Moon Bear Rescue Centre

It’s a hot sticky day in Chengdu, China, and I lead the last group of the Wild and Ancient China trips to the Moon Bear Rescue Centre. I warn them of the graphic material that is exhibited in the info centre, but I also encourage them to head inside as the knowledge gained is empowering for anyone wishing to be a conservation representative. The posters, photographs, and objects are real items from inhumane bear farms where over 7,000 moon bears are still kept alive simply for bile extraction.

In brief, moon bears (Ursus thibetanus) also referred to as Asiatic black bears, Tibetan black bears, or Himalayan black bears depending on the subspecies, produce a considerable amount of bile compared with other bear species. Unfortunately, Traditional Chinese Medicine has relied on bear bile to cure a range of ailments from heart disease, colon illnesses, to fevers. Some companies even use bear bile as an additive in non-medical products such as toothpaste.


Considering the main product extracted from bear bile, ursodeoxycholic acid, can be produced synthetically and over 50 herbal alternatives exist, the use of bear bile in pharmaceutical products is unnecessary. Nevertheless, the pressure of poaching this endangered species was considerably high and in search of a wildlife management solution, the Chinese, Korean, and Vietnamese governments decided to allow the use of bear farms. Basically, a moon bear is placed in a cage, also known as a crush cage, and compressed into a space far less than the bear’s average body mass would normally fit. To extract the bile, catheters are inserted into the bear and left inside the bear to facilitate continuous bile extraction by bear bile farmers. Infections, illnesses, and other medical complications often take a toll on the bear, and along with psychological distress, a bear in a bile farm can suffer considerably from pain and succumb to a slow death.


In efforts to cease the bear bile farming, Jill Robinson (founder and CEO of Animals Asia Foundation) visited these farms during the early 1980s. She struck a deal with the Chinese government in 2000 to release 500 bears to her for rehabilitation and she created the Moon Bear Rescue Centre as a place where each bear can have a chance at a life again, as a bear. She has only received 270 bears to date, but she remains as a great model for taking chances and leading a slow but very important animal welfare and conservation revolution.

Nearing the end of our tour of the Moon Bear Rescue Centre, we arrive at the gift shop. I encourage the guests to peruse the items for sale in support of the Centre, but I slowly become aware of an individual’s voice speaking just outside the shop in an English accent. I step outside to take a peak and immediately recognize the face and voice of moon bear conservation. It is Jill Robinson!

I introduce myself and mention both Natural Habitat Adventures as well as my PhD studies. Jill is a very pleasant woman, and we get along cheerily. After meeting some guests in the group, Jill turns to me and asks if I have about 5 min to spare so she can show us a few things. I happily reply “of course”, and she leads us to the medical facilities of the Centre. In one room, a bear is having xrays taken, and in another room a bear is having cataract surgery.

We are allowed to enter both rooms, interact with the bears, and discuss issues with the veterinarians on site. It is an amazing and unique opportunity that will undoubtedly make a long-lasting impact on everyone, in support of Jill’s rescue efforts, one moon bear at a time.

Playful Giant Pandas

Its 8am and I am off to the Giant Panda kindergarten! Appropriately labeled as such, the kindergarten is a place for one year old cubs to get to know their world and discover the limits, if any, of their abilities as a bear. But first I pass the nursery where two 4 week cubs lay flat on their bellies in incubators barely opening their eyes. If they could, they would see the cooing faces of humans peeking through the windows. These cubs are all current products of the Giant Panda breeding program at the Bifengxia base of the CCRCP. The breeding program is the best response thus far that pandas have been provided for bringing their population back from the brink of extinction.


Fisher Price and FIFA would be happy enterprises if they could see what I could. Seven little pandas are bouncing around after their morning meal of bamboo, apples, and carrots, and chucking around a soccer ball and tripping over plastic toys. The pandas tug at the workers in their enclosure thinking they may be walking bamboo, and alas discover these two-legged animals are barely edible. Some pandas in a corner are engaged in a tug of war with a large bamboo shoot, while others roll over, around, and fall head over heels from a wooden platform built just for that purpose.


Later in the morning, some of my clients have opted to pay for an exclusive encounter session where they are allowed to enter an enclosure with juvenile panda bears. I am also allowed in as their photographer and before I know it little panda bears are wondering if I am walking bamboo too. While maximizing photo opportunities for my clients, I am nearly toppled over by a couple of pandas who have snuck up on me to wrap themselves around my leg. It is an unbelievable experience to feel the strength of a little bear as it wraps itself tightly around in hopes that I might taste good or maybe just pat down the coarseness of its fur. It is hard to know what the young bears are actually after, but the title of panda kindergarten is certainly well deserved. Without the distraction of an apple, the young bears seem inexhaustible in their energy levels and it is really a shame they are likely to never experience the wild as their true home.

As one of the world’s most elusive animals in their natural habitat, it is almost impossible to see a wild panda bear, and even more unlikely to ever release a captive bear to the natural world. Although designed for a solitary life, the bears of the breeding program grow up together as their habitats are not secure and release sites are far from political agendas. Deforestation and other factors contributing to habitat loss are major detriments to the remaining 2,000 or so (this number is still debated after 30 years of research) wild panda bears. Enhancing the wild population with the captive breeding program is not yet feasible and so it seems the vision of population recovery is still just a dream.

Who is this Lesser (aka Red) Panda?

I have returned from China – a place where government censorship has prevented me from updating my blog. I will post just a few things in the next few days before I am off for polar bear season soon. To start – well its seems people know of the Giant Panda bear, the cute, furry, black and white species that gave rise to what is probably the world’s most famous conservation organization, the World Wildlife Fund. But few know of the Lesser Panda, or otherwise known as the Red Panda species. Just as cute, just as furry, and likely just as endangered, the Lesser Panda is no less of a species deserving of a blog!


Tough to track in the wild, the Lesser Panda is a species to see at the China Conservation and Research Center for the Giant Panda (CCRCP), Chengdu, China. It is easy for me to see how this small animal might help herald the conservation efforts of the Giant Panda - an issue in my opinion that should be carefully debated.

Showing off its pretty fur, I see this little animal captivate the attention of onlookers around me at the CCRCP even though it is barely engaging in any kind of active or exciting display. There is something witty in its eyes though, and something cunning. It is of the sort that you see when you catch a raccoon red handed in your garbage as he or she is scattering it around for all your neighbours to see the next morning.

Similar to the Giant Panda, the Lesser Panda’s genetic lineage is confused and arguable. This little animal, comparable in size to a large raccoon, has bounced back and forth in its phylogenetric tree and is now considered to be in a family of its own. Although not much really to do with a cat as its latin name might suggest; it translates to“shining cat”, and the animal species doesn’t have much to do with bears either. Unfortunately preferring habitats similar to the Giant Panda, the Lesser Panda is dependent upon the highland forests of China. This species searches the remaining patches of forests to satisfy a diet of bamboo. Worldwide, the abundance is thought to be in the range of 36,000 to 75,000; indeed there is not much in the way of confidence in those numbers!

Looking for the “good” in “goodbye”

How do you take in that one last look around the glory of the African savannah? How do you breathe in that one last wild wind? How do you peer into the eyes of a devilish monkey one last time? How do you put a finite count on the spots of a giraffe or the stripes of a zebra?

I’ve realized there really is very little good in a goodbye, but there is a lot in the fond memories to take back. In the hopes that my friendships and life lessons I have acquired here shall not disappear, I bid adieu to everyone and everything on Lewa. I wish it were a temporary adieu as much as I hope I leave behind a positive effect in all that I could do in the little time I was here.

Lewa sees many students, researchers, and tourists come and go – each one I presume to feel the same as I do now as I prepare to leave. The people and animals at Lewa are as impacting as the brutal sounds of the lions at night roaring over their feast; an unforgettable and very welcome break of a sweet dream. I was glad I never got used to the grunts of the lions and screams of the other nocturnal animals as each time was just as exciting as the previous one. For Lewa, for Kenya, for Africa, I hope the feelings associated with my experiences here resonate as loudly as a thunderstorm during a midsummer’s night until I am able to return as quickly as my time has passed.

I return to Toronto for 10 days, and head out to Beijing and other destinations in China for several weeks as an Expedition Leader for panda bear trips with Natural Habitat Adventures. Until then, I will collect my thoughts, questions and answers, and dreams….I shall write again soon.

Schools

Its winding down to the end of my time here, and I’ve been occupied writing out my report/analysis of the rhino monitoring program. Getting out in the field is still at the forefront of my mind, and I embark on every opportunity. Yesterday was a day to join on a venture to nearby rural schools supported by Lewa.

The tasks at hand were to take height and weight measurements of each child in primary school for the purposes of analyzing the success of the feeding programme. In brief, many rural schools are supported by various organizations in the form of infrastructure and/or feeding programmes. Feeding programmes provide two meals a day to children who would likely not even have a chance to eat every day. Parents send their kids to school knowing they will be fed, and schools are supportive since it is well known that concentration levels are directly proportional to full stomachs. Given a handful of basic foods in the mixed mush form of either porridge, corn, maize meal, and/or beans, the children are thought to have a greater chance of survival and hopefully success in their intended achievements.




Heading off to the schools, I expected a lot and a little. I expected what I experienced in the Philippines a few years ago; to be enough of a mystery to those I encountered that I was followed incessantly as numerous pairs of young eyes tried to make sense of who and what I was. I expected to be uncomfortable as the obvious differences unfold between who these young people are and what I might be to them.

It was neither of those.

Of course, the differences were unmistakable, and many times I felt some very curious little fingers behind me tugging at my curls. For the most part though, it was relatively still with content and inquisitive stares overcastting whatever other thoughts the children may have been experiencing during the time we, the foreigners, were present at their school.



Among us was a reproductive health educator with a mandate to inform and discuss serious issues with the young women of the school. The educator took on tough, private, and restricted topics such as female circumcision and tried to convey the message to say no. Whether this choice is a right for these women is a challenge since it may ultimately mean that a non-obliging young woman and her mother may be abused and kicked out of the household with nowhere to hide and/or begin a new life. Sanitary products donated by the staff at Lewa were also distributed to these women, as without they are unable to attend school. Missing a week’s worth of school can be catastrophic for a woman trying to establish a niche for herself in a world where the basics of life namely food, water, and shelter, may be commodities.



One Lewa staff member approached each of us to say one thing, even if it was just a hello or to offer sage words to these women. The only thing I could say were the age-old clichés that I had been thinking about for awhile, lessons that I hope we can all follow and remember when enlightening worlds seems so far away: ‘always remember to follow your dreams, be yourself, and never give up’. I don’t know what or how, if at all, my words could impact these women, and I will probably never know. But I do hope that our presence in the schools that day does something beneficial, and does not harbor on the imbalances of the world’s distribution of wealth and the injustices of what is right for whom.

Five friends and a bag of rice

Makes for a good title, but we actually had way more food than a bag of rice. It started with a bag of rice though…and a great idea; to climb one of the peaks of Mount Kenya, namely Point Lenana at 4,985m (16,355ft) above sea level (I can't take credit for the pic below - its from the net).


Not even thinking about hiring porters, we were determined, ambitious, and frankly, crazy. Bags all packed – food, sleeping bags, tents, clothes, toques, gloves, whatever else we think we might need, five of us from the Crew set off with a guide, Mohammed, from nearby town Nanyuki for what we thought would be a 3 day trek. 2 days to climb to the summit, and 1 day to descend.

It was supposed to be that way. For me, it wasn’t.

It wasn’t the steep inclines we climbed, it wasn’t the difficult terrain we walked, it wasn’t a lack of potable water - thanks to Alex’s UV filter and the mountain’s yummy glacier fed water sources – it was the change in altitude that got me. Thinking about the possibility that it was all in my head, the physical manifestation of something only mental – and maybe it was, I don’t know, since either way somewhere near halfway on the second climbing day, I didn't want to admit that it felt as if my head and heart had switched places. The beating headache combined with a loss of appetite, and a lack of sleep due to the cold shivering previous night’s sleep, put me completely out on our lunch break. I didn't understand how everyone could be hungry since all I felt was the extreme need to lie down and nothing else. I could have sworn I only closed my eyes for a minute; I think I fell asleep since all of a sudden I heard my name and I opened my eyes to see 2 sets of blinking eyes asking me if I'm ok. I wondered if they might be shinning a flashlight directly in my face, since everything was painfully bright, but it didn't seem like the right time they would play a cruel joke; I realized it was all in my head.

My friends talked to the guide, turns out in Mohammed's 14 years of guiding, he had also taken a 28 day course in altitude sickness. He has probably seen it all. He talked to me with the full confidence that I would make it, but on one condition. I was to give him my pack to carry. I couldn't believe it. He was going to carry my heavy pack, tied up to his own, on top of some of the other items he was carrying for us - litres of water, shoes, etc. The guilt set in me, but I wanted to summit, and Mohammed convinced me there was no other way.

And so I fell in pace with whoever was leading and kept walking - higher and higher. I had taken diomox and 4 extra strength pain killers (not all at once of course though I wanted to), but nothing seemed to helped. I kept walking trying to think of anything but who might have forgotten the knife they stabbed in the frontal lobe of my brain. I tried to believe and think positive that the pain would go away soon. The higher we went though, the worse it got and it spread to my entire head. We were luckily kind of close to our second overnight base - Shipton's camp, and Mohammed was determined to get us all there. I kept walking, eventually losing sense of what I was seeing and all I could really do was follow the tracks of the person directly in front of me. It must have been annoying for the Crew member in front of me to have a shadow directly behind them, but I didn't give him much choice.

I arrived at Shipton's with everyone in the late afternoon. Mohammed pointed out a bunk I could lie down on - we hadn't planned on using the lodges since it was more expensive and we had brought our own tents. I didn't care though, I followed Mohammed's advice, and sought comfort in my sleeping bag on the bunk. I don't recall much more except a round robin of friends checking up on me, giving me tea with lemon (Mom – sound familiar?!) and force feeding me per se. We have a damn good crew of people, everyone looking out for each other - would make a good Tim Horton's, or AT&T commercial!

The intial plan for summitting from Shipton's was to wake up around 2am, get ready, and set out at 3am. From Shipton's, it is a straight 700m ascent in the dark, to catch the sunrise at 6:30am. And so the alarms were set for 2am, with clothes and flashlights laid out for quick retrieval.

2am came and went, there was no way I could summit. Another member of the Crew felt the effect of the altitude and the challenging hike from the day before, and decided it was best not to summit either and we would have to miss another day of work to summit the following day. The other three were set on the early morning's insanity, and set off with Mohammed.

I awoke to the sounds of their voices upon their return around 9:30am, though still not feeling quite at par, I arose to greet them. The look on Kate's face was priceless. It was a look of accomplishment, relief, happiness, exhaustion, and bewilderment. Amazing, I was so proud of her. Equally happy and accomplished, Alex and Sean's faces were also beaming. I was so happy for all of them, hugs all around.



We discussed the next set of plans, James and I were set to summit the following early morning, and Alex – a man made for the mountains - was to join us for a second journey up the final lag. Kate was in her words "done with this madness" and left to descend with Sean and Mohammed to head back to Lewa.

Set up with another guide, Elijah, the three of us stayed behind and headed back to our sleeping bags to continue to sleep off the pain of the altitude. Later in the day, we hiked up 200m to acclimatize a little more in the hopes it would help ease us into the lunacy of the summit.

2am comes around, and the three of us are already awake due the fierce winds of the night shaking the flaps of our tent. The night is cold, and the windchill takes our breath away – I hear someone say it is in the minus 10s Celsius. We eat lightly, try to warm up with tea, and meet Elijah. We head up the trail at a quick pace and stop intermittently for very brief moments to get used to our surroundings and get our bearings. Its impossible though to stop for as long as we really need since the winds are too brutal and we need to avoid frostbite. We keep trekking in the dark. At one point, Elijah took a wrong turn and we were momentarily lost until we retraced our footsteps and looked up to see other headlamps and flashlights from other groups climbing the same summit. We keep our pace quick and ambitious, and finally look up to see the last bit of pointed rock to climb over. We clamber over the last challenging section, and we finally stand on the point. The view is exhilarating.



It feels as though we were on a plane, and stepped out on the wing. The clouds are beneath us, the sky is endless, and the climate is ferocious. The feeling is baffling, overwhelming, amazing and breathtaking for where we are and what we’ve been through to get here.

Turns out our pace was too rapid, and we are too early for the sunrise. We have to wait another 30min, which we do with caution. The subzero temperatures are dangerous and we are aware we need to descend rather quickly. We wait for the sun to rise – I have never seen this kind in my life. It seemed we could see the entire sphere emerging at the horizon, we could see beyond just a face of the sun – and we now understand and forget the displeasure of waking up in the wee hours of the morning for this moment.



The sun is up now and its no joke to descend as quickly as possible for fear of yielding one of us to the cold. We head the quick route, down a scree slope back to Shipton’s. High fives and hugs all around, the three of us are likely expressing the same feelings that I saw on Kate the previous day.

After a few hours nap, we commence our descent and final journey home to Lewa. It’s a long day’s hike and today’s soreness reminds me of what it took to get through it all. Mount Kenya won’t look the same to us; even just the name’s mention will likely remind us of the expedition that took us to mental and physical extremes in ways we might not have been ready for but welcomed and overcame nevertheless.

Elephant skin

Elephant skin is nothing like anything else I’ve touched. The hairs feel like whiskers, and the skin is like a soft callus. Holding the trunk, feeling and smelling the essence of elephant with each drugged breathe it takes is the foundation of MasterCard commercials – priceless.

The elephant I’m referring to is the matriarch of a herd that frequents Lewa. At an age estimate of 15-20 years, and an approximate weight of 5000+ kg, this female was fitted with a radio collar last Thursday and Kate and I were fortunate to be allowed to tag along.

In our two-vehicle convoy, we set off with rangers, the vet, other guests, and Ian Craig, the son of the founding family of Lewa. Off-roading in search of the matriarch, we come across her in long grasses surrounded by her three calves and nearby friends. We are positioned downwind from her and a plan is derived for a quick effective immobilization. Tracking the movements of the matriarch makes sense to gain insights into elephant dispersal patterns. GPS collars are relied upon as they communicate waypoints over a fixed time interval – and the one outfitted for this individual is no different.



I watch the matriarch as conversation revolves around the issue of safety and the calves. The calves are not likely to leave her side, but they can be momentarily chased away with our vehicles. At this moment, she has placed her trunk flat on the ground. Feeling the vibrations and low frequency emissions around her – up to 10km -, she is listening through her feet and trunk – an amazing feat for a terrestrial animal. I watch her listen. Is she listening to us? As cognition in animals is sometimes measured through brain size - specifically the convoluted structure of the neocortex to body mass ratios - the African elephant species qualifies as intelligent and sentient. Thought to be able to feel compassion, sadness, and other incalculable traits, I can’t help wonder what she has tuned herself into and what she might be pondering.

Not much she can do now, she is darted and she takes off in fright. It will take a few minutes for the drugs to settle in, but the danger is that her levels of epinephrine can overcome the inhibitory effect of some drugs – depending on the drug, of course. I didn’t get a chance to ask the vet what he used, it would have been one of those curiosity questions that has a place and time – neither of which was right at that moment as we set off by vehicle in hot pursuit of the matriarch. Down ridges, over hills, we bounce along hoping any minute she will show signs of immobility. Finally she comes to a stop and her hind legs give way; she is slowly setting into tranquility. We circle around her and communicate with the other vehicle of the whereabouts of the calves and other elephants. One calf stays by her side, and shows signs of anxiety. This calf is shooed off by the vehicle and one ranger jumps out to blindfold the matriarch with her large ears in an effort to reduce environmental stress on the animal.



Quickly, the 20lb collar is fitted tightly on her, and we seize the opportunity to touch her. We listen to her deep breathing and hold her airway open via the trunk. We are taken away by the whole experience. I think we jumped on cloud 9 with her for a little while.



Using a reversal, the vet brings her out of her sleep and we watch as she slowly finds her way back into the reality of savannah life. She will be tracked for the next 2 years, and she will teach us more than she probably realizes.

Lewa Marathon Madness

There was a gathering of all the animals in the kingdom, but one was missing…..can you guess which one? Read on…..

It seems the intent of the annual marathon on Lewa is to raise awareness and funds, and thus I will contribute what I can to spread the word of this special place.

But it comes with a heavy heart.

As with any human activity, the effects can be negative as we have not yet perfected a means of treating the environment around us without consequence. The juxtaposition is clear, in this case, of wildlife conservation versus human desire, and I’m not yet convinced there is not much we can do about it.

In brief, we, the Crew, worked day in and day out on ground preparations for the marathon. Our time consisted of 6 long days of pre-marathon and 2 long days of post-marathon work, all for the purposes of a half-day event. And we were just a nano fraction of what else occurs to run an internationally popular event. We really were just a tiny part of it all, but we were lucky to be in a position where we could feel the impact of the arrival and departure of 5,000+ humans over a few days. Lewa is a 160 km2 conservancy, only a fraction of which people were allowed to run on, and an even lesser space people were allowed to drive, dwell, and drink.



Many teams of rangers, two helicopters and a fixed-wing aircraft were dependent upon for wildlife monitoring, actually wildlife managing, well, mostly wildlife shooing. For human safety, this was necessary. One of our Crew members, Sean, ran the full marathon, and imagining what a rhino or buffalo could do out of fright (for example), its hard not to agree with this means of human protection.

I am unaware of the actual funds raised, but I can guess at the informational broadcast of wildlife and Lewa, and you reading this certainly contributes to the diffusion of knowledge. Using a basic equation from the entertainment industry, a negative experience for one person usually translates to 11 people simply due to the fact that humans are social beings and involve shared experiences. A positive experience doesn’t translate to as many (typical!), and sits around 4. Considering the assumption that the Lewa marathon is generally a positive experience for runners, spectators, and locals who come to trade goods and services, but also considering the advertising, blogging, and anticipation of the major event, I am guessing the number of people reached from just one person is closer to the 11 of the broadcast spectrum. Actually the number is likely way more than that given that it is an annual event and the only marathon to occur on a wildlife conservancy. Going conservatively, I will stick with 11.



Thus, the presence of 5,000+ people over the course of 2 days, may translate to 55,000+ people actually knowing about the event and possibly being aware of wildlife and their issues in conservation. Hmm that would be nice….but I wonder how much wildlife conservation may be brought up in chit chats about the Lewa marathon.

And so the purpose of raising awareness may be achieved to a fairly decent level. But what of the wildlife itself? The animals have virtually disappeared. I haven’t seen impala, zebras, or giraffes near our campsite in a long time. A few weeks ago, we used to fall asleep to the grunts and moans of lions across the swamp next to our tents. We used to nervously walk the 20 ft to our bathrooms to brush our teeth in the dark, and now we don’t even remember to take our flashlights to guide our eyes on the grassy path. We used to spastically jump at every odd sound thinking it might be a demonic predator after us in the night. Ok I may be exaggerating a little, but I do miss the wild watchful eyes that glimmer in the night and the guessing game we played to figure out where and who was lurking around us.



I know the animals will return as the peace and quiet settles in once the post-marathon work is all finished. The irony of it all is ever present and in my talks with some rangers and other Lewa personnel, it seems that most people are quite aware of it. The footprint of noise, smells, and sights of humans upon wildlife and their habitat is undeniable – I took these photos below from one of three large garbage pits created just for materials from the marathon alone - despite that sometimes we would like to remember that we are or ought to be considered part of the natural world. Some agree, some disagree with this; a debate with no clear answer.





No matter how you put it, ‘every action has an equal and opposite reaction’, or ‘every angle of incidence equals an angle of refraction’, the message is evident. There was a gathering of all the animals in the kingdom, but one was missing…..can you guess which one? I think our species may have lost the invitation.

The Walk

It started in jest. I turned to Phillip – who I might give the nickname of Beluga due to his adept social skills with all of us, he has become a good friend to us all– during one of our game drives and mentioned I thought I was becoming more familiar with the area. Roads were looking less and less alike and I was correctly approximating where we were with greater ease.

I said to Phillip: “By the end of the summer, I think you might be able to drop me off in the middle of Lewa and I might be able to find my way back.”

Phillip answers: “Ok! But we don’t need to wait for the end of the summer.”

I was half joking. Phillip wasn’t.

Yesterday, I was put to the test. This is how it went…

All last week we discussed the plan for The Walk. Phillip and Eagle decided they would choose a spot within Lewa that they knew I wasn’t familiar with and I was going to have to find my way back to headquarters (HQ), specifically to the tents now called home. It became a test of sorts, my ability to understand the natural world around here, navigate appropriately, and I’m guessing check my adaptability, and well…my hootzpah!

I wasn’t going to be left alone though as walking bait through the African savannah. Eagle was going to follow me about 10 meters behind armed with his G3 in case anything should happen. The goal of the trek was to be a 5 or 6 hour journey covering a bird’s flight of 7 or 8 km, but across an uneven train of closer to 17 or 18 km. I asked about food and water; I negotiated to be allowed a small bottle of water and army biscuits. And so it was set, and I swallowed my gasps and asked when this would happen. It felt as if each day last week The Walk was scheduled, but something always came up – from a mission to save stolen goats from one of the rangers to our vehicle being serviced and then backed into a post for dent removal and door maintenance! Planning The Walk didn’t fare well for my sleep as each night I would have trouble closing my eyes in anticipation of the next day’s adventure.

It also didn’t happen last week as we, the whole Crew, left on Thurs for a 5 day trek and trip to Kenya’s eastern oceanic coast, in part for a touch rugby tournament. It is amazing how the worlds a person can create for themselves in one realm can appear in unexpected parts of the world – it seems that it is with ease that a person can seek out displays of individuality to the extent that they find their way in somehow. We were fortunate that upon arrival to Diani beach, Mombassa, three of us were able to form a team with three others from the UK seeking the same escapade. It turns out that another team had fully registered but was trapped in Ethiopia with no means of arriving in time for the weekend tournament. We were lucky to replace the team and play 7 games, between tides on an incredibly inviting white sandy beach repeatedly kissed by the Indian Ocean.


We didn’t make it to the finals, but forgave ourselves and used the extra time to learn to body surf and hone our negotiating skills for kikoy and other African trinket purchasing.

Following the hour ride to the Mombassa bus station, the 10:30pm to 6am overnight bus to Nairobi, the 10am to 4pm matatu (aka large taxi) ride back to Lewa, I received a text message from Phillip informing me that Eagle was to pick me up the following day on Wed at 6:30am to begin our day. Still not knowing if it was The Walk day, I texted back saying no problem and asked if we were walking or rhino hunting. I didn’t hear back, and fell nervously asleep under the assumption that it was to be a usual rhino reconnaissance day.

I was wrong.

Eagle picked me up at 6:30am, and we set out down the Lewa roads in a northeastern direction. We stopped on a semi-unfamiliar road to me, and Eagle got out of the vehicle. That’s when I noticed the G3 wedged between the seat and the door. I asked Phillip about this, only because I knew that Eagle didn’t like carrying the weapon in the field in general. Phillip responds by saying: “its for The Walk”. I said: “right now?” – thinking I wasn’t exactly fully recovered from the Mombassa weekend experience. Leaving my camera, animal books, and anything weighty in the vehicle, I knew I had no choice, and just accepted my fate for the next 5 hours.

Eagle was determined to disorient me and began The Walk leading me down a river, and up a hill, climbing 1600ft, still in a northeastern direction away from Lewa HQ. Feeling like we were ascending Mount Kenya, I quickly texted Kate to let her know The Walk was on, and having joked the prior week about it, I knew she was aware of how to distribute my things if something were to happen! She gets my laptop! Heading away from Lewa HQ for at least a 3 or 4 km as the crow flies is what confused me a little – the rangers were successful in that aspect. Good thing the African jungle isn’t anything like the tall thick boreal forests of Labrador, and looking beyond the hills scattered across the Lewa landscape, it was relatively easy to pick out the general direction back to Lewa HQ– my compass and map also helped!

Eagle and I ended up walking more side by side than 10m apart due to the presence of nearby elephants and buffalo. On a side note - its still hard to anthropomorphize buffalo in any sort of delightful manner, even the babies resemble angry barbaric ambassadors of the animal kingdom. Greeting a few rhino monitors and armed rangers along the way, Eagle and I trekked, wandered, trampled, hiked, and marched the way to Lewa HQ. Walking in a calm silence listening and looking for signs of danger, we encountered giraffes, fresh buffalo, elephant, and rhino scat, hyena tracks, and old bones from animal carcasses cleaned out by vultures and other scavengers, detritivores, and decomposers.

Relatively uneventful, The Walk became more of a mental exercise with an added physical dimension of trekking a long distance through a landscape I am happy to become very acquainted with. It took Eagle and I just over 5 hours to arrive back at the tents, upon which I took one look at my bed and lay down for a nap of the kind of sleep I could only day dream about the week prior.

This one is for you, Ralph Lauren

It will be a memorable birthday, as it was likely one of the most unique I have experienced. There were many plans that I was not aware of, many heads coming together for little things that made the night. I am not sure yet what a typical Kenyan birthday celebration would be like, but we went along with the directions from our local friends and hosts. I knew awhile ago that killing a goat was part of it all, and I was most happy to oblige - as eating only wild meat that I know how/where it was killed has become part of me. Although the goat we had was not wild, it did come from Nkori’s batch and observing the treatment of animals here, I was most content to incorporate the goat. The ethics of eating I'll leave perhaps for another blog, a larger one, a book that I'm working on. Till then....

For 5,000 Kenyan shillings, the goat was tied to a nearby shrub in our tent habitat for the day. I took one look at him, and named him Ralph. It was more humane to me to give it a name, though I know you, the reader, is probably shaking your head at me. Sunthar took the name a little further and gave it a last name. The goat became fondly known as Ralph Lauren.

All day long, Kate was happy to remind me which day it was, and either excused me or played it up. Everyone needs a fan like her as it is so easy to let the day just pass quietly, at times regretfully.

Decorations were strung up, unbeknownst to me, as nearby school children had made a colorful sign and streamers. The previous day, other beverage and food supplies were purchased – to an extent I couldn’t have imagined – even inclusive of ingredients for a vegan cake! Big shout out and kudos to all members of the Crew for thinking and organizing this.

The presence of the rangers and tent hosts throughout the night added a certain zing to the conversation – from stories of anti-poaching operations to dancing in a conga line around the cake cutting table. It started off with directing and helping me kill and skin the goat, everyone’s participation was noted and required to give Ralph Lauren the esteem he deserved for being our meal. After slitting the throat at an angle that wasn’t exactly the most conducive for staying clean, I was covered in blood and even felt drops streaming down from my face, off my chin, and down my neck and shirt.

Fully aware of what a sight I must have been, I didn’t really care as Ralph Lauren was now in our hands for preparation – skinning, butchering, and eating of warm raw liver. I’ll leave those to your vivid mind.

And so the rest of the celebrations shall remain a warm memory – if anything for Ralph Lauren – whose hide is now hanging outside our tents for drying and tanning.

Something’s awry in the Animal Kingdom

I don’t have yet a birthday story, but one is surely to come. I write this blog as I wait for the goat to arrive that Eagle and his wife have picked out for the celebrations tonight. The Crew (friends that have become fellow goofies, wrestlers, confidants, counselors) pooled for tonight…and stories are surely to come. For now I write to recap yesterday’s events…..

It was not a usual day in the African jungle yesterday. Or maybe it was. I have yet to define 'usual'. I’ll recap the day and let your imaginations take the rest.

Its 6:30am and Eagle (formerly known as Nkori in my posts), Phillip and I are bouncing around off-roading in the truck in search for rhinos. We head off southwest to a block we hadn’t been in some time. Phillip looks over and mumbles something to Eagle in Swahili. Eagle is driving and takes a sharp turn down an unusued road and shuts off the engine. I look over and see a few people on top of a small hill next to us. I wonder what the heck these people are doing at this hour of the morning hard at work…and what work? Eagle and Phillip are suspicious and I feel the tension mounting. Eagle gets out, ducks down, and starts running up the hill in pursuit of the people that have now started off in a sprint after seeing us. Phillip explains to me they are illegal fetchers – it is illegal to gather and take firewood from the Lewa property.

Philip reports in to the Operations Room back at headquarters of what is going on and asks me if I am ok if he helps Eagle. I say of course, and wish I could run to help him too but I don’t know the landscape, don’t have the Lewa training, and I certainly don’t know the security protocols that are in place. Nevertheless, I’m happy to help wherever I can and jump in the driver’s seat to be able to follow the rangers. Eagle and Phillip are off in hot pursuit and I maneuver the vehicle down the roads for their easy access. Phillip returns to the vehicle and Eagle scours the area. Phillips says one fellow took off towards the forest, another took off towards a nearby community and two took off towards the centre of Lewa.

Unbeknownst to the fetchers, the Lewa security team is great at what they do best, respond and follow-up. I wait with Phillip who monitors the radio and walkie-talkie, and keeps me updated. I try to keep Sunthar (marketing intern) posted via text message as I figure good footage might be on back in the Ops Room. Phillip receives an update that one of the fetchers is caught by the armed team that formed a line on the opposite side of the hill to us. Turns out the man saw elephants and buffalo behind, and people ahead. He choose people.

Some of the rangers return to us and hop on the vehicle in pursuit of the other fetchers. Driving down these dirt roads usually involves a lot of care to avoid damage to the underside, however, this time other priorities take precedence and Eagle drives as one would down a well maintained freeway. We arrive at a spot they believe to be the last known sighting of the fellow and file out. I stay back with Philip and Kaporo and we discuss strategy and techniques. The training involved in becoming a ranger in Kenya is very impressive and knowing that the value of wildlife can be upheld to such high standards is amazing.

After searching the entire morning, the team heads to the spot where the fetchers were first spotted. I snap away pictures of the firewood (see above) for evidence collection for the security guys. The armed team heads off to headquarters and takes the fetcher with them. He will be taken to the nearby police station for questioning and will likely be delivered a hefty fine for trespassing.


And this was just the morning.

Watching the rangers at work, I am reminded of the pride of lions that we watched just a few days prior. It was the end of a long day. We were finishing up rhino tracking and poor Kate (vegetation intern) didn’t get to do any of her work as we spotted rhinos on the way to dropping her off. Rhinos took priority and it became too late in the day for Kate to complete anything. Eagle felt bad and asked me if Kate had seen any simbas (lion in Kiswahili) yet. I knew she hadn’t and Eagle and Fox discussed with other rangers to see about any lions around. We headed to a swampy area and all of a sudden amongst the tall grasses, four beautiful male lions raised their heads high enough for us to see.

The smiles on our faces were priceless and we snapped away our cameras. These four lions didn’t seem to notice as we followed them up a road and watched as they appeared to get closer to a herd of zebras.

The rangers were sure a slow hunt was in progress. We observed as one lion would perch atop a high branch and look around as the other three would overtake each other to get nearer to an unsuspecting zebra.

This went on for quite some time but darkness was falling. We turned back to head home, fully aware that something would happen under the full moon of the night. Hours later, we heard the grunts of the lions and the laughs of the hyenas as the success of the hunt was confirmed.

Yesterday afternoon’s events might be a result of this hunt, or perhaps another, its too hard to guess. If you picked that you’d rather be a Grevy’s zebra from my earlier post, you may not want to read further. To situate the setting, on Wed, Eagle, Phillip, and I spotted a Grevy’s zebra that had clear markings of a lion’s attack. Deep wounds caused the zebra to be slow in response to our vehicle and we managed to snap good pictures for reporting back to the heads of wildlife department. After seeing the pictures, it was clear that intervention would be necessary to give this dying individual a chance at survival amongst its endangered friends and family.

We gathered together at the vehicle. The head of security, Richard, ready with a mix of tranquilizing drugs and antibiotics, and we set off to find the suffering zebra. Another ranger in the field already had his eyes on it and it was relatively easy to find the animal. The weight was estimated, the drugs were mixed, and the animal was darted. The zebra took off and a few of us followed on foot while the others faced off in the vehicle. A towel was thrown over the eyes to calm the individual and was slowly led to ground for treatment.

The injuries were worse than how they appeared from a distance, and the smell of the oozing pus indicated the animal may not actually have a fighting chance at survival. Nevertheless, the wounds were cleaned as best as possible and it was decided to revisit the animal in a few days time. A reversal drug was administered and we watched with sad eyes as the animal slowly came to from his daze, with high hopes that we will see him again prancing around in the field dominating his territory.

It’s a common debate in wildlife management when it comes to issues of intervention. Some advocate that it’s a great thing to administer treatments, while others argue that nature should take its course without human influence. Either side can be discussed till we are blue in the face, but nothing really takes away from being close to this individual zebra in agony and distressed as a result of a fierce fight that surely left the lion in pain as well. The emotional lives of animals are related to cognition, and its quite hard not to extend a helping hand to a fellow intelligent, sentient, and dying being. We certainly do that for each other each day, or at least we are supposed to….

Just a few honours

A few days ago, heading out to the field with Nkori and Jacob, we give each other nicknames. Amazed at Nkori's abilities to track rhinos, I couldn't resist thinking Eagle was the most appropriate name. I am not (yet) able to pick out the grey shades of rhino amongst the grasslands and forests of Lewa. I thought I would be ok by now since I can relate this to polar bear season. Picking out a white-ish animal against a white-ish background gets to be routine after awhile. Now an arctic hare...those little furballs are something else. So back to rhinos....Eagle is appropriate. Now on to Jacob. He is a bit of a trickster. Trying to teach me Kiswahili and having me fail miserably at remembering the words, he laughs at his ways of joking with me as I search frantically in my head for the sounds that don't stick. I call him Fox. I wish I had my sister's language abilities; she would be fluent by now. My parents too; they would be speaking the tribal languages by now too.

I look up at the two rangers and try to decipher what they choose for me from their behaviours. A valuable lesson I have learned from studying animals is the somewhat predictable nature of behaviours. It gets easier to decode humans once their intentions are understood. This helps in other worlds....even amongst the Capoeiristas that speak portugese, I can sometimes conclude what is being communicated...unfortunately, Capoeira is all about malandragem (or trickery) and linear thinking is not always the case. Last weekend, I was able to meet up with a capoeira group when we (the 5 canucks and 1 yank - sounds like the beginning of a joke) headed into Nairobi for one of those ridiculous weekends. The capoeira group I met up with played a different style but the communication was all the same from what I have been taught back in Toronto. The familiar music was energizing and I was happy to play a few games. The lead instructor told me of his volunteer work in the slums of Nairobi, and some of the students I played against were from those regions of darkness that they essentially need to survive in. Their welcoming smiles is proof that anything is possible, and the dichotomy continues.

Sorry I digress. Eagle and Fox are discussing. I'm nervous, wondering what kind of perception I might have given off these past weeks around Lewa. And what does it mean for a Canadian woman to venture into the depths of Lewa, and head out to the field each day with the security guys for rhino tracking? I asked once about female rangers, and I came to learn there aren't any in the field. I don't believe the reasons for this are related to anything other than safety since Kenyan culture I understand to be open, accepting, and very welcoming. There might be a crucial role here for Rob and the Krav Maga crew!!! I am thus honored even more and feel lucky that I am allowed day after day to be in the field with the security guys.

Eagle and Fox decide on Mwendwa. I have no idea what it means. I look questioningly at them and wait for them to explain. Fox tells me its a Kimeru word. There are 42 tribes in Kenya, Eagle is Masaai and Fox is Kimeru. I come to understand that Mwendwa means someone who is well liked. I think it means a social butterfly kind of term. I am honored even more.

In the jungle…the mighty jungle….the lion sleeps tonight….

I’ve spent the last 2.5 days in the Lewa maze with the rangers. It has been riddled with the kind of escapades that field stories are made of; the ones that generate a mutual understanding of what is wild. Traipsing through the African landscape behind the head field ranger, Nkoori, I know I’m lucky to be following his every move as he reads the world around us. I’ll try to explain…

Starting at the crack of dawn, its cold and damp from the morning dew. I’m freezing. I take off my toque – yes, I slept with it on – and get ready with a quick breakfast as I listen for the vehicle heading down the road to pick me up. No one else is awake, and I don’t blame them for there is no reason to shiver as I am and its really best to wait for the morning sun to start the day. As the sun slowly rises, I see the security guys and this morning it’s a little different as we communicate between our language barrier and I come to excitedly understand that I’ll be driving! It’s a land cruiser, 4x4 drive, and by now I know the road conditions are going to make this a lot of fun! It’s a standard transmission, and the steering is on the right…..I remind myself that if another vehicle comes down the road – stay to the left side.

The rangers tell me which roads to take, and I see we are on the government road that cuts through Lewa. Its about 6:45am and out of nowhere, I hear kids laughing and yelling something in Swahili. The rangers tell me “brake, brake”, and I stop. About 20 or so school kids jump in the back and its off to school we go! I’m driving, driving, driving….and I’m noticing that this is where the expression “I used to walk to school for 1.5 hours uphill each way…in the hail, etc.” comes from; this is pretty much exactly what these kids have to do. We drop them off and they giggle as they look in and realize it’s not who they expected that was driving the whole time.

I look at Nkoori for the next lag – since I pretty much have no idea where we are, nor where we are going. He gets on the radio to talk to the rhino monitors in the field and gives me a hand signal to go with speed. And we’re off again….

For two days we have been looking for a newborn rhino calf deep in the Ngare Ndare forest that marks the southern border of Lewa. This calf is less than a week old and the strategy is to push the mother out just enough to catch a glimpse of the little one. Some photos of the baby would ensure it’s a healthy individual….perhaps with high hopes for the rhino population of the world.

Just a day ago we were close, very close. Wearing some of the rangers camouflaged gear, I am very careful not to make a peep as Nkoori and I communicate with hand and eye signals only. We run from tree to tree as the mother is nearby, watching us, but we rely on the fact that she can’t see us very well. At this time, its hot. The Kenyan sun is beating down on us with fierce rays that I’m sure is stabbing through the heavy camo gear to give us sunburns. Nkoori signals to me to take a photo of the mother’s ears for id purposes. I snap away, but quickly realize what a mistake that was. The shutter on my camera is too loud and the mother is now upset with us.

This reminds me of just a few hours prior on this day, Nkoori thought it best I didn’t follow him to see a different rhino. The reason was the rhino was known to be aggressive and a little crazy – his words, not mine – and the landscape didn’t offer much cover, except to run up a very prickly acacia tree. I look around now as I hear the mother rhino huff and chuff and stomp around in anxiety at us at what seems to be a thunderous shutter on my camera. I feel terrible about this, and I look at Nkoori apologetically but it works out as the mother comes close to us and suddenly takes a 90 degree turn and bolts the other way. I thought polar bears were intimidating…but a large nervous female rhino within 50 ft of us is just as daunting…

Taking the opportunity of the mother’s absence, we scout out the area frantically looking for the baby rhino. Unfortunately, our efforts come up empty despite the signs of dung and other sure markings of its presence.

Back to the second attempt at finding the baby rhino in the wee hours of the morning, I sit next to the rangers high on a hill and we observe every tree and rock across the other side to see something, anything, which might indicate where the little one might be.

We do this for a good hour; the rangers get on the radio with rhino monitors on another hill and make a plan to head in anyways. We walk, and walk, up and down, across thorny bushes, in tick-ridden fields. The ticks are surprisingly not as annoying anymore and I find myself getting used to just picking them off and throwing them in touchdown-style. After doing this one time, I happened to look over at something that caught my eye. It moved the grasses. There is something there, something unexpected. I look closer….this is what I see….


Just another part of the African landscape. I look at the rangers, they smile and nod as I take a picture. And we move on. I watch the rangers and remark how similar they are at reading the landscape to the First Nations people of Canada. Its remarkable, using the same techniques to read the topography, while ensuring we are downwind of dangerous animals. Both cultures are adept at using all aspects of the natural world to protect us.

One thing that is remarkable here that I haven’t seen anywhere else is the ability of the rangers to go an entire day without food or water, or relief breaks. I try to match them in this so I don’t slow them down and it seems almost taboo to even say anything about hunger or thirst. I haven’t figured that part out quite yet but its impressive not needing anything during the day with all the hiking through difficult terrain under the spicy sun.

Its now the end of the day, almost dark and I know the day’s work is coming to an end since we can’t do much at night. Nkoori is back behind the wheel and I notice he is not heading back to headquarters. I think I am just lost and not reading the roads right, but something in me tells me my gut is right. We head into an area that I’m sure is not anywhere near home. I ask the rangers what might be happening, they tell me to look up and notice the vultures around. We are following them.

The birds lead us into thick shrubbery, and the scene of the crime is revealed. A lioness has taken down an eland and is resting with her cubs nearby. We approach slowly and I’m speechless. I snap away photos with my piercing camera, and come to the conclusion that there is no other place I would rather be then amongst the wilds of the African jungle.