It’s said that elephants have amazing memories. I think it’s more accurate to say that they CREATE amazing memories.
Using nature for the purpose of tourism has always been a subject of debate. I’m not going to spend a lot of energy on that at the moment, but I wanted to share my experiences and a few thoughts on the topic.
Our pachydermic day began with a wonderful guide who picked us up at our hotel. Along the way, we learned a lot about him. In addition to working on the family farm and raising the elephants we were going to see, he was also a Muay Thai boxer and former soldier. Not to mention a shameless ladies man, as my friends Sybil and Sarah discovered.
Hearing about his history was important because it put the day in context. We were not going to a tourist attraction created in the last 5 years, we were visiting his family’s home and would be taking care of elephants that he had raised since he was a child.
“You think you care more about the elephants than I do? No, I do not think so.”
Language Lessons
Our first task of the day was to learn Thai. No easy trick, but fortunately we only had to learn the words we would use to give the elephants instruction. This was not a tour that involved sitting in a carriage on some random animal’s back. We would be bareback and directing the elephants ourselves (though thankfully never without a guide nearby).
The most important word we learned was “yut!” aka “stop.” I can remember the rest in my head, but have no idea how to spell them, so I’ll refrain from including a lot of linguistic detail.
We changed into more traditional clothing and popped on straw hats to complete the transformation from Western Tourist to Western Tourist in a hat.
A Tank With a Tail
Once we had a basic grasp of the words we needed to know, we got to greet our elephants. Christina was the first one we had the pleasure of meeting as we each fed her bits of sugar cane. How to feed them was open to personal preference, You could hand the sugar cane to her and let her grab it with her trunk. That was the path for those who were still a bit intimidated by a 6000 pound creature.
The other option was to say “Bon Soong!” which meant “Open up, baby!” Much like her namesake Aguilera, she opened her mouth and awaited the treat we put in her mouth.
It is a wild experience to put your hand in such a massive mouth and place food on a tongue the size of a throw pillow. That was the first of many brain warps that day.
To get them used to us, we fed each of the gentle giants, who were also eating on their own. Unlike many animals, elephants need little sleep, but they eat constantly.
Hides and Peaks
Using our learned commands, we asked the elephant to lift her leg. With that limb acting as step stool, the next order told our new friend to lift higher. The movement of her mass of coarse hide and muscle boosted us up and allowed us access to her back.
Some practice in moving forward, back, left and right and we were ready for lunch.
Once we all ate (the elephants never stopped), we were ready to begin a trek up the hill. As though we were heading onto a wrinkled gray Noah’s Ark, we boarded the elephants in twos. I was at the head, leading the charge. A young French girl sat behind me.
The movements were slow and deliberate. These guys do not move forward without sure footing. It certainly helps that they know the route extremely well. The elephants are given rest days, but still do similar trips a few times each week.
Left, right, forward, slow down, stop. We gave the commands we had learned, but Dumbo’s kin knew far more about what they were doing than we did.
Because we were riding bareback, there were a host of challenges: staying balanced with legs spread enough to cover the breadth of her back, sitting on a spine that felt like straddling a copper pipe, being poked by the prickly cactus hair on her head and holding on for dear life as she moved up and down steep mountainsides. Her footing may have been solid, but our grips on her bulk were far less assured.
Le Chapeau
After a break and additional feeding time, we continued on our way. It was at this point that we were witness to the most remarkable incident of a remarkable day. Like a horrifically clumsy version of Hannibal’s army, there were 12 of us traveling downhill in a gray convoy. My two friends were on an elephant directly behind us, snapping photos whenever the terrain didn’t require a double grip.
As the wind whipped through the mountains and valleys, my French partner’s straw hat flew off, landing on the ground behind her. Without missing a beat, the elephant behind us reached down with her trunk, picked up the hat and handed it to my friends.
I was stunned. Had it not been for her shriek, I wouldn’t even have noticed that the hat had taken flight. This giant “beast of burden” not only saw it happen, but had the presence of mind and intelligence to pick it up and return it. It was astonishing, to say the least.
Rub-a-Dub in the Poo Tub
Once we reached the bottom, it was time to bathe the elephants. Having watched the pee geysers and the tree stumps of poo coming out of their ass, I wasn’t in any hurry to get that close. Sitting on her back was one thing, bathing implied far greater contact.
It didn’t get better when the elephants got into the river and began to let loose with their bodily functions.
Sybil and I looked at each other, simultaneously saying “I am NOT going in that water.” It was just NOT gonna happen. Sarah, the more adventurous member of our group, ran down like a child on Christmas day, shouting back at us, “Come on, when else are you going to be able to play with elephants?”
After much internal debate, I ended up in the water. For a recovering germophobe, this was a huge step.
Here’s where it gets crazy.
We scrubbed the big guy for a while and then it was play time. Minutes after vowing not to go anywhere NEAR that water, we were having a “Human vs. Elephant” Splashdown water battle. We kicked, splashed and threw full buckets at them. They responded by stomping around and splashing, while water-filled trunks sprayed directly at our faces.
The elephants were ecstatic. You could see the joy in their faces. They were having a ball. And so were we, poo water and all.
The Swimmin’ Hole
Our final adventure of the day was a brief walk to a larger reservoir. It was time to swim. We again made the trek up onto our elephants’ backs, then they began to descend into the lake.
As was the case throughout the day, I had incorrect assumptions.
I believed that the elephants were going to get into water that reached about halfway up their body and we’d ride them as they enjoyed their version of a wading pool. Nope. Swimming was not an exaggeration. They descended into the water until nothing but their trunk was in the open air.
So, let’s not forget that I am still on his back. And immersed up to my neck before he rose up again. Like an indecisive submarine, he bobbed up and down. Above the water level, below the water level, above again. All with me hoping that he never went deep enough that I would be completely submerged. And praying that my thigh strength didn’t wane enough to lose the grip on his hide.
We made a loop around the lake and slowly lumbered out at the same point we entered.
It was the end of the elephants’ work day and they went back to refuel, leaving us with nothing but memories and dirty feet.
A Few Final Thoughts
Am I concerned about the treatment of elephants as they’re used for tourist attractions? Certainly. As a matter of fact, my friends and I chose not to attend a popular Thai show that had elephant performances in it. That decision, however, was a direct result of the day we spent getting to better know the creatures in a way few people ever do.
You can argue the validity of these types of experiences. Some are doubtless better than others and, sadly, some can be considered torture. But my life was enriched by the experience I had, in ways I never would have expected.
Should circus acts with animals be banned? Should zoos? That’s not a debate I really want to jump into because there are too many sides and considerations – a solid assessment would take far more research and understanding than I’d care to undertake.
Mistreatment of animals is inexcusable and efforts should always be made to improve the life of the creatures involved. But I am curious how many leaders in animal care and conservation were inspired by the education provided by a zoo visit at a young age.
It’s a very blurry line and there aren’t easy answers that apply to all situations.
Within that blur, we each draw a solid line that segments our personal comfort zone. Everyone’s line is in a different place and, over time, education and experience can move it. I can unequivocally tell you that my day with elephants was well within my own lines.
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