“Many do—but there are a lot of different languages.”
Bailey had snuggled close to her body. She petted him as she spoke. “Do you know French?”
“Oui, je parle français,” he said with a grin. He was tempted to tell her a few other things in his second language—how beautiful she was, for one—but he knew she’d only press him for the interpretation. “And I can understand Bantu, but I can’t speak it very well.”
“So why must a biologist from America travel to Africa on behalf of the forest elephant?” she asked.
“They’re an endangered species. Seventy years ago three to five million elephants inhabited Africa. Today only about five hundred thousand remain. Roughly one-third are forest elephants. With so few left, it’s important to monitor them.”
“But with the human population growing, and the forest being destroyed, can monitoring really do any good?”
“You bet. It lets us know where they live and how they travel, so we can determine how much land must be protected to give them enough space. Also, a vet generally comes along and collects samples.”
“Blood samples? That sort of thing?”
“Blood, ectoparasites, feces, skin biopsies. That way we can create some baseline data and perform health assessments of the animals.”
Reenie lay quiet for several seconds, still petting Bailey. Isaac wondered if she was listening to the classical music she’d turned on, or thinking. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of the forest elephant before tonight,” she finally mused.
“Sometimes they’re called pygmy elephants.”
“Haven’t heard of that either. But Africa isn’t a very popular subject up here. I don’t know one other person who’s ever been there.”
“Typically when people hear the word elephant, they picture the savanna elephant,” he said.
“The big ones you see walking across grassy plains in the movies.”
“Exactly. At one time we thought there were only two types of elephants in the world. The African savanna and the Asian.” He wasn’t sure why he was going into so much detail. She probably didn’t care about the different species of elephant. But he was afraid the temptation to let his hands wander might get the best of him if he didn’t keep talking. “But when a DNA identification system was set up to trace the origin of poached ivory, we found that the forest elephant is actually a third species, as different from the others as lions are from tigers.”
“Do they look that different?” she asked.
“Definitely. Savanna elephants can be as tall as thirteen feet.”
“Forest elephants are smaller?”
“By quite a bit. The largest of the bulls might reach eight feet. They also have more rounded ears—” Reenie leaned up to take another sip of her wine and offered him a drink. He loved the half smile she gave him when he accepted her glass. It let him know she was feeling the same tugging awareness he was. He nearly reached up to bring her down on top of him so he could meet her mouth with his, but he knew a relationship between them was just too…impossible.
“You were saying they have more rounded ears,” she said.
“Right.” Isaac found it difficult to concentrate when he looked at her. He waited for her to relax against him again before continuing. “Their tusks aren’t curved like the savanna. They’re straight and thin with a pinkish tinge to the ivory. A forest elephant’s lower jaw is longer than the other two species, giving it a narrow face. And forest elephants are a few shades darker in color.”
“You love them,” she said, rolling over and propping herself up on her elbows.
He grinned. “They’re incredible animals.”
Her responding smile faded. “But they might not be around much longer because they’re losing their habitat, right?”
He sobered. “That, and because poachers kill them for their ivory.”
“Okay, let’s not go in that direction,” she said, and took another sip of wine. “Tell me what’s involved when a biologist decides to track a forest elephant.”
He folded his arms behind his head. “Well…we base out of Ouesso, in the north. From there, we move into and around the forest by boat or land rover, or we hike to different campsites, searching for elephants.”
Bailey lifted his head, licked Reenie’s hand, then rested his muzzle on his paws again. “How’s he doing?” Isaac said, changing subjects.
“Not so good,” Reenie said. “I’m afraid he’s not going to last much longer. I should probably have him put to sleep, but I’m hoping he can make it a few more months.”
He leaned toward her and cupped her chin. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s part of life,” she said. “One I don’t want to deal with, especially in the near future, but—don’t make me sad. We were talking about finding elephants.”
He dropped his hand before he could try making her forget about Bailey in more physical ways. “Right. Well, they might weigh twenty-five-hundred kilograms but they’re still very difficult to find.”
“You’re kidding. That’s over five thousand pounds. It’s hard to imagine something that big being hard to find.”
“The jungle is incredibly dense.”
“It must be. So what do you do when you come upon one?”
“I immobilize and anesthetize it so I can place a GPS telemetry collar on it.”
“A collar?”
His eyes focused on her lips. “You are so…”
“What?” she prompted.
“Gorgeous.”
She laughed. “You don’t think that’s stating things a little too strongly?”
“Hell, no.”
“I think you’ve had too much to drink.”
“Not by a long shot. Anyway—” he cleared his throat “—what was I talking about?”
“Collars.”
“Right. GPS collars. They weigh nearly thirty pounds.”
“Sounds like you have a fun job.”
He took a drink from his own glass. “It’s exciting. You never know when you’re going to find one.”
“If I ever had to face an animal that weighed over five thousand pounds, I’d want an army with me. Tell me you don’t take these elephants down all by yourself.”
“No. I have a whole team of scientists to help me. Last trip, there was someone from the Wildlife Conservation Society, someone from the Fossil Rim Wildlife Center, a veterinarian from the National Zoo, local trackers who were members of the Bambenjelle people, a Bantu-speaking Kaka—”