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Death
of a Presidential Elephant
Sharon
Pincott, ‘Presidential Elephant’ Conservation Project, Hwange Estate,
Zimbabwe
September
12, 2005
It was late
May when I first sighted one of the ‘F’ family youngsters, his trunk
ripped off by a wire snare. He was born to the ‘Presidential Elephants’
in early February of 2003, making him now a little over two-and-a-half
years old. With all that had happened in the two years following
his birth, he remained without a name. Whilst still suckling from
his mother during the past three months, although trunkless, he
was fat and seemingly healthy. But unless he could somehow adapt
and become a browser, he had no chance, I knew, of long-term survival.
No known elephants in the past four years have ever survived losing
half, or more, of their trunk. He was yet another innocent snare
victim.
Tragedy struck
earlier than expected. I was driving along the vlei, thoughtful
of the approaching bushfire, smoke choking the distant air. And
there he was. Alone. Abandoned? Or had something happened to his
mother? It was difficult for me to believe that he had been abandoned,
since his mother had always been particularly protective of him,
both before and after he was cruelly stripped of his trunk. I had
last sighted him only a few weeks earlier, his mother at that time
unconditionally tolerant of his suckling. Something seemed wrong.
I would look for his mother later. Right now all I could think of
was trying to save this little ‘Presidential Elephant.’ He was much
too young to be wandering alone. And he had no trunk. He now had
absolutely no chance of survival in the wild. He was already agonisingly
thin and lethargic. Clearly, he had been wandering - alone and traumatised,
unseen - for several days.
I stepped out
of my 4WD and walked towards him, calling to him, remembering the
little new-born elephant whom we had found abandoned by a roadside
in 2003, who had walked straight up to me, frantically trying to
suckle from my arm. But this little fellow was older and much less
trusting. He attempted a little mock charge, whilst I side-stepped
behind a bush. Even two-and-a-half year old elephants in a weakened
state could inflict harm. It would have been comical I suppose,
if it had not been so sad. I tried to tempt him with some acacia
erioloba pods, imagining that he could get down on his knees and
feed with his mouth, but he just did not know what to do with them.
He had survived previously on his mother’s milk, having never really
learned how to be a dexterous little elephant. And then he had been
cruelly stripped of his dexterity. He did not know how best to feed
himself.
By now it was
already late in the day. I had no choice but to leave him, praying
to invisible forces that he would, in his vulnerable and fragile
state, survive the night. I needed to make the necessary arrangements.
He deserved a chance. We surely had to try to save him. Plans were
in place quickly, the Parks Authority giving permission to capture
this little ‘Presidential Elephant’ and transfer him to a captive
facility in Victoria Falls, who had so very kindly agreed to take
him. There at least he could be allowed a chance to live - an ambassador
for the ‘Presidential Elephants,’ and for snare victims everywhere.
But to be able
to capture him, we would have to find him again. When I left him
in the late afternoon, he had been heading slowly down the vlei,
in between the photographic Sable and Sikumi lodges. This was far
from comforting knowledge. How could this little elephant know that
a small piece of this vlei was now off-limits to us all?
There was, mercifully, no longer any hunting allowed here, but this
was a small piece of land that none of us, these days, were permitted
to drive across, a stance that had been angrily reaffirmed just
days ago by those who had laid claim to this piece of land as well.
It encompasses a section of the sandy road that links one of the
photographic lodges with all of the others; a section of the road
previously used by photographic game-drive vehicles for scores of
years; a section of the road now under the control of the settlers.
We were about to try to save a ‘Presidential Elephant.’ I imagined
our little snare victim wandering, unknowingly, to this small section
of ‘sandwiched’ land. I imagined us needing to cross this section
of land, freely accessible in past years, at a moment’s notice -
to drive along the short stretch of now-taboo road - in search of
him. I imagined us taking the decision to just do it, if it became
necessary in our endeavour to save the life of this little ‘Presidential
Elephant.’ I imagined yet another confrontation with those who do
not care. I was tired at just the thought of it. There always seemed
to be something. …"If you have a problem, speak to
The President." … I found myself preparing the words silently
under my breath, in anticipation of yet another hostile encounter.
My fears did
not materialise. Thankfully overnight the little ‘Presidential Elephant’
did not quite reach this section of land, a ‘hiccup’ in his key
home-range. It was a potential problem that we did not have to face.
This time.
In the early
morning I had driven, searching for him. But I could not find him.
I had then deployed the anti-poaching team to track his spoor.
It was after midday when the radio call came in. In the meantime,
many had become aware of this little ‘F’ family calf. It was decided
to name him "Future" - for the future of the ‘Presidential
Elephants,’ and the future of anti-poaching/snare destruction efforts
everywhere.
The Hwange Estate
anti-poaching team had successfully located "Future".
It was the Victoria Falls anti-poaching unit and those from a facility
named ‘Elephant Camp’ who were now immediately on their way to assist
with the darting and transportation back to Victoria Falls. Last
minute phone calls and explanations became necessary, but no-one
tried to impede the process. Permits such as these take time, but
cooperation was at it’s best. "Future" was weak and any
delays would certainly cost him his life.
The team arrived
from Victoria Falls, two hours drive away. The Parks Authority scouts
arrived with the transportation crate. "Will he fit in there?"
I murmured with concern. We needed to get down the vlei.
Time was running out. With a convoy of helpers we finally arrived
to where "Future" was being watched.
No-one could
tell for certain but it was decided, with some trepidation, that
the crate was not tall enough. There was a frantic dash back to
the Hwange Safari Lodge to somehow cut the top off this sturdy crate.
I stayed on the vlei, concerned that the day was fading fast.
Those four terrible words: "What time is it?" were
haunting me once more. I looked at my watch over and over again.
Finally the radio call came in. They were on their way back down
the vlei with the modified crate. It was 5.35pm. Soon the
sun would set.
There was no
time to lose. The darter took aim, with a reduced amount of immobilisation
drug. In his weakened state, there was always a chance that "Future"
would not survive the drug. Soon he was down - and scores of helpers
moved in. "Future" was even more thin than I had realised.
His skin lacked any lustre. His trunk was so tragically short. His
breathing and heartbeat were being closely monitored. A path had
to be cleared into where he was lying in the bush; the truck carrying
the crate had to be reversed in; "Future" had to be lifted,
by scores of able-bodied hands, onto the back of the truck; and
finally he had to be pushed into the crate. Later under moonlight,
the loading work now successfully complete, I looked up at little
"Future", his head well above the top of the crate, thankful
for the foresight of others. I stepped up onto the back of the truck,
my hand against his shortened nose, and wished him well.
We headed back
up the vlei in darkness. He was to be immediately transported
to Victoria Falls. I watched him standing in the crate on the back
of the truck, heading out of the Safari Lodge boom-gate, and towards
his new life. Quiet hope. I telephoned the next morning to confirm
that "Future" had survived the night-time journey. Everyone
was asking about his welfare. There was quiet jubilation and excited
hope that "Future" would now survive.
But "Future"
was just too weak. Despite gallant efforts, and a drip to help him
regain his strength, "Future" died at 6.30pm.
Sincere thanks
to:
- The Parks
Authority for the necessary approvals, issued without delay;
- The ‘Touch
the Wild’/Zimsun Anti-Poaching Unit (APU), Hwange Estate;
- Charles Brightman
of the Victoria Falls APU for assisting with coordination;
- Gavin Best,
Manager of Elephant Camp for quickly agreeing to help;
- Ian DuPreez
of the Victoria Falls APU for darting;
- Jane Hunt
from the Hwange Lion Project for extra coordination assistance
in the field;
- the Zimbabwe
Conservation Task Force for donation of the immobilising drug
M99.
- And to "Future",
for helping to raise awareness.
FINANCIAL SUPPORT
IS ALWAYS NEEDED TO ASSIST ONGOING ANTI-POACHING EFFORTS
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