21st May, 2023

Footsteps in the Mud

It was our first game drive. The roads were muddy as it had rained for several days. At 1530 it was chilly and still sprinkling yet nothing could dampen our mood. We were on a search for the elephants of Thula Thula.

I first came upon the knowledge of the private game reserve, Thula Thula, when I saw a blurb on the internet about a man name Lawrence Anthony who had died and his elephant herd came to mourn him at his home for two days. One year to the date, they did the same thing. Lawrence had died in his sleep while in Johannesburg some 600 miles away from Thula Thula. How did they know? It is a mystery and I wanted to know more about this man and his elephants. This took me to a book he wrote called, “The Elephant Whisperer,” a must read for anyone interested in the relationship between man and animals.

Twenty or so years ago, Anthony and his wife, Francoise, started Thula Thula to help preserve the precious wildlife of his homeland. One life-changing day, Lawrence got a phone call from a man asking him to take on a herd of rogue elephants. Lawrence wasn’t ready to handle such a large task but if he didn’t take them, they would be killed. They had been escaping their reserve and frightening the surrounding villagers. Knowing he had to figure a way to save these elephants, he accepted.

Lawrence was to receive the nine elephants in only two weeks and got busy preparing a boma, a smaller enclosure to acclimate them to their surroundings prior to letting them roam in their new home, the 5000 hectares (12,355 acres) of Thula Thula.

Meanwhile, while being put into the trucks to travel to Thula Thula, the elephant herd witnessed the murder of their matriarch and her baby daughter. Only the matriarch’s teenage son and six others were left. They were, understandably, upset and upon arrival at Thula Thula proceeded to escape twice. Fortunately for all they were found before being shot and redirected back to the game reserve.

“The Elephant Whisperer” tells of Lawrence’s incredible feat of calming these seven and getting them to trust at least one human while keeping them feral. It was no easy task.

What developed between them is a story worthy of a book, thus “The Elephant Whisperer.” It was this book and the one that followed, “The Elephant in My Kitchen,” written by his wife, Francoise, after Lawrence had passed, that fueled my dream of an African safari.

And now, here we were, in a place called Zululand. My dream had become a reality. I couldn’t stop smiling as I took in the scenery around me.

Acres and acres of open land, green and thick with dusty brush, stretched out before us. Golden grasslands, reminding me of Sting’s song, “Fields of Gold,” bent gently with the wind. Hills rose in the distance with scattered clouds dipping over their tops. Drops of rain brushed against our faces as we ventured deep into the landscape. Our eyes darted left and right in hopes of seeing the wildlife that calls these grounds their home.

It wasn’t long before we saw impalas and nyalas. Our ranger/guide/driver, Siya (pronounced Seeya), was quick to point them out and explain that they both are a species of antelope. The impalas have a black marking on their bums that look like an M and because of this, and the fact that you can see them everywhere, are nick-named “the McDonalds of the bush.” The female Nyalas are brown with white stripes along their backs. The males are also brown with white stripes but have Mickey Mouse-like ears under their large horns. They have beautiful markings, including two white lines under their eyes to protect them from the glare of the sun.

Siya started noticing broken twigs on the road and fresh elephant dung. He told us the broken twigs were remnants of the elephants’ breakfast. I looked to my left and saw large footprints in the mud. “The elephants were here,” Siya said. “And not long ago.” He followed their tracks. He looked up toward the hills and saw an elephant grazing. “Where?” we asked. “See that dead tree at one o’clock? Now look to the left.” He made it sound so easy. “How do you do that? We asked. “They don’t call me eagle eyes for nothing,” he replied.

Siya has been working at Thula Thula for sixteen years. He knows all about the animals that inhabit this place. He especially knows the elephants. He can identify each one from a distance. He calls them by name. He knows their personalities and they know him. His voice is familiar to them. Most importantly, he can read their mannerisms and their moods, always keeping us safe.

Siya drove us up to where the elephants were. We stayed with them for about an hour, just watching them in their own habitat. Siya explained that they were enjoying the rain as it hadn’t rained in all of April. They began to play. They were feisty, trumpeting and running at each other, slipping and sliding.

Quite honestly, seeing them for the first time with their quick movements was a bit unnerving. It took us a few days to trust that they weren’t going to capsize our vehicle or… maybe something worse. But they didn’t. They were just living their lives not too bothered by us. Once in a while, one of them would come close to the land cruiser, close to our bodies, stare us down. “Stay calm. Don’t worry,” Siya said encouragingly. And after holding our breath and saying a silent prayer we realized they didn’t want to hurt us. They were as curious about us as we were of them.

Stay tuned for more in my African series.