Seventy-five pounds, maybe eighty, alive
Saturday, 3 May 2014
A very large old bull, thirty meters off the road at a quarter past seven. Right tusk broken short but thick — call it fifty-five. Left tusk thirty-three inches and thicker — call it seventy-five, touching eighty. Very old. Felix says he has perhaps two years left in him. We take the photographs and walk away.
A windmill-pumped pan in the east first thing — still broken from last year, still unfixed. Cow and calf sign only. A young bull crossing a gravel road at ten past eight; fifty-five pounds, call it. At nine-five, a fresh big old-bull spoor. Cows and calves all over the area — he would be hard to hold — but the spoor was big. We followed.
Four kilometers in very thick, brushy country. Losing the line eight times. The feeding sign told us we were in his home range. By one we had lost him for good.
After lunch we drove to a couple of villages in the southwest to try that flooded country one more time. Still flooded, still soft — no detour would hold the cruiser. Elephant cows crossed the gravel at half past four; blue wildebeest near the road.
North again, then right toward the Botswana border on the main gravel. Fresh sign from last night. A big old-bull spoor on the road; we followed four hundred meters and Robert had him — thirty meters off, feeding, a quarter past seven in the afternoon. Big old bull, massive head.
Right tusk broken off at a foot, but thick enough to weigh fifty-five. Left tusk thirty to thirty-three inches, far thicker than the first bull we had seen — seventy-five pounds, maybe touching eighty. Very old. Nerve small and short. Felix said he would not live another two years.
Half an hour of photographs and video. Then west, toward the mountains. Along the road, young-bull, cow and calf sign everywhere — it had not rained in two days, and the elephants were starting to show. Another big old-bull spoor off the mountains from yesterday; too late to run him. A half-hour later his line crossed the fence, into Botswana. On the way home, another big bull spoor from two days prior. In the afternoon, west of Tsumkwe, nothing. South of the main gravel, another big old-bull spoor from yesterday, his sign everywhere — he lives there, and we will come back for him.
