Nature (1982–…): Season 34, Episode 4 - Soul of the Elephant - full transcript

Ironically, every dead elephant with its ivory intact is a reason to celebrate. It means an elephant died of natural causes, not bullets, snares or poison, and a soul was allowed to be celebrated and mourned by its herd. Award-win...



They emerged from the
swamps 50 million years ago

and became creatures that
ruled the world from coast to coast,

mountains to deserts.

Dereck and Beverly
Joubert are many things...

Award-winning filmmakers,

explorers, and dedicated
conservationists.

Now they've set
their sights once again

on the elephants of Botswana...
But from a whole new angle.

We've lived in the wild
in Botswana for 30 years,

telling the stories
of this place.



But we haven't seen it all.

We're still searching
for something.

Journey with the Jouberts

to one of the most
remote places in Africa,

where they'll explore
one of the last remaining

herds of elephants

and contemplate the inner lives

of these iconic creatures.

Did they know the dead elephant?

Is this a curiosity
or remembrance?

What is the very
soul of the elephant?



The story of elephants is
a timeless story of ghosts.

They leave us messages...



Ancient footprints
in the sands of time.

In some places, it's the
message of extinction

as 35,000 elephants
are poached each year,

purely for their ivory.

But in other places, there
are messages of hope...

Like where we live,
where they are still giants.

Seven-ton giants in full sail.

Their movements

are a meditation.

Their eyes shine with
a deep intelligence.

We've lived in the wild
in Botswana for 30 years,

filming, exploring, researching,

telling the stories
of this place.

But we haven't seen it all.

We're still searching
for something.

And often, what
we find surprises us.

I often think of
myself as an elephant.

I try to think their thoughts,

live life with their values.

This all started one day

while exploring the
backwaters of the bush.

This place is endless.

We stumbled across
something intriguing...

A sun-bleached skull
from a bull elephant

who'd died two years earlier,

but with tusks so heavy,
I could barely lift them.



It's rare to find a carcass
with its ivory still intact.

What's so exciting about
that is in what it represents.

It means that no one has
been here for at least two years.

But something
just didn't add up.

We had too many bones

for this to be
from one elephant.

As we looked around,

we found enough to make
up two huge bull elephants,

a literal killing field,
but with a difference...

Absolutely no sign of man.



You can age an
elephant by its molar teeth,

and these bulls were old.

But still, at around 70, they
had a few years left to live.

They both died in exactly the
same place at the same time.

Usually, that would
mean poaching.

But why would these two
bulls still have their ivory?

It was a mystery that would
change the course of our lives

over the next few months.

We decided to
reconstruct their lives.

As we left the grave
site, we didn't feel sad.

Out here, you learn that
a natural death like these,

elephants that
die with their ivory,

is rare and a celebration,
as it should be.

Dust to dust.

The soul of the
elephant at peace.



This is a magical place,
the Selinda Spillway,

a wave of rivers that snake
away from the Okavango Delta

and join the northern
rivers in Botswana,

ultimately feeding
into the great Zambezi.

So, to understand the
lives of the two bulls,

we've decided to paddle from
one end of this river to the other.

It would have been
their home range

from their birthplace to
their final resting place.

Very shallow here.

Starting to get into
that yellow water

that we saw from the air.

We'll also survey
the carcasses we find

to thoroughly understand
poaching levels, hunting,

and other influences of man.

For the next few months,
we'll paddle and walk,

explore the river and its banks

as it cuts through the
largest elephant populations

in the world.

The mystery of the two bulls
still works inside my head.



They were born over 70 years ago

into a very different world.

There would have been
over 5 million elephants then.

We were waging a world war

as a 250-pound baby

fought his own first
battle against gravity

to stand

and his mother diligently
cleaned away the placenta

to hide the scent

and to protect him
from lions and hyenas.



Each baby born then had
less than a 10% chance

of making it past
our guns and snares

to the age of the two old bulls.

But both somehow survived.

I've also been thinking
about those first steps.

Soon after birth, a mother
takes her newborn into the herd.

The family gently adjusts pace

for the smallest,
shortest, newest legs.

Within hours, he is their
much-celebrated new baby

that everyone wants to greet
and to get to know and to protect.



This social world
he is introduced to

will help him develop into
one of the most intelligent

and sensitive
beings on the planet.



The pace of a herd
is misleadingly slow.

They cover huge distances
at an apparent stroll.

But a quick nap
while standing up

disorientates him.

That's the time to panic.

He's a miniature elephant
in a world of giants

and on strange,
slippery terrain.

Even at his age, days old,

he would have understood
the ways of elephants,

to recover from any
indignity with aggression.

Charge at egrets,

charge at shadows, but
charge whenever you can.



At his mother's side, an
amazing lesson begins.

He wants milk now,

having survived his
near-death experience

with shadows and demons,

but she withholds
his privileges.



He needs to strengthen
his bond with her.

And with elephants, that
early imprinting is vital.

He is frustrated.

He wants that milk.

But colossal legs
outsmart his every move.

It's only when his
temper tantrum passes

that he is allowed in.

His constant pounding
away yields results,

and milk squirts out.

These are the intimate lives of
elephants we often forget about

when we see them just as
falling numbers on a chart.

The water's deep
enough for the hippo here.

It's on the next bend.

It's two weeks in, and we
have a problem already.

We know enough from
30 years of filming them

exactly what is going on.

There, up ahead...
Hippos fighting.

This narrow channel
is not big enough

for us and angry hippos.

Better go around them.

It's time to get out
of the deep water.

Dereck is always
keen to give it a try.

But it really is time to
find an alternative route.

Our reluctant captain
checks the GPS

and plots another course,

except there isn't
really an alternative

but to pull our canoe and
gear through the backwaters

and shallows, where we can,
at least, see hippos coming.

Very shallow here.

So much for paddling
down the river.

If anything goes wrong,

we'll need to be airlifted
by helicopter from here.

It's over five days'
drive to the nearest town.

All right, well done.

All right.

In the backwaters,
we find another skull.

A submerged skull gives
us very little to go on.

It's like coaxing stories

out of spirits.

But the clues are all there.

The lower jaw indicates it
was only about 25 years old.

We always replace each bone

exactly as we find
it, out of respect.

The sloping forehead
tells us it was a young bull.

The tusks have not
been chopped out.

We write it up as
another natural death

in a watery grave.

There is a
richness to life here,

but none quite as dramatic

as what we finally come
across downstream.



Just ahead, we see our
first living elephants in weeks.

The phantoms of this expedition

are actually real at last.



We also get a rare private
view of wild elephants.

A little like looking in
through a bedroom window.

And actually,
elephants do snore.

The wind changes, swirling
our scent towards them,

and it seems they
know that smell.

Our only defense
in this shallow water

is to keep dead still.

And perfectly quiet.

There's always a heavy sleeper.

Caught off guard, they're
the most dangerous...

More prone to
panic and to charge.



Now, these are moments I love.

There is something hypnotic

about being in the path
of a charging elephant...

Something dangerous,
but peaceful, beautiful.

Time warps.

You focus on the
dance of their ears.

And sound dulls because
you believe he'll stop,

but you don't know it for sure.

It's strange that you feel most
alive when you face death.

And when it's over,

I find myself strangely relaxed,

privileged at having been
face-to-face with an elephant.

Any disturbance
ripples through the herds,

and they stop as one

in what we call a freeze.

The leader gives an
order and releases them

with another ultrasonic
call to move on.

That order sends them

back our way.

But it breaks our hearts to
see each herd we approach

disappear like ghosts

before we can even
get to know them

or even count them.



Perhaps it isn't
entirely our fault.

Within minutes, we find
out that the animals here

may be upset for
a different reason.

There are lions
hunting in the dusk.

Lions are unafraid of the
most dangerous of prey

and the largest.

But old bull elephants

are the true omnipotent
rulers of the savannas,

not even pausing to
look at the carnage.

Certainly it wasn't lions that
brought down the two old bulls

we found over a month ago now.



Our nights under a flimsy tent

are filled with sounds that
light up the imagination.

We dream of giants

moving as silently as
ghost ships under sail.

Looks like there's
a skull over there.

The skull of an
elephant. Looks typical.

Yeah, let's go down there.

We heard them calling all night,

and now we understand why.

It's one of those gatherings
we think are like burial rituals

or wakes.

Let's see what happens here.

That looks like
the... over there

'cause there are all
those females next to it.



We want to be quiet, respectful,

but we still feel like intruders
on a family in mourning.

When she lifts the body,

she may be looking,
searching for the cause of death.

So much attention
is given to the ivory,

as if it is the very
symbol of that elephant...

The embodiment
of an elephant's soul.



Their brains are almost
five times the size of ours.

There is no doubt that
they are feeling emotions,

and I wonder what
information they are getting

as their trunks delicately
hover over the remains.



Did they know the dead elephant?

Was it a family member?

Is this curiosity
or remembrance?

As we intrude
just a little longer,

we can see that it
was a young bull.

Cause of death could have
been just like many a young bull...

Raging testosterone.

There is a saying in Africa

that when two elephants fight,

it's the ground beneath
them that suffers the most.

But a misplaced
tusk, a broken leg,

and either young
bull will end up

as bleached skin and bones
under the harsh African sky.



The threats are not
just from humans.

As we leave, we understand

that for our two old
bulls to have survived,

they would have had to also

make it through this
intense phase of their lives.

It's sizzling hot now... Over
100 degrees Fahrenheit.

That should make
everyone lethargic.

Or so you'd think.

In some cases, it just
makes them cranky.

When elephants
really mean to attack,

they approach
with a side-on strut

and then dip their
heads for the charge.

While they're flapping ears
and trumpeting, we're okay.

It's when they go
quiet and drop that head

that it could go either way.

There is a subtle
language to all of this.

Gotta be careful
if we're underneath

the bird's perch...
Like that one.

You see that under my feet.

We're drifting over a
submerged acacia tree.

It breaks the silence.

The herd's suddenly wary.

We can't backpedal

without becoming even
more obvious to them.



Beverly's instinct
is to crouch down

and record the sound
of the bulls coming in

'cause she knows this
is gonna be very loud.



Too close.

There's only one thing to do...

stare him down.

Elephants are so
used to being dominant

that when something
doesn't run off,

they sometimes feel
intimidated, unsettled.

Confidence is the
only weapon we have.

These elephants
are wild and angry,

unlike earlier ones
that just disappeared.

They're charging like
crazy from every direction,

around every bend in the river.

Whew, that was close.

Not far downstream,

we understand exactly why.

Piles of skulls lie
scattered all around.

Look at this... From the teeth,

it doesn't look very old.

This one's got lots of teeth.

Look. Look at
this one, too, this...

Wow.

He was shot...

Until 2014, hunting of
elephants was legal here.

Have been in here.

Hunters were only
allowed to shoot males,

but we uncover
female skulls as well.

Given what we now know,

it must be deeply
traumatic for elephants

when they stumble across
these piles of discarded bones.

This is a killing field.

It explains why

at the start of each
hunting season,

elephants would
leave hunting areas.

They must know
what we do to them.



The two old bulls were lucky
to escape this era as well.



It feels like we're
in hostile territory.

We decide to quietly

follow the family just ahead.

If the Egyptian geese

can navigate hippo waters,

so can we.

Hippos tend to go
to the deep water...

and then come up anywhere.

It's like walking
through a mine field.

We both silently
push back the words

swirling around in our heads...

that hippos kill more people
in Africa than other animal.

Staying calm is our best weapon.

We try not to look
into the black water

for monsters that
may not even be there.

But this river is
full of surprises.



They emerged from the
swamps 50 million years ago

and became creatures
that ruled the world

from Africa to Asia,

and even into the Americas,

from coast to coast,
mountains to deserts.



And today, they are as at
home in the water as ever.

These water dances
are playful games,

but with an undercurrent
of testing wits and strengths.



They're not used to people
approaching on water,

so we decide to drift in

while they're distracted

by the calm bulls
playing nearby.

The story of elephants
is also the story of water.

Botswana has over one-third
of the world's elephants today,

thriving here for many reasons.

Abundant water may be
the most important of them.

Even the big males barely
give us a second glance

as they glide by.



And as the heat relaxes
its grip on everything,

we sit silently, reluctant
to return to normal,

and realize that what we've
been affected by all of this as well.

It's intoxicating.

Oh, this will guide us in.

This is bliss.

Truly, yes.

Our camp tonight will
be under the full moon

and in the company
of magical beasts

in fairy tale moonbeams...

Remnants of a
time past, perhaps.

We realize that
we have tapped in

to that ancient
heartbeat of the elephant,

the very soul of who they are.

And we definitely know

that when we spend
time with elephants,

we come away somehow better.



Go forward on your side?

It's hard to see.
The water's so black.

We're driven by the
hope that today will be

at least as good as yesterday.

So no dawn is left
to rise without us.

We're more than a month in.

From early morning
through the midday heat

and until late at night,

the river is packed
with elephants.

As we drift alongside them now

day after day,

we seem to have cracked
some kind of elephant code,

and we can get in close.

We can see details
we didn't before.

We soak up the closeness,

the smell, the trust,

and feel the beat of their
silent calls in our chests.

It's euphoric

being in the accepting
presence of these animals.

With the elephants this calm,

Dereck wants to experience
that closeness even more.

The more we do this,

the more we embed
ourselves into their culture,

we imagine for a moment

that we thoroughly
understand them.

And then, for some reason,

they all suddenly head away
from the river at this point.



We're now close
enough to get our plane

to get an overview
and find out exactly why.

Floating over
Botswana is magical.

I love Africa from the air.

What looks like random
paths from the ground

magically form into
well-organized patterns

from the air.

Ancient networks of paths

once connected water
holes across the continent.

They lead elephants
out across the grasslands,

herd after herd following
behind their mothers

and the memories
of their ancestors

in the never-ending search

that drives elephants.



We can now recognize
individual elephants,

like this one-tusker
and her family,

as they etch their own stories
into the paths with their feet.

Botswana's elephants
have very small tusks.

The water here has
little mineral value,

so tusks are brittle.

It may be a saving grace.

Being a tuskless elephant
may actually be an advantage

in the future.

Virtually every family here

has at least one
tuskless female.

They leave the rivers here

for something
other than water...

Salt.

Elephants need almost a
quarter-pound of salt every day,

and this is the
only place to find it.

They probe and
prospect for tiny crystals,

an almost impossible
task without fingers,

you would think.

But with at least 60,000
muscles in their trunks,

elephants can pick out a
crystal and work it loose.

If need be, they use
heavier equipment.

Then they just work whole
clods into their mouths

to swallow, and rely
on efficient stomachs

to filter out the good stuff.

The trunk defines elephants.

It's their tool for
digging, breaking,

smelling, investigating...

Always alive, always moving...

just like them.



We can sense the two bulls
leaving these ancient digs.

20 years ago, they would have
been in search of something

even more important than
salt to securing their future.

To mate, both males and females

need to be in sync.

The male musth
happens once a year.

The tiny tuskless
calf is also in heat,

and he's not about
to let her get away.

22 months from now,

he could have an heir.

She may still be a teenager,

but she knows how to send

secret messages of seduction.

The only clues are in
her soundless open mouth

and flapping ears.

A series of six calls,

so low in frequency we
can't normally hear them.

This will attract every mating
male within 10 miles of here

to contest for the right

to pass his genes on to the next
generation of Selinda elephants.

Elephants create a ripple
effect of advantage to others.

A pied kingfisher finds
them useful as a perch.

She's watching
out for small fish,

but elephants
have sensitive skins.

They hate biting flies...

and, apparently, the
feel of a kingfisher.

There is a time for
babies to just follow along

and a time for them to play

and enjoy the slippery feeling
of fine mud under their feet.

But this is not one of them.

We know from working with lions

just how quickly the see
an opportunity and react.

The baby is down,

floundering, drowning.



The lions are waiting here.

They know the hazards.

And these lions are
not afraid of water.



Lions don't give up easily.

They'll circle back to
this crossing point later.

Despite the swirling
scent of lions,

the calm crossings
are methodical.

Elephants just don't
like congestion, stress.

Each herd leaves enough
space ahead and behind.



These gatherings and long
lines of elephant families,

floating across the landscape

in and out of the
sparkling floodplains,

are very typical of the freedom
of Botswana for elephants...

the freedom to come
and go almost endlessly,

to feel the weightlessness
of their huge bodies in water.

This opportunity gives us a
rare chance to see them at play,

but from inside their world

as swamp creatures.

They always maintain

the integrity of
their family groups,

keeping separate by just enough

so their young don't
mingle and get lost,

and yet close enough to
stay in touch as a herd...

As a clan of elephants.

At times, these clans
will gather at crossings

in numbers of well
over 400 elephants

along the Selinda Spillway.



Keeping those families intact

in a huge herd like
this can be a challenge.

A cow has lost her calf

right at the vulnerable
crossing point.

After doing the very
first studies and films

on lions attacking elephants,

we can virtually
replay it from memory.

First, a lost calf
panics and calls out.

The lions respond.

They circle and
attack from behind.

The mother, just like this
one today, goes frantic.

It only adds to the confusion.

And confusion is
exactly what lions want.

Today, it is different.

And the nightmare is prevented
when the mother gets there

just in time to mount
a daring rescue.

With the rescued calf in tow,

she now has to make up ground

to join the rest of the herd.

But elephants are nothing if not
compassionate and understanding.

The herd has waited for
her to resolve her problem

and sets off again.

After the excitement
with the lions,

there is a palpable
change in atmosphere,

as if the herd understands
the need for balance.

It goes from high stress

to a little fun.

Of course, it's about covering
themselves against biting flies

and cooling.

But from down here,

it looks almost tempting
and definitely fun.

There is not much
of the world left

that can make you feel like this

at this relaxed place

where elephants are what
they have always been

on their terms.

A coating of dust dries the mud.

When it cracks and falls off,

it takes the ticks and
other parasites along with it.

The security of being
in the fold once again

allows the calf to shake off
his encounter with the lions

and cover his
superficial wounds.

Following that unending
cycle of dust to dust,

one day we find some
elephants veering off track.

The leaders pad across
country with purpose.

Her soul long departed,

she lies as a gentle reminder
to her clan of who she was,

her long life, her successes,

her rescues, her compassion,
and the days spent together

in the mud and the dust.



How she died, we'll never know.

Perhaps she just
ran out of time.

As they bob and
weave around her,

we're reminded that
they are sentient beings,

thinking thoughts, having ideas.

Touch, smell, remember, think.

All you ever need to know

to be inside of an elephant's
head at these moments.



Herd after herd come in,

with just enough time
between each wave

for us to place some cameras
and to disguise our scent.

At the last minute, I remember

that actually turning the
camera on may be useful.



We were able to capture
the most intimate views

we've ever seen of
an elephant wake...

So close, neither of
us wants to breathe,

break the spell.



And right here, we've seen

that something special

that we both love
about Africa at its best,

a skull with its ivory intact...

Pure, the way it should be,

absolutely worthless.

I like that ivory is worthless.

The only value should
be as a beacon of memory

to the elephant clan
she was once a part of.



What legacy is left behind?

As I stand and think about
the romance of our lives,

these magical moments remind me

of the ripples we
cause around us.

I hope that our own legacy

walking in the
footsteps of these bulls

can make a difference.

They could have walked
right by here one day,

even fed on the tree
I'm standing under.

After the sixth set
of molars wears out,

their lives are over.

As it nears that time,
they pick food carefully,

saving those precious teeth.

The story of elephants
may be all about ivory,

but it should only
be about their teeth.

The lashing rain triggers
respite for elephants

and their teeth.

They scoop up
the soft green grass

and shovel it down
for 16 hours a day.

We remember the
teeth of the bulls.

They still had years to go.

As we follow the
elephants into the open,

we have a flash of inspiration.

Elephants often go to water

to get out of the stinging
rain on their sensitive skins.

They could have been struck
down instantly by lightning.

It's the best answer we can find

for two bulls struck
dead together

with their tusks intact.

These phantoms have
somehow become real to us...

No longer apparitions
in the half-light.

They're living beings

with full lives

and even, quite possibly, souls.

It feels like we knew
them as newborn babies,

at play in the
fields of paradise.

We've filled in the
gaps of these gentle

seven-ton giants' lives,

companions for life.

Over and over, we
find the same evidence.

Botswana is one of the
few places on the planet

where elephants can
still live out a natural life.

We're obsessed now

with coaxing these secret
stories from the bones.

She was probably a matriarch
with unusually long tusks.

Like others here, she enjoyed

the vast freedom of a
protected land in Botswana.

But we were also
shocked by the fact

that since you started
watching this film,

five elephants were killed

simply for their tusks.

It's not their ivory
that will enrich us.

We'll find far
greater enchantment

in the journey of life
they will lead us on.

Whether they survive long enough

for us to really
get to know them

depends entirely
on what we can learn

about the very
soul of the elephant.



To learn more about what you've
seen on this "Nature" program,