Tiny Tales of Courage
Sometimes survival is not loud. It does not announce itself or demand attention. Sometimes it simply carries on. Resilience often looks like patience, adaptability, and showing up day after day, even if the landscape is tough. Taryn van Jaarsveld, Africa Geographic
©kathykarn
“If it doesn’t rain soon these babies are at risk,” said Pilipili. There was a bumper crop of elephant calves born this year in Amboseli. We were on a game drive in Amboseli National Park, every group of elephants we met had tiny elephant calves tucked amongst their legs.
Elephants march towards the swamp silver grey with Amboseli’s volcanic dust @kathykarn
At 22 months elephants have the longest gestation period of any land mammal making it impossible to predict what the conditions on the ground will be like when a cow gives birth two years into the future. In 2024 the rains were kind, there was ample food for wildlife and consequently a lot of mating. This year the December rains failed. Amboseli’s closed, semi-arid basin with salty alkaline soils and no permanent rivers dried up. On our descent to the Amboseli airstrip dust devils swirled like disembodied tails across the parched landscape. The three permanent swamps fed by underground springs from the meltwater on Mt Kilimanjaro stood out like green islands in a barren landscape.
Dust devils dance across the landscape in the distance ©kathykarn
Many of the elephants had dispersed to other locations searching for water. Those that remained retreated to the forested edges of the park at night and then made the arduous trek across the empty lake to the permanent swamps each day for food and water.
Circular elephant tracks mark the daily migration route in the dried lakebed ©kathykarn
An elephant calf can stand and walk within the first couple of hours of birth. They are expected to keep up with the herd and faithfully follow their mothers often covering 10 – 15 kms daily. This is even more challenging for their short little legs during periods of heat and drought when the family may need to travel farther for water and browsing.
A family of elephants crosses the road near the swamp ©kathykarn
The herd sets the pace to allow the calves to rest from time to time. The babies are tucked inside the group in the shade of their larger relatives. They are never alone, mama and attentive nannies are a constant protective presence.
An allomother (nanny) ensures an elephant calf stays in the shady side of the procession ©kathykarn
We followed several groups as they marched across the Amboseli Plain. Once within the swamp area the mothers paused to let the calves suckle and rest.
Snack time ©kathykarn
My heart melted seeing so many calves. I worried about their future. Despite the harsh conditions, these tiny, big eared tykes radiated gumption and playful curiosity.
Who are you? ©kathykarn
What’s this Mama? ©kathykarn
I left Amboseli worried, there still was no rain in sight. I checked weather reports daily from home. The drought continued for three more weeks. I imagined the worst. But on the last week of February, it rained! And it rained! And it rained some more. Overnight Amboseli turned green, the lake returned.
Inundated Amboseli Airstrip
The airstrip and surrounding roads have been closed due to flooding. People were stranded, Big Life rangers reported one of their vehicles was washed away in a flash flood. The elephants, however, did just fine. Pilipili tells me they are very happy and the babies are learning about the joys of mud. Perhaps baby elephants have lessons to teach us about survival, keeping on keeping on and finding joy no matter what. I’m so grateful for the rain.
Mudbath ©kathykarn
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