with a stick so they could crawl back into the reserve.
The Elephant Whisperer: My Life With the Herd in the African Wild Page 13