The Dinokeng Elephant Journey, Part 1: The Arrival
The Elephant Journey: A Foreword
Every reserve has its legends. For Dinokeng, the legends walk on four giant feet—trunks clever enough to pick a lock and hearts big enough to reshape the land they roam.
When the first elephants arrived in 2011, they didn’t just step into a new reserve. They stepped into our lives. From Charles, the grapefruit thief who welcomed us in unforgettable style, to Lumpy, steady and unshakable, to Hotstuff, the fiery youngster who brought both laughter and chaos—the elephants of Dinokeng have never been background scenery. They have been neighbours, challengers, teachers, and sometimes troublemakers.
Their story is not tidy. It is full of bent poles, broken fences, midnight trumpets, and the kind of moments that steal your breath in the middle of the bush. It is a story of awe and frustration, of decisions that broke our hearts, and of lessons carved into the veld by the giants themselves.
This trilogy—and the diaries that follow—is our attempt to capture that story. To tell not just what happened, but what it felt like to live through it: the campfire humour, the heavy choices, and the wisdom passed down by silent giants.
Because in Dinokeng, elephants are never just animals beyond the fence. They are part of the story. And this is theirs—as much as it is ours.
The Elephant Journey, Part 1: The Arrival
The Elephant Journey, Part 2: Charles, Lumpy, and the Rise of Hot Stuff
The Elephant Journey, Part 3: Hot Stuff’s Rise, Fence-Breaking Chaos, and Lessons from Dinokeng’s Giants
Wildlife Diaries: Encounters With Giants
The Arrival of the Founders (2011)
Every reserve has a moment when everything changes. For Dinokeng Game Reserve, that moment rumbled in during 2011, when a convoy of trucks rolled through the gates carrying ten restless, wrinkled passengers. Not tourists. Not researchers. Elephants.
And not just any elephants—the founder breeding herd, relocated from Makalali Private Game Reserve in Limpopo. The vision was bold yet simple: if Dinokeng was to be a true Big Five reserve, elephants had to roam its plains.
When the truck doors finally swung open and those massive feet pressed into Dinokeng soil, the bushveld itself seemed to hold its breath. Dust rose, trumpets split the air, and in that instant Dinokeng stepped into a new era.
The founder herd was made up of nine individuals: matriarchs, protective mothers, curious youngsters, and a few rowdy teenagers—each one a pioneer in the unfolding story of the reserve.
Reinforcements Roll In (2013)
Two years later the cast grew bolder. In 2013, four adult bulls were earmarked for Dinokeng, though sadly only three survived the journey. The trio that stepped off the trucks quickly made their mark:
Charles – the wily old strategist, calculating and commanding.
Lumpy – the steady, dependable “uncle” with a slow but unstoppable presence.
Hotstuff – the fiery youngster, brimming with swagger and attitude.
Not long after, Tiny Tim peeled away from the breeding herd to join them. Together they became infamous as The Bushveld Bandits—or, as frustrated neighbours liked to mutter, The Fence-Breaking Four.
Charles wasted no time setting the tone. Where most animals treated a fence as a stop sign, he saw a puzzle to crack. A bent Y-standard here, a latch lifted there—Charles had the finesse of a locksmith and the patience of a seasoned burglar.
The younger bulls, eager apprentices, copied his every move. Fence-breaking soon turned from irritation into a seasonal pastime. Winter only raised the stakes: citrus groves, marula trees, and the odd well-meaning landowner who thought it charming to feed elephants just outside their fences proved far more tempting than the bushveld buffet.
Before long, the four had reinvented themselves as the bushveld’s most unwanted garden service—arriving uninvited, pruning trees, and helping themselves to fruit, all free of charge. Yet their mischief carried a deeper lesson: these bulls weren’t just reshaping fences and gardens, they were reshaping expectations. They reminded everyone that Dinokeng was now truly a Big Five reserve—a place where elephants set the rules, and landowners inside their fences had to learn the art of living alongside giants.
Initiation by Elephant
One tusk, one fence, and a lesson in living with giants
For us at Thorn Tree Bush Camp, the tale turned personal in April 2016. We had just purchased what was then Thornybush Cottage, hearts racing with excitement (and no small dose of nerves) at the thought of beginning a new life in Dinokeng’s Big Five reserve. We imagined the bushveld would ease us in gently. Instead, we got Charles.
One quiet Saturday afternoon, his enormous shadow drifted across our fence. Drawn by the irresistible perfume of our little orchard—grapefruit and oranges planted by the previous owners—Charles had discovered what, to him, looked like a three-course meal with dessert.
With the casual flick of a tusk, he folded a Y-standard pole as if it were nothing more than a drinking straw and sauntered in like a guest checking into his private suite.
The fence alarm wailed. Charles didn’t even flinch. He ambled straight for the grapefruit tree, flattening a stubborn wag-’n-bietjie thorn on the way (that tree still stands today, propped awkwardly with a log near the car park like a battered war veteran).
His table manners were surprisingly refined. Ripe fruit he lifted delicately with his trunk, savoring them like fine caviar; unripe fruit he carefully placed on the ground not interested . Once satisfied, he turned his attention to “landscaping,” toppling a blinkblaar wag-’n-bietjie before strolling off through the eight-man camp, bending the fence aside as though it were a curtain.
We stood there—trees flattened, fruit vanished, alarm shrieking—and instead of fury, we felt… honored. Charles had initiated us. Dinokeng was his kingdom, and we had just received our official welcome. From then on, he never bothered us again. He would pass by often, but always on his side of the fence, as if to say: the rules are clear—welcome to the Big Five reserve.
Living with Giants
When elephants turned our fence line into a classroom on coexistence.
In the months that followed, Charles and his companions became familiar figures. They never forced their way in again, but lingered for hours just beyond our fence—as though Thorn Tree had earned a permanent mark on their secret elephant map.
Two Back Karee trees in the open space before Paperbark Cottage quickly became their favourites. Hardy evergreens, graceful in drought and handsome in form, they were irresistible. Yet, unlike so many trees across the reserve, these weren’t toppled. Instead, the elephants pruned them with care, shaping them into rounded silhouettes that remain today—living sculptures crafted by trunks and tusks.
Many a guest woke in the small hours to the deep rumbles of elephant conversation or the silent shadow of a giant brushing the fence line. For first-timers, the thrill was unforgettable—so close you could almost reach out and touch them, yet still safe within camp.
For us, those nights carried a reminder: Dinokeng is not just a reserve on paper. It is a living, breathing wilderness—180 landowners sharing ground with giants, each holding onto a dream larger than themselves. At Thorn Tree, our purpose was never to tame it, but to learn the rhythm of coexisting with elephants.
Road Blocks
Of course, living with elephants came with its own kind of traffic control. For the next few years, heading out from Thorn Tree often meant being stopped by a roadblock of the giant, grey variety. Sometimes it was right outside our gate; other times it was in the middle of Laksman Street itself.
The lesson came quickly: never leave late, and never be in a hurry in the bush. You could plan your day down to the minute, but if Charles and his companions decided to nap on the gravel road, well, your schedule was officially cancelled. Guests soon learned the same—your game drive might start with an unscheduled audience of elephants, and the only thing to do was switch off the engine and enjoy the view.
What in the city would be frustration, in Dinokeng became a gift: the rare privilege of being held up by Africa’s true road rulers.
The Calm Before the Storm
Those years with Charles were golden. His raids became campfire legends, retold to guests with the same grin: “That was the day we were truly welcomed to Dinokeng.”
But even then, cracks were showing. Fence-breaking incidents were escalating, and management’s patience was thinning. Charles, for all his charm, was edging into the role of liability.
The tale of Charles was far from finished. In time, he and his steadfast companion Lumpy would be loaded onto trucks bound for Mozambique, leaving behind a trail of memories—and broken fences. In their place, the fiery young bull Hotstuff would seize the spotlight, with less grace and far more chaos.
But that’s a story for another firelight evening. Join us next week for Blog 2: Part 2: Charles, Lumpy, and the Rise of Hot Stuff - a chapter of dust, drama, and the long road to Mozambique.
When giants travel, the bushveld holds its breath. Don’t miss the next chapter—follow our blog to journey with the herd.