I’ve always been of the opinion that, in a perfect world, I’d have 4 pets: A dog, of course, followed by a penguin, a monkey, and a miniature elephant. After this trip, I am fairly certain I never want to be near a monkey again for a very long time, as those devilish thieves would eat all my food and steal by clothes the second I left the house. There’s no resisting a waddling penguin, though, which I was able to confirm during my South American adventure a couple years ago. The last confirmation required was none other than the gentle giants themselves, the most revered animal in Southeast Asia, the elephant. Yes, I am aware that miniature elephants don’t exist, but this is my blog, not yours.
During my travels in the region, I came to understand that elephant tourism is, in most cases, quite unethical. In order to tame and train the elephants, there’s a fairly cruel and grotesque process that more or less kills the elephant’s spirit and puts them at the whim of their Mahout (and his dagger) at all times. For this reason, I chose to visit the Elephant Nature Park, where riding the elephants or watching them do tricks is prohibited. We spent the day feeding and observing, up close and personal, many elephants that had been rescued from performances, logging, and the streets of Thailand. Most bore some sort of scar from the experience, from tumors, to broken legs, to mental instability. They were all, for the most part, docile as they roamed freely around the reserve. Herds stuck together, and we were able to visit a few of them, either feeding one a mid-morning snack of about 50 cucumbers and 30 watermelons, or watching a mom-nanny-baby combo roll in the mud and wash themselves in the river. There’s nothing quite like watching an elephant throw mud on its own back before rolling around in the river. The creatures are unequivocally fascinating. Incredibly powerful and enormous, yet impossible not to laugh at with their mannerisms and movements.
I was content to simply watch the beasts, but I wasn’t about to turn down a chance to step into the river with them for a little washing. Splashing water on the tough, wrinkled skin was about the most fun I’ve had washing an animal. I was secretly hoping one would spray me with water from its trunk, but alas, I stayed reasonably dry. As the day wound to an end, the numerous rescue dogs began racing across the fields, baiting the elephants to chase them, an offer to which they obliged. If only a penguin would have been riding that elephant as it rumbled after the nimble dog. The pinnacle of pet combos, my new trifecta, would have been realized. I guess for now, though, I’ll just have to settle for watching non-miniature, river-bathing, dog-chasing elephants.
Things could be worse.
