The Africa Journals, Ch. 30, Petulant Pachyderms

The Africa Journals

Chapter 30

Petulant pachyderms

You know ... they say an elephant never forgets.
What they don't tell you is, you never forget an elephant.—

Bill Murray, Larger Than Life

We drive along a sandy road that parallels the Chobe River, watching geese and wading birds and, nearer the river, those huge round hippos.  There are nowhere near as many elephants along the river today as there were on our previous river cruise, though we are here at the same time, yet something intangible seems to add weight to my suspicion:   This is a charmed trip.

Sacred Ibis and Egyptian geese

Cape Buffalo

How can this docile Cape Buffalo be considered the most dangerous animal in Africa?

From out of the brush comes a medium-sized elephant.  It veers off from its approach and crosses immediately behind the Land Rover before turning back towards the river.  Is it my imagination, or is there something a bit confrontational in its attitude?

 

Ahead of us, a larger elephant is walking along the road.  I notice the tip of its trunk is twitching back and forth, a movement I associate with irritability, but then, I don’t know elephants and I wonder if this is an ordinary elephant thing or a universal indication of irritability.   I get my answer as soon as we draw abreast of the creature.

About 12 feet from me at this point.

Whew!   But that trunk still twitches.

I think the guide/driver recognizes a potentially dangerous situation, too, because as soon as I realize that elephant could reach its immense trunk into the rear seat of the safari vehicle and easily snatch me out, he pulls forward, away from the petulant pachyderm.

 

Leopard tortoise, one of the Small Five.

Farther along the river road, a Cape Buffalo emerges from the trees and we stop to watch.   We are well aware that the buffalo is considered the most dangerous of African animals because of its bad temper and unpredictability.   It saunters off.

Was it because of the little scare that elephant had given me that made me turn around?   There’s another Cape buffalo coming up from behind.  Yet, this one also doesn’t seem to care and walks right past the safari vehicle, almost close enough to touch—not that any of would dare to attempt such a foolish thing.

From the high branches of trees, vultures and fish eagles watch carefully.   

We swing inland and pass a dormant termite mound with a woolly caper bush growing from it like a crown.

A Red-billed Hornbill creeps through the grass.   “When I asked my father why they had such big bills,” says Brian, our tour guide/naturalist, “he said it was a handle to flip them over on the grill.”   Brian had a really unusual father, it seems, and the stories sound like something my own would have told.

Carmine bee-eater

We come across a giraffe.

This is the problem with trying to photograph a giraffe that's too close.

Word of a lion sighting comes over the radio and we go back to the river road.  We watch for long minutes next to other safari vehicles, and then she moves in the dense brush and we catch a glimpse.

We drive a little way from the lion and stop for sundowners.

I just liked the rain-wash pattern in the sand.

Back inland, at a point where three roads meet an elephant trail, dozens of baboons crowd the road, with more coming from the distant ridges.   We stop to watch.

Movement from the left catches my eye.  It’s a teenaged bull elephant coming up from the river valley.  Something tells me to keep an eye on him.   As he gets closer—while the baboons continue coming down the road—he drapes his trunk over one tusk.   This is not good, I think.

Isn't this a gorgeous scene?

He looks perturbed as he veers off the elephant trail slightly to pass in front of us.  Then he turns, flares his ears and trumpets loudly.   This is not a happy elephant.

Teenaged bull venting his displeasure.

 This video was made by Gail on her phone.

 And still more baboons come down the road and make that right turn. 

Our driver waits for a chance and pulls past the raging elephant.  All of us have our eyes on the elephant and see him start to come after us.    We put a lot of distance between him and us.

We pass zebras and eight giraffes, but two more young elephants confront us at different spots on our short drive out of the park.   What is with these elephants today?  Brian thinks they are juvenile males that have been pushed out of the female herd.   They have not yet learned any manners.   They usually join a small herd of older males that instruct them in the ways of the bush.

Just before the witching hour of 6:30, our driver checks us out of the park gate.   After that, according to park regulations, the only reason you’re in the park is to poach, and you're treated as such.

We drive past warthogs and impala on the road back to the lodge, and then I see movement in the grass near the road.   “I see something with spots over there.”

“It’s a hyena!” says Brian.   “I haven’t see one of those for years.”

I’d already turned off the camera, but it disappears too quickly for a photo anyway.   Or maybe my delay had other reasons—like elephants showing their ire.