Eye to eye with a Borneo Forest elephant – Do they have a future?
Palm-oil plantations threaten the world's most endangered elephants - By Gregg Yan
"When I say run," instructs Osman as he sits calmly in a clearing six feet ahead, "-you run." I nod, straining to see what the herd will do next.
We are in a primeval Bornean rainforest, sunrays filtering through the canopy to paint our world dappled shades of jade and chocolate. Five elephants stand shoulder-to-shoulder, 40 feet away. Overpowered by the wafting stench of musk, I wrinkle my nose. Three of us are crouched behind tiny trees, trying not to make any sounds. The boat - with our more sensible team members - is 80 feet behind.
Our goal is to track down and photograph Borneo's famed pygmy forest elephants, reputedly the rarest in the world. Now it seems I'm getting my wish, as a tusked seven-footer trumpets and trots ahead of the herd. At 30 feet, the moss-covered tree I'm cowering behind seems toothpick-thin. At 20 feet, my heart pounds so hard I actually hear it thumping.
Our boatman Osman calmly says. "Don't panic, just keep taking pictures!"
Plantations of African oil palm (Elaeis guineensis) now cover large swathes of the lower Kinabatangan. (Gregg Yan)
Only around 1500 Borneo Pygmy Elephants remain, prompting some scientists to consider them the rarest of elephants. Borneo's forest elephants differ from Asian elephants by being smaller, fatter and more docile. They also have straight tusks, larger ears and tails long enough to give them a cute and comical appearance. Males stand 8-feet tall and tip the scales at 3000-kg, with slightly smaller females. The largest remaining herds are concentrated around the lower Kinabatangan, which springs from the mountains of southwest Sabah and races toward the Sulu Sea.
Borneo has the oldest rainforests on Earth, formed 130 million years ago. From the ground, it is a verdant vision of ferns, vines, mosses and other plants jostling for space and sunlight - tinged by a rhythmic soundtrack of insect, bird and primate calls. Over 250 bird, 50 mammal and 20 reptile species call this home sweet home.
90% of the forests have been cleared
Sadly, up to 90% of the Kinabatangan's forests have been cleared, mostly for African oil-palm plantations. About 20 processing mills dot the region. Requiring just three years to become productive, these sprawling plots produce oil for soap, fuel and other commercial purposes. En route to the Kinabatangan from Sandakan City, we saw ordered rows of palm from horizon to horizon.
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| Lower jaw of pygmy elephant attests to human- wildlife conflict. "Elephants must pass through plantations, looking for food," says Osman, who found the carcass hidden in the forest. (Gregg Yan) |
Increased human conflict
Elephants and other large mammals require large feeding and breeding grounds to thrive. The loss of forests due to Palm-oil clearing has forced the elephants to forage for food in human settlements, leading to increased conflict and mortality. During our visit, Osman showed me the lower jaw of a dead elephant which he found hidden in the forest.
The World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF) Malaysia has now declared the region as the ‘Kinabatangan Corridor of Life' and protects the area by working closely with stakeholders, government agencies and local communities in activities that range from satellite tracking for elephants to setting up sustainable tree nurseries to help local communities restore degraded forests.
Osman's Test of Manhood
Still frozen behind a mossy tree with an elephant ten feet away, I no longer notice the buzzing of mosquitoes, nor the painful throbbing in my boots. The elephant gains ground.
Adios! I turn tail and bolt towards the nearest large tree - grizzled, with a drum-sized trunk. Turning back, I find Osman laughing and playing with the wild elephant. He looks at us beaming. "This one always curious ... so I never say run!"
We laugh along, realizing Osman knows this 40-strong herd well. We watch them play and spar for what seems like a lifetime - but was closer to half-an-hour. I can only hope that corporations and local communities soon strike a balance between conservation and development, for I hope to someday revisit Borneo's most famous denizens.
As we stand to leave, the tusked elephant approaches me, stopping behind some foliage. We look one another eye-to-eye, and I say goodbye.
Two elephants spar inside forest clearing. Author's team stayed with the herd for 30 minutes. (Gregg Yan).
