Vera and The Orphaned Antelope
We can learn so much from Mother Nature and today I had the privilege of experiencing her at her very best.
Meme is a young Blesbok, an antelope common in Southern Africa who was tragically orphaned at just three weeks old. She was found next to the body of her dead mother whom she had not left the side of since she passed away, it was believed, from natural causes.
Luckily for Meme, her second chance came in the form of Vera, a beautiful soul who dedicated months of her time and energy rehabilitating the heartbroken baby to full strength and happiness. Meme went from a timid and anxious little one who refused to eat, to an excitable and social antelope who could often be found tearing around the garden at Numwa House with her new friends, Sadza the Zimbabwean street dog and Freddie, Cowboy, Rocky and Turkey, four little calves, also orphaned at a young age and raised by Vera, who was their surrogate mum too. Meme was given her name due to the small bursts of sound, somewhere between a bleat and a call that she regularly emitted when looking for something, typically food or the company of Vera.
Blesboks, named by Dutch colonisers due to their characteristic noise that sounds much like a sneeze, (a tool used to discourage flies from spending too long on them) are naturally sociable, herd animals who do best in company and so the plan was always to release Meme when she was strong enough but during recent weeks, Vera knew that this impending release was looming. Whilst it had been an incredible experience raising her and Meme was obviously happy, it was clear that something within her was longing to be out in the wild. As the weeks went on she became less reliant on Vera, instead fascinated by the family of warthogs who regularly snuck into the garden via a strategically dug hole in the fence and was often spotted looking pensively across the dam at the host of wildlife languishing on the water banks. She once very nearly sustained a potentially fatal kick from a bucking mare who was not at all interested in returning Meme’s offer of friendship. Vera knew that the time had come for her to leave the safety of the Numwa House garden and fend for herself. Naturally Vera was nervous at the prospect of this and after dedicating so much time to her wellbeing, wanted to make sure that the timing, location and logistics of her release were perfect. A natural nurturer, Vera had previously fostered an orphaned Serval, an injured Weaver who had fallen from a nest plus the four baby cows, Meme’s companions. But Meme seemed to be her special one and so it was imperative that everything went smoothly. But sometimes Mother Nature has a way of providing opportunities that are far beyond our control or understanding.
One recent Tuesday morning during a chance conversation about an upcoming adult Blesbok relocation, Vera realised that she hadn’t seen Meme for a couple of hours. There had been a lot of traffic that morning which meant that the gate, normally safely locked, had been open for longer than usual, offering the rapidly more curious Meme an opportunity for exploration. At first there was just a slight feeling of concern, followed by a rapid and increasing state of panic at the realisation, after a thorough scour of the garden, that Meme must have escaped. Vera, accompanied by the rest of the house residents, set off on foot, desperately checking the area around the outside of the garden and nearby compound, calling her name at regular intervals, hoping that she might hear her and appear. When it was obvious that she had ventured further afield Vera’s heart began to sink. Although she knew it was time for her to go, the recent arrival of two juvenile male cheetahs, relocated from a zoo in Canada to the reserve and actively hunting more than had been expected, little Meme with her lack of experience or solid herd support was extremely vulnerable to a pair of hungry predators. The plan had been to move Meme to the Lodge side of the park where there are no predators and she could take her time to blend into a herd safely. But it seemed that the universe had other plans.
By this point, tensions were rising so the group split up, Vera and a couple of others remained on foot and the rest piled into the Land Rover, binoculars at the ready for operation Locate Meme. Not far from the house there was a herd of Blesbok visible but from a distance all of them looked too big to be Meme, plus Vera had already walked near them, calling her name to which she was sure she would respond. Sam, Vera’s boyfriend who was driving the truck made a passing comment — there was no way one of that herd could be Meme but he would kick himself if he didn’t at least check. So we drove over to take a quick look and then the most incredible thing happened. Despite all of our doubts, before our very eyes, there was Meme, grazing amongst the other Blesboks, looking as comfortable as you could possibly imagine. She had ventured out of the garden no more than two hours before and already she was integrated successfully into a herd. Even more heart warming was that this was almost certainly the herd from which her deceased mother had been part of based on their location and so these antelope were likely her aunts, uncles, cousins and possibly even siblings. As we approached in the car we could see her behaviour changing ever so slightly — she was clearly picking up the scents and sounds that she recognised after months in the Numwa House Garden but she stayed put with her new clan, her natural instincts taking over. We called Vera knowing that she would be happy to see that her little one had been accepted, however frightening the prospect of her being potential prey for the cheetah was. But when she arrived at the scene everything suddenly changed. Upon sensing her presence, Meme instantly began making her signature sound, clearly happy to see her surrogate mum. But still she didn’t leave the group, instead communicating vocally with Vera whilst remaining close to the herd. It wasn’t the perfect outcome but it was the next best thing. Vera said her goodbyes and made her way back home, emotions running high. Soon after arriving at the house, Sam and Vera decided that it would be a nice idea to take some photographs of Meme on their last day together so they made a quick return to the herd, cameras at the ready but things didn’t go according to plan.
When they had left, Meme had been paying particular interest to an adult male who was keeping himself on the outskirts of the group. When they returned they were greeted by the antelope in question locking horns with another male in an attempt to drive him out of the herd. Poor Meme looked confused and had lost the rest of the Blesboks so upon seeing Vera, suddenly started to feel safe again. Despite attempts to encourage Meme back in the direction of the herd she started bleating and heading towards Vera, now it seemed, determined to stay with her. When Vera tried to leave it was clear that she wouldn’t be going anywhere without Meme and so thirty minutes later, back where it had all started, there they were in Numwa House garden, like nothing had happened. It was a relief but also a potent reminder of the need to act without delay and move Meme to the original herd that she was destined for, in the safety of the cheetah free zone. So later that afternoon Vera began the long walk from one side of the park to the other, Meme trotting happily beside her, trusting and content along with her best friend Sadza and some of the volunteers from Numwa House. The walk was as smooth as you could hope for with no problems or interruptions and the group arrived at the Lodge section ninety minutes later ready to locate the Blesbok herd that Meme would hopefully soon be part of.
At this point it seemed more sensible to allow Meme and Vera some space away from the group so they headed off alone in search of the blesboks and just a few minutes later they found them but for the second time that day, things didn’t go as planned. Blesbok can be jumpy creatures and easily spooked, particularly when approached on foot and as quiet as she tried to be, they sensed Vera every time she got closer and ran away. Meme, loyal to the end, chose Vera over the herd and the same situation continued to repeat itself — they needed another plan. Deciding it would be better to draw her near to the herd by car, Vera jumped into the truck with the others, leaving a disoriented Meme all alone in new territory. She was upset and confused, bleating and chasing after the vehicle, presumably wondering where her mum had gone. It was fascinating to see how just hours earlier she had made her own way to a herd and integrated perfectly but now after a few solid hours with Vera, she wanted nothing but to stay close to her. The next few moments were critical — if she noticed the herd and approached them and all went well, she would have her new home. But if not, she would be alone, in unknown territory, confused and heartbroken. We all sat tensely, our collective instincts of protection being pushed to the brink, wanting to just jump out of the truck and comfort Meme. But we had to draw her closer and driving seemed to be the only option that wouldn’t spook the herd and would simultaneously get her moving. But just at the crucial moment, perhaps in a moment of fright, Meme turned and bolted away in the opposite direction from both the truck and the herd. Our hearts were in our mouths but Vera acted fast, calling her little one continuously to try and draw her back and just at the critical moment she turned and made her way back to the car — audibly responding to Vera with every step. Now was the moment of truth — was she going to come back to the car or would she notice the herd before she reached us and go to them? Could a wild Blesbok who had essentially lived the first eight months of her life in captivity override all that she knew and follow her true wild instincts? We waited in silence, holding our breath as she reached the corner and stopped momentarily, looking back towards Vera and then again back to the herd. She stood still, her little body tiny against the vast expanse of bushland around her. And then, in a moment of true magic, she began to walk towards the herd, slowly but with clear purpose in her step and as we human animals would like to hope, recognition. The herd watched her intently as she approached — this little baby, smaller than nearly all of their young and all alone just looking for some family. The other Blesboks were all female and therefore naturally maternal but we were acutely aware of how brutal nature can be. If adult antelopes can reject their own offspring, regardless of the natural maternal nature of females, how could we guarantee that they would look after our girl? But then in a moment of perfect harmony, she trotted in, was welcomed with a few sniffs and a gentle head butt and then, there she was. With a new wild herd, for the second time that day.
The following afternoon we went to look for her, praying that we wouldn’t find her wandering the fields alone and frightened but there she was, looking like she had been born there. She could sense Vera was close, her body language adapting ever so slightly as the car crept past and then the most beautiful moment — we drove parallel to her and stopped just for a moment and without even a whisper from Vera, she looked up and let out her signature bleat. But she didn’t try to follow, instead showing Vera that whilst she still loves her, she was eternally grateful and happy for her safe relocation into the wild.
Nature teaches us so much but here I saw more clearly than ever that acceptance and instinct are real and palpable.
