Tusker Destruction Averted
In northern Zululand, near the Mozambique border, a multi-disciplinary team races against time. The sun rises over the Indian Ocean, misty with the threat of rain—bad for the beach, perfect for moving a giant.
Life in rural South Africa is slower, shaped by realities absent from cities. Running water, data, and electricity are luxuries. Wildlife like leopards, crocodiles, and snakes are a daily presence.
At Tembe Elephant Park, one 120-pounder (50 kg per tusk) has become a problem elephant, breaking fences and raiding crops. Electric fences are a psychological barrier, but once breached, containment is nearly impossible.
For the community living in the area, the damage can be devastating. Imagine spending months tending your subsistence garden, sweet potatoes, mielies and green peppers, only to find it ravaged one morning, a light snack for the roaming pachyderm. Or worse, stumbling on this wayward elephant in the middle of the night or early morning. Human fatalities due to elephants are rare, but have happened in South Africa.
With destruction looming, relocation was the only option—but moving a six-ton elephant is no small task.
A team from Ezemvelo KZN Wildlife Game Capture, Conservation Solutions, Munywana Conservancy, Wildlife Emergency Fund, and WeWild Africa assembled at 5am. An R44 helicopter, two semi-trucks, multiple 4x4s, and a thermal drone were deployed.
After five hours of tracking, the chopper and drone finally located the elephant. Despite sirens and attempting to drive it to the open, it kept retreating into thick vegetation. Once the veterinarian darted the elephant, the clock started ticking.
Three teams split up: one to stabilize the elephant, another to cut a path, and the last to clear access for the recovery truck.
Chainsaws roared, the smell of cut palms, diesel, and elephant sweat filled the air. A 6.5-ton crane struggled, forcing manpower to lift parts of the animal—three men barely lifting its trunk.
By nightfall, after hours of transport in heavy rain, the final transfer to the recovery crate was tense. The elephant woke up angry, shaking the crate, trumpeting loud enough to hit like a blow to the chest. The community lined the roads, watching the giant leave, waving it goodbye and cheering.
At 1 AM, heavy rain turned the release ramp into mud, impassible for trucks. Improvising, the team opened the crate before the ramp. The elephant hesitated, sniffed the air, reached toward its exhausted captors—then stepped into the darkness of the new reserve.
Technical Details (Photography)
A major technical challenge was navigating photography in the rain—trying to capture key moments while keeping my camera dry. This was my first elephant translocation, and perhaps because it was so close to home, I assumed it would be a short day. 21 hours later, drenched in rain, I knew I was wrong. With only a small plastic bag for protection, I spent the entire day shielding my camera from water damage while documenting the operation. Photographing from the transport truck added another layer of difficulty—dodging thorny branches ripping past while still trying to capture the action.
I shot with a Canon R5C, primarily using a 15-35mm lens for wide-angle shots and occasionally switching to a 100-500mm telephoto lens for close-ups.
Back Story
I’m drinking coffee on the patio at 8:30, having a slow start to the day when my phone rings. It’s Kester, a renowned conservationist who has translocated thousands of animals.
“We’re leaving Hluhluwe at 11.”
“Awesome,” I say. “See you at Tembe this afternoon.”
It’s a 2.5-hour drive. I’ve never worked with an elephant before. My body kicks into overdrive, and even though I still have time, I pack immediately, itching to get going and document this mission.
I feel so grateful to be based in a place where such incredible and difficult work is happening. My parents often ask why I don’t spend more time in the U.S., but when emergency wildlife operations happen, no one would call me to fly in from across the world to photograph or help. Being able to do this work in my own backyard is an unexplainable privilege. And with the release site just 30 minutes from where I live, it doesn’t get more convenient for a conservation filmmaker.
Human-wildlife conflict is an increasing challenge as populations grow, especially here in KwaZulu-Natal, where much of the landscape still feels like “real Africa” compared to the more developed parts of South Africa. Balancing saving an animal with preventing destruction in a community is a delicate act. I’ve been photographing in Africa for four years, continually learning about coexistence—when it works, when it doesn’t—and gaining insight from all perspectives.
