Predators I Have Known - Alan Dean Foster [61]
Behind the eye was a forest elephant.
Though less than ten yards distant, I could not see anything else of its owner. The elephant blended in completely with the surrounding forest. Unlike their more recognizable East and South African relatives, the forest elephant of central Africa (Loxodonta cyclotis) is smaller, has rounder ears, tusks that tend to point downward and are composed of harder ivory than that of other elephants, and five toes on its front feet and four on the back as opposed to its savanna-dwelling relatives, which have one less toe on each foot.
I badly wanted to put a number of questions to our guides, but I kept silent. Stuck on the flank of a steep, slippery, jungle-encrusted hill, we had nowhere to run if the elephant decided to charge. So we stood utterly motionless for long moments, not all the sweat that was pouring off us a consequence of the heat and humidity.
Five minutes passed without anyone saying a word. The time had doubled when our lead guide gestured that we could advance, albeit slowly and carefully. A few minutes later, we stopped by an opening in the brush that intersected our trail. Kneeling, the guide pointed out broken branches and spoor.
“Elephant make this trail. The forest is full of them.” He grinned as he rose. “But they like to use our trails, too.”
Once more, I had occasion to reflect on the silence of elephants. Be they inhabitants of the open plains of East or South Africa, the deserts of Namibia, or the forests of the Congo Basin, they wear a hush like an overcoat and move with a silence that never fails to astonish. In the deep jungle, you can pass within feet of one and never know it’s there. The smaller species are the graceful gray ghosts of the forest, and it is a pity they are less well known than their larger African and Southeast Asian cousins.
And it is a very good thing for those who choose to go for a stroll among their haunts that they are strict vegetarians. . . .
X
EVER WONDER HOW WE TASTE?
Papua New Guinea, October 1995
NORTH OF PORT MORESBY, THE capital of Papua New Guinea, lies the most accessible of that remarkable country’s national parks—accessibility in such a region being a relative term. PNG’s second largest metropolitan area, Lae, is technically just as accessible as the capital, if one overlooks the fact that for a sizable, developed city it may boast the largest concentration of car-swallowing potholes in the world. I am not exaggerating. The combination of unstable ground, tropical soils, a seaside setting, insufficient financing for infrastructure repair, and fierce rain creates cavities in the frail urban pavement that in other countries would be referred to not as potholes but as cave-ins.
From Mosby, as its inhabitants like to call it, to Varirata National Park it’s a good half-day’s drive in a sturdy 4x4. Ascending from sea level to more than 2,500 feet, the Sogeri Road soon becomes a dirt track and, if it hasn’t rained too hard or too recently, stays passable as it follows the course of the rushing Laloki River. Along the way, you are likely to encounter farmers and traders and just possibly, raskols, PNG’s infamous bandits and all-around antisocial types. As compensation, Varirata offers a distinctly cooler climate than Mosby in addition to the opportunity to see some of PNG’s fabulous wildlife while still keeping a base in the capital city. From several designated vantage points, there are also spectacular views out over the city and across Bootless Bay.
I had come up to Varirata in hopes