A BATTLE BETWEEN ELEPHANT HERDS

Dominion, Volume 22, Issue 264, 3 August 1929, Page 29

A BATTLE BETWEEN ELEPHANT HERDS

STORIES OF AN ANIMAL COLLECTOR

The calf elephant was in dire peril making a dinner for a lion, but his mother had sensed the danger in time. The calf had fallen behind his elders as they slowly made their way along an African watercourse, explains the New York “Literary Digest”; and the lion, stealing silently on his padded feet, had been about to seize the youngster before the herd should know it. For a. moment the mother quivered with a sense of peril to her young. In the next second, writes J. L. Buck, the veteran wild-animal collector quel trainer, in the New York “Herald Tribune” magazine, “she was thudding toward the baby in hot anger. Blood among the elephant is certainly thicker than water, for all the cows of the herd—six or seven—came pounding over to aid the mother,” in a manner described thus by Mr. Buck: — "In a flash they had separated the imperilled baby from the lion. Then they went thundering into the woods. Then followed such a pounding and stamping and snapping of tree boughs as accompanies a battle of thirst-mad herds before a water-hole. They did not catch the enemy, but those maddened mother's ravaged that spot of woods for many yards about In anger an elephant would stamp and destroy, wrecking its rage on inanimate objects, when the enemy was out of reach.”

Of all the animals of Africa, the usual amiable elephant seems to possess the most intense family feeling, Mr. Buck tells tells us further. The elephant mother .“cuddles and coddles, cajoles and encourages, smacks and admonishes her calves. And all day long, through hill and swamp and desert her protecting trunk is ever active keeping the little ones . within safe distance.” So, we learn, battles between elephant herds are rare. The writer, indeed, has witnessed only one, and it was brought on by unusual conditions. Mr. Buck tells of it in these words:—

“It was in a high section of the African Kameruns when I was following far different quarry that chance took me by the hand one morning and led the way to a sublime and terrific battle of the elephant?. The country was high and hot and arid. For weeks a merciless sun had dried up the water-holes, until gaunt creatures of the w» Id travelled anguished for days for a drink, many of them dying before their thirst was slaked. A fierce desire to reach water was the absorbing passion of all wild creatures. “In such a parched country the only battle between elephant herds that I ever witnessed shook the very earth. The ordinarily kindly elephant, maddened by thirst, wages battle for his very life. The first warning of this magnificent onslaught came just before dawn. Out upon the dim air there bellowed the magnificent trumpetings of many elephants. These mixed in a moment with low, throaty growls, which now and then gave way to shrill squeaks. The elephant ‘ has four distinct cries.

“No man who has spent most of his life collecting wild animals could hug his cot when such majestic battle signs were calling him across a hundred yards of forest. I snatched my gun and piled others into the willing arms of Hector, my head boy, and thus we hurried through woods to the look-out point, high above the one water-hole in leagues of weary land. The scene we looked down upon was sublime, yet grim. A band of elephants—six or seven—stood shoulder to shoulder in a solid guard before the water-hole. Out of the woods pushed a second band, let by a gaunt, determined female. With trumpetings and waving trunks and cocked ears, these two groups faced each other. “I glanced about at the distribution of the ‘forces.’ One band evidently had come down to drink at the waterhole, and had been surprised by the

second group. Even then, while the large elephants guarded it, several little ones were drinking. The two bands wavered for a moment, while the air was rent with fierce cacophony. And then, as if the great female who led the second herd had given a signal, all of them stamped forward. Some held their heads down, with ugly tusks ready to spike flank or front of the foe. Others held heads high, with trunks outflung to batter their opponents. “Followed fifteen minutes of magnificent and terrific battle, in which great elephants attacked, tottered, fell, and rose again to renew the battle. All through the melee the earth below seemed to quiver, and when the fight was pushed into the wood opposite my elevated look-out, several trees went crashing. One old fellow emitted a last bellow as he was gored through the side and toppled over. His moans and the hysteria of the survivors waxed and waned until the band first at the water-hole had finally repulsed their attackers. “Bleeding and squeaking, the defeated group turned into the woods, perhaps to see ksome remote retreat Hi which to die of their wounds and thirst. The victors turned back to the water-hole, and after all had drunk their fill they disappeared into the woods, departing in a miracle of silence—for the huge elephant can equal the slinking leopard in stealthy going when safety calls for quiet.” Old-timers in Africa “spin marvellous yarns about elephants, which the practical collector takes with a little salt.” There is one story, according to Mr. Buck, which tells us that: —

“The lordly elephant, feeling death draw near, relates to a mysterious ‘elephant cemetery’ to die in lonely grandeur. No man has yet found one of these cemeteries, but they tell you that when one is finally located it will enrich the lucky discoverer as handsomely as would the hidden treasures of Captain Kidd. This is an absurd legend. Any man with practical experience knows that elephant tusks exposed to the weather will scarcely outlast the fierce tropical rain and sun of a single year, for ivory quickly deteriorates.

“Another legend at which I used to scoff says that the cow elephant retires to a remote spot when she begins to (feel the pangs of birth. Other members of her herd form a guard of protection and remain with her until the little pink calf can toddle off at her side. T doubted the escort part of the story until I stumbled on a conclave of elephants In a remote valley of the West African Kameruns. “Scratched by thorns, bitten by insects, and burned by thirst, we had fought our way through tangled land to reach the edge of a sparse wood. The wind veered towards us, bearing heady smells to make the delicate nostrils of Hector dilate with inquiry. “ ‘Elephants!’ he whispered shortly. Further on we caught the subdued murmurs of elephants, peacefully en famille. Though we were now very near, they were unaware of our presence, for the wind was blowing our way. And, as we reached the edge of the wood, we spied a strangely peaceful sight “I watched, transfixed, my gun ready in case they should start our way.. Quickly the rear-most elephant got to her feet and retired into the woods. By her side was a toddling calf. The others followed, four of them standing guard until she was well into the woods. So perhaps there is something to that tale of how the solicitious herd stands by when a baby is born.

“Though I have witnessed only one fight between herds of elephants, I have ‘assisted’ at many fights between individual elephants. All of these, I am persuaded, had their beginnings in some phase of family feeling.”