But, if the mongooses were fun to tease, the baboons were infuriating. They lived in a leopard-safe dormitory, on a sheer cliff, near our house. There they would spend the night in safety, clinging to the slightest depression in the rock. Before sunset they always retired to this refuge, and the cliff appeared to be covered with black spots. From their safe position they barked and shrieked at Elsa, who could do nothing in retaliation.
It was an exciting moment when the cub met her first elephant, an anxious one too, for poor Elsa had no mother to warn her against these animals who regard lion as the only enemies of their young and therefore sometimes kill them. One day Nuru, who had taken her out for her morning walk, came back panting to say that Elsa was ‘playing with an elephant’. We took our rifles and he guided us to the scene. There we saw a great old elephant, his head buried in a bush, enjoying his breakfast. Suddenly Elsa, who had crept up from behind, took a playful swipe at one of his hind legs. A scream of shocked surprise and injured dignity followed this piece of impertinence. Then the elephant backed from the bush and charged. Elsa hopped nimbly out of his way, and quite unimpressed began to stalk him. It was a very funny though an alarming sight, and we could only hope that we should not need to use our guns. Luckily, after a time, both became bored with the game; the old elephant went back to his meal and Elsa lay down, close by, and went to sleep.
During the next few months the cub took every opportunity that came her way to harry elephant, and there were many such occasions for the elephant season was beginning. This meant an annual invasion by herds numbering several hundred animals. The great beasts seemed to be very familiar with the geography of Isiolo and always went to the places where the best maize and Brussels sprouts grew. Apart from this and in spite of a dense African population and motor traffic they behaved very well and gave little trouble. As our home, which is three miles distant from Isiolo, is surrounded by the best browsing, a large number of the invaders come to visit us, and an old rifle range in front of the house has become their favourite playground. At this season, we have therefore to be very careful on our walks, for small groups of elephant are always about. Now, having to protect Elsa as well as ourselves made us all the more alert.
One day at noon Nuru and Elsa returned home followed by a large number of elephant; from our dining-room window we could see them in the bush. We tried to divert her attention but she had turned and was determined to meet the advancing herd. Then, suddenly, she sat down and watched them as they turned away and walked in single file across the rifle range. It was a grand parade as one after another emerged from the bush in which Elsa crouched giving them her scent. She waited until the last of about twenty elephant had crossed then she followed them slowly, her head held in a straight line with her shoulders, her tail outstretched. Suddenly the big bull in the rear turned and, jerking his massive head at Elsa, screamed with a high-pitched trumpeting sound. This war cry did not intimidate her, and she walked determinedly on; so did the big elephant. We went out and, following cautiously, saw glimpses of Elsa and the elephants mingling together in the undergrowth. There were no screams nor any sound of breaking branches, which would have indicated trouble. All the same, we waited anxiously till eventually the cub reappeared looking rather bored with the whole business.
But not all the elephants which Elsa met were so amiable as these. On another occasion she succeeded in starting a colossal stampede. The first thing we heard was tremendous thundering on the rifle range and when we reached the scene we saw a herd of elephant racing downhill, with Elsa close behind them. Finally she was charged by a single bull, but she was much too quick for him and in time he gave up the attack and followed his companions.
Giraffe provided her with great fun too. One afternoon, when we were out with her, she took on fifty. Wriggling her body close to the ground and shivering with excitement, she stalked them, advancing step by step. The giraffes took no notice of her, they just stood and watched her nonchalantly. She looked at them and then back at us, as though she wanted to say, ‘Why do you stand there like candlesticks and spoil my stalking?’ Finally she got really cross and, rushing full speed at me, knocked me flat.
Towards sunset, we ran into a herd of elephant. The light was failing rapidly but we could just see the shapes of elephant in all directions.
It has always seemed miraculous to me that these colossal animals can move noiselessly through the bush and are thus able to surround one without warning. This time there was no doubt that we were cut off. Wherever we looked for an opening to run through an elephant blocked the way. We tried to hold Elsa’s attention, for it was not a moment for her to start one of her games with the giants. But all too soon she spotted them and dashed into their midst, then she was beyond our control. We heard screams and shrill piercing cries; my nerves were on edge, for, however carefully we manoeuvred through the dark bush, there stood an elephant confronting us. At last we managed to make our way out and reached home, but, of course, without Elsa. She only returned much later; apparently she had had great fun and certainly did not understand why I was a nervous wreck.
A euphorbia hedge borders our drive; no ordinary animal will break through it because it contains a caustic latex. If the smallest drop of this substance touches the eye it burns the membrane most painfully and will inflame it for many days. It is therefore given a wide berth by all animals except elephant, who love eating its juicy twigs and after a night’s meal leave big open gaps.
Once, when I was feeding Elsa in her enclosure, I heard the unmistakable rumbling of elephant behind this hedge which borders her wooden house and there, sure enough, were five of the giants crunching loudly and making a meal of the only barrier which stood between us. Indeed, at the time I am writing about, the hedge was already a poor sight owing to their attentions.
To add to the excitement of Elsa’s life there was now a rhino living close to our house. One evening at dark, when we were returning from a walk, the cub suddenly darted behind the servants’ quarters. A tremendous commotion ensued. We went to find out what it was about and saw Elsa and the rhino facing each other. After a few moments of indecision, the rhino, snorting angrily, retreated with the cub in hot pursuit.
The following evening I was walking with Elsa and Nuru, we were late and it was getting dark, when suddenly the Somali grabbed my shoulder, thus preventing me from walking straight into the rhino, which stood behind a bush, facing us. I leapt back and ran. Luckily Elsa, who had not seen the rhino, thought I was playing a game and followed me. This was fortunate for rhinos are unpredictable creatures who are apt to charge anything, including lorries and trains. The next day, however, Elsa had her fun; she chased the animal for two miles across the valley, Nuru loyally panting behind her. After this experience the rhino took itself off to quieter quarters.
By now we had established a routine for Elsa. The mornings were cool; it was then that we often watched the impala antelope leaping gracefully on the rifle range and listened to the chorus of the awakening birds. As soon as it got light Nuru released Elsa and both walked a short distance into the bush. The cub, full of unspent energy, chased everything she could find, including her own tail.
Then, when the sun got warm, she and Nuru settled under a shady tree and Elsa dozed while he read his Koran and sipped tea. Nuru always carried a rifle to protect them both against wild animals but was very good about following our instructions to ‘shout before shooting’. He was genuinely fond of Elsa and handled her very well.
About teatime the two of them returned and we took over. First, Elsa had some milk, then we wandered into the hills or walked in the plain; she climbed trees, appeared to sharpen her claws, followed exciting scents or stalked Grant’s gazelle and gerenuk, which sometimes played hide and seek with her. Much to our surprise, she was fascinated by tortoises which she rolled over and over; she loved playing, and never did she miss an opportunity of starting a game with us – we were her ‘pride’ and she shared everything with us.
; As darkness fell we returned home and took her to her enclosure, where her evening meal awaited her. It consisted of large quantities of raw meat, mostly sheep and goat; she got her roughage by breaking up the rib bones and the cartilages. As I held her bones for her I would watch the muscles on her forehead moving powerfully. I always had to scratch the marrow out for her; she licked it greedily from my fingers, resting her heavy body upright against my arms. While this went on Pati sat on the windowsill watching us, content to know that soon her turn would come to spend the night cuddled round my neck and that then she would have me to herself.
Till then, I sat with Elsa playing with her, sketching her or reading. These evenings were our most intimate time and I believe that her love for us was mostly fostered in these hours when, fed and happy, she could doze off with my thumb still in her mouth. It was only on moonlight nights that she became restless; then she padded along the wire, listening intently, her nostrils quivering to catch the faintest scent which might bring a message from the mysterious night outside. When she was nervous her paws became damp and I could often judge her state of mind by holding them in my hands.
3. Elsa Goes to the Indian Ocean
Elsa was now a year old, she had changed her teeth and I had been allowed to wiggle out one milk canine, while she helpfully held her head quite still. To gnaw off her meat she usually used her molars, not her incisors, but her very rough tongue, covered with minute quills, she employed for rasping it from the bone. Her saliva was rich and very salty.
Pati was now getting old and I kept her as quiet as I could.
Our local leave was due and we planned to spend it by the sea, on a remote part of the coast, close to a small Barjun fishing village and not far from the Somali border. The nearest white population was ninety miles south in Lamu. It would be a perfect place for Elsa, for we could camp on the beach, away from people, with miles of clean sand around us, and a bushy hinterland behind would provide shade.
We took two friends with us, one a young District Officer, Don, and the other, Herbert, an Austrian writer who was our guest.
It was a long journey over bad tracks and it took us three days. I usually went ahead with Elsa in my truck, George and the others following in two Land Rovers with Pati. The country through which we passed was dry, sandy and hot.
One day the road became a network of camel spoor. When it was getting dark I lost my way, ran out of petrol and, hoping that George would follow my tracks, waited for him. Only after several hours did I see his lights. When he arrived, he said that our camp was already pitched some miles away and told me we must hurry back as he had left Pati very ill with heat stroke.
He had given her some brandy to strengthen her but had little hope. The miles back to the camp seemed endless to me. I found Pati in a coma. Her heart was beating so rapidly that it was improbable that it would stand the strain much longer. Gradually she became semi-conscious, recognized me and made a weak attempt to grind her teeth. This had always been her way of showing her affection; it was her last message to me. Later she grew calm and her heart slowed down till it had almost ceased to beat; then suddenly her little body quivered in a last convulsion, stretched stiffly and collapsed.
Pati was dead.
I held her close. Her warm body took a long time to cool.
I thought of the many moments of happiness she had given me in the seven and a half years during which we had shared our lives. On how many safaris had she been my companion. She had been with me to Lake Rudolf, where the heat had been a great strain on her; to the coast, where she had spent many hours cramped in a dhow; to Mount Kenya, whose moorlands she had loved; to the Suguta valley and Mount Nyiro, where she had cleverly hung on to the mule which I rode across precipitous tracks; she had been with me to camping places all over Kenya, when I was painting the African tribes. Sometimes for months on end she had been my only friend.
How tolerant she was of the bushbabies, squirrels and mongooses which came and went in our household, and how she loved the lions. At meals she sat by my plate and took the titbits gently from my hand.
She had become part of me.
Now I wrapped her in a cloth, fastened her harness and leash round it, and carried her some distance away from the camp. Here I dug her grave. The night was hot and the moonlight softened the shadows in the wide plain around us. All was still and so peaceful.
The next morning we drove on and I was glad that the bad road held my attention.
It was late afternoon when we reached the coast and fishermen who came out to greet us told us that a lion was causing a great deal of trouble. Almost nightly it raided their goats and they very much hoped that George would kill it.
There was no time to make a proper camp, so we put our beds out in the open. I was the only woman among four Europeans and six Africans and I placed mine at a little distance away. Elsa was secured in my truck next to me. Soon everyone went to sleep except myself. Suddenly I heard a dragging noise and flashed my torch; there, a few yards from my bed, was a lion with the skin of the buck we had shot that afternoon in its mouth.
For a second I wondered if it might be Elsa, but then I saw her in the back of my car. I looked again, the lion was still staring at me and now he was growling.
I moved slowly towards George and, stupidly, turned my back on the lion. We were only a few paces from each other and I felt that he was following me, so I turned and shone my torch into his face; by then we were about eight yards apart. I walked backwards towards the campbeds where the men were snoring. Only George woke up. When I told him that a lion was following me he said, ‘Nonsense, probably a hyena or a leopard’. All the same he picked up his heavy rifle and went in the direction I indicated and there, sure enough, he soon saw two eyes and heard the growl of a lion. He had little doubt that this was the troublesome lion we had been told about; so he tied a large piece of meat to a tree some thirty yards in front of the car and decided to sit up and wait for him.
After a short time we heard a clatter coming from behind the cars where our evening meal had been cooked.
George crept round, levelled his rifle and flashed his torch there; he saw the lion sitting amongst the pots and pans finishing off the remains of our dinner. He pressed the trigger, only a click sounded, he pressed it again with the same result. He had forgotten to load the rifle! The lion got up and sauntered off. Sheepishly George loaded the rifle and went back to his post.
Much later he heard something tugging at the meat and switched on the car lights; then he saw the lion brilliantly illuminated and shot him through the heart.
He was a young maneless lion, typical of the coast region.
When light broke we investigated his pugmarks and discovered that he had first seized the skin of the antelope, then dragged it to within twenty yards of my bed where he had eaten his meal. When replete he had made a leisurely round of the camp. Of all these goings-on Elsa had been an interested spectator, but she had never uttered a sound.
As soon as the sun was up the whole camp trooped down to the water’s edge to introduce her to the Indian Ocean. The tide was receding; at first she was nervous of the unaccustomed roar and rush of the waves. Then she sniffed cautiously at the water, bit at the foam; finally, she put her head down to drink, but her first mouthful of salt water made her wrinkle her nose and pull grimaces of disgust. However, when she saw the rest of the party enjoying a bathe, she decided to trust us and join in the fun. Very soon she became quite water-crazy. Rain pools and shallow rivers had always excited and invigorated her, but this great ocean was a real heaven for her. She swam effortlessly, far out of her depth; ducked us and splashed the water with her tail and ensured that we too swallowed mouthfuls of salt water before we were able to escape from her antics.
She followed us everywhere, so I usually stayed behind when the others went fishing; otherwise she would have swum out after our boat.
But occasionally I could not resist the temptation to skindive through this world of luminous
iridescent colours and fairy shapes, then I left Elsa with someone to keep her company. Usually they rested in the shade of a mangrove tree close to the camp. When passing fishermen got to know of this they made a big detour, hitched up their loin cloths and waded into the sea. They would have felt less reassured had they known what an amphibious creature she was.
She loved walking along the beach, where she chased the coconuts bobbing in the surf, getting splashed and swamped by the waves in the process. Sometimes we tied a string to a coconut and swung it in a circle above our heads while she jumped high up after it as it flew past. She soon discovered that digging in the sand was a most rewarding game, since the deeper the hole the wetter and cooler it became and therefore the nicer to roll in. Often she dragged long strands of seaweed along, entangling herself in it till she looked like some odd sea monster. But crabs provided her with the best fun of all. Towards sunset the beach became alive with these little pink creatures shuffling sideways in order to get from their holes to the water, only to be washed ashore again a moment later. Persistently they shuffled, only to be thrown back again, until finally their patience was rewarded and they grabbed some piece of delicious seaweed and pulled it into their hole before the next wave was able to carry it off. Elsa did not make things easier for the busy creatures; she would rush from one to the other, invariably getting nipped in the nose, but undeterred she pounced again, only to be nipped once more. To the crabs’ credit be it recorded that of all Elsa’s opponents they were the only ones, not excluding elephants, buffaloes and rhinos, which stood their ground. Sideways-on they waited in front of their holes, one pink claw erect, and, however cunningly Elsa tried to outwit them, they were always quicker than she was and her soft nose got punctured again.