Sleep in a little bit, only a little though. Pat’s little jack Russels have a habit of filling in for the local rooster. Today we’re going to pay a visit to the local orphanage. We wanted to do so the last time we were here but we had a time constraint.
So we wake up, get dresses have some food and so on. The visiting times are STRICLTY 11:00 – 12:00 so by 10:00 we’re on our way. A little bit of traffic but eventually we enter a gate manned by armed personnel (very friendly, armed personnel. I have to say the sight of assault rifles doesn’t unnerve me as much anymore) and we continue on and slightly up to the main reception. When we arrive there are quite a few other people already, queuing up to enter. A whole school bus of kids I guess to be around 5-6 years old arrive, teachers herding them into little lines. Lots of badly dressed Americans around too. Everybody gathers round the entrance, which is a pathway between some buildings to who knows where. The only thing between us and entry is one little piece of rope (not even the velvet variety, just plain old nylon). Two little warthogs approach to investigate the commotion before dismissing us as wholly irrelevant. The sun is out in full force again, good thing we put on sunscreen
At 10:50 a gentlemen removes the rope and everybody stampedes like wildebeest down the path. After paying our 300 KSH per person (which goes towards helping to care for the little ones) we head between more buildings (curio shop etc) overhung by trees till we reach a large open area, wing fenced with more rope and a bench here and there. There are big pacifiers attached to (what I guestimate) to be 3 litre bottles placed around the area, buckets of water and a horse shoe shaped mud pit in the middle.. A few gentlemen in green overcoats stand in the middle and wait while the everyone gathers round and the teachers herd the kids into orderly ranks off to the left.
Not long after we all settle down the orphans are brought in, about 9 of them. Off in the distance up the hill they come charging down, breaking ranks from the neat little line while more men in green overcoats run after them. They charge straight for the water buckets and men holding the pacifiers, little trunks curling up in delight, over sized ears flapping and gurgling sounds coming from their mouths.
These are the youngest of the orphaned elephants that the Shedrick Wildlife trust looks after, nurtures and will eventually attempt to re-habilitate back into the wild. Off to the right, two of the little guys are aiming for the same teat of SMF formula and making a huge racket. The green overcoat must retreat while another brings more milk bottles. Eventually they see the wisdom of waiting your turn and each is rewarded with a teat of its own. While this is going on, the others have drenched themselves in water from the buckets and are playing, falling over, wrestling and playing in the horse show shaped mud pit. A guide on each side explains what we are looking at (duh! Lots of baby elephants running amok!). This group consists of little ones from about 3 months to a year. He then tells us of each and every one of them. They’re named according to where they were discovered or after the ranger that found them. Most are here because their parents were killed during conflict of poaching. A few rare cases rejected their babies for whatever reason (lots of splashing and dirt flying around behind his back. Lots of attention seeking and little trunks touching and feeling. Lots of “aaaaws”, “ooohs” and laughter, mostly from Annelie)
I wish I’d paid more attention to each story, but Annelie did video the whole thing while I was around snapping pictures.
It’s quite cute, because their way out of proportion! Ears are way too big, legs too scrawny and they have very little balance. They especially have trouble exiting the mud pit and do so on their knees. Not very successful, they usually just slide back in, try again, slide back in, another one climbs on top of it, they both slide in, they both just lay down instead. And so forth. Very entertaining. The guides take shovels and cover them in water and mud while they splash around.
After the presentation they’re all herded back up the hill. More pacifiers are placed around the encampment, but this time they place two at each location. The second, more mature group enters, lead by a big looking matriarch. To see them storm down the hill like the last batch is a little concerning and I think the guides had to scramble to stop them running. I do remember the big mamma’s name, Kenya. She is the leader and oldest of this group, 3 years. She was found near Mount Kenya, hence her name. The guide runs through all the elephants, their names and why they’re here. Again, I’ll have to defer to the video, or check out their website. I think they do fantastic work here!
This group (another 8 or 9 of them) consists of elephants aged between 1 year and 3. They will generally spend 3 years at the trust before passing on to another project for re-introduction to the wild. This could be tricky, since the wild elephants won’t just accept them and they could end up very lonely or very dead elephants instead. One of the elephant stories I do remember was of the tail less little fella. While scouting the park around Tarangire rangers heard urgent little calls coming from around a hill. When they arrived this 1 year old little bull elephant was fighting off 4 very mangy looking hyenas trying to get to the carcass of its mother, who was killed by poachers. Of course, this little guy didn’t know or didn’t give a damn, they weren’t coming near her! At the sight of the rangers, the hyenas wisely retreated. After attending to its wounds the rangers gathered him up and moved him to safety. The hyenas did get his tail though and he was now left with a little stump. I hope the other elephants don’t make too much fun of him. Kids can be mean.
I’m a rubbish story teller, because I can’t even remember the elephants name! Oh well.
Other anecdotes that I found interesting is how lonely and heartbroken these little guys get. They need the same kind of love and attention that humans do, including lots of physical touch. Some of the guides even sleep next to them, especially the new arrivals or very young ones. It’s been known that they go into depression and die from loneliness or heartache and many never reach an age where they can be re-introduced to the wild. Shame.
This group is led off up the hill again, and for the last 10 minutes they enter a very special little guest: a 3 month old black rhino named Malam (after the ranger who found him. I remembered!). Malam was discovered when he was only 2 or 3 days old. Long story short, but there was a project to relocate some black rhinos from one national park to another. The rangers went in to tranquilise all the animals and get them all packed up. As a rule they don’t tranq pregnant animals, but someone didn’t do their homework. The result is that the mother aborted this little guy while attempting to flee.
Though Malam was young, and (apparently) could fit into your pocket, he weighed a whopping 20 KGs!
They bring in and proceed to lather him with mud, using a shovel. He crashes onto his side and waits until he is almost covered, then JUMPS UP and spins around (mud flying everywhere) before falling back down onto his other side for another layer. And so it goes, it’s clearly the life to be a baby black rhino. More oohs and aahs (mostly from Annelie).
And that’s the show. We make our way back to the gate, pass the curio shop where you can help support the trust and there is a big board with all the elephants names and short back story. You can also adopt an elephant or rhino, for $50 per year. The rangers and guides will send you a monthly log of their progress, with pics and videos (all –professionally edited). Very smart, again, I think they’re doing phenomenal work.
What I didn’t mention earlier (as to not spoil the surprise) is that by the main reception there are these huge wooden cages. In one of them is the biggest rhino I’ve ever seen. In fact, the first and biggest rhino I’ve ever seen, in real life. Shida (shee-da) is a 6 year old black rhino who has successfully been rehabilitated back into the wild. Only thing is... he keeps coming back. The guide told us earlier that he has a habit of coming and going as he pleases and he just arrived back this morning. He’s in his pen for our protection, but when we leave they open it up and lead him back out (not sure how you coax what must be a 1 ton black rhino to do ANYTHING). At first, he looks very angry to see you, skulking in the back of the pen. But after a while he stirs and shuffles closer to the iron gate where he proceeds to stick his 1m long horn through the bars (I think that’s how he says hello. Trouble is, you gotta watch where your junk is at that point...). I gather up the guts to reach out and touch his flank. My word. I’ve never felt anything like it before. Tough, thick, impenetrable , what can only be described as armour. It’s the toughest leather I can imagine and I can’t imagine he feels anything through it. He shuffles around the pen and I notice that he rubs his ears hard against the bars. So I reach out and give him a mighty big scratch on the only spot that seems sensitive to touch: behind his ears. His eyes just go dim, dim, and close. He’s LOOOOOVING it! Annelie joins in and we treat the big guy to some attention. He then moves on, back to the back of the pen as more people arrive and then shuffles back and forth, then back to the gate and sticks that big horn through the railings. More ear scratching, other people joining in.
Next to Shida is another guest, a 3 year old Black rhino, blind from birth. Didn’t see him at all, I suppose he kind of keeps to himself. While all the rhino loving was going on, 3 warthogs (2 of which we saw earlier) are around and feeding on little grassy mounds around the area. One scares 3 shades of shit out of Annelie as it squeals and storms off! One of the guides behind us says “don’t go near that one. He has no friends”. Hehehehehe, funny.
Take a few more pics and video of this fantastic creature and head to the car. On the way we head into Karen hospital (and heart unit!). Annelie wants to find out about some tests that we can do to see if Walter has left the building. She is finishing her last round of Flagyl today, but we want to check what we can do before we leave for the Mara. Very, very nice facility, the Karen hospital will put private hospitals in Cape Town to shame!
They advise that she come back in 2 days to provide some samples. They can then give her the results and we’ll take it from there. Cool.
Back to Pat’s, more chilling. Starts to rain and pretty much carries on for the entire night. Everyone is lounging around and chatting, I’m keeping to myself and updating more pics and so forth.
Anecdote: http://www.sheldrickwildlifetrust.org/ . They have the back stories and so forth on there.
Tomorrow, we leave for the Maasai Mara (NOT "masai" like I've spelt it before) in a hope to spot the animals migrating back to the Serengeti. As I said before, this is very much like predicting the rain, only less accurate. You can spend weeks there and not see anything.
Fingers crossed.
Before we go to bed I bake us some chocolate fudge for the road:
500g icing sugar, 80 g cacao, 250g butter, 1 egg (beaten, like a red headed step child) and 2 packs of Marie bisquits. Sift everything together, melt butter and add, through in egg, mix and nuke for 3 minutes. Mix thoroughly, add break up bisquits and gentle mix it. DONE! DELICIOUS!
Highlights: Duh! But I’ll say getting to scratch a fully grown black rhino behind the ears
is way up there on my cool-list
[G & A], out.
I know this much is true
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