The Elephant Whisperer: My Life With the Herd in the African Wild by Lawrence Anthony (best motivational books .TXT) 📗

rutted dirt tracks through tribal areas to the sanctuary’s headquarters. While I was relieved that the elephants were safe, I was fearful about what was going to happen next. I had a terrible foreboding that I was about to hear their death sentences.

There was a funereal mood as I walked into the office. I knew most of these honest men of the bush and despite warm greetings they didn’t look happy.

After a few pleasantries they got to the point. They spoke the words I was dreading. If they had known about theelephants’ troubled background, they said they would never have granted the Thula Thula permit. The fact the animals had broken through two electric fences, chased cattle, raided a guard’s hut, refused to be cowed by a buzzing helicopter and had charged the conservation manager clearly indicated that this was a dangerous, unsettled herd. A rogue herd. The risk of letting them remain in an area with rural settlements was too high.

In conservation ‘speak’, that meant only one thing. The rangers were going to destroy the herd.

I interrupted, determined to deflect the ominous direction the discussion was going before it became irrevocable. ‘Guys, you have to remember that there’s been a ton of publicity surrounding this breakout. The news is everywhere and public sympathy is pretty much with the elephants. The matriarch’s baby especially has attracted a lot of attention and people all over the country are following the chase and rooting for them. If you shoot them now that they’re safe and haven’t done any harm, all hell will break loose in the media.’

I then stressed that it was just bad luck the herd had escaped. We had done everything by the book. Even KZN Wildlife’s resident expert had pronounced the boma safe. Even he had not believed the herd would have been able to muscle down that single tree in the boma that initiated the breakout.

Once free, it was only natural that they would attempt to return to their original home. That’s wired into their psyche. But as soon as I could acclimatize them at Thula Thula, they would be OK. I also pointed out that they hadn’t hurt any humans, despite being on the run for three days.

I paused, acutely aware that I was arguing for the animals’ lives. ‘Please, gentlemen; can you give them one more chance? This won’t happen again.’

A sombre silence enveloped the room. There wasn’t much more I could say.

The rangers were ethical men who did not want to kill any animal unless it was absolutely unavoidable. However, in this case they said they didn’t think Nana and her family had much going for them. They said hard experience had shown any herd that refused to respect an electric fence had crossed the shadow line and that there was little hope of rehabilitation.

I knew what they were saying was true.

‘Look, Lawrence,’ said one, ‘we understand how you feel, but you know as well as we do that this is going to end badly. This herd is beyond help. They have been badly interfered with too many times and now see humans purely as enemies. They nearly killed Peter Hartley, for God’s sake. He’s never even heard of an elephant charging from that distance before. We’re going to have to put the adults down.’

‘Well, I don’t know how you’re going to do it,’ I said, grasping at straws. ‘The media are going to be all over you and it will be a real PR mess.’

‘We’ve thought about that. What we propose is we dart and capture the herd for return to Thula, but while doing so we quietly overdose the adult females and suckling baby, and send only the youngsters back to you.’

I was dumbfounded. ‘The press will smell a rat,’ I responded, trying to stonewall any talk of death. ‘Or blame you for incompetence. Either way you lose. You guys are in the limelight right now so let’s just let things settle down. I’ll get them back to the boma at Thula and keep them locked up there. Let’s watch them carefully and then make a decision. If they’re still out of control in a couple of months then we’ll have no choice. I’ll take full responsibility.’

There was a long pause and I sensed that I had touched a nerve. After what seemed like an eternity, they said they would think about it.

I returned to Thula Thula, exhausted and forlorn, where I explained to David what had happened.

The next day out of nowhere I got a call from a stranger introducing himself as a wildlife dealer.

‘Listen, man,’ his voice boomed from the receiver, ‘I’ve heard about your elephant problem.’

I grimaced. Who hadn’t?

‘Well, I may just have the perfect solution for you.’

My curiosity was instantly piqued. ‘Like what?’

‘I’ll buy the herd off you. Lock, stock and barrel. Not only that, I’ll give you another one as a replacement. A good herd. Normal animals that won’t give you any hassles.’

‘You mean circus elephants?’ I couldn’t keep the sarcasm from my voice.

‘No, no, man. Nothing like that. These are wild animals; just not as aggressive as yours. And I’ll give you $20,000.’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘If your animals stay here, one way or another they will be shot. If I take them, they will be relocated to a sanctuary in Angola where there are no humans to worry them. At least they will be allowed to live.’

That certainly shook me. Here was a man offering to solve my problems in one single stroke. I would recover my initial costs of trucking the elephants and building the boma – and I would get another herd for free. Considering that I also was about to be hit with more capture and transport costs to get my herd back from the Umfolozi reserve, it was quite an attractive proposition. If I didn’t accept this offer I was going to have to fork out a lot of cash.

‘Give me your number and I’ll get back to you,’ I said.

However, something