Nosey.. The Zimbabwean Elephant

Brushstrokes of summer streak across the sky as I walk barefoot on the beach, my toes enjoying the soft sand. The scudding clouds pit against the wind in a never ending battle and the rhythmic pounding of the waves is hypnotic and relaxing. I can leave the noisy Durban traffic behind. I love the constant movement of the ocean and the taste of salt that lingers in my mouth. I feel as carefree as one of the sea gulls, floating in the empty air pockets high above the world and Gary and I quicken our pace, laughing as we try not to disturb the sand where the ocean kisses the shore leaving the beach clean until the next wave. Leaving the beach, we wander up towards a large car park as I have spotted a blue and white marquee and presume it is for a wedding.  As we draw nearer we realize it is a ‘big top’ and we decide to investigate further.

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I feel my stomach churning. A thin green canvas pergola keeps the scorching noon sun off the hunched back of the swaying elephant. Her coat of wrinkles hangs off her shoulders and her muscular and versatile trunk swings back and forth: a pendulum of time passing slowly. A blue plastic bucket is half filled with water and standing within reach of her sad trunk. The tarmac is hot beneath her spongy feet and she lifts a leg, stretching it backwards easing the pain that shoots up to her hip. Her noble head hangs and her large Africa shaped ears fan the stifling heat and there is a look of desolation about her: hope dying slowly. Hour after hour is spent chained to a stake as she waits for the next performance in this man made jungle of hooting traffic and redolent fumes. I am heart broken and find it difficult to tear my eyes away. The thin green pergola, a poor substitute for shade when I think of the African bush and its towering trees. My mind screams at me. Where had this elephant come from? I think of her family and that thought transports me back into the valley where we would see the same small herd of elephants fishing trip after fishing trip.

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Bathing the bush in a soft coppery light, the shadows, warm and mellowed by the afternoon sun lengthen as the silence shredding cicadas fill the air. Thick canopies adorn the sun scorched trees and the small herd of elephants rumble gently as they feed on the soft fibrous stems and bark of a mighty baobab tree. The matriarch naps gently, her large versatile trunk thrown casually over her creamy tusk and her rather tattered ears circulating the warm breeze. Her long tail swishes, swatting away squadrons of whining flies. Small calves caked with mud mock fight, their small trunks locking as they tumble onto the dry earth…over a 1000 lbs of combined weight puffing dust up into the air where it hangs motionless like a gauzy curtain before freckling gently over the bushes.

We sit drifting in the stream of the world, silent witnesses and sucked in by the magic that surrounds these magnificent giants. Earlier in the day, this same small herd had been bathing downstream and we had tied up the boat and spent an hour entranced by their unblemished optimism for life. They had done a fair amount of mileage since the early morning and now once again we were being offered a brief glimpse into their world of compassion and love that they feel for each other.

As the last rays of sun weave their golden threads into twilight, crickets with acoustical wings like gossamer lace welcome the gentle evening breeze. The silent footfalls of the giants merge across the twilight and as they disappear from sight, they steal another gigantic chunk of my pounding heart.

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My heart is still pounding..but for different reasons as I drag my mind back from my reverie. I keep turning to look at the sad and lonely elephant..ashamed of what these humans have done to her. A couple of hours later I am drawn back to the big top and we can hear the discordant tinny circus music long before we catch sight of the twinkling lights. I stand on the perimeter watching people flocking towards the open flap of the big top, my mind searching through the murk for something positive to say about this elephant’s predicament. I could only shake my head and wonder how we as humans can justify an act that turns a majestic animal into a ‘performing monkey’. Elephants do not sit on stools. As a gust of wind flings a handful of stars into the night, I turn away feeling helpless..but I make another silent promise to an elephant. I will never support a circus and I will always fight to ensure that these magnificent giants are kept out of the ‘big top’ and out of zoos. That was fifteen years ago and I am fulfilling my promises to these elephants. (petition)

NOSEY THE ZIMBABWEAN ELEPHANT

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This brings me to Nosey the Zimbabwean elephant. My heart aches for Nosey. I have witnessed what her life should have been like. I will continue to put my name on all petitions concerning this animal whose loneliness ebbs and flows. While afternoon shadows stroke the horizon gently, Nosey’s solitary lifestyle in enclosed quarters reeks of neglect. She should be drinking in the beauty of the Zimbabwean bush, reaching her muscular trunk up to the sky and embracing the wide open blue freedom above her. Instead she is found limping and faltering in her gait: noisy humans on her back.

I read he r story and a storm of memory has my mind lost in a trance of golden sunsets , sultry breezes and a small elephant herd ambling along the banks of the fast and formidable Zambezi River. This could be where Nosey’s (petition)family had once enjoyed the solace of un-trampled lands before human induced tragedy had ripped her family apart. I will keep writing and fighting for these animals who deserve our respect. A new dawn must surely show its face..but..until it does, please help Nosey by signing this petition.  Let us ensure that this beautiful creature can retire to an elephant sanctuary where she will form bonds with her own kind.ellie clip art

The Stain Of Shame

‘How can you look the other way?’ I feel my voice trembling with emotion and my heart threatens to leap right out of my chest. ‘You can’t tell me that there is nothing that I can personally do in regard to this poaching.’ I stare long and hard at my colleague.

A pair of dark blue eyes stare at me from over the desk. ‘Do you think that you are making a difference?’ I detect a scornful amusement creasing her mouth. ‘Do people read what you are writing?’

‘Please sit for five minutes. I want to share something with you.’ I dig deep into my computer bag, and push a photograph towards her. ‘Have a look at this.’ A disturbing image of a small herd of mutilated and bloated elephant carcasses jump off the page. I watch as a look of distaste and horror flashes across her face, and then the curtain comes down and she looks away. I turn the photo face down, tapping her arm to get her attention and begin to talk, my voice low and full of emotion.

‘An ancient life force pulsates through the trees snapping branches in the sun fried bush. Pausing momentarily, the matriarch sweeps her powerful trunk across the sky inhaling the sweet breath of the balmy wind, her large tattered ears fanning the breeze. Rumbling gently, she encourages her herd to follow as she leads them over the raw African earth into the warm sticky evening. Under the grotesque limbs of the ‘listening tree’ (baobab) she halts, her muscles taut and her insides trembling. The smoke from a mopani fire teases her senses and the whine of flies shreds the quietness. She can smell humans and feels lonely and vulnerable under the African sky, aware that mortality is shadowing her and the herd.  The last solitary finger of sunshine catches her beautiful tusks, causing them to glow with warmth and life before she turns in the her quiet way, alert and ready: protective of her family.’

I look up and her blue eyes are fixed firmly on mine.

‘The ‘kkkkkkkkkk’ growl of automatic gunfire slices the air. Elephants scream in fear and agony as they are cut down with alarming precision turning their peaceful world into one where they are crushed under the heels of supposed civilization. Heartbeats on the run as bullets slam into vulnerable flesh and trees explode in the cross fire. The matriarch lies gasping for breath, heart pounding with fear and her lungs heaving as she struggles for life. Her death gargle bubbles through the trees where the bodies of her magnificent family lie strewn through the bush, their wounds weeping and bleeding onto the dry raw soil. With her death a deadly quiet descends: disturbed only by the victory cries of the humans who approach, axes in hand and hungry for the ‘white gold’. They view the carnage of a family mown down and left among the bullet shells…with nothing more than blood lust in their eyes.

A small calf peers out from the thick jesse bush. With heart bashing against her ribcage and shaky steps, she settles near her mother’s body, her small trunk caressing and feeling, desperate to wake the large elephant. From the deep bush, the hysterical ‘whoop whoop’ of the hyena announces their scavenging  arrival. The large tree with its peeling bark stares down…a silent witness to the evenings mayhem.’

I have been totally lost in my narration of this tragedy unfolding and become aware that my colleague is crying. She dabs at her nose with a tissue and stares at me.

‘Where did you get all that information about the elephants in that photo from?’

‘That scenario is what is happening to elephants throughout Africa. They are being slaughtered in their hundreds. One hundred a day are being killed …and all to make jewelry and trinkets.’ I stare at her. ‘For me to look the other way…I can’t.’ I feel my face burn. ‘The Stain of Shame..is what I call it.’

 

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20 000 elephants were poached in Africa last year and this figure far exceeds the rate of growth. Southern Africa is fast becoming the last stronghold for these sentient animals on the continent.Tens of thousands of miles away, carvers are carving these pieces of  ivory into ‘art work’ to feed the demand for trinkets and jewelry. Each carving represents the above scene and consumers need to become aware that behind every intricate piece of carved ivory, there is a story……a bloody barbaric story.’  For those that are lucky to survive these attacks..there can be serious injuries.

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To those fueling the demand which in turn fuels the destruction, do you have any idea of the chaos and destruction left behind, rotting in the vast wilderness of sun kissed grass and sturdy trees of Africa.  Please say no to ivory and help to save these magnificent and sentient animals from extinction.  The 12th August represents world elephant day. Let us all stand united and avert a huge tragedy. Have a look at this link….‘The True Cost of IvoryTrinkets is an infographic in Chinese and English to help raise awareness on the rampant poaching of elephants. This infographic was created for Chengeta Wildlife.

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Humans: stop being so preoccupied with you. We appear to be unable to comprehend and feel compassion for the other sentient creatures that share this valuable planet with us. We are now being forced to look at ourselves. I know that I find myself apologising on behalf of humankind and feel an excruciating shame at the way the wildlife is being destroyed I do not believe that we hold exclusive rights to dignity and freedom…

Banning the sale of ivory for retailers in China…would…halt the trade. Banning the sale of ivory for carvers in China..would mean a vanishing of what they call a ‘unique art’. Banning the sale of ivory for elephants represents LIFE….they are not to be turned into ‘Melancholy Figurine.’ (My Poem)

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Enlightening The Oldies

I love my life here in the UK and feel incredibly blessed to be able to make a living. This journey I am on and the wonderful people I am meeting in person and also through face book  all adds to the excitement of taking a stance against wildlife crime in the best way I know how. I work in an Assisted Living Complex and over the last three years have made time to get to know and respect our residents. I am amazed at how many of them have ties of some sort to my beautiful home country, Zimbabwe.  OF course, the conversation strangely enough gets around to elephants, and at least half of them have had the wonderful experience of seeing these animals in the wild. However, very few of them were aware of the rampant poaching sweeping through Africa, until I started my journey. Since I started sharing my precious memories with them all, I now receive newspaper cuttings, magazine cuttings and all sorts of tidbits concerning Zimbabwe’s beleaguered elephants, rhinos and other endangered species. Sometimes I end up with three of four cuttings of the same article, and I just smile and thank each of them. A few of them call me ‘elephant girl’ which makes me at 55 years of age smile.

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What is the bush like?’ is a question I am often asked and I have to admit that I do feel a painful stretching of my heart.

‘Zimbabwe is a wild garden pulsating with life.’ I again feel the hot dry air rushing into my lungs and the warm sultry heat that saturates every inch of my body. I smile at the memories of the african people with their dark tightly knitted curls, solemn dark eyes and ready smiles. There is not a night that goes by where the setting sun does not whisper a promise for tomorrow and the golden horizons herald a new morning.  The vast blue skies  smile down on this Eden teeming with wildlife of every description.

‘Have you camped in the bush?’ Blue eyes, worn over time stare at me.

‘The morning mist rises with summer laziness and the wild sweet decay of elephant dung fills your nostrils. Our favourite fishing spot in the Zambezi valley is a place that steals your heart. I have slept out side under a mosquito net, all be it with a thumping heart. A myriad of stars light up the night sky and the serenading of crickets and birds lulls you into a deep sleep. A low frequency purr that you can feel rather than hear alerts you to the fact that a gigantic presence is blocking out the night sky. Fold upon fold of wrinkled skin is close enough to reach out and touch. My heart bolts like a runaway train and my mouth is so dry that the inner folds are stuck to my teeth. The earthy sweet odour clogs my nostrils and the elation of being in the presence of an elephant fills me with a life changing euphoria.’ I shake my head, holding this particular memory close to my heart.

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‘You have to see the golden dawn and the hear the liquid murmur of the fast flowing Zambezi river. There is nothing more enchanting than a steaming hot cup of tea and a vast river to leave you with summer contentment and idle thoughts. The grunts from the aquatic ballet dancers (hippos) as they frolic in the water ,watchful and at times bad tempered. Along the bank the old dugger boy (buffalo) slurps thirstily, a mean look in his rheumy old eye. He is a walking smorgasbord for the tick birds that in turn provide him with a free bug and tic cleaning service.’ I smile. ‘You have to hear the baboon cursing each other with loud angry barks. You have to see to appreciate the weaver bird nests decorating low hanging branches and African skimmers and white fronted plovers. Mosquitoes, sun creams, biltong and beer all form a delightful partnership with camping on the Zambezi river. Beware the crocodiles with their slit eyes and lethal jaws.’

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I continue to enthuse, my eyes lighting up and burning as bright as the African sun. There is a powerful pulsing of African through my veins as I think of this vast continent. My eyes dull as I think of the troubles facing the continent. A continent that is also weeping. The continent with an emptiness at her centre that I find disturbing.

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I tell them that behind every piece of ivory there is a story, a bloody barbaric story. I talk about the callous way these animals are slaughtered and left to rot in the sun. We talk about how sentient these animals are and what it does to young animals who witness these fullscale killings.  The plight of the rhino is also a subject that is foremost on my mind. I tell them about Thandi the rhino and show them the link. Then we also talk about canned hunting and the fact that these lion cubs are hand reared for shooting and I can see these old folk shake their heads, a horrified look in their eyes.  

‘You are doing a good job.’ They tell me. 

‘Thank you, but I need to do more.’ Is my reply. 

An arthritic hand with dry crepe skin reaches out, cool to the touch and a gentle voice brings me back to the present. ‘Thank you for sharing those precious moments with us.’ She coughs gently, clearing her throat. ‘Who will look after these places that you describe? How many animals are left now? It is such a long time since you were home.’ 

‘There are so many amazing people out there putting their lives on the line to protect this heritage.’ I pull out my phone and show them the photos of Rory Young and Chengeta Wildlife. (Their face book page. Please like and share.) I tell them that Rory has already volunteered much of his time in providing much needed training to wildlife protection teams. Violent groups in the region have now started to look to the ivory trade to fund terrorist activities. Rory is implementing a full time, comprehensive training program to provide the rangers with the resources they need to carry out their important work and has now formed a partnership with  ALERT. 

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It is a life changing experience for the rangers who are witness to the ‘desolation’ long after the poached animal has unburdened its enormous wrinkled body into a spiritual updraft of lightness. Sadly for these animals death does not always come in a single violent stroke.

For me, I am going to continue to raise awareness on the plight of the elephants, rhinos and other endangered species through my poetry and blog. The Baobab, A silent witness (my poem)

Rays Of Hope

As we look around the world today, we can’t help but observe that not only are  humans destroying millions of their own kind in the name of politics, power and religion, they are also hell bent on annihilating animal life and the environment. Both violence towards people and animals for many of the two legged beings has become a socially acceptable form of human behaviour and sadly, a way of life. Is it permanent? NO..I live in HOPE..that some sanity will prevail and kinder days are waiting just around the corner.

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Nothing will ever beat watching an elderly elephant bull, his large ivory tusks weighing down his massive head as he romances the Zambezi river line or a herd of females with their young calves with waving and out of control trunks. These images leave an everlasting imprint on the mind. To view these magnificent animals in their natural surrounds is truly like balm on the soul and fills one’s heart with hope. Hope that we can all help to keep our  Zambezi Valley free of rampant poaching.

Where there is the dawning of a new day, there is Hope. Hope is a feeling that is not always permanent, but it is a feeling that we know means, that we will all survive the darkness and bask in the golden sunrise once again. It does not take away that feeling of horror that comes with the knowledge of another elephant or rhino butchered, but it does remind us that where there is a dawn with rhinos and elephants: there is hope. Hope Dawning (my poem).

I feel sad and disgusted that humans have allowed themselves to travel on the perilous journey into the underworld. As these clouds of despair drift down over Africa, we cannot allow ourselves to be shaped by the buffeting winds. We can all play an important role during these dark times of destruction.

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Ivory, when it is dead has an uneasy splendour about it. Nothing can come close to the beauty of ivory on an elephant. It has a warmth and lustre that pulses with life and personality. Ivory belongs to elephants and has no use to man. For whatever different reasons humans want to own a piece of ivory for: we all know that it comes at a great cost to the unfortunate elephant herds who supply the demand. Hundreds and thousands of these sentient creatures are slaughtered and mutilated to feed the demand. Elephants and other wildlife are irreplaceable riches and now have no where to run to and nowhere to hide. They need our protection.

The haunting cry of the ‘coucal’ is often overpowered by the the unwelcome ‘ k-k-k-k-k’, an irate bark from a machine gun. These are not random thugs after a piece of bush meat. These are highly organised gangs who poach for profit which in turn funds terrorist activities. The Rangers in Africa are often underpaid and ill-equipped as they fight to protect our precious wildlife.

Going on patrol is like doing a duty on the front line and just as, if not more dangerous. They are braced for the continual onslaught but need our help. Without donation support, they are unable to run a well oiled business. These Wildlife Warriors need comprehensive training and the resources to carry out their important work. These brave men and woman are up against towering storm clouds that threaten our wildlife’s existence. However, where there is a dawn with Rangers, there is hope.

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HOPE also comes in the form of Rory Young and Chengeta Wildlife who offer first class training to the Anti poaching teams. The fate of Africa’s elephants along with other wildlife hangs by a thread. It is on this thread that we as custodians of the earth need to concentrate and secure.  A project that is close to the heart of all wildlife lovers is The Tashinga Initiative whose anti poaching teams are custodians of the Zambezi Valley and more. This gives us hope for our wildlife. Let us support these men on the ground. There are many selfless and dedicated people out there who have been involved in conservation, and without them these magnificent animals would surely have been lost to the world.  Each and every person dedicating some of their time to saving the elephants and other wildlife are needed and appreciated. Each and every one of them brings something different to the table, but they also bring hope.

Rangers vs Poachers

I often think back to the day when I was told that there was absolutely nothing that I as an individual could do to help in this continual fight against the evils of poaching. All to often we close our minds to the blood red streaks that mar our African landscape. While the world watches, the images of butchered animals, bodies slightly bloated and legs suspended up in the air leap out of the computer or television, eyes staring unseeingly: pleading for somebody to take notice.

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I cannot sit and do nothing. I feel their pain and anguish and beg all of you, ‘courage does not always need to be a huge roar.’ I started jennysjumbojargon in November 2013 with the thought of putting into words through poetry about the continual attack on these animals. I describe the pain and torment that these creatures must feel: this flanks me, the acrid smell of gunfire and the metallic taste of blood that clogs my throat. This is not a violent storm that has bullied its way into the African bush. This is a dark menacing chaos of greed, corruption and destruction. These ruthless killers are turning the African bush into a wild sweltering inferno, flames devouring any animal with tusks or horns. These animals are being hemmed in by a force of angry heat and unrelenting attacks. At the rate these pachyderms are being poached, mortality shadows them and it does not matter how large or small their personal treasure.

I would love to be in a position to stop the demand. All I can do is to share work done by others, support all the wildlife groups and leave that enormous part of the problem to those that have clout. Yao Ming and Jackie Chan are doing amazing work to raise awareness in the Asian countries on the plight of the African elephants and rhinos.

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And then of course we have the good men on the ground. Those bush warriors who put their lives on the line to ensure the safety of the wildlife.

It is a life changing experience for the rangers who are witness to the ‘desolation’ long after the poached animal has unburdened its enormous wrinkled body into a spiritual updraft of lightness. Sadly for these animals death does not always come in a single violent stroke.

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Rory Young is not only a wildlife tracker and activist who has been fighting against the dark and hungry shadows of poaching all his life, he is also a prolific and exceptional writer.  Born in Zambia and brought up in different parts of Africa, he learnt to treat the earth well, reading the signs and stories left by different animals and humans in the bush. He managed to blend in with the natural surroundings that had become his playground and feasting on the wonders of nature. The songs and calls of the bush speak to him.  The passion for the bush never left him and he decided to make it his life’s work to combat the poaching problem.

“I found that the very people who had knocked back the poaching in the 90’s were now old, or were replaced with younger, less experienced people who had grown up after the liberation wars and counter insurgency operations of my generation and who had had no training or experience in the very skills needed to win. Very few could track properly and almost none knew how to follow-up poacher spoor as an effective team. Furthermore, the will to win was gone and there was no money because there was also no publicity about what was happening.”

Africa needs many more teams on the ground, doing the actual anti-poaching work. Without them there is really no hope.

Rory has already volunteered much of his time in providing much needed training to wildlife protection teams, but violent groups in the region have now started to look to the ivory trade to fund terrorist activities. Rory is now seeking to implement a full time, comprehensive training program and provide the rangers with the resources they need to carry out their important work.

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Chengeta Wildlife.org was started by Lisa Groenweg of Rock Valley, Iowa.

Chengeta Wildlife is a group of people from around the world who formed a nonprofit organization to support Rory Young and the work he does. He has skills and knowledge that the teams protecting wildlife badly need to protect themselves and wildlife. If enough funding is generated we would like to purchase tactical equipment needed by the teams. Things like night vision goggles, thermal sensing equipment and motion sensing cameras. Chengeta Wildlife is run by volunteers. So far 100% of funds raised have gone directly to the field where it is desperately needed. WE HAVE ZERO OVERHEAD COSTS!

Like Lisa, we too can do our bit to help combat the horrors of poaching. Collectively, we can ensure the continuation of Chengeta Wildlife’s ability to adequately train and equip the necessary new generation of rangers required to assist the continuation of the circle of life in elephants within their natural habitats in Africa.

Some people may think it is too late, but where there are elephants and other wildlife….there is hope. Let’s all give a growl of thunder. (My poem)

A NIGHT FULL OF ELEPHANTS

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In the golden silence of early evening, the shimmering leaves appear to be holding their breath. Africa’s giants ghost into view, puffing up small whirls of dust that appear to hang motionless. Their matriarch, her large and noble head held high, swings her trunk back and forth. She is at one with the peace that only early evening can bring. Despite her heavy bulk of 10 000 lbs (10 tonnes), she has the lightness and grace of a dancer. She is an ambassador for her kind, ‘Loxodonta africana.’

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Her fluid movements ooze with confidence as she leads her herd into the darkening shadows of nightfall. They follow her through the swirling dust along the well worn game trail. Their survival depends on her guidance and they trust her implicitly as she has led them for the past 30 years.  They are a cohesive group of females and their delightful offspring. She, the matriarch and her daughters have assisted with many births, forming an impenetrable wall of muscle and tusks around the cow in labour. The birth of a calf causes much excitement in the herd as they encompass the new born with joy: a cacophony of trumpeting screams and rumbles shred the air. All the females welcome and encourage the newborn to get onto it’s feet as this short video clip shows.  An elephant’s emotional attachment to their family members rivals our own.

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The mother is responsible for providing the +-250 lb newborn with milk. Like all mothers, her newborn is a precious seed and it will never grow unless nourished and nurtured. In the elephant world, the new born will be raised within this warm and caring environment, learning life skills from all the females in the Matriarchal herd. Young aunties or elder siblings will take on baby sitting duties and this all important for their development, preparing them for the responsibilities of ‘Motherhood.’

These young elephant calves learn how to become independent by watching and mimicking the others. A calf will begin to experiment with it’s trunk around 4 months of age, but it will take a lot of practice to become proficient at taming more than 40 000 muscles that gives an elephant’s trunk such dexterity.

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Elephants will spend from 12 – 18 hours a day fulfilling their enormous appetite. An adult can consume between 200 – 600 lbs of food. As herbivores, their ‘smorgasbord’ will consist of grasses, tree foliage, bark and twigs washed down with up to 50 gallons of water per day. Their choices of menu change with the varying seasons. Nature knows best.  According to this report, elephants concentrate on the bark, stem and roots rather than foliage or fruit and plants. In this way it reduces the elephants overlap of food selection with other animals.

The information passed down over generations is imperative to their survival. Discipline is necessary for unruly youngsters who will receive a cuffing from one of the elders’ trunks to keep them in line. To survive, they need to be team players. They have learnt all the right skills and they use them effectively. The matriarch has taught them that clear roles within the herd: communications, co-operation, respect for one another, decision making and the art of skillful reconciliation ensures cohesive bonding between the elephants. When in crisis, they will trust and follow the matriarch who has earned their respect, and she will not rule by force or fear. Her impeccable  memory serves them well.

Through the darkness, two adult cows stand like sentries: their large ears gently fanning the warm and heavy air. With a low frequency purr that you can feel rather hear, the herd rouse themselves, their need for food fueling them on. As the golden light stitches the horizon together with the coming of dawn, lazy light sneaks through the leaves freckling the ground. This charming family of elephants have lived to face another day. These ambassadors of the wild have shared with us their intelligence, love and compassion. They are a source of great peace and wisdom that us humans should take note of. Over centuries they have been treated with a total disrespect from humans and things need to change. Us, as ‘rational thinking animals’ have the ability to alter our destructive ways. The thought of a world without these sentient beings is unthinkable. We have already caused such disharmony in their lives, but there is still time to change. The challenge is now to reshape outdated perceptions about these animals.

China, PLEASE  ‘KILL THE IVORY TRADE’ not the ‘ELEPHANTS.’

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