I love elephants. Ever since I was a young boy, my favourite animal was the elephant. Unlike most kids I didn't have a teddy bear, I had a teddy elephant (teddyphant?). They are also very interesting animals and always put on a good show for your guests – always doing something. This is far from true for other animals though. For example, most people often get a bit disappointed the first time they see lions, because “They're just lying there!?” Yes, lions will happily sleep for twenty hours a day, but this is not the case for elephants.
Anyway, the lion is often regarded as “The King of the Jungle” but for those with a little insight the title belongs to the elephant. They totally dominate the savannah and no one can (or tries) to challenge their authority. To be a bit blunt: if you get in their way you will get hurt. It doesn't matter if you are a rhino, a human, an impala or a lion. It is also quite obvious that the elephants themselves are aware of this fact and that they kind of like to, occasionally, bully other animals.
On one occasion, in January, before any proper rains had started to fall, the southern Kruger went through a rather nasty dry spell and the relentless African sun made short work of most small rivers and natural ponds; it was a proper drought. One place where you could find water though was a natural waterhole at the far eastern end of the N'watimihri road, a couple of hours' drive from our camp.
I was sitting there, in the game viewer, one day at high noon. It was another one of those beautiful summer days in the Kruger National park: the sun was shining and it was just under 40 degrees. I had parked under a big Acacia tree to give my German guests a little well needed shade.
The waterhole still held some water and the sun's rays reflected off the water's surface like it was the Garden of Eden. The birds were active and colourful paradise flycatchers and bee-eaters were flying through the air and you could hear a myriad of different species of birds singing in the trees all around us. Plovers and geese were searching for food along the water's edge. To the left, a handful of zebra were drinking in silence. To the right, a dozen or so impala were also having a drink, while another dozen were nervously scanning the surrounding thickets for potential predators. In the background, two buffalos were enjoying a mud bath in a portion of the waterhole that had almost dried up. Just in front of the car, two warthogs were searching for something to eat in the undergrowth, not even slightly bothered by our presence.
Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, two bull elephants stepped out of the bush. And with a slow, steady pace they walked towards the waterhole. When they were about 20 meters from the water's edge they stopped and looked at all the animals in and around the waterhole – and all the other animals stopped with whatever they were doing and looked back at the elephants.
With a sudden burst of speed the two elephants took a few quick steps forward, ears flapping and heads held high, kicking up dust as they went. The zebras disappeared in a split second. So did the warthogs and all water birds. All the impala, being trapped between the water and the elephants had to squeeze by the elephants and the water's edge, dodging the swinging trunks as they ran for safety. The two buffalos were more reluctant to move but they were soon persuaded by a few mock charges and loud trumpeting.
We spent the following fifteen minutes looking at the two elephants drinking and playing like two young children all alone in the waterhole – without a care in the World. No other animal in sight, even the birds seemed reluctant to sing.
- Sharing? Are you a communist?!
As the elephants left the waterhole most of the water had been squirted around the area and what water was left had been turned to a muddy porridge-like substance. And before they left, as a final insult, one of the bulls (the biggest one, naturally) spent a few minutes relieving himself in the now battered remains of the waterhole; leaving a small island of dung behind him.
No, elephants do certainly not share.
/J
Anyway, the lion is often regarded as “The King of the Jungle” but for those with a little insight the title belongs to the elephant. They totally dominate the savannah and no one can (or tries) to challenge their authority. To be a bit blunt: if you get in their way you will get hurt. It doesn't matter if you are a rhino, a human, an impala or a lion. It is also quite obvious that the elephants themselves are aware of this fact and that they kind of like to, occasionally, bully other animals.
On one occasion, in January, before any proper rains had started to fall, the southern Kruger went through a rather nasty dry spell and the relentless African sun made short work of most small rivers and natural ponds; it was a proper drought. One place where you could find water though was a natural waterhole at the far eastern end of the N'watimihri road, a couple of hours' drive from our camp.
I was sitting there, in the game viewer, one day at high noon. It was another one of those beautiful summer days in the Kruger National park: the sun was shining and it was just under 40 degrees. I had parked under a big Acacia tree to give my German guests a little well needed shade.
The waterhole still held some water and the sun's rays reflected off the water's surface like it was the Garden of Eden. The birds were active and colourful paradise flycatchers and bee-eaters were flying through the air and you could hear a myriad of different species of birds singing in the trees all around us. Plovers and geese were searching for food along the water's edge. To the left, a handful of zebra were drinking in silence. To the right, a dozen or so impala were also having a drink, while another dozen were nervously scanning the surrounding thickets for potential predators. In the background, two buffalos were enjoying a mud bath in a portion of the waterhole that had almost dried up. Just in front of the car, two warthogs were searching for something to eat in the undergrowth, not even slightly bothered by our presence.
Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, two bull elephants stepped out of the bush. And with a slow, steady pace they walked towards the waterhole. When they were about 20 meters from the water's edge they stopped and looked at all the animals in and around the waterhole – and all the other animals stopped with whatever they were doing and looked back at the elephants.
With a sudden burst of speed the two elephants took a few quick steps forward, ears flapping and heads held high, kicking up dust as they went. The zebras disappeared in a split second. So did the warthogs and all water birds. All the impala, being trapped between the water and the elephants had to squeeze by the elephants and the water's edge, dodging the swinging trunks as they ran for safety. The two buffalos were more reluctant to move but they were soon persuaded by a few mock charges and loud trumpeting.
We spent the following fifteen minutes looking at the two elephants drinking and playing like two young children all alone in the waterhole – without a care in the World. No other animal in sight, even the birds seemed reluctant to sing.
- Sharing? Are you a communist?!As the elephants left the waterhole most of the water had been squirted around the area and what water was left had been turned to a muddy porridge-like substance. And before they left, as a final insult, one of the bulls (the biggest one, naturally) spent a few minutes relieving himself in the now battered remains of the waterhole; leaving a small island of dung behind him.
No, elephants do certainly not share.
/J
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