A holiday spent doing elephant science: Part II (some science, some other stuff)

Okay, so every day wasn’t elephant counting and monitoring and dung sampling. Yes, I really went to South Africa for my vacation and spent at least a small amount of time looking at, taking photos of, measuring, and rooting around in, elephant dung.

Read Part I of this series here. And read about the Bring the Elephant Home program and our mission: What happens when you drop a fence.

The Bring the Elephant Home program was structured to give us several days in the field, a day or two in the “office” doing projects (I wrote a blog post, created a few new visuals for the team, and contributed a BUNCH of photos for the ID project… and I’m trying to put together a Hackathon project to use AI for elephant ID. More to come on that as it progresses!), and time to see the local area and learn even more about Xhosa culture.

We watched some presentations on other conservation being done in South Africa and abroad, one by Bring the Elephant Home’s Antoinette van de Water on her work on the value of elephants [read the white paper here, or take a look at her TedTalk here], and by the amazing work being done in rewilding by Brett Mitchell of the Elephant Reintegration Trust. Their motto, “helping elephants in captivity or distress to gain the freedom they deserve” says volumes about the work they’re doing. (Know any gajillionaires? A new project they’re working on to create a sanctuary and rewilding center near Kariega needs funding. Let me know and I’ll put you in touch with the right people!).

A small public service announcement: If you are fortunate enough to see elephants in their native land and have the opportunity to ride or touch captive elephants, please DON’T! Just please don’t patronize these businesses. These types of business exist at the expense of the health and welfare of the animals. [read more here]

Elephants are sentient, endangered beings, mistreated and quite often drugged in order to be submissive enough for human entertainment; in the process they suffer years of emotional and physical hardships. Having seen captive elephants first-hand in Thailand and India, and wild elephants in Africa, I can assure you that there is nothing more exquisite than watching a wild elephant in its natural habitat. There is absolutely nothing satisfying about watching a captive elephant. [rant off]


One of the events later in the week was an offsite visit to the home of one of the Kariega Foundation’s staff for an afternoon cooking demonstration! Xhosa cuisine is comprised of quite a lot of meat, but also their staple starch called samp, a corn meal derivative that seemed a lot like the East African fufu or ugali, made with cassava, that I tried in Botswana and Zimbabwe. Beans or sauces (meaty and non) are poured over the samp, as other cultures would use rice or potatoes.

Lunch!

Fears of cultural appropriation dancing in my head, our faces were dotted with Xhosa-style paints, and we donned handmade clothes and beaded neck wraps. Our smiling hosts guided us into the kitchen and outside to the fire upon which we heated stews and baked the bread we had just hand-rolled. Note: It was a bad time to have quit bread, as these hot-off-the-fire rolls were simply divine. The afternoon culminated with a demonstration of local song and dance by kids from the neighborhood, replete with drums and chanting. This dancing show gave me pangs, as in cultural experiences I’ve had elsewhere in Africa: I wondered if the kids participating in the show resented their elders for making them show off for the visitors, or if the joy on their faces during the dancing and singing was genuine, and whether they were grateful to share this expression and pride of culture. I hoped for the latter, as they did appear to be quite enjoying themselves. The smiles were genuine. Ours too.

Over the course of the 10 days, we learned, we did research drives, we walked along the white sand beaches of Kenton-on-Sea, and even did a night drive through the dirt roads we spent so many days travelling in our quest to find the herds. Jackals and kudu, white rhinos and rhinoceros beetles (one, landing on my neck, was an unwelcome visitor!)…and the Southern Cross in the Milky Way-spattered sky. But the highlight of the evening, as we were heading back to camp in the darkness, was a weird little creature we saw scampering down the dusty road, looking like a cross between a tiny bear and a marmot. He ducked down into a dry gully as we stopped, popping up only a metre away from the vehicle to stare down his smarmy nose at us. A honey badger! To quote even our naturalist, “I’ve never seen one of these in person before.”

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We went up to Addo, a national park an hour away that boasts an elephant population of ~300. It’s rumored that a couple of Addo bulls are planned to be transferred to Kariega to help balance out and give some adult supervision maybe to a young and randy bull population over there (stay tuned, maybe that will be a new research opportunity!). The day was drizzly and spitty, but it was still fun to see dozens and dozens of eles at the different watering holes throughout the park.

It’s not without irony to me that there are really no wild wild animals remaining in South Africa. Their wild stocks have been poached and hunted to near-extinction; the wild lands, animals and all, are all now locked behind fences to protect them from the most alpha predator of all.

It was fitting, then, on our last day, that we spent time in the pouring rain visiting the APU, the Anti-Poaching Unit, at Kariega. These rangers steadfastly protect their eles and rhinos (black and white) from said predators. In fact, while visiting the team, we were privileged to a sighting of Thandi and two of her calves. Thandi is famous in these parts for being the only rhino to have survived a brutal poaching attempt in which two others in her crash (an apt collective noun for rhinos!) where brutally murdered. Thandi’s face was mauled when they hacked off her horn, but hers is a survival story that speaks to the valiant efforts of surgeons and conservationists alike to restore her face and her family. Since the poaching in 2012, she has created a small battalion of rhinos and now has grand-babies roaming the thicket and savannah of Kariega in her honour. On our first game drive, we met Colin, Thandi’s 2nd calf. According to Kariega’s website, that calf was named Colin in memory of the reserve’s founder, a man loved and admired by many, who had died just days before Thandi gave birth. The name Colin means ‘victory of the people’. White rhinos in this case.

The skies cleared just as we realised we were running late for lunch and our ride back to Port Elizabeth. We hadn’t managed to spot more than one or two elephants in the distance all day. But just like a cheesy movie, as we were losing hope, we managed to get a ping from Beauty’s collar – the one that had been malfunctioning all week. She was about a kilometer away from the fence at the edge of the Kariega Conservation Center. Of course she was. So as it turned out, in our last moments of our last game drive on our last day in Kariega, we were treated to a close encounter with the whole of Beauty’s herd, a brightening sky, and baked-in memories to last half a lifetime.

Late that night, in a hotel room in Cape Town, which felt like a million light years away from the reserve, I saw a WhatsApp message to our group from Brooke, the PhD researcher: “Beauty and Half Moon came up to the fence to say goodbye.” Later still: “Bukela’s herd crossed the river!” This was the exact thing we were there in South Africa to help observe: What happens when you remove a fence.

Next up: a few days in Cape Town and a long trip home.

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What happens when you drop a fence: 5 observations.

Big news at Kariega Game Reserve! In December of 2023, in association with the Kariega Foundation’s habitat expansion project, BTEH supports the removal of one of the internal fences connecting the Kariega West and Harvestvale areas of the park. A key mission of the project is to give herds on opposite sides of the fence (and river) access to a broader habitat. I mean, who wouldn’t want a larger area in which to play and explore? One of BTEH research objectives is to see, in short, what happens when you remove fences and how that impacts herd behaviour and population health.

I’m reporting from the BTEH elephant research program at Kariega, March 2024. This is the first time BTEH researchers Brooke Friswold (PhD student) and Antoinette van de Water (PhD) have observed the different herds here post-fence removal. It’s an exciting time to be a part of this! [Aside: if you’ve always wondered how to get involved with elephants, are a little nerdy about research stuff, and think the idea of a safari seems a little too much like a canned experience, you’ve got to try this program! 😉]

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Here are 5 observations (expected and otherwise) after fence removal:

New places to explore!
Not surprisingly, we’re already seeing herds and individuals that were once confined to the Kariega West area exploring into the Harvestvale section, and vice-versa. Elephant location, movement and interaction are monitored via GIS (geographic information systems) tracking and low range radio collars which were fitted to 6 elephants of varying ages/sexes in August of 2022. Fitting collars is a complicated and costly operation, requiring veterinarians, helicopters and scientists (plus some luck), so it was devastating to learn that more than half of the collars have failed (full collaring report here) due to twisting and malfunction. The elephants are fine, but the science is impacted. Findings during our time here in March will assist with on-the-ground identification, behaviour tracking, and dung sampling (yep!).

You see Brooke tracking Beauty’s herd via a telemetry antenna contraption in the pictures above because a 4th of the 6 radio collars is malfunctioning.

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The bulls are a little, erm, randy.
Think of it like spring break: you put a bunch of single college guys in a new environment with a bunch of cute and possibly available chiquitas, what do you get? Well, scientifically, many of the males (bulls) have gone into musth, or a state of pre-musth (though per the science-y folks, this observation is still anecdotal but we found out this week that there are 3 (!!!) bulls in musth right now here at Kariega). In general musth is a stage of the mating cycle when adult or sub-adult bulls experience testosterone levels of 60 times greater than average. This makes them do weird and not-so-weird things like Following sub-adult females (cows), Touching genitals (their own and cows’), placing their “Trunk over back” of desirable cows, chasing zebras, walking around Sniffing the air, wandering far and wide, and generally getting excited for the “new meat” in the vicinity. We’ve observed and logged many of these behaviors in the Zoomonitor app, and we’ll see how this plays out (stay tuned to the BTEH updates page for details).

Amazing social excitement and interaction.
In our first days of observation here, we noticed some of the Kariega West and Harvestvale herds have meshed. Our first morning, we saw the Half Moon herd mix with Beauty’s herd. This of course throws off the ID database, which had neatly arranged individuals by herd by area, and means that our ID work this month will be crucial to not only identifying individual cows and bulls assimilating into different herds, but also tracking the potential new herds that may form as a result (see point 2). Per Antoinette, “It’s amazing to observe elephants that fully have the freedom to explore and interact and make new social connections. This is the best way to see elephants completely in their element.

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Some are travellers, some are not.
Kariega’s elephant population is roughly 75 individuals. Elephants are social and highly intelligent: emotionally and mentally. They are said to never forget, and can hold onto traumas just like people. Herds are traditionally led by an old and wise female (I began writing this post on International Women’s Day, so of course they are 😉) So with all the exploring and commingling some of the elephants are doing, one matriarch, Bukele has still not crossed the river from Kariega West to Harvestvale. Whether it is because the way to the other side is around or that the river is saltwater and thus creates a natural fence (elephants love to swim and bathe, but prefer freshwater), this remains to be seen. Camera traps, GIS tracking, and future research trips will help answer these questions…and more.

Happiness is contagious.
During our initial drives, we observed un-stressed, curious, social, and thriving elephants. As with humans, lack of stress reduces cortisol, which leads to overall better health and well-being. Additionally, seeing happy and healthy elephants put a smile on the face of everyone in our vehicle. Per Antoinette, “What we observed yesterday is like the best example of how range expansion contributes to animal well-being.” When elephants are happy, so are the people watching them. Want to learn more?

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When I asked Brooke what her biggest surprise was, she commented that it is so exciting to see the different herds socialising and commingling like this. “It remains to be seen,” she said, “whether this is just exploratory because it’s new, if the new commingled herds and interactions will persist, or if they will go back to their original structures in time.”

Interested in getting involved (highly recommend!)? Go here. Now.


A final note… this blog has been cross-posted on the BTEH website (HERE). Please take a look at all the amazing articles they have on their site. The eles will thank you.

THIS JUST IN: I just launched my new print store… take a look HERE. And use coupon code TGM-15 for a 15% site-wide discount!

Africa Part III: The magic of elephants

[Part I: Kalahari before the safari]  [Part II: Into the Okavango]

“We admire elephants in part because they demonstrate what we consider the finest human traits: empathy, self-awareness, and social intelligence. But the way we treat them puts on display the very worst of human behavior.” –Graydon Carter

The upside of being on a tour is that they fit as much as they can into your limited days. They also, if you’re lucky, find unique accommodation. Case in point, the bush huts in Ghanzi…and tonight’s stay at Elephant Sands, a rustic-ish bush camp set around a non-fenced watering hole. Botswana, I’m realising, is something of a massive game park. Fences, merely a suggestion. Our room here is a large tent on a raised platform with a birds-eye view of the watering hole and the lodge. The warnings abound as we check in: Do not go down to the watering hole. Do not walk into the bush. Do not walk between the tents (and/or into the bush). Stay on the path, bring a flashlight, do not lock your door (in case someone is running from something with sharp teeth and needs to enter quickly), do not feed the animals (this last one I made up, but I think it goes without saying).

We arrive and there are no fewer than 8 elephants of all sizes at the watering hole. While it seems they are used to people (they’re busy ignoring us, that is), these are still wild animals and we are in their domain. Mutual respect is granted. So it appears this evening, since a broken door on the bus cost us a couple of hours this morning and we’ve arrived too late for the afternoon safari, the game drive has come to us instead of the other way around!

As cool as this is (I can think of no better adjective, sitting here mere metres away from a 3-metre tall beast), it feels somewhat canned. I’ve got no complaints, tho; they are magical to watch. As enormous as these eles are, they are enchantingly silent at the same time. Their feet are padded and look like suede (I see this in close proximity as one of the large bulls near me shuffles his feet). Large looming shadows appear from the bush in the periphery, silently – but heavily – these morph into massive and simultaneously graceful beings, small buildings with proboscis(es?), brimming with personality. Coming and going, socialising at the watering hole, as if nobody is watching. And we do watch, until the African sun drops below the horizon and the stars blaze in the sky. Unfazed, the eles frolic until our bedtime, then one by one return to the bush to do whatever it is they do at night (scientists say they only sleep 2 or 4 hours a day), leaving it to our imaginations what might come overnight.

Alas, all is mostly quiet, save for some wandering antelope and rustling in the bush behind the tent. I wake early and catch the sunrise over the quiet watering hole, hoping to catch sight of an early morning critter or two. Just some hornbills, African starlings and some wading birds make appearances before we’re off to where the animal adventure really begins: a river safari on the Chobe River.


I’ve travelled to some extraordinary places in my life, each special one leaving a bit of itself inside me; and, as I leave, I shed a bit of my old self, like dead skin or bits not-needed anymore, to make room for the new. In no particular order: India. Belize. Sardinia. Saba. Istanbul. Nantucket…

And so, after that first real bush walk, after a glimpse of wild but not-so-wild elephants up close, I realise Botswana has made its way to this list even before I spy my first truly wild elephant. I’m not at all surprised.


The thing you hear about Africa quite often is “the light is amazing.” What they don’t tell you is that “amazing” is an understatement. It’s sparsely-populated here; that, combined with these vast open spaces creates for fantastic-seeming air quality (at least this time of year). The sub-equatorial light is spellbinding as it streams through these clear skies at dusk, pinks and golds against the savannah.

This is the point at which the photos – and through them, the animals – begin to do much of the talking, speaking thousands and thousands of words while mostly what is heard is birdsong. In Chobe National Park, late afternoon is the time the elephants migrate towards the river to socialize and play and bathe and eat – in droves. The park contains an estimated 50,000 elephants, possibly the largest concentration of these magical beasts in the world. So, at dusk this day, we see easily 150 elephants on little Sedudu Island, once a hotly-contested piece of marshy land that sits between Botswana and Namibia in the Chobe River, annexed to Chobe National Park after an International Tribunal ruling in The Hague in 1999 (the Botswana flag now proudly flies here). Just downriver from us, four countries (Botswana, Namibia, Zimbabwe and Zambia) meet as the river continues towards the Zimbabwe/Zambia border, spilling into the Zambezi River and then over Victoria Falls. It is said that fighting in this part of Namibia kept the elephants on the Botswana side of the river, contributing to the increase in their numbers in Chobe. Now that the fighting has subsided, the elephants are once again roaming into Namibian territory. Botswana has some of the strictest anti-poaching regulations (shoot first, ask questions later) in Africa. Let’s hope the eles fare as well across the border.

My inner elephant is doing backflips as outer-me marvels at the monstrous bulls swishing reeds back and forth to remove sand and stones that grind down their aging teeth. With a child-like grin, I’m watching the elephant families playing and grazing in this safe haven. A matron escorts a pair of calves across the river and then goes back to wait for her mate, making sure the rest of the family crosses in safety. Adolescents frolic in the water, spraying and dunking each other, play-fighting in the shallows. The boat pauses as the rest of the family crosses.

Elephants aside (though I could stay here watching them all day), we observe another of the Big Five, the African cape buffalo, with its silly swooping horns that look a bit like something out of the Flintstones. We see more prehistoric-looking creatures: Nile crocodiles basking in the afternoon sun; hippos frolicking as gracefully as, say, a refrigerator; we even see a chance monitor lizard hunting for its dinner. Along with the hippo warnings, we are cautioned about swimming in these waters: there are thousands of crocs here and even Aquaman has a next-to-zero chance of out-swimming one.

As I internally pinch myself to make sure this is indeed real, I am truly awe-struck at the vibrancy of this place; of the quantity and the quality of wildlife; of the sheer pristine beauty of this scene, the vivid African sun setting over the Chobe River. We haven’t even been inside Chobe National Park yet.

Ancient legend (and Terry Pratchett) tells of the World Elephant, the mighty mythical beast(s) that support the world while riding the back of the World Turtle (hence the saying, “it’s turtles all the way down”)… there is little wonder how the early sages were awe-struck upon seeing these magical animals.

[Stay tuned for the finale: this girl’s first safari, one of the 7 wonders of the natural world, and one last day of epic animal encounters.]

[Part I: Kalahari before the safari]  [Part II: Into the Okavango]  [Africa Finale]