We must respect our four-legged sisters
This may be seriously anthropomorphising but when I came across a wild animal for the first time in the actual wild, I felt sure I could see the sadness in her eyes.
The gentle giant before me seemed happy enough flapping her ears in the sunlight and shoving trunkfuls of dried grass into her mouth, but her deep, dark brown eyes, ringed by long lashes I would die for, seemed to tell of her dark history.
She and her companions in the elephant sanctuary in Thailand’s Khao Sok National Park have all retired or been rescued from the logging trade.
When logging was banned in 1989, elephants who worked in the sector were abandoned or recruited for illegal logging practices.
That’s not the only threat to domesticated elephants in Thailand – riding elephants is still one of the most popular tourist activities in the country – which makes these sanctuaries essential.
I am hopeful that if everyone spent time observing animals in their natural habitats, then instead of seeing them as a form of entertainment or workhorses, more of us would see them as the special beings they are and treat them with respect.
Stroking the old girls’ trunks, feeding them tropical fruit, scrubbing down their intricately patterned skins, and watching them take a swim in a muddy watering hole – visibly delighting in the feeling of weightlessness and stubbornly refusing to come out, I was spellbound.
How like us they are in so many ways.
On page 14, Brook Sabin recounts how his partner Radha was so excited when she spotted a kiwi on Ulva Island that she gave him a punch in the guts. ‘‘Seeing [a kiwi] in the wild is surreal, it’s like being instantly transported to a prehistoric time,’’ he writes.
On page 22, David Whitley describes the joys of encountering cockatoos along the Great Ocean Rd, stealing food and strutting about like they own the place. He could have been writing about some humans I know. Anthropomorphising, I feel, is often appropriate.