Currently suffering with a virus, but instead of letting my body rest last night and get some much-needed sleep, my semi-conscious brain instead decided to bombard me with a weird and vivid dream, over and over again. The story below is a pretty faithful - though slightly embellished - summary of the tale my virus-addled brain told me.
Our story starts in the southern plains of central Africa where a large herd of elephants were preparing to make their annual migration. They were a strong and well-established herd made up of many tightly knit families comprising over 200 individuals in total. With the dry season approaching they needed to make their way North to where for decades they had sojourned at a bountiful watering hole. It was a long and arduous journey of several hundred km and not one that any of them relished. And they knew that when they got there they'd be competing with other elephant herds - and indeed other species - for the best spots to encamp for the season.
But this year before they left, they were approached casually by a small group of griffon vultures. The vultures explained how with their ability to soar to 1000's of metres they could see much further than the elephants. They told the elephants they knew of a watering hole to the East hidden in a secret valley that none of the other animals had discovered. The vultures would show them the way there. The elephants could have the whole place to themselves. They would be in complete control.
The rumour of this paradise spread throughout the herd. Some of the elephants were at first suspicious. "But you are mighty elephants! We are just birds! Even a dozen of us would be of no threat to even the youngest of your group. Where's the harm?"
Of course the elephants knew that was true, but it flattered them to hear it being said by these new found friends.
The herd began to discuss their options. The older cows in particular liked the idea of not having to share with other herds: they considered some of those outsiders to have rather poor hygiene standards, ironically unaware of their own shortcomings in that department. Others - especially the younger members - were more sceptical. They'd been perfectly happy with their previous destination and indeed relished mixing with the youngsters from the other herds.
Eventually to settle the matter the lead bull declared there would be a head count. Those wanting to go North would stand to left; those for the East would stand to the right.
Roughly a third of the herd held no strong opinion either way and stood aside, not committing to either group but trusting the herd to make a sensible choice.
Nearly all of the younger adults stood to the left, whilst most of the older animals went right. The very youngest were of course excluded being considered too inexperienced to have a say.
At first the difference in size between the two groups was hard to distinguish, but as they filed past in pairs, one from either side, it became evident that the group for the East had a handful of extra bodies.
The lead bull was aghast. He understood the danger of making such a momentous decision on such a closely balanced opinion poll. "We really don't have to go through with this," he declared to the ensemble.
"OH YES WE DO!" exclaimed an over-confident old cow, striding off Eastwards onto the path the vultures had shown them, her cabal of friends in tow.
And so the journey for the whole herd began; many reluctant and resentful at how the decision had been taken, but feeling obliged to toe the line.
After a while, unease amongst the elephants began to grow. Some felt they hadn't really been given enough time to make a well-informed choice, and that the promises about this fabled paradise seemed too good to be true. However, any ideas of dissent were harshly quashed with rebukes of being a traitor to the herd, or trying to sabotage the will of the herd. There would be no turning back.
Now it's easy, but dangerous, to underestimate the cognitive capabilities of birds, especially griffons who look so ungainly and gangly when comically tottering around on the ground. But while they lack true strategic planning aptitude, they can make connections and associations which to all intents and purposes can resemble cunning. The land to which they were leading the elephants had once been teeming with animals; now it was deserted. The vultures instinctively felt that luring the herd back there would somehow prove fruitful.
The vultures had been quite genuine when they had said that they themselves posed no threat to the elephants. But they were nevertheless leading the elephants into peril. The absence of wildlife in the Eastern lands was down to eradication by hunters and poachers.
It's impossible to discreetly relocate a herd of over 200 pachyderms. They were spotted from miles away by the poachers who used drones to locate targets. The poachers could scarcely believe their luck. They'd managed to bag the odd stray bull on its own before, but never had they been presented with such a rich and easy bounty.
The path the elephants were blithely following led on through a narrow ravine; a dried river bed formed by the freak flash floods that occasionally struck the region. It had an ambience of disconnection from the outside world; one of peace and tranquility. It was however the perfect place for an ambush.
The slaughter started as soon as the last member of the herd had entered the ravine. It was as brief as it was brutal. A terrifying din of machine gun fire, panicking pachyderms, and the thuds of massive bodies collapsing to the ground, making the earth quake. The poachers had set up a pincer trap, attacking from both ends so that the bodies of fallen animals blocked escape for those trapped in the middle. It was over in a matter of minutes. Efficient and industrial; every tusked adult killed. So much death; so much blood. A few of the youngest elephants had managed to escape - they were of no value to the poachers after all - they were unlikely to last long on their own in any event.
A short while later, the ensuing eery silence was shattered again by the sound of chainsaws. The poachers would have their bounty of ivory. And the vultures; they would have their meat. So much meat.
And that is sadly where the story ends.
It's some small consolation that most of the youngsters who had escaped did manage to find each other and navigate their way back, where the orphans were welcomed into other herds; those whom their own herd had previously spurned.
Their story would grow to be a legend used to warn others against being led to disaster by ill-informed opinion. From which we should learn and for which be grateful.
