The Magazine of The Sierra Club
Photos From the Front Lines of the Battle to Save African Elephants
In Kenya’s Samburu National Reserve, rangers work to protect elephants from a range of threats
Confiscated ivory in front of the Ol Pejeta Conservancy office.
A herd of African elephants is crossing the Ewaso Ng'iro river, which forms a natural border of the Samburu reserve.
The "Royal Family" roaming in the Samburu reserve, seen from a small Cessna plane. In order to locate this group of elephants, our British pilot, a member of the Save the Elephants NGO, switched on his elephant tracker used by the organization to monitor herd migrations.
Human-wildlife conflict around the Samburu reserve is increasing due to a human population boom, droughts, soil erosion, and the effects of climate change. These days, most of the elephants are killed by local shepherds fighting the wildlife for pastures and water.
Struggling to survive, the local pastoralists started crossing the borders of the national reserve. The reserve went as far as setting up two special corridors for cattle migration and grazing, but the conflict only keeps escalating.
A body of a young female elephant, likely killed by members of a traditional pastoral community residing on the outskirts of the Samburu reserve. The elephant's “crime” was to take a stroll across one of the community villages. In less dire times, she may have been forgiven, but not during the driest part of the year. Once shot, she still managed to cross the shallow muddy river, leaving a dark red trail behind. She died on the reserve side of the river, where wildlife is safe—in principle at least.
Maasai men walking through the Maasai Mara National Reserve, where human-wildlife conflict is also intensifying due to a human population boom, droughts, soil erosion, and the direct consequence of climate change.
Joshua Kakai Lesorgol, his wife, Eunice, and their children. Eunice is a former runner who joined the reserve rangers in 2014. Joshua is a leader of the Samburu rangers' quick response team and is considered one of the reserve's best rangers. He was badly shaken by the morning's find of a dead female elephant. “I used to be a shepherd myself,” Joshua said. “I used to come across the wild animals all the time. But I wouldn't dream of killing one. I simply can't understand how anyone would do such a thing. The elephants are our best friends. It is one of the foundations of our Samburu culture.”
Twenty-two rangers—four of them women—listen to every word instructors say. Discipline is high, almost military-like, but the general atmosphere is relaxed. Rangers’ most important qualities are experience and an inner fervor to protect wildlife.
The Reteti Elephant Sanctuary is the first haven for orphaned elephants in East Africa. It is being run as a public institution, managed by the local authorities and kept afloat by a number of foreign sponsors. This is where all the orphans found north of the capital of Nairobi are brought. Animals who have found their second home at Reteti can sense very well when the next meal is coming.
Rangers from the anti-poaching unit during their night patrol in Ol Pejeta Conservancy, Kenya. In early April 2021, African elephants were once again listed as an endangered species as the poaching business keeps flourishing. The final buyers of poached ivory are mostly from China and Vietnam, where ivory and rhino tusks are still seen as very prestigious items.
Mike Lesil, a 40-year-old ranger at the Samburu National Reserve in Kenya, bent over the carcass of a young female elephant. As a final farewell gesture, he gently placed a freshly sprouted twig inside the crater that used to be her skull.
“Every time one of the elephants dies,” he said, “a part of us dies as well. A part of me. The elephants are sacred animals. They're our friends, our comrades, our life-companions. We're supposed to be their protectors. And yet we failed again. I can't tell you how sad and angry that makes me feel.”
The young female was killed by the members of a traditional pastoral community residing on the outskirts of the Samburu National Reserve, on the banks of the Ewaso Ng'iro river. The elephant was killed because it strolled across one of the community villages. In less dire times, she may have been forgiven. But not now. No doubt stressed by droughts, soil erosion, and the effects of climate change, a local herder reached for his automatic rifle.
“This is the driest part of the year,” Lesil explained. “The conflict between humans and animals is at its worst. And it gets worse every year. We used to chase Somali poachers, organized crime groups, and local thieves hired by the ivory traders. Now most of the elephants are murdered by the local herders fighting the wildlife for pastures and water.”
Lesil joined the rangers in 2001, and in the subsequent 20 years, he has witnessed the degeneration of the local environment. The fact remains that the young female didn't die for her tusks. If she died of any one thing, she died of the consequences of climate change, fueled by much the same appetites that fuel the ivory and rhino horn trades.
Lesil and his fellow rangers come across a murdered elephant twice per month—which may make it a surprise that, in some ways, the Samburu National Reserve is a success story. Stretching across 165 square kilometers, the reserve is teeming with life. At every turn, visitors can see an elephant family roaming the reserve. Or a wounded cheetah lying under a tree, recovering from scrapping with a lioness over an antelope. Out of the blue, the late afternoon sun casts a near-miraculous sheen over a pair of Grevy's zebras. While we observed a pack of giraffes, a large female lion quietly tramped over to our vehicle.
With the pandemic wreaking such unprecedented havoc on the local economy due to the loss of tourist income, an increase in poaching was only to be expected. But rangers in Samburu were ready. After years of clashing with the Somali mercenary militias, the local rangers were well prepared for an increase in human-wildlife conflict.
“I don't like shooting,” Lesil said, shaking his head emphatically. “I try to resolve all matters through diplomacy. Therefore, cooperation with the local community is so important. But there is just no peaceful dealing with the foreign poachers. Again, we are basically at war. They are backed by some extraordinarily rich and powerful people. But I can tell you that so far, we've won every single armed battle. We know these parts as well as the backs of our hands. Also, we're the ones defending our homes, our animals, and ourselves.”