Elizabeth Davies: Overpopulation threatens elephants in South Africa park
This is the one place where gray, wrinkled and hairy is downright gorgeous.
It's here, in South Africa's Kruger National Park, where 10-ton elephants roam free. It's the first time I've seen them in the wild, not held in a zoo habitat or parading under a circus tent.
As I watch them lumber through the trees, a young calf scoots between her mother's legs and begins to nurse.
There's little doubt that the elephants are in charge. They decide where they will go, what they will eat and who is going to join them. We humans are nothing more than visitors to their home, foreigners a fraction of their size and defenseless against their strength.
Even the famed king of the jungle - the lion - moves cautiously around elephants. Only a desperately hungry lion would try to prey on an elephant calf. The adult elephants - including the calf's mother - could trample a lion quite easily, and their tusks could finish the job. They might be plant-eaters, but the sheer size and strength of an elephant can be downright deadly to others in its habitat.
Indeed, there's plenty to admire about the wild African elephant. But after a decade-long moratorium on killing South African elephants, the government has lifted its ban in an attempt to reduce a booming elephant population throughout the country. Particularly in Kruger Park, a large number of elephants is putting the ecosystem - including other animals - at risk.
Thousands of elephants could die as a result of the new law, a move fought hard by animal rights groups because elephants are said to have higher levels of self-awareness than other animals, making a death more traumatic.
I'm not a fan of hunting, whether it's rabbits, deer or elephants. I've heard enough arguments about overpopulation to understand it, but that doesn't make it any easier for me to envision Bambi, Thumper or Dumbo on the receiving end of a rifle.
And elephants, in fact, are one of my favorite animals. While planning my African safari, the animal I talked about the most was the elephant. On that first cold and dark morning when our safari was to begin, I rolled over in bed and grinned at my husband.
"Let's go see the elephants!" I said.
The elephant problem in South Africa is complex: Kruger Park has roughly twice as many elephants as it is designed to handle. They've uprooted trees, damaged the habitat and started to attack other species.
According to National Geographic, the critically endangered black rhinoceros has taken the brunt of many elephant attacks.
Kruger Park neighbors, meanwhile, say elephants are damaging their crops, getting into their water supply and becoming a danger to people living in the area.
It would be easy to say that the elephants were there first, and people should get used to having elephants in their back yards. But the neighborhoods around Kruger aren't your typical subdivisions. Most of the homes have tin roofs, held in place by bricks. Blankets hang in the doorways, offering a bit of privacy. Water isn't something that comes out of the kitchen faucet: Women with buckets on their heads take a daily walk to the nearest source of fresh water.
The plan in South Africa would be to take out entire herds of elephants, including their young, who would be unable to survive without adult protection and guidance, by sharpshooters in helicopters. They would have to eliminate an entire family of elephants at once, because the intricate social structure and emotional attachments between elephants would be irreparably damaged by killing some but leaving the rest.
Elephants, like people, have a tendency to look out for the ones they love. In Africa, I watched a herd of 30-some elephants as they traversed the landscape: old elephants, babies and everything in between.
Two male elephants - clearly the leaders of the pack - came and stood in the middle of the road in front of our Jeep. They stood high over our heads, blocking traffic as their herd crossed the street.
When everyone was safely across, they tussled in the street for a moment - a show for the tourists, perhaps. Then with a flip of their trunks, they gave each other a proverbial high-five and joined their pack.
Those few moments were part of the magic of African wildlife, one I hope will be intact for years to come.
Rockford Register Star