TRUNK IN LOVE
An enchanting elephant encounter
What do Donald Trump, Ellen Degeneres and three dozen orphaned elephants have in common? On the face of it, very little, but when it was recently announced that the US would be lifting its ban on the import of elephant hunting trophies from Zimbabwe and Zambia, the global outcry snapped these three elements together under the Twitter hashtag #Bekindtoelephants.
Horrified by this additional threat to African elephants, which are already being killed by poachers at the rate of 100 a day — that’s one every 15 minutes — Ellen promised, for every re-tweet, to make a donation to the David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust in Kenya.
The publicity led to a flurry of interest in the organisation; and even now that Trump has reinstated Obama’s ban, happily the donations continue.
Located on the outskirts of Nairobi, by the National Park that skirts the city, the Trust’s carpark begins to fill every day at about 10.30am. Locals, tourists, families, school parties, couples and solo travellers — as well as, on the day I visit, three members of the New Zealand team in the city for the World Scrabble Championship — we’re all here to have our hearts simultaneously warmed, and broken.
At 11am, the gate opens and we pour through the buildings to a roped-off area out the back, where bare ground surrounds a shallow muddy pond. Head Keeper Edwin Lusichi greets us as we gather, and keeps up a running commentary throughout the hour, giving us the background information and urging us passionately never to buy ivory or any other product that encourages poaching.
Then he introduces us to the stars of the show. He’s briefly drowned out by the universal cooing that’s sparked by the arrival of the first entrant: a small elephant, the essence of cuteness, little ears flapping as it runs towards us out of the trees, making a beeline for a keeper holding a big bottle of milk formula.
It’s one of 17 members of the baby herd: altogether, 34 elephant orphans are currently being cared for at the Trust, all of whom would otherwise have died if left out in the wild. Edwin tells us the history of each elephant as they all crowd around the pond, seeking out the keeper with their feed. There’s Enkesha, who was found with her trunk almost severed by a wire snare set for antelope: she’s just 18 months old, and the nasty wound is clearly visible, although Edwin assures us it’s healing.
Sattao was rescued at only three months old, found thin and alone, wounded by predators, his mother presumably poached — now he’s a bouncy one-year-old, great friends with Luggard, who was spotted with a leg badly broken by poachers’ bullets. Maktao too was three months old when, found alone and severely dehydrated, he was helicoptered to the Trust just six months ago.
Edwin continues with the desperately sad back-stories — mothers poached, or killed by farmers angry at their crops being raided, babies found alone fallen down wells, caught in snares, or victims of drought — as the keepers upturn big bottles of milk into each hungry mouth.
There’s occasional irritated trumpeting when an empty bottle is removed, but it’s a mild protest. The elephants are fed every three hours, around the clock, by their dedicated keepers, who form close relationships with them and are rarely far from their sides.
I watch one of them, in his green lab coat, standing patiently while an elephant drinks greedily, its foot treading on his toes. Even small elephants are big animals, as we discover when, milk all gone, they investigate today’s visitors. They push and shove each other, the rope barrier no protection against our being bumped, splashed and jostled, but few of us stand back for long.
It’s worth it for the chance to be so close, to rub their rough, hairy skin and look into their eyes. Then they wallow in the muddy pond, squirting water and clearly having fun — as are we, just watching.
All done, the baby herd trots away back to the forest and the older group comes out, even more boisterous and eager for their milk. This is a special lactose-free formula, similar to that given to human babies. It was developed in a process of trial and error by Daphne Sheldrick, who with her husband David has devoted her life to the conservation of African wildlife and the rehabilitation of rescued animals.
Dame Daphne set up the Trust in 1977 in David’s memory, and it has since saved more than 150 young elephants and rhinos and reintroduced them to the wild, a process that can take up to 10 years.
It’s an expensive business, and reliant on donations, so Ellen’s publicity has been invaluable. Much of their income is from visitors fostering the elephants, for just US$50 (NZ$73) a year; and when the last elephant has returned to the forest after the feeding, a queue of visitors forms at the table, waiting to select one.
An American couple buys four sponsorships as Christmas presents, delighted to hear that the recipients will get monthly email updates, as well as the introductory certificate, portrait and profile.
I choose little Enkesha. I’ve patted her, and watched her rolling in the mud and clumsily drinking water with her mouth instead of her injured trunk. I know she’s in good hands, that her Trust family will teach her what she needs to know; and that when she is ready, and not before, she will return to a natural, wild life with a new herd in Tsavo East National Park.