Asia > Thailand > The North > Chiang Rai > Articles > Elephant Conservation

A trunk is a truly fascinating appendage. On my first close encounter with one of these sinuous anacondas, I was inquiringly groped on the left breast, a refreshingly direct greeting which immediately endeared me to its pachyderm bearer. Now, I watch in delight as three tonne Sri Nuan uses her prickly, oversized schnozz to hoover up 100 kilograms of fruit, tunnelling through a barrel of rejected cucumbers and rough-hewn watermelon in search of her favourite treat, bananas. Further down the elephant line-up, six-year-old Hope is less picky, rambunctiously overturning his basket and greedily shovelling pulped fruit salad in his gob before trying his luck at the next station, charming his way into an extra bunch of ripe ladyfinger bananas.

It’s feeding time at Elephant Nature Park, and it’s hard to tell who’s enjoying the experience the most. Safely out of harm’s way on a raised bamboo platform, 20-odd day-trippers and volunteers laugh, chat, take photos and cautiously pat their giant charges, who’ve congregated expectantly for their daily feast. For many, it’s their first time up close to these magnificent giants, a chance to look them in the eye, touch their leathery skin and make contact with a creature of mythical proportions.

This is just one of many special moments during a day at Elephant Nature Park, located in the beautiful misty mountains 60 kilometres from Chiang Mai in northern Thailand. Later, we’ll take the elephants to the river to wash them; then they’ll get dirty all over again, wallowing in a sticky mud pit. Sometimes we’ll just sit quietly, and watch the elephants interact with each other. Here, nothing is staged for the visitors. There are no demonstrations of strength or working ability, no rides or treks and no displays of musical or artistic talent. At this peaceful and inspirational sanctuary, it’s all about elephants being elephants. And it couldn’t be more entertaining.

Each one of the 30 elephants on this 18-hectare sanctuary has a story to tell, each tale more heart-wrenching than the next. Some are blind, while others have been horrendously maimed, beaten and abused in the course of their work in the logging or trekking industries. There are several orphaned babies, rescued from certain death and given the chance to join a new extended family. There are even some with a violent past, rogues who, in a fit of anger turned on their mahouts, causing injury and even death.

I watch as a saggy, crippled female limps across the paddock, dragging her back feet behind her, deformed hips buckling under her weight. This is 30-year-old Medo, a survivor of incredible abuse and life-threatening injuries. A working elephant, she broke her rear ankle in a logging accident when she was 12, an injury that never properly set. Her owners then tried to breed from her, but she dislocated her backbone during a violent mating-gone-wrong. For the next 18 years, Medo was forced to live in isolation, working through her pain, dragging small logs to continue bringing in an income. Rescued by the Elephant Nature Park team in 2006, she is one of the newest additions to the herd, her unnatural gait never failing to raise questions from curious visitors.

“Oh, it’s so sad, why don’t they put her down?” bleats a well-meaning American woman beside me. Our host Jodi explains that in a Buddhist nation like Thailand, that’s not an option – besides, elephants are valuable commodities to their mahout owners, and the sooner the beast heals and gets back on the job, the better. Even a crippled, arthritic elephant is capable of pulling in cash, even if it’s just from begging in the street – the fate of many Thai elephants displaced from their jobs.

Instead, Medo has been given a chance for a new life. Here, she’ll never have to work another day; she is mingling with her own species for the first time in 15 years; and she’s regaining her trust in humankind, her psychological – if not physical - wounds slowly healing. Judging by the way she hoed into her fruit salad breakfast, she definitely seems to have adjusted to her new environment.

The driving force behind Elephant Nature Park is as diminutive in stature as her pachyderm charges are enormous. Her name is Sangduen Chailert, better known as Lek (meaning ‘small one’) a gorgeous Thai woman who has devoted her life to rescuing elephants and fighting for their rights. Born into a hill tribe community in Northern Thailand, Lek grew up around elephants, and her bond with these creatures is clear to anyone who sees her in action. As well as running this property – donated to Lek’s mission by a Texas millionaire – she also has an 800-hectare mountain jungle patch she calls ‘elephant haven’, where the elephants can roam free for several days at a time. She also operates a free mobile vet clinic called ‘Jumbo Express’, checking on the health and wellbeing of elephants in surrounding elephant camps. Many of her charges at Elephant Nature Park have been discovered during these forays – Lek then buys the abused elephants, often at exorbitant prices, to bring them back to her sanctuary.

Lek’s conservation efforts have been widely recognised and applauded – in 2001 she was named National Geographic Society’s ‘Hero of the Planet’, while in 2005 she was honoured as Time Magazine’s ‘Asian Hero of the Year’. But her efforts are not without controversy – many elephant owners treat her with suspicion and contempt; she’s even had death threats made to both herself and her elephants. While the Thai government has its own programs designed to protect its national symbol, Lek’s park receives no government funding or support; it relies totally on donations from benefactors and the efforts of volunteers.

Perhaps the most controversial aspect of Lek’s program is her belief in a gentle and unobtrusive method of breaking in and training elephants. Lek’s techniques are the equivalent of a ‘horse whisperer’ – based on natural domination, on establishing trust, and building confidence and obedience over a long period of time. For many of us brought up in the West, this all makes perfect sense – but in effect, Lek has taken on a whole industry, and centuries of tradition, in trying to establish these methods.

Traditionally, an Asian elephant is broken in during a practice known as the “pajaan”. At the age of four, a young elephant is taken from its mother and herded into a bamboo crush, where it is kept for up to two weeks, basically being beaten into submission. Through deprivation and extreme torture, the elephant learns that its scrawny, two-legged captor is the dominant species, and must be forever obeyed at the risk of being poked in the eyes or whacked with a metal prong. By all accounts, this process is an horrendous thing to watch – but all across Asia, it is the accepted and unquestioned way of domesticating elephants.

It’s said that an elephant never forgets – but they must certainly be one of the most forgiving creatures on the planet, considering most of them willingly submit to a life of human servitude. The fact that some occasionally lose it, pushing their weight around in a fit of anger, is all the more understandable when one considers what they endured in their youth.

Because some of the elephants at the Nature Park have had a history of such violence, caution is always advised when on the ground with them. Twice a day, the volunteers and visitors walk in a group to the river, where the elephants congregate for bath time. The visitors then shadow the mahouts as they learn how to scrub and wash the elephants, who roll around blissfully in the water, clearly enjoying the tactile experience. It’s wet, messy and loads of fun for everyone, particularly on a steamy Chiang Mai afternoon.

Having washed off the sweat and grime of the day, the elephants then head to a mud pit for a coating of their natural insect repellent. This is an endlessly entertaining experience, particularly when the babies get into the action, rumbling with each other, sprawling face down in the muck and dive-bombing into the murky water.

As we stand around laughing and pointing, camera’s clicking at the amusing muddy antics, we are suddenly advised to scatter – “bowling ball coming through!” Little Hope is on the warpath, bolting towards us at a surprising rate of knots, his mahout in hot pursuit! This is Hope’s favourite game – chasings – but not yet aware of his physical superiority, he’s oblivious to whatever or whoever is lying in his path. But the potential crisis is avoided; Hope veers off to the right, disappears around the side of the main building, then is back 20 seconds later, this time chasing his mahout who, somehow in the interim, has lost his pants! We all roar with laughter at the circus act, two clowns displaying a heart-warming bond.

A day at the Elephant Nature Park passes in the blinking of an eye. I was loathe to leave my new four-legged friends, and I was envious of my fellow visitors who were staying overnight or longer. Every single volunteer I had met during the day spoke of it being a life-changing experience, one they would cherish forever. Happy faces, contented smiles and visible passion abounded. As well as feeding, washing and observing the elephants, a volunteer may be asked to mend fences, move rocks, and pick up elephant dung – loads and loads of it.

But shit never smelt so sweet, and hard work was never so rewarding.

To find out how to volunteer at the Elephant Nature Park, or to arrange a day trip, visit www.elephantnaturepark.org

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