The baby elephant is barely alive
All photos with a huge thank you: National Geographic
One Sunday morning in late November, Tunde Morakinyo received an unexpected and urgent phone call. “The baby elephant will be here in two hours,” said his ANI Foundation colleague Peter Abanyam, who is based at Okomu National Park in Nigeria. “We need to figure out what to do to keep it alive.”
Morakinyo, who leads ANI Foundation, a Nigerian nonprofit group focused on protecting biodiversity, was in disbelief. “Baby elephant?” Earlier that morning, a worker at the Okomu Oil Palm Plantation, which borders the park, had spotted the baby wandering alone—a highly unusual sight. What came next was a whirlwind learning curve for everyone involved in taking care of Nigeria’s first surviving orphaned baby elephant, who has since become a national beacon of hope for conservation.
“Never once had I expected to become an elephant parent,” says Abanyam. “This is the first case of elephant rescue in Nigeria. When this happened, we didn’t have any form of experience.” His team’s prior work at the park involved poaching patrol and curbing illegal logging, not animal care. “But life gives us unexpected challenges, and we must rise to meet them,” he adds.
The baby was a critically endangered African forest elephant; they’re smaller than savannah elephants, with rounder ears and shorter, straighter tusks, and their habitat is much more restricted. Today Nigeria is home to an estimated 400 forest elephants, with about 30 to 40 living in Okomu National Park, a protected swath of rainforest in southern Nigeria that is co-managed by the Nigeria National Park Service and ANI Foundation.
“Okomu is one of the last fragments of forest habitat left for forest elephants and many threatened species,” says Morakinyo. How the baby elephant—then about eight months old and not yet weaned—became separated from his family remains unclear, but Morakinyo suspects the group may have stumbled across hunters and scattered at the sounds of shotguns, machetes, and iron traps. “When you have a baby elephant wandering around alone, it’s very sad,” he says.
After failing to find the baby’s family in the dense rainforest, the team brought him into human care. At that age, he wouldn’t survive and find sufficient food on his own, says Abanyam, who was worried about the threat of bushmeat poachers. They transported the elephant baby, barely as tall as a car tire, in the back of a pickup truck. “Our lives here in the outpost changed drastically after the baby elephant arrived,” says Abanyam. “We had many sleepless nights.”
The infant’s early days were touch and go. Experienced wildlife veterinarians warned the first-time caretakers not to name him yet, for fear of worsening the heartbreak of potentially losing him. Within a few days, the baby had little energy to move around or eat. “We were very scared,” recalls Abanyam.
When baby elephants “crash,” says Liz O’Brien, a consultant in Zambia who specializes in orphan elephant care and who joined the rescue effort as an adviser, it’s usually due to one or more factors: exhaustion, losing their mother and her milk, and adrenaline levels that spike and suddenly drop. “It’s like the animal just runs out of gas—it doesn’t have energy to stand, to eat, to do anything.”
At one point, after blood sugar tests revealed hypoglycemia, the team sent a truck to pick up the nearest veterinarians—an hour’s drive away at the oil palm plantation. They administered IV fluids and dextrose to raise the baby’s blood sugar. “For two days, we were constantly checking his blood glucose, constantly adjusting the IV drips,” recalls O’Brien.
The Okomu team also learned how to feed the baby a mix of milk powder, coconut, cooked oats, and other ingredients for targeted nutrition and how to give him social support to comfort him and help him develop without his original family. “A baby elephant in the wild is never normally alone,” O’Brien says. “It always has a family around it.”
Dedicated animal keepers took turns staying with the elephant around-the-clock inside an improvised fenced space near the main ranger outpost, gently tucking him under a brown cotton blanket to keep his temperature stable while he slept.
After several weeks, the elephant started to eat more quickly and became more playful and confident. “Then we saw there was hope—we saw that this guy is ready to survive,” says Abanyam. And so they gave him a name: Agbaibor (pronounced Ah–gba–ibow), which means “bravery,” “strength,” or “the survivor” in Ijaw, a Nigerian language.
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