ANYBODY who's sung along to Walt Disney's The Jungle Book knows elephants are first-rate trumpeters.

But what I'm only beginning to realise - as I sit here in a Jeep surrounded by a herd of angry three-and-a-half tonners - is that they're also damned good on percussion.

The elephants stomp their feet, flap their ears and start a low, rumbling growl you can feel deep within your bones. Behind them another group of older elephants toss red dirt on their backs like warriors slapping on war paint before the charge.
Did somebody say charge?

Sometime in the last few minutes we've managed to disturb this herd of wild elephants in Uda Walawe National Park.

The elephants in this isolated corner of Sri Lanka are not used to seeing four-wheel drives and they're jumpy. There are several babies in the herd, fluffy scaled-down models wearing grey pyjamas several sizes too big for them.

It may be that, like nervous new parents everywhere, the adults are being a bit over-protective. We're a bit nervous too. This is no zoo where the animals are behind bars. Uda Walawe is a yawning expanse of dry wilderness covering nearly 90,000 acres. We've only seen one other vehicle on the game drive today.

Now we're on our own as the elephants grow more agitated. The growling intensifies as the females telegraph an alarm call to distant males.

In the meantime, Grandma is well up to co-ordinating the defence. The matriach of the herd trumpets and the younger adult elephants form a circle around her, bottoms facing out, as if to hear the battle plan.

Seconds later they turn and charge, pounding down the track toward us.

Instantly, our park ranger guide Dinusia leaps on to the back seat. "Yaaah!" he shouts, waving his arms in the air and jumping up and down. The elephants slam on the brakes.

"If all else fails, we'll open and shut the doors like big waggly ears," grins tour guide Ravi. "That makes the elephants think we're some sort of really big animal not to be messed with."

True enough, the herd back off. And a few minutes later they're peacefully grazing, chomping on wads of grass the size of hay bales.

Of course, not all the animals in Sri Lanka are as wary of people. Some come amazingly close - like the nosy Sambar deer who popped his head through the van window in Horton Plains National Park.

We're on a safari in a country with enormous national parks, each with its own unique plants and animals.

Uda Walawe is elephant country and the best place to see them is down by the waterhole or river where they gather to drink and cool off. Grandma's always first to arrive and she sprays water across the shallows to flush out any crocodiles that might be lurking beneath the surface.

Satisfied the coast is clear, the rest of the herd come running. The babies haven't learnt to use their trunks so they lap up water like kittens.

Their older brothers and sisters splash around and chase the occasional pelican or water buffalo who drift too close.

At dusk, when everybody else had left through the park gates, we settle down to watch the animals from the comfort of our own camp beside the Walawe river.

The Mahoora campsite is luxury in the wilderness. Our tent has its own patio, living room, double bed and even a shower room with a flushing toilet. Five-course dinners are served on tables lain with white linen cloths, sparkling china and gleaming silverware.

Lanterns strung romantically in the trees keep the wildlife away but the midnight trumpeting leaves you in no doubt that they're out there, watching.

In the morning, I go for a paddle in the river where brilliantly-coloured birds called green bee eaters and kingfishers swoop and dive. One has a beak that seems to belong to a much larger bird. "That's a stork kingfisher," explains Ravi.

There are strict rules in Uda Walawe against leaving the jeeps except at designated look-out spots. The same goes for the Yala National Park, where crocodiles laze on the river banks.

Don’t be fooled. These estuarine crocs - or salties as they're better known - are one of the most dangerous animals on Earth. Yet they live side by side with the water buffalo who wallow in the shallows in their thousands.

A baby water buffalo decides to join me in the swimming pool at the Yala Village Hotel. He's chased away by an angry attendant and you get the idea this is a daily routine.

The beach bungalows are on stilts so you can sit on your 20ft verandah late afternoon with a glass of Wine and watch the monkeys in the trees prepare for bed.

But not every animal in Yala is so ready to turn in. We set out at dusk in search of the Sri Lankan leopard, who stalks his prey by night.

An animal tracker is helping us look for this rare cat. There are only about 100 left in the wild (if you're an optimist) and a third are in Yala. Ravi came here for seven years before he caught sight of a leopard. Yet we're only minutes into the park when our driver swings the 4WD around toward a rocky outcrop. "Through those bushes,"he whispers, turning off the engine. "Can you see the spots?"

There he is, a large handsome leopard. You can see the muscles ripple across his powerful shoulders as he moves. He's woken up hungry and wants his dinner. We track him to the waterhole where buffalo catch his scent and bound into the depths. Their calves struggle to keep up. Before dawn, one of them is likely to fall prey - but that will happen long after dark when the moon is high and the leopard reigns supreme.

TEMPERATURES in Yala and Uda Walawe routinely top 30°C (86°F) so it's a surprise that we need pullovers for an early morning walking safari in another of Sri Lanka's national parks, the Horton Plains.

The birds here are outrageously tame. A cheeky Pied Bush Chat poses for photos beside the trail and sings as if trying out for Fame Academy.

But here even the brightest-plumed birds are upstaged by the views. The cliffs beneath the World's End lookout plunge 3,700 feet sometimes you can see the canopy and chequert jard paddy fields far below. By mid-morning the mist has rolled in and you're alone above the clouds.

The view from our posh tent in another mountain range called The Knuckles is equally as inspiring? although not quite as dizzily high. We sip tea and listening to the shrieks of the brilliantly feathered Jungle Fowls - Sri Lanka's national bird - as they peck and fuss around the forest floor.

However, not all the wildlife in The Knuckles is so loveable. As I'm cooing over a luscious black and white butterfly, I feel a tingling in my feet. Crawling over my shoes and tunnelling through the leather is an army of leeches.

I've seen people in World War Two movies removing leeches with ciggies but, let me assure you, it doesn't work. "Just flick them off with your fingers," advises Ravi, hastily checking his own toes. "They won't come after you along sunny paths so avoid the undergrowth," he advises.

Sure enough, we don't encounter a single leech when we trek through Singharaja rainforest a few days later.

Instead, we are in Sri Lanka's Garden of Eden, the last stand of primeval rainforest in the country and protected as a World Heritage Site.

Some of the best wildlife in this reserve is above your head where fluffy giant squirrels, monkeys and clumsy hawkbills crash about in the canopy.

Even outside the national parks you don't have to go far to spot amazing wildlife.

The Anawilundawa Ramsar Wetland is just a few minutes' drive from the busy highway near Puttalam north of Colombo. Like all the tourist spots, it's well away from any Tamil Tiger trouble.

And first thing in the morning you have the place to yourself as you explore Sri Lanka's largest water bird colony. As I train my binoculars on a flock of wading egrets I almost miss the dragon-like water monitor who strolls across the raised path just a few feet away.

There are also several tourist-funded projects where you can lend a helping paw to endangered wildlife. The Elephant Transit Camp at Uda Walawe raises orphaned babies then sets them free in the national parks.

On our last evening, we join Sunday Mirror readers Marilyn Ditzel and her husband Nick at the Kosgoda Turtle Hatchery to help release 600 baby turtles into the sea. Hatchery owner Similius Abrew and his family have dedicated their lives to saving turtles, hatching and setting free 2.5million babies since the early Eighties. Tragically, their whole non-profit operation - along with their albino pet turtle Rosie - were washed away by the tsunami. Now they're rebuilding tanks and hatcheries with donations and practical help from holidaymakers like Marilyn.

"We adore the wildlife in Sri Lanka," Marilyn says. "We expected to come here for a few days' rest but found so much more interesting things to see and do."

And she smiles as she guides a tiny leatherback turtle towards the sea and watches him swim safely away.
 
What’s the deal?
GILL Williams traveled to Sri Lanka with Hayes & Jarvis (0870 850 3656, www.hayesandjarvis.co.uk) on a Wildlife of Ceylon tour, Hayes & Jarvis , who also offer tailor-made trips, are offering a specially –priced seven night holiday , which combines the Wildlife of Ceylon tour and one night at the Holiday Inn Colombo , from £749pp.Valid for travel until June 28 including Sri Lankan Airlines flight from Heathrow.