216: Lucy’s Annual Elephant Fix

Every year I feel a desperate craving to head north and look for elephants. Usually that means going to Etosha National Park, Namibia’s largest (the size of Belgium), for the weekend. It is best to go between June and October after the rains have ended but before the summer heat sets in, as this means you can sit comfortably in your car by the watering holes where the animals gather to drink. It’s still hit or miss in terms of what you will see, but chances are that in two days, you’ll see a lot.

Bernd wanted to see giraffe, hyenas, and owls (his favorite bird), and Keitometsi, our Zimbabwean “second daughter” who has been living with us for the past few months, was hankering for lions and vultures. The latter comes from last year when Keito and Elsita lived together to do vulture-research at Namibia’s Rare and Endangered Species Trust (which is how Keito came to join the family). We decided to camp just outside the park to save money, and took off from work on Friday and Monday in order to make the most of the weekend. Bernd was in charge of the camping gear, I took responsibility for the food, and we told Keito that she was responsible for everything else.

When we left Windhoek on Friday morning, we were already feeling great. Sergio had flown into Namibia earlier in the week for a three day visit – he is now a full-fledged Marine, private first-class -- and looks great. As much as military life scares us, Boot Camp made Sergio into a man, brimming with knowledge and self-confidence. Every minute with him was precious, and we are swelling with parental pride. Sergio has two more bouts of training before he gets shipped overseas, so we are determined not to start worrying yet. We shall keep you posted as soon as we get his new address, as well as other information. (Above is a photo of Sergio - taken by Elsita, who was able to attend his graduation from Boot Camp.)

Driving from Windhoek to Etosha takes 5 to 6 hours, depending on which entrance you use. We arrived mid-afternoon, still in time for our first self-drive visit into the park. Our highlights were about 30 giraffe, seven species of antelope, lots of zebra and wildebeest, and a field of 200 banded mongoose -- but no elephants. The next morning it was the same and Keito started getting nervous. We teased her that, being responsible for everything else meant that she had to produce elephants or else we wouldn’t guarantee dinner. Finally, by mid-afternoon two lone bulls came forward and Keito breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that she wouldn’t have to starve. We counted two more elephant bulls by the late afternoon but had stopped counting giraffe by then – we had surpassed sixty. Then came some bonus animals: two hyenas, a close encounter with a lilac-breasted roller, and a white-headed vulture that is quite rare in Namibia and never before seen by Keito. Unlike most vultures, this one is beautiful, with a slim red and blue bill and pink face and legs.

Shortly after our outdoor dinner Keito went to sleep, but Bernd and I checked out the lamp-lit water-hole at the far side of our camp. My eyes caught a large fluttering in a distant tree. I hoped it would be an owl, and sure enough – suddenly it lifted off in our direction and landed just to the right of the watering hole. Eleven species of owls occur in Namibia, and this was the biggest (almost two feet in height): the giant eagle owl, B. Lateus, a large gray bird with distinctive pink eyelids and dark brown eyes and ear tufts, not always raised. The male voice consists of a series of grunts while the females and young make a long, drawn out whistle that sometimes can be heard all night. Their favorite prey is hedgehog, which is eaten after peeling off and discarding the skin. Much as we hoped to witness the excitement of an owl-kill, we thought that something a little less gruesome would be preferable. But anyway, we sat and waited.

In the wildlife films you see on TV, the cameramen make you think that high-drama occurs every few minutes or so. In real life, we can attest that this is not so. After an hour, I became convinced we were watching a still life. Nothing moved – not the owl, not us, and not anything else. Then suddenly, in complete silence, the owl swooped down to the grass and started picking at something by its feet. Had it caught a mouse? A giant frog? We couldn’t tell, but in 30 seconds the meal was clearly over, and the still life returned.
We went to bed satisfied, only to be woken at 3 a.m. by a cacophony of deep-throated roars. If the owners of the campsite hadn’t told us that a protective fence surrounded us, I would have been convinced that the lions’ roars were just outside our tent. Sleep became illusive, so we just lay in our sleeping bags and enjoyed the concert. By sunrise the quiet returned, and we set off once again for the watering holes in Etosha Park. What would we find on this day?

Last week I wrote you about the rock-dassies in our backyard. Although these are the elephants’ closest living relatives, it is a distant relationship – as the evolution of both went separate ways about 6 million years ago. What ties the two animals together is that both animals do not ruminate (chew the curd). The organ they use to digest the huge amount of plant material they eat is not a true stomach, but part of the large intestine, namely the caecum (in humans, the appendix). One consequence of this system is that they are very inefficient eaters and must feed up to 16 hours a day to extract sufficient nutrients. This places a tremendous burden or their teeth, but in the case of elephants each molar-tooth is only expected to last a few years. As the teeth wear out and flake off, they are replaced from behind by a next set. The new teeth are always larger, so tooth size keeps pace with the expanding jaw. (I don’t know if this works the same way with dassies, but they don’t live as long, either.)

The evolution of elephants goes back more than 70 million years ago. It belongs to the order Proboscidea, of which just one family – the Elephantidae – is extant today. Etosha’s elephants are among the largest in Africa, the tallest measuring up to 4 meters (12 and a half feet) at the shoulder. Adult bulls have a mass of between 5500 and 6000 kg (12,100 – 13,200 pounds), while the cows measure about two-thirds that weight. Their tusks, on the other hand, are smaller than those of elephants elsewhere in Africa. This is probably due to breakages resulting from mineral deficiencies in their diet and genetic defects. The fact that Etosha’s elephants have smaller tusks is a distinct advantage, insofar as they are less likely to fall prey to ivory poachers.

Where a supply of clean, sweet water is normally an essential habitat requirement for elephants, in Etosha they have adapted to the water with its high salt content, the salinity of which sometimes exceeds that of seawater. Elephants are both browsers and grazers. During the rainy season, Etosha’s elephants will vacate the park and head into other areas of the country, causing much damage to fences and crops. Namibia’s wildlife service has developed a policy of compensating local farmers to the north and east of the park for damage these roaming pachyderms leave in their wake, which is how the government keeps the local farmers from killing these national treasures. By contrast, the elephants that head west for the desert during the rainy season earn back this money for the government in tourist dollars, as Namibia is the only place in the world where you can see elephants amidst sand dunes.*

So, off we went: The first water-hole we visited was dead as a doornail.
The second water-hole was the same, save for a Marshal Eagle and an assortment of wildebeest, springbok and black-faced impala in the distance. The third water-hole, once again, was empty. Just as we started back to the campsite, however, a beautiful oryx crossed our path, and then we hit a zebra crossing – literally: forty of these animals walking single file across the road, with babies in between, heading for the watering hole behind us. I looked back to watch them go. Omigod: A large gray hump was moving, as well. And then another and another: Elephants! Lots of them!

As if by magic, now the water-hole suddenly boasted about a hundred animals. They came from all sides: a herd of thirty female elephants with babies, about forty antelope of various kinds and finally, all the zebra whose fortuitous encounter caused us to hang a U-turn to see this teeming display of African wildlife. We stayed about an hour and a half, soaking it all in. Later in the day we came across another twenty elephants bathing in a deep pool of water and having a glorious time.

Our lives have been blessed in so many ways. Thirty years ago, this week, Bernd and I met each other while on a camping trip to Iceland. This weekend felt like a most fitting celebration.


* Reference: Notes on Nature by Amy SchoemanMacmillan (Windhoek Namibia, Gamsberg Macmillan, 2002)