An Elephant Witnesses A Remarkable Safety Measure Provided by Kruger National Park's Game Rangers
Comrades in khaki (Kruger park's Game rangers)
Reckless hunters and poachers stopped at nothing when they wanted meat for the pot, ivory, biltong, muti or trophies. A common aversion and repugnance of their cold-blooded methods created a firm bond which elephants instinctively felt towards game rangers.
“Ukuthula was right. These people are our comrades. They protect nature.” The herd was constantly reminded of this bond when they saw how these men unselfishly gave of themselves in their fight against poachers and carriers of AK47s.
Elephants knew that snares caused unspeakable suffering. Mayafudi was irate when one day he happened upon a wild dog which had bitten off its own hind leg while trying to free itself from a snare. The elephant felt an icy anger when he saw the self-inflicted mutilation.
The carcass of an elephant bull near the Mozambiquan border caused a similar revulsion. It’s trunk was virtually severed by thick fencing wire – only a few strands of skin still held. While it was dying, the tusks of the poor animal were unceremoniously cut out. A large piece of meat was also slashed out of a hind leg. The Elephants Yearning and Why We Say This Is The Elephant Country.
The strange smell, which filled the air around the carcass, penetrated Mayafudi’s nostrils. This emanated from a potent weed-killer which was poured over the dead elephant. To kill vultures for muti. Underneath the high trees were strewn the remains of dozens of different types of vultures. In their death plunge many of these large birds were ensnared in the branches of trees and were suspended in all manners of farcical postures.
Animals dying in the Kruger park because of Kruger park poachers
Mayafudi could well imagine the suffering each of his kind had to undergo. He was amazed too, at the slaughtering of other innocent birds – all for muti.
A few days later he saw – in the same vicinity – three suspicious looking characters. They were armed and their motives seemed all but innocent. Mayafudi experienced a strong urge to rush them. They were, however, beyond his reach.
While weighing his options, a powerful four-by-four vehicle with the well-known Sanparks emblem, a kudu bull logo, on its doors arrived and stopped alongside the intruders.
A ranger, armed with an R1 rifle, jumped down. Man alone he confronted the three men. His colleague remained seated behind the steering wheel – the engine running. Blood of Mafunyane | The Big Seven” Of The Game Reserve’s Elephant Population
“Drop your weapons,” he shouted loudly. They disobeyed his command and started running. Shots were fired. The rogues were, however, cunning. They fell down flat, rolled over and jumped up again – just the way soldiers are trained.
The armed ranger followed them fearlessly. But fate intervened. He tripped in the hole of an anteater. The blond young man fell heavily and with a cry of pain he grasped his ankle. When he looked up, the truck was fast approaching. He jumped up and grabbed hold of the back of the truck. Without wasting any time they continued their pursuit.
One of the rogues was evidently wounded. He lagged behind. When he could no longer maintain the pace, he dived desperately behind a thick thorny shrub. But he was too slow. The truck stopped next to him in a cloud of dust. The Birth and Growth of the Great Sabie Park and Kruger Park Elephant
The crippled ranger jumped down and swung the stock of his rifle to do the necessary. The fugitive sank to his knees.
The driver jumped down to help his colleague dump the fugitive in the back of the truck. Then they followed the track of the remaining two. But the poachers decided that they had seen enough. They jumped up and fled through long grass. Gunshots flew about their ears.
One of the bullets came dangerously close. The frightened man dived behind a giant thorn tree. But to no avail. The truck had caught up with him. The ranger who had hurt his ankle executed a beautiful rugby tackle. Again the stock of his rifle did its task. He sank down.
Fugitive number three is probably still running.
“Hooray for the men in khaki,” Mayafudi felt like shouting. His emotions were exactly like the times when Moholoholo reached the climax of his story about the old patriarch Mafunyane.