I met up with my old friend Shirley at a gas station. She was on leave from the hotel because she had just had her third boy, but the child had been placed with a nanny for the day and she'd called ahead and organized a discount for us, since she represented the Rissington and was therefore in a position to recommend the place to other tourists.
We started out with a quick orientation about the sad plight of elephants; we were told that a hundred and something years ago, the elephants could roam 97% of the land and humans only 3%, but now the numbers were reversed.
Humanity's instinct to meddle has now caused a situation where all the sanctuaries are at capacity and most of the natural parks are way above. For example, Kruger should have about 7,500 ellies but at the last count had an estimated 26-27,000.
As I've said many times before; Kruger has way too many elephants for its flora, and we can thank the do-gooders who stopped the SA government from culling herds. We were also told that because of the situation, sanctuaries were banned from breeding, which I actually think is a good idea anyway.
The five ellies on display that morning.
We were then presented with some of the tricks the ellies could do. They claimed that all the tricks were verbal and that once an ellie understood what it was supposed to do, it never forgot that trick; the oldest one knew 40 commands.
Some people will argue that ellies don't naturally do tricks, and that therefore they shouldn't teach them and that the sanctuaries basically do it for the money. To that I say that I think animals as naturally intelligent as these, need to be challenged or they will wither away intellectually. When they can't get that stimulation in a natural setting for one reason or another, this is a justifiable way of doing it.
In an ideal world, we could make do with Kruger and its likes around the globe. But we live in a very imperfect one and so long as the alternatives are culling, I think we're doing ok by using these ellies for entertainment and education - and yes, for profit. You see, unless you're a millionaire, you can't afford to keep these giant animals just to look at, you need to generate income.
Stuffing face on banana leaves. Mmmmm, banana leaves.
One problem I enquired about as soon as they opened up for questions (which they did several times) was what they did with the bulls when they went into musth; meaning they are ready to mate, that they are in heat, so to speak.
An ellie in that condition is extremely aggressive and not something you'd want to have around tourists. We were told that the males were given injections every 6 months to suppress the urge, so to speak, so this was not a problem. I suppose it goes in with the whole thing about not breeding in captivity.
Anyways, after the orientation and the tricks, we were given pellets to feed to the biggest ellie, the 35 years old and 3,5 metric tons heavy Timbo. He was a gentle giant and stood very still as a line of about 15-20 people went up to him one by one, lifted his trunk with one hand and poured pellets down into it with the other. Then we patted him on the trunk, posed with a hand on his ivory tusks and were told to feel the skin all the way down to the tail. On the second round everybody got to give his massive leg a hug.
It was with no little amount of trepidation that I grabbed his trunk.
And then poured in the peanuts...
It was quite the experience standing next to an animal that by rights should squash you into the ground like a bug. But Timbo was very gentle; a couple of times he sniffed the shirt or pants of someone, to general laughter. As we were shuffled around, the head trainer poured out lots of facts about the animals and I don't remember half of it, because I'm a bear of very little brain.
You can tell who's who, right?
Feeling my way down the length of his ginormous body.
An ellie's tail is made up of very coarse material.
We also got to hug him.
While the guy on top fed him peanuts so that his trunk would be raised.
Lastly, we were sent up on a large platform where we formed pairs to go on each of the five ellies. Not everybody did this, because it cost extra money and as far as I could see the ride is NOT advertised on their web page.
The smallest ellie just lay down and let people climb aboard.
Shirley and I were last and got Timbo. I'm not sure if this was their way of telling me to lose weight, and I joked with Shirley about it. We were helped onto the massive back of the animal and then given a 15-minute ride or so around the grounds.
I wish I could tell you that it was a transformative experience, but I had enough with holding on to the saddle for dear life, because that ride was bumpy. It was worst when Timbo went downhill, then I actually feared that I was going to fall off. But I survived and Shirley was in seventh heaven, so all was good.
It looks so innocent, but I was holding on tight.
I don't wanna diiiiiiiiiie...
So, do I recommend a trip to Elephant Whispers or any other place like it for that matter? Yes, I think I do. A lot of people will never get to see an ellie up close and it is something very different from being told a thing on TV or in a classroom and actually touch the beast, feel the skin and the softness of the trunk; to witness how gentle they are in real life.
After the ellies, I dropped Shirley off at a driving school (God help us all) and drove over to Numbi Gate. Here, I got to talk to a very nice Dutch couple, and we stood jabbering for probably 20 minutes. Sadly, that was about as exciting as the day got, as all the predators had the good sense to stay hidden in the shade while stupid tourists hounded around in up to 34C (93F).
I had a small detour down to Shitlhave Dam, where some asshole had thrown out a KFC box. South Africa, take notice: This is what the death penalty is for.
Lovely Shitlhave sans KFC.
Well, a little excitement took place when I actually managed to back my car into a fucking ditch not far from Phabeni gate. Personally, I have found that a lot of SUVs have the spacing of the pedals all wrong, so on this car I tended to push in the gas instead of the brakes. I'd had some near misses, but this time instead of decisively breaking, I sent the car roaring down into the bush.
A couple of cars coming each way probably got the shock of their life, but I was able to bring the vehicle up on the road again without any assistance and without getting out. I drove on as if nothing had happened, and with as dignified a look as I could muster. I made a quick right onto a dust road, where I got out and could conclude that the car was undamaged.
This is not a problem on the automatic car I drive at home, so until further evidence is presented, I shall blame the cars; the alternative would be to admit error and that is just not going to happen. The evening was concluded with me talking holes in the heads of all the old and new people at Rissington.
By the way, did I mention this is my EIGHT day in the park without a lion? Bzzz click, syntax error. Does not compute.
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