I stopped writing yesterday at tea time, thinking I'd have time to continue later. I should have known better. We seem to have no down time here.

I'm sitting in the outdoor living room of the main lodge. We've just finished lunch and we have a few hours until we go out on our evening game drive, so I thought I'd try to get a little closer to caught up on my writing.

I can hear the hippos, just so you know. They're right below me in the river/swamp.

***

When we arrived at the airstrip, a man named On picked us up. We piled into the Land Cruiser he'd brought with him and he gave us a safety briefing. Basically, he told us not to stand up, be loud, or eat while we're in the car. It turns out that as long as everyone stays seated, the animals don't understand that the vehicle (a non-threatening, single entity) contains humans (distinct, threatening beings). If someone stands up and breaks the shape of the car, though, all bets are off, and the animals are liable to run away or attack.

After On's safety talk we continued on our way. It's about a 50 minute drive from the airstrip to the camp, and along the way we saw lots of birds and impalas (small antelope). We also stumbled upon a breeding herd of elephants that had a few babies in tow. On explained that usually, related female elephants (cows) stick together, keeping their offspring (calves) close by. The male calves stay with the herd until they're between and 8 and 15 years old, then they wander off on their own. Each breeding herd is headed by a dominant female or matriarch (girl power) who is ultimately in charge of protecting the herd in threatening situations.

We passed the breeding herd quietly, without causing a disturbance. We continued on our way for another 15 minutes or so. Then we happened upon another breeding herd. On stopped the car when the elephants were 300 yards away and we took our our binoculars to watch the herd. The matriarch probably knew we were coming when we were a mile away. She was clearly aware of our presence the second we arrived, and she was clearly unhappy we were there. She ushered her herd out of danger. They crossed the road about 200 yards in front of us and hid behind the trees to the right of our car. I started recording a video when they began moving.

The scene changed from majestic to frightening in a split second. As soon as the last of the herd moved behind the trees, Big Mama bounded over to the vehicle to check us out. A running elephant is mystifying in both majestic and horrific ways. They don't make the noise you would expect them to when they move--they're so light on their feet you can barely hear them. They move gracefully and daintily--each step is carefully planned and planted. It's beautiful to watch. At the same time, though, an elephant weighs tons and can kill you with one kick. And then it would probably trample you, just to be sure. And you thought herbivores were gentle creatures.

Anyways, Big Mama trumpeted and growled as she came closer to the car. She stopped about 20 feet away. "Now I really feel like I'm in Africa," Skippy said.

"Yikes," I said.

Big Mama trumpeted again and came barreling towards us. She stopped just out of my arm's reach and made more angry noises. She flared her ears to make herself look bigger (an unnecessary formality) When none of us moved or made noise she turned around and trottted off in the other direction, towards the herd. We all exhaled. Before real relief set in, however, she turned around and came at us again! She growled and trumpeted the whole way again, clearly telling us to leave. We stayed put, knowing we'd be dead if we did try to leave. After staring at us for a really long time, she turned around and headed back to the herd.

On was about to turn the key in the ignition to start the car when she doubled back and charged us a third time! It was essentially the same routine as before: Charge! Trumpet! Growl! Flap Ears! Wave Tusks! Evil Eye! When she was finished with us she gave one final growl and left, trumpeting to the others as she went. My guess is she was saying, "It's cool, ladies. I almost made them pee themselves. We can go now."

Indeed, I found myself holding my grandmother's hand when On turned on the car, this time certain she wasn't coming back. (I did not pee myself, for the record). It took a moment for me to realize how frightening and tense those five minutes had been. My grandpa, who was riding in the front passenger seat, would later tell us that On's hands had been shaking on the steering wheel during the entire encounter. Knowing On was scared too was both reassuring and discomforting. On the one hand, I knew I wasn't overreacting. On the other hand, it was a clear indication we had almost died before we even arrived at the camp.

As we drove towards the camp, On explained that we’d been mocked charged by the matriarch of the herd, a conclusion we had all already made. The situation was unusual, he said, because we hadn’t really approached the herd. We’d stopped the car a good distance away and the elephants had approached us. That she’d charged three times was also unusual. On said nothing like that had ever happened to him before.

The rest of the ride to the camp was fairly uneventful. That was okay with us. When we arrived at Baines’, one of the managers (Charl) gave us a tour of the camp, a quick orientation, and our first meal (delicious). Afterwards, we went to our rooms to settle in, and then we went back to the main lodge for tea (which turned out to be another meal in itself).

At tea, we met Martin, our guide. He loaded us back into the Land Cruiser for our first evening game drive. The Land Cruisers are something else, let me tell you. The delta is flooded right now—floodwaters from Angola creep down into Botswana during the dry season (thus making the dry season pretty wet, at least on the ground). The road here seems to be washed out about every 300 feet here, sometimes quite deeply. The vehicles go right into the water, which sometimes comes rushing into the car. When he knows we’re about to take on water, Martin says “Mind your feet!” and we all lift our feet off the floor and onto the seat in front of us until the water drains out of the car through the holes in the floor.

“But, Emily,” you are most probably thinking, “How does an engine work under water?” The answer is mostly two-part. The engine is sealed in watertight casing and assisted by a “Safari Snorkel,” which is basically five feet of plastic piping that extends up from the engine into the air. It delivers air to the engine when the car is submerged so it doesn’t stall in the middle of a five foot deep puddle. Pretty nifty, ¿no? It was a little bewildering the first time On drove us into the water on the way back from the airstrip. We thought he’d go around it, but he drove right in. The sand was bumpy under the water and Skippy almost fell out (or so she says).

Anyways, back to our game drive. We saw elephants, giraffes, impalas, kudus, and lots of birds, including some spectacular owls. The crown jewel of the evening, though, was the servile we found creeping through the grass after dark. (A servile is a yellow/tan cat with brown/black spots. It’s much smaller than a leopard or cheetah, but a lot harder to see. Its face is also very distinct.) Martin caught the glow of his eyes in the spotlight and we followed him for a minute or so. No one got any photos, so you’ll just have to believe that we saw one. He was beautiful. Not bad for our first African cat sighting, right?

Oh! I forgot to mention the hyenas. We saw a few of them as the sun was going down. They’re not as ugly as Disney would like you to think (Lion King reference..anyone? Anyone? Remember Ed, the crazy one?) I would go so far as to say their faces are even a little pretty. We stopped the vehicle about 30 feet from a pair of them and sat quietly, watching. The younger one came right up to the car and sniffed us! It’s really amazing how close these animals will get to the cars—it’s pretty obvious they don’t feel threatened by them. We watched them play with each other for a while. They reminded me of kittens. It was a logical association, it turns out. Hyenas are members of the cat family. (Many people think they are related to dogs. Many people are just plain wrong.)

I’m having an amazing time. The animals here seem so alien—we’ve got nothing like elephants in Seattle! Can you imagine what it would be like to have elephants frequent your back yard? Or worse—to have monkeys frequent your back yard?

More later,

Emily

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