I’ve long been fascinated by
elephants. They are such majestic creatures—and they appear to feel deeply.
Like human mothers, elephant mothers possess a strong maternal instinct, and
it’s common to see calves traveling close to their mamas.
Scientists have found that friendship is important to elephants, as
opposed to aggression or dominance. Other qualities common among elephant herds
include leadership, playfulness, gentleness, and reliability. They are highly
social creatures, with complex social networks.
I alluded earlier to elephants’
feelings—they’ve shown themselves to be clearly empathetic and caring. From an
article at the National Geographic website:
In Kenya,
researchers have watched mother elephants and other adult females help baby
elephants climb up muddy banks and out of holes, find a safe path into a swamp,
or break through electrified fences.
Scientists
have spotted elephants assisting others that are injured, plucking out
tranquilizing darts from their fellows, and spraying dust on others' wounds. –
“It’s Time to Accept That Elephants, Like Us, Are Empathetic Beings,” by
Virginia Morell
Furthermore, elephants—like
us—grieve and cry over loss; they even bury their dead. In contrast, they have
been known to show strong pleasant emotions when reunited with family members
they’ve not seen in a long time.
We’ve known for some time that
animals have feelings, but it seems that no animal exemplifies this fact better
than the elephant.
I find it no accident that God
would create a being so like us yet so markedly different. Unlike the elephant,
we cannot give ourselves a shower without the use of a water tank and shower
head. And our wrinkles don’t show up until we’re well along in years. But the
elephant’s steadfastness and relative longevity (a life span of approximately
70 years) remind us that while life persists, we should “live large.” It’s
difficult to hide an elephant, and so we’ve been able to learn much about
them—their habits, their values, their personalities.
Because an elephant’s life is so
“out there,” they’ve become targets for trophy hunters. We too have an
enemy—seeking to destroy us for his own gain. The ardor of the elephant reminds
us to tromp boldly through the forests and jungles of this life, in spite of
what may come against us.
And no creature on the face of
the earth can sound the trumpet like an elephant can. This response occurs when
the elephant is highly stimulated—and the quality of the trumpeting varies according
to context—which could be excitement, anger, to signify danger, or simply the
necessity to communicate over a large distance. Elephants look out for each
other.
Perhaps the thing I appreciate
most about the elephant is that no matter what, it will never pretend to be
anything else. From the tips of its giant, flappy ears to the toes of its
wrinkly feet—it is an elephant through and through. No pretense; no apology;
just living the life it was created to live, come what may. Perhaps we can all
take a lesson or two from the wondrous life of the elephant.
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