Canoe ride, jungle walk, and, yes, the elephant charge...AGAIN!

I must first apologize to my readers as I have been without Internet for the past week, no phone service, just isolation.  So I'm not slacking on my updates, but rather could not post them.  This one is lengthy, but hopefully you will enjoy!

So after our evening of observing a Tharu Cultural Dance performance, seeing local garb, dances for both men and women, and an opportunity to complete the finale with audience participation, some of us purchased some bracelets, T-shirts, drinks, etc., it was time for bed to rise the next morning for our canoe ride through the jungle on the Rapti River.  For as stifling hot and humid as Chitwan was, the performance center was air-conditioned, a gift we were all so very grateful for, and double the blessing when our fan and air conditioning unit worked in our resort rooms.  There was no need to draw the mosquito nets as we had none in our rooms- another blessing!!  I slept like a baby, and rose around 6:30 am, still feeling like I could've slept much longer!

We headed to breakfast and shortly after, some of our group changed into longer pants and sleeves because our guide told us the mosquitoes were really bad.  So we doused ourselves in repellents and were on our way back to the elephant center.  Sure enough, more eager tourists were mounting the elephants and we watched them venture off into the jungle, a routine, I imagine, I would tire of so quickly.  I wondered how many years these beautiful creatures succumbed to the repetitive cycle...

So our guide was a very serious, but genuine Nepali man, who has been a guide for over 30 years and carried such a wise way about him.  Not only was he very knowledgeable about the different species, flora and fauna, in the water and on the terrain, but he also exhibited a level of seriousness when it came to our jungle walk and staying quiet while in the canoe.  The canoe was carved from a local Nepali tree, protected in Chitwan National Park, reminding me of the Algonquin canoes.  They were long and narrow, with little wooden seats for us to sit upon, with our legs stretched forward straddling the next person in front of us.  After we all filed into the canoe, a different Nepali guide directed our canoe ever so quietly.  All we heard were the sounds of the jungle, the oar sifting through the water, almost as if a nature CD was playing in the background, except...it was the real thing!  Perhaps to the guide's dismay, I could've stayed in the canoe all day long. I was truly at peace.  

As we glided along the water, the canoe was quite low, and so were our seats, so it was almost as if we were at eye level with any creature that may meet us in the water.  The guide brought our attention to two or three native alligators and two marsh muggers (crocodiles native to Southeast Asia, especially Pakistan) and just as appealing as their name sounds, their faces were even more unsightly and, I'll say it, ugly.  We heard all sorts of birds on both sides of us, especially the 38 cm Nepali kingfisher, which sounds like it was laughing at us and as its call was quite hilariously contagious, I found myself laughing along with it, even if we were the butt of his joke!  I just couldn't help myself!

Although our canoe ride came to an end after about half an hour, we were ready to begin our jungle walk, led by our guide.  We were told to keep watch for leeches, ticks, the likes, and to be quiet because the quieter we were as a group, the greater the chances of seeing the inhabitants of the jungle.  To see a tiger is a rarity as they are so shy, so I wasn't expecting much.  So I followed directly behind the guide because I wanted to hear everything that he said.  Our guide was such a wealth of knowledge and had a sharp eye for things we weren't conditioned to see.  As soon as we began our walk, we saw more Touch-me-Nots, and then came upon a tree with many tiger scratches on the bark, some new, some a few days old, but that was almost as cool as seeing a tiger.  At least we saw its tracks of existence!

As vulnerable as we may have been in the middle of a very dense jungle, I felt no fear, but rather a sense of bewilderment, excitement, and awe.  It was the first time I've walked through a jungle and shortly after, we heard rustling high up in the trees above us.  Berries were dropping from high above.  Yes, there were monkeys, but as they are very human shy as well, they were very skillful at staying hidden in the canopies as we searched frantically, cameras ready, but to no avail.  They were gone and all we had were shaking leaves and berries at our feet.

As we continued, we heard what sounded like a different kind of bark.  It was a barking deer on the other side of the jungle, another sound we had no visual to, so we continued.  I have to look up the official name, but we came across a vine that wraps itself around the bases and trunks of trees, sucking the nutrients and water from the tree, allowing the vine to grow bigger and thicker while the tree dies.  They just wrap themselves around these trees like a boa constrictor its prey and never let go.  Quite an entanglement to behold.   

We started to move into thicker grasses, many of them as high as my chest, so, not really interested in what lies beneath the grasses, I walked with my hands in the surrender position and continued to listen to our guide.  We were heading into the territory of a mother tiger and her two cubs.  There were spots where she had urinated to mark her territory and her urine is so potent that it kills the grass almost immediately and the grass turns black.  How cool would that have been to see her and her babies?  I wondered if we were being watched as we continued to penetrate the thickness of the jungle.  As our group was rather large and not the quietest by nature, seeing the mother and her cubs was out of the question, but it was energizing to imagine what they looked like!  

We came to a small clearing by a rhino watering hole and took some goofy pictures as a group, but as I went off on my own on this narrow stretch of land, I saw two of the most regal eagles, golden tips on their black wings and their cries so piercing, but serene all the same.  As we continued and moved through the thickest part of the jungle, seeing many termite hills and structures, something that the sloth bear will rub its back against to break the structure and feast upon the millions of termites throughout, we soon came into an open clearing.  We were approaching the elephant breeding center.  There were large trees throughout the clearing and we saw more markings on the trees, except they didn't belong to a tiger.  They belonged to the wild bull elephants.

So the breeding center will let their cows (female elephants) go out to this clearing where they will be met by the more dominant bull elephant that lives in the wild.  That's why the bark was shaved off of the tree.  He uses his tusks to mark his territory and the younger, less dominant bulls have no chance at the females.  Once the elephants mate, the females are brought back to the center.  This was the point at which I wished I could have turned around.  

As we approached the information center, someone fell victim to leeches because there were small pools of blood on the concrete floor.  We all checked, but you will know if you have a leech.  It's no surprise.  You'll feel a little burn and then it starts to itch.  We were lucky. 

There were different placards that displayed different components about the elephant breeding center, such as why they exist and the benefits of elephant re-population, different ways in which they will use the work elephants, such as for tourist reasons, to help rescue people during flooding or mudslides during the monsoon season, and so on.  They also showed the physical nature and anatomy of these giant species, tools used to train the elephants, and the diet of the elephant.  

Although it sounds effective and useful for those who need rescued, something still did not, and does not, sit well with me.  When the elephants are born, shortly after, the calves are chained to a wooden post.  These shackles, if you will, cup the feet of the animal.  Usually just one foot is captive, but I witnessed two feet keeping the elephant anxious, unable to move comfortably, or at all, and I just wanted to cut them free.  I couldn't watch their nervous behavior, just like one would see in a zoo for very active, free-roaming animals that will just nervously pace up and down, side to side, clearly NOT in their natural environ.  Well, here's the scoop with the chained calves.  If an elephant, from a very young age, is chained to a wooden post, every day, he starts to believe that he cannot break free of the chain or the post.  As this calf grows into an adult elephant, he is still chained to a wooden post, a bit larger, but nonetheless nothing that could withstand the brute strength of this species.  However, since he has been conditioned to believe it cannot break free, it simply doesn't even try.  Well, seeing the elephants lined up in their chains, moving anxiously was not a sight I wanted to see.  Okay, so they rationalized that from 12-4, the chains are removed and the elephants are taken into the jungle to eat, drink water, be in their natural environ, but that doesn't account from 8am-noon, where they are on display for tourists to take pictures, they can be accounted for, and it's a daily routine of thought control of some of the most intelligent species, emotionally and intellectually.

So, this is where my somber state of mind had an instant rush of adrenaline.  As I was observing these captive elephants, I lingered behind our guide and the rest of our group.  Steph was nearby and Natalie was near me.  Natalie and I just had a conversation about how this trip to Chitwan really ended on a disturbing note.  As we walked casually along the path, off to our immediate left was a small group of Chinese tourists taking photos next to a free-roaming, 2-year old male calf.  I thought it was a bit risky; Natalie and I stayed on the path.  The Chinese tourists moved further ahead and Natalie and I watched the calf playing by himself, heading towards a wooden structure and found some clothes on a clothesline he thought he would play with.  Well, just as soon as he took the clothes from the line, a man came running after him with a rather large stick.  The calf dropped the clothes and took off.  The man continued to pursue the elephant and as much as it pained me to watch, I knew what would happen next.  He really wound up his arm and whacked the elephant on the back right leg.  He hit so hard, the smacking sound went through me.  Dust flew off of the striking site and the man casually walked away while the elephant, at first seemed upset he was punished, but then he kept stretching the struck leg backwards, curling his tail, and letting our numerous sounds, flattening his ears.  Natalie and I continued to watch, upset at the whole scene, but I had a feeling that the calf's new responses were not responses of shame, but of anger.  He was angry and the guide yelled across the distance that the elephant was mad and we needed to keep moving.  

I'm no mathematician or physicist, but I knew that if we headed towards the guide with this calf in his infuriated state that it brought us closer to the elephant than if we headed back in our direction.  Well, just as I was processing distances and anticipating our next move, the calf turned towards us and started charging.  Natalie grabbed my arm, saying 'Holly....Holly...' and I was ready to bolt, thinking Natalie was coming with me.  Little did I realize at that moment in time, Natalie froze.  I could pull all I wanted with her hand gripping my arm, but her feet were stuck in concrete as the elephant continued to run in our direction.  So, I guess you could say natural instincts kicked in and I pulled away from her grip and ran in the other direction.  Seeming the fence was directly behind us, and all of the elephants behind the fence, there were very few options to take.  As I ran, the elephant turned his focus on Natalie and as I stopped and looked at her, her eyes had no sense of urgency, quite blank really, and she moved in slow motion, processing what was occurring was on a serious delay.  

Our guide stayed where he was and yelled instructions to Natalie, telling her she needed to hop the fence, come in his direction, hop the fence again.  That sounds really nice, but it makes no difference if you've frozen.  I didn't stray too far, but I, too, was trying to help Natalie with directions.  As she closely climbed the fence, unsure of all of the adult elephants chained behind her, she pulled one leg over, but by that time, the calf caught up to her and pinned her other leg against the fence, rubbing his body on her leg, and disallowing her to move any further.  As it was an effort to pull her other leg over, she managed to do so, and safely, and gingerly walked on the side of all of the other elephants, much larger than this 2-yr old calf.  As she walked, the calf followed.  He pretended he was eating grass, looking elsewhere, but the moment she moved, there was her elephant shadow.  The guide kept telling her to run, hop the fence, very unrealistic instructions for the situation, but up ahead, there was a huge puddle and she had to take her chance.

As Natalie climbed the fence, still with a disconcerting blank stare on her face, I walked with her and the calf stayed behind.  As we continued along the path, along with the guide, Ganga's wife, Madhavi, Sam, and Brittney, just as we looked up, another free-roaming calf was charging our way!  Sam and Brittney grabbed each other and pulled off of the path, the guide and Madhavi pulled aside, and the calf, 3 yrs old, came right for us!  Again, Natalie grabbed my arm, saying 'Holly...Holly', I broke free again as she temporarily froze, but then her instincts kicked in and she ran, dropping her pink bag as a distraction.  I jumped over the ditch and found myself in a basketball defensive stance, as if I was ready to do rapid fire.  My adrenaline was kicking high and I was ready to bolt across the field if I needed to, even on limited energy reserves from rice and lentils.  

In hindsight, I realized that we totally lost sight of the first charging calf when the second one charged us, which could have been a lethal mistake.  Make no mistake about it, don't ever underestimate the strength and power, even of 2 and 3-year old elephants.  The guide told us that someone last year was charged by a young elephant and he managed to break her leg.  Even worse, if any one of us tripped and fell, the elephant can easily trample, smother, and seriously injure someone.  As my adrenaline was still shooting throughout my body, I also wondered how much young calves charging a threat or an easy target can rile up the adult elephants.  Could they really realize their strength when a younger member of their family is in distress??!  Elephants are very close familial units and feel the energy of one another and respond in any way that is needed.  I didn't even look back or observe the energy of the adults.  As vigilant as I usually am, I found myself acting on instinct, eyes only on my immediate threat.  A serious lesson to learn, especially around large, and potentially very dangerous, animals.  I found my knowledgeable guide to be of no help during these two charges, but when one is in these circumstances, it rarely matters what someone else says- it's up to you to call the shots.