What were we thinking? Out of the blue, an animal welfare organisation had asked us to adopt a herd of aggressive rogue elephants — and we’d immediately agreed.
At the time, back in 1999, my husband, Lawrence, and I had just sold everything we owned to buy a large expanse of South African savannah, in the hope of one day turning it into a game reserve.
We were just living in a basic hut, and none of the land was yet fenced.
Neither of us knew anything about elephants, so we were hardly suitable foster parents. Indeed, until I met Lawrence, I’d never seen a wild animal, not even in a zoo.
But there was simply no one else crazy enough to take in the emotionally disturbed elephants. Since being attacked by poachers, they’d been causing havoc near Kruger National Park, and their future looked bleak.
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-Kenny the Scot
What an awesome story
John h
Very heartwarming story. Thank you.
Absolutely A-1. I don’t get big game hunting, especially Elephants. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure not against guns, or crossbows, and hunting game that’s abundant and that you intend to eat. But to me, trophy hunters are pussies.
Those pussies put thousands upon thousands of dollars into the economy of the countries they hunt in, especially in Africa.
You have no idea.
Do you have what it takes to hunt big game with just a knife or a lance (depending on species)? I know one who does.
A cousin of my ex goes to Africa every odd year, Alaska every even year. For big game. He built an addition to his home just for his large trophy room. It is amazing.
Both of these guys are not like you think. The first guy is pretty much an asshole but my ex’s cousin is one of the nicest guys you would ever meet. And, like Kenny said, they spend tens of thousands of dollars to chase their hobby. Oh yeah, sometimes they come home empty handed but they would have still spent the money. The preserves must manage their game through culling. Hunters provide that means plus pay big money for it.
I just remembered a third gentleman. A real nice guy, one of the nicest I’ve met. But a total bad ass in the bush, Army SOF type. I mean, this guy thinks running 50 miles a day for a 10 day hunt is a cakewalk. I went with him once. In two days he was nearly 100 miles in front of me. I caught up to him as he was walking back out. That is, he left sign he went that away. Screw that. There are places were roads don’t go, the nearest dirt may be 50 miles yonder. That’s where you’ll find him.
His kit consists of basic bushcraft. His style of big game hunting is tracking and cornering the beast, He takes the trophy and packs it out. He goes solo, no guide. No one can keep up with him.
Please give him the Hildabeast location quickly.