The angry elephant or know where reverse is

We spent 4 beautiful days in Kruger National Park. Paul Kruger, born in 1825, was the first president of the Transvaal Republic (an area that once comprised northern South Africa, changed a few times by wars, of course), and things are named for him all across the country. The Park is probably the most well known, and he did a really great thing for South Africa when he set aside those millions of hectares. The specific number escapes me, which reminds me of trying to escape an angry elephant, the thesis of this entry. That story in a moment. Basically, a good part of eastern South Africa is park, as other groups and officials have added onto Kruger. It's a great idea, and I commend the country for protecting the animals and land.

As mentioned in an earlier entry, it is strictly forbidden to get out of your car when driving through the Park. There are campsites and some hides (for bird and animal watching), but the rules say to otherwise stay in your car, and don't dangle your arms or feet out either. We were grateful for our air conditioning, which made following the rules easier.

Brian was driving this particular day. He has driven pretty much every type of vehicle, so this stick-shift-steering-wheel-on-the-right car didn't bother him at all, and we were enjoying the drive. Animals would pop out at the darndest times, and we would stop and watch them. There isn't room enough to list all the animals we saw (pictures to follow). They were all magnificent, but there is something beyond magnificence about elephants. It is glorious to yield right of way to a herd crossing the road, but once Brian got too close.

Have I mentioned the lone bulls? They just kind of wander, eat, drink, and wait for an invitation from a female. That's my guess. They might be searching for a perfect snack or hoping to pick a fight with another bull. We saw a lot of them, and we saw a lot of small herds of females and young.

Back to Brian's error in judgment. It could have happened to anyone. We stopped to watch a herd cross the road. About the time that Brian decided to back up, to give them all of the road they wanted, one female thought we were a threat to the baby (again, that's a guess). She looked strong. And she was very, very big. Brian couldn't find reverse. She took a step toward us, and Brian's tugs at the shifter became more frantic. Mama elephant flapped her huge ears. Brian pressed the clutch in every direction but the right one. Ronda and I shouted helpful suggestions. The very strong, very big elephant raised her trunk and took another step. Brian jerked and stomped some more.

Mama elephant turned away from us and caught up with the rest of the family. Brian found reverse. We'd been warned.