Chapter 4

“So, how’s the coffee?” Lucy asked, sitting flat on the ground in the shade next to the chopper with her legs stretched out in front of her. Way out in the distance in the shimmering heat waves, the two baby elephants stood under a tree, watching us. Or more precisely, watching the noisy white and purple bird, not sitting in a tree. The scene was curiously funny to young elephants. Things that fly in the air sit in trees; sometimes on the ground, but mostly in the trees.

This suited us well. The two baby elephants stood and watched, staying in one place. I was praying for the rescue to be speedy.

“Coffee’s fine. Very good.” I said, blowing the steam away over the rim of the mug.

Giggle. “I asked Samson to make it strong. You like it that way. Lucy said.

“Cowboy coffee.” I said.

“Cowboy coffee, what’s that?” Lucy asked.

“A cowboy uses a little kettle that holds four cups of water, right?” I asked.

“I suppose so...” Lucy responded.

Well, he’ll walk down to the river and fill the kettle with river water. Then walk back to his horse and the fire. With all the gunfights he’s been in, there is a bullet hole in the kettle, about little past halfway down. That means, that when he gets to the fire, there’s only one and a half cups of water left.” I said. Lucy smirked.

“Okay, go on...”

“Well, he puts the kettle on the fire and then goes to his horse, opens his saddlebag and takes out a heaped-up, hand-full of coffee grounds. This, he then puts in the kettle.” I said looking over the rim of the tin mug in my hand.

“Okay, I get the picture. Go on...”

“So, if the coffee boils, he goes back to the horse and take off a shoe.”

“His shoe, or the horse’s shoe?” Lucy said, looking sceptical.

“The horse’s shoe.” I said, taking a sip of my coffee and shifting to a more comfortable position. The ground is hard here.

“Okay, the horse’s shoe ... Go on.” Lucy said, looking at me with a smirk on her lips and rolling eyes.

“Okay. Then he goes back to the kettle and drops the horseshoe into the kettle...” I said, patiently blowing more steam away, cooling the coffee and taking a sip.

“Is this gonna take long?” Lucy asked.

“No. Okay. Now if the horseshoe, sinks to the bottom, he gets more coffee to put into the kettle. If the horseshoe floats, then the coffee’s ready!” I said, draining my tin cup of coffee and holding it out to Lucy for a refill.

“Beast! What a lame story!” Lucy said. “I definitely need to tame you ... I mean ... To ... civilize you, that is!” Lucy back pedalled.

“So, before you ... ah, civilize me, do I get a refill?” I asked, looking at her, I suppose with a naughty little boy look, because she flashed blue fire with her eyes, sighed and got up.

“Slave-driver! I was just getting comfortable on this hard ground.” she said.

“Sit in the copter. It’s got softer seats. Softer than the ground, that is.” I said. Lucy looked over her shoulder, smiled and said:

“I’ll do that. But first, more coffee for mister coffee-pot. By the way, where’s the toilet in this flying horse thing, cowboy?” Handing me a second mug of coffee.

“There’s no toilet in the copter. Why, do you need to go?” I asked.

“No, not me. You! After all that coffee, I suppose you’ll be a little full, and will be jumping around as if you’ve got a wasp somewhere important that might be seriously in danger.” Giggle. We both laughed.

“I suppose I needed that remark, after my cowboy-coffee story.” I said.

“Got-cha babe!” She said, got into the back of copter and stretched out over both back seats. “Now! I’m gonna take a power nap!”

“Oh, I thought a ‘CAT-nap!” I said, wondering about the “babe” remark.

“Beast!”

I got up, rummaged through my carry-everything-that-might-be-needed-bag and got out my 16×50 field glasses. I found the two baby elephants in the field of view and focused on them. They looked relaxed, but I’m no expert. I sat down on the footstep on the front of the helicopter, just above the left-hand skid.

“Are they still there?” came a far-off muffled voice from inside the back of the copter.

“Yip. They look relaxed, but one never knows. Anything can scare them.” I said. I looked over my shoulder. Lucy sat up, swinging her legs back and forth, out the back door, her hands folded under her thighs. There was a slight breeze blowing from the elephants towards us.

The elephants could not get the smell of the noisy bird. They could only see it, but were slowly losing interest. The noisy bird sat still, not moving, its funny wings spread out above it. Maybe it’s sleeping. It doesn’t look like a predator. It’s big; very big and noisy, but now it’s quiet. It does not move. Maybe it really is asleep.

There’s a new noise now, coming over the hill, making a lot of dust. Oh, okay, it’s the funny green noisy thing that brings the food. Okay maybe we must go to the funny green noisy thing. Maybe we’ll get water and food. But the noisy green thing stops near the noisy bird. Let’s see if the two are friendly with each other. It still looks like the noisy bird is sleeping. Funny bird, it’s got eyes all around it. Big shiny eyes.

The green coloured Land Cruiser stopped about 20 metres away from us. The Mapungubwe Reserve logo was prominently displayed on both front doors. Lucy and I got up and walked over. Samson and three other rangers got out of the 4×4.

“Hello Dave, Missus Lucy!” Samson said grinning. “I’ve brought some fuel for you. Missus Lucy, there is some cold water and cold drinks, if you want.”

“Thank you, Mister Samson!” Lucy said. I was watching the little interplay about “Missus” and “Mister.” I suppose the two of them are getting along fine.

“Dave, we have a ranger from Hoedspruit coming in. She’s an expert on the rescue of baby elephants. You see, these little babies are very difficult to pull through if the mother is not around. If not treated the right way, they could die within forty-eight hours.” Samson said to me.

“Thanks. I knew that part. They need their mother’s milk. Also, that they drink about ten litres of it per day. Not a formula that’s easily made up artificiality!” I said.

“You said it!” Samson said. “The Hoedspruit ranger will be coming into Venetia Mine later today. As a matter of fact, she will be en-route at this moment, so, could I ask you to fetch her at the airport in this eggbeater of yours?”

“Yes, no problem. Just let me know what time to be there.” I said. “Time for these two baby elephants is limited. The sooner we move on feeding them the better.”

“What happens now?” Lucy asked.

“We watch them; follow them if they move.” Samson said. “We stay here, with them for now.” Samson said.

“Okay! We’ll fly out now. No need to stay grounded, Come Lucy, let’s get going.” I said. “Thanks for the fuel, Samson, but we’re sorted for now.”

The sun was beating down on the rocky sandstone hills and surrounding savannah. To the north-west, a few lonely puffy clouds drifted slowly on the horizon with the promise of maybe some rain. Or the clouds will just, as most times, dissolve under the blistering sun.

On the grassland, herds of antelope grazed on the dry grass. Still, the grass gives them the nourishment their bodies needed. In the middle of the open plain, to the west of the clump of hills, surrounding Mapungubwe hill, a group of four white rhinos was grazing. The open plain is a sort of refuge for them, as here in the open they could detect a threat if need be.

Although they are near-sighted, they rely on their ability to hear and smell any threat to them. The result is disastrous for any stalker, with or without ill intent. Although, these rhinoceroses’ horns had been removed (as a precaution against poaching), a bump from those little stumps on their noses will kill immediately. These rhinos weigh up to 2500 kilograms and can run at a speed of up to 50 kilometres per hour! Over 30 tonnes of impact velocity! You’ll be seriously sore ... that’s to say if you survive the impact.

On the southernmost hill, a pair of eyes surveyed the area. Taking in all movement of animals and humans, scanning for the elusive big elephant bulls; the ones with the heavy tusks. Two nights ago, he had brought in just over seven thousand Rand. He had to share with the others, but still his personal share for the night’s work was seven thousand. If he can find the big ones here in the reserve, he can make three times what he made that night.

He saw the helicopter flying over. Here, hidden by the big boulder and a young tree, he was invisible, blending in with the landscape. The helicopter, not a Parks Board one or a police one, had flown along the river. Then the helicopter turned back, overflying the hill he was on. Then the helicopter circled and landed. Although looking like a private one, the helicopter was not on a pleasure flight because it landed in the park.

The helicopter sat on the ground for a while. Two people got out, a man and a woman. A small white woman with long white hair, tied at the back. Yes, she fits the description of a ranger. Both of them were dressed like rangers. A while later the green game-drive 4×4 came and stopped at the helicopter. Yes, they must be rangers; he must be careful. Looks like the rangers will now be patrolling the reserve with helicopters. But why? Last time they didn’t work out on the reserve. That night’s work was on the ranch next door, two days ago.

He softly laughed to himself. Helicopters don’t fly at night. Night is when he and his boys did their work. Helicopters also don’t fly during the heat of day. That is when he must do his groundwork. Looking out for the big ones.

He heard the helicopter start up. It sat on the ground for a while with the sound of the engine and rotors spooling up to a crescendo, then it took off, flying to the south-west. The green game-drive 4×4 stood still. Four rangers stood leaning against the vehicle. They will not be going anywhere soon.

He slipped out of his hiding place, slowly crawling backwards. When he reached the back of the boulder, he got up. He walked off the hill in an easterly direction, away from the scene he just saw. At the bottom of the hill, he turned towards his left, going along the dry riverbed to link up with the Limpopo river, the part of the Limpopo river that’s devoid of crocodiles. He’ll cross the Limpopo there, back into Zimbabwe.

At that precise moment, the GeoEye-1 satellite, travelling at nearly 26,982 kilometres per hour on its orbit at 711 kilometres above the surface of the earth, overflew a part of the Indian Ocean. (That’s 7,495 kilometres per second, or 4,67 miles per second.)

Launched in 2008, this satellite can produce 350,000 square kilometres of pan-sharpened multi-spectral earth imagery each day. The highly sophisticated commercial remote sensor array was available to clients who needed the capabilities.

The high-resolution imaging system on board, capable of images of a ground resolution of 0.41 metres, (16 inches) was snapping away on a part of the ocean, in panchromatic mode. The other camera, collecting multi-spectral colour images at a ground resolution of 1.65 metre (64 inches), was just as busy. The satellite will revisit the same orbit every three days.

A map reference supplied by an “interested party,” was being photographed. In the middle of the picture, a cargo ship was on its journey to Japan. Seems that Bento’s radio transmitter is doing its work.

We flew out to the Venetia Mine, about 15 minutes away. Keeping low, just as low as I could dare to go with the ever-present danger of power transmission lines in mind. Have you ever seen what a little flimsy airframe looks like when it does hit a transmission line? Sometimes like crinkled up tinfoil, sometimes a smoking aluminium-lined hole in the ground. Neither one of the options I would like to experience. You get the picture?

“Is it difficult to learn to fly?” Lucy asked.

“Nope! Just like riding a bicycle. Once you get the hang of it, it’s like second nature.” I said.

“I never did learn to ride a bicycle...” Lucy said, looking out the side window. I caught the sad expression in her eyes, just before she looked away, and I thought how unfortunate for her to have been in such a situation.

“Lucy ... Put your feet on the pedals in front of you. Move your seat forward, and then put your feet fully on the pedals.” I said. Lucy looked at me, her face a mask of nervousness.

“Come on now, I still have full control.” I said. Lucy hesitantly moved her seat forward and placed her number 5 boots on the pedals. I felt the slight pressure on the right pedal and corrected instantaneously.

“Now. Put your right hand on the cyclic in front of you, feel the movement as I keep the rotor disk level. You feel it?”

“Y ... Yes. I feel no movement on the pedals though.” Lucy said.

“Good! You won’t feel movement on the pedals. We are flying along at a hundred and thirty knots. (240 Km/h or 149 mph) Fast enough for the chopper to keep itself straight.” I said. “Take your hands and feet away from the controls and watch.” I said. Lucy relaxed and moved her hands and feet away.

“Watch this.” I said. I took my feet off the rudder pedals and kept the collective in my left-hand steady. Then I wiggled the cyclic first left then right and brought it back to centre. The chopper responded by dipping first left then right. Without further input the chopper righted itself and flew on. It gained a little altitude but stabilized itself in normal flight, settling at the slightly higher, new altitude.

“See?” I asked.

“Yes. The chopper stabilized itself!” Lucy said.

“Good. Now watch.” I said and took my hands and feet away from the controls. The little bird flew on, undisturbed. I just kept my hands and feet very near the controls, just case of an unexpected thermal or wind gust, but the little bird soldiered on, perfectly.

“Wow, this thing practically flies itself!” Lucy said.

“That’s because it’s correctly trimmed. I’ll show you all that. Now, fly!” I said. Lucy looked at me for a moment or two. She then placed her feet on the rudder pedals and her right hand on the cyclic.

“Put your left hand on the collective and follow me. That way you will feel the inputs and associate them with the movement of the aircraft.” I said. Lucy looked out the windshield, full concentration on her face, the tip of her tongue, just sticking out between her lips.

I banked left, and the right side of the copter lifted a bit. I straightened the copter, then repeated to the right. Lucy instantly looked out the right window into the turn. Yes, we have a pilot in the making. She needs to be polished, but the rough diamond is there, ready to learn.

“I felt that! Like I felt what the chopper is gonna do next!” Lucy said excited. “I can do this!” Okay, I can work with this. First, I need to ground school her, see how she perform on maths, science and geography. But a workable specimen, she is.

By this time, we were approaching the little airport at Venetia Mine. A call to traffic in the area, and we approached the apron to the south-west of the runway.

“Keep touching the controls. I want you to feel what it feels like to stop the helicopter, hover and land it.” I said.

“Yes Cap-pin! Sparrow will comply!” Lucy said, unprofessionally followed by a giggle. Yeah, I’ll survive training her.

On the ground at Venetia Mine Airport, we met the airport manager, Elias Walters. He welcomed us to the little one-runway, one-apron, one-terminal-building, airport. Fuel arranged, as well as further re-fuelling. My credit card was no problem, as they had card facilities available. The use of the firing range was also under his control, so no problem. We were just not allowed to overfly the mine itself. Otherwise, welcome at any time.

Anneliese Paulson was a standard brown haired, brown eyed girl of about twenty-seven. Of normal hight and a little skinny, she was introduced to us. She was dressed in “ranger uniform”: khaki bush-grade short sleeve shirt, canvas multi-pocket shorts reaching to just above her knees, wool socks, and bush boots. Her shoulder-length brown hair was tied back in a ponytail sticking out the back of a baseball cap. Okay, practical in the bush, I suppose.