A show at Periyar

It is a fact that elephants are protective of their young, but, R. RAJAMANI says rare herd behaviour he witnessed at Periyar can teach humans a thing or two.

THE elephants of the Periyar Sanctuary in Kerala are the main tourist attraction in this sylvan wetland and hill ecosystem. They can be easily spotted from boats plying in the lake. Sighting gaur is not so easy and the tiger is totally elusive. But the elephants are more obliging and are an endearing sight.

On a trip to Periyar a few years ago, we got to see a herd of elephants. This experience was heightened by our witnessing a rather different form, and rare sight, of herd behaviour. We have read and heard about the herding instincts of these animals and their protective attitude. We know too that the entire herd takes special care of the young. Who can forget the elephant calf in the film "Hatari", weaving in and out of the legs of a herd on the move.

What we saw that memorable morning was one more manifestation of the collective care of the young by a herd of eight or so. With us was a wise forester schooled in the habits of elephants. He could detect the faintest of movements from afar and also ensure that our boat was kept upwind all the time, keeping our scent away from the herd. He would also get the outboard motor switched off now and then so that we could glide noiselessly over the smooth waters, except for the occasional splash of a steadying oar. This kept the animals from being alarmed.

All of a sudden, as we were about to reach a gentle promontory dipping gradually into the lake - it had obscured our vision of what lay beyond - the forester motioned us to be quiet. He also signalled the boatman to switch off the motor. Sure enough, as we approached the bend slowly and looked at the expanse of water into which another piece of land sloped in at a distance of about 300 metres ahead, we realised, rather excitedly, that there was a solitary elephant on the slope. The huge, glistening animal was coming down the intruding and jutting slope in measured treads, often looking back at something on the other side of the slope that was not yet visible to us. The boatman had a job steadying the boat, avoiding noise and keeping out of the elephant's sight by staying close to the shore behind the bend.

The elephant was a large female which seemed lost in contemplation for what seemed to us like eons. Well, this was really only 10 suspense packed minutes. Then she lumbered to the edge of the water. Gingerly, she put a leg in the water as though testing it and then trumpeted shrilly. To our untutored ways, it seemed to be a kind of signal. We waited with bated breath.

Our patience was rewarded when we saw a herd appear from behind the slope and moving towards the lady. To cap our joy, we saw a newborn calf, unsteady on its legs. Often he (or was it a she? We never got to know) was kept on the straight path by the friendly trunks all around, guiding and encouraging it.

As the herd came within 30 metres of the leader, she entered the waters and started swimming powerfully across to the other side, a stretch of about 400 metres We wondered what would happen next as the herd stood quietly near the shore. She reached and lifted her trunk - perhaps a signal to the others that the line was clear. Then another large elephant entered the water, statuesque and commanding. We realised in retrospect that though the pilot had gone across, the rearguard wanted to be doubly sure that the coast was clear before the herd crossed over.

The grand drama began. As the second female got into the lake and the herd followed slowly, we wondered what the calf would do, unsteady on its feet and perhaps having the first glimpse of the world. The answer was revealed to us in all grandeur.

The baby was placed in the middle of the herd and allowed to keep his legs just below the surface of the water. From that distance, we were not sure whether it was attempting to swim but found that it was kept going as though on a raft made by the protective trunks of the others. We stared dumbstruck, until the herd crossed over to the leader and deposited the baby on the bank to resume his wobbly, lovable gait. Our friend with the camera realised he had missed the best part of the journey across the water and started clicking away furiously.

As the herd wended its way up into the distant trees, the forester gave the signal for the boat to resume its journey towards the pier.

We had seen one more instance of maternal care among elephants. Do we, who commit female infanticide, abandon babies and destroy each other have something to learn from these wise ones?

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