4:45 AM. A sharp alert from our CCTV system at Ryaan Ranch Wildlife Trust, located near the forest edge in Nilambur, jolted me awake. Half-asleep, I grabbed my phone to check the live feed.
A baby elephant was lying completely still near our main gate. The rest of the herd stood nearby, unusually quiet. The mother stood over the calf, her presence still, watchful, and heavy with unspoken emotion.
For a terrifying moment, I thought the calf had died.
The calf wasn’t moving. At first glance, I thought it might be a newborn, weak or injured. The mother seemed composed, yet her body language radiated concern. The rest of the herd stood a few paces away—as if holding space, waiting.
As minutes passed and there was still no movement, my worry grew deeper. I considered calling the Forest Department, fearing we were witnessing a tragedy. Could this be a stillbirth? Had the calf collapsed from dehydration or exhaustion?
Then, something extraordinary happened.
The mother elephant leaned down and began nudging the calf gently with her trunk—again and again. No response. She paused, paced, then tried again, more firmly this time. It reminded me of a parent waking a stubborn child for school—patient, persistent, deeply loving.
She even walked away with the herd for a moment, perhaps hoping he would follow. But a minute later, she turned back and came to his side once more. One final nudge… and then—
He stirred.
Groggy, sluggish, and clearly reluctant, the calf finally got up. The moment he stood, the entire mood shifted. The mother stayed close as he rejoined the herd, and together, they slowly disappeared into the misty rainforest at dawn.
I was watching this live.
And I recorded it—because it was more than a wildlife moment. It was a life lesson.
At Ryaan Ranch, we use smart surveillance to protect and observe wildlife with minimal disturbance. This moment reminded us of the power of maternal love, the emotional intelligence of elephants, and the resilience of life even when it seems lost.
We weren’t just monitoring wildlife that morning—we were learning from it.
Sometimes, all it takes is one more nudge. One more moment of patience.
Whether in leadership, parenting, or conservation—gentle persistence brings life back.