Don't judge a book by it's cover...

It’s weird; I didn’t know what my favourite animal in Africa was until I got here. Truly I love them all but I was I exhibited a certain amount of childlike wonder and glee everytime I had the chance to see…a hippo. Yes of all the truly amazing creatures that Africa has to offer, I find the giant water horse (hippo is ancient Greek for ‘water horse’) to be the most marvellous.

Many of my fellow travellers were perplexed by my hippo love. These folks are the type to worship the giraffe or the leopard – they view the hippo as nothing more than a portable rock that provides a place for birds to sit. To them I am odd.

So, why do I love the hippo? Because they are awesome – they are the very definition of ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’. This massive mammal, whose closest living relative is actually a whale, appears sloth-like and harmless. They are most commonly seen lounging small bodies of water, most of their 3 tonne body submerged…until they feel threatened or just plain irritated…then they come at you…fast – 8mph in water and 20 mph out of water. And they are deadly; more human deaths a year are attributed to the hippo than any other African animal.

A few weeks ago, when we were staying at Lake Mburo in Uganda, Mutiso my guide was telling me a cautionary tale about a tourist that had died there a few years ago. Apparently, despite several warnings this gentleman wandered to the lake in the early morning, inadvertently making himself an obstacle between the water and a hippo. “What happened?” I asked Mutiso in a hushed voice before he calmly shrugged and replied “The hippo bit him in twice”. (I did clarify the statement – the hippo did not bite him twice, it only took the beast one chomp to bite the man in TWO pieces.)

The point of me telling you all about my unrequited hippo love is so you can understand the next part of my story; the part with Gerald. While the animals were asleep during the hot afternoon sun, our group decided to take advantage of the time to visit one of the Serengeti tourist centers and take one of those educational boardwalk paths to learn about wildebeest migration. I was less than enthused with the idea and would have been perfectly happy taking a cue from the animals and curling up for a nap but c’est la vie.

I was vaguely reading something about wildebeests when I heard the word ‘hippo’. My ears perked up, partially because they are attuned to such language and partially because it was so out of context. We were nowhere near where a hippo should be at this time of day. I rushed over to see an enormous gray lump lying in the thick scraggily brush, a few feet below the boardwalk. Hippos stay in water during the day. At night hippos can walk up to 8 km in search of food but ALWAYS return to water for the day. Something was wrong with this poor guy. He was partially hidden by the bushes but I could make out the evidence of deep, recent gouges into his thick skin.

Realizing that my limited skill set would be of no use in this situation I dashed off to find a ranger and alert him to the ailing hippo in the bushes. While I offered my findings in a rapid and clipped presentation to a group of guides and rangers, they kind of shrugged and informed me that the hippo, who I had internally named Gerald for some reason, would probably die. Die or wander back to the water tonight. Either way, they would not be interfering with nature. I pleaded with them to reconsider but they explained that this is the way it has to be in the Serengeti, we are just there to watch nature – not meddle. I enquired as to what the problem with poor Gerald was and showed them some photos I had taken. The rangers proposed two hypothesis; either he was sick in the head and did not know enough to return to water or he was in pain from a probable lion attack. (Apparently the water burns their open wounds and they tend to avoid the pools for at least 24 hours post attack.)

Dejected I wandered back to the secluded area where Gerald was hiding and decided to sit with him, if these were some of his last hours, I didn’t want him to be alone (Yes – I was a safe distance away, up on a boardwalk and since hippos cannot jump I felt fairly secure in my position). And so I sat there, just Gerald and me, staring into the eyes of one of Africa’s most terrifying beasts. I chatted at him and he would sigh and roll ever so slightly. Maybe he was too sick to get away but I like to think that he enjoyed me being there. I don’t know what became of Gerald. I have no idea if he ended up dying that night or made his way back to a cool pool of water. But I do know that for 30 minutes that afternoon I had the chance to spend time with one of my idols.

Hippos – they are squat, chubby, unassuming and can end your life in a heartbeat. It’s always the ones you least suspect…