Quotes About Elephants

Another example of how connected we all are, and are meant to be, is the story of the "elephant whisperer," the late Lawrence Anthony. He was a conservationist who saved the lives of countless elephants

Elephants love to play around. They are very intelligent animals. They have a strong bond, at times stretching to several decades, with their mahouts.

Elephants are highly emotional. Whatever they are feeling, they let it out immediately, and the histrionics are over and forgotten in a moment, lasting no longer than the cloud formations that are constantly coming apart and re-forming overhead. There is no guile in pachyderms.

Disguise ourselves as grass?" Swordtail suggested. "Disguise ourselves as shrubs! DISGUISE OURSELVES AS ELEPHANTS THAT'S IT LET'S DO IT.

A politician and his entourage on the campaign trail were like a herd of elephants: they could travel nowhere lightly. They stomped the earth until it hurt with the weight of the guards, chiefs of staff, spokespersons, speechwriters, publicity folks, gofers and others. It was a spectacle that if it didn't make you laugh would at least cause you considerable worry about the future of the country.

African elephants have long been thought of as a single species, but a critical mass of genetic studies now proves there are two.

Then as each daughter left her bower King Janak gave a splendid dower, Rugs, precious silks, a warrior force, Cars, elephants, and foot, and horse, Divine to see

The world he loved was not just disappearing; it was already gone. The British Empire would shrink away from its borders. Williams had lost the Burmese members of his family, and the elephants were next. The effect of the separation would be momentous. The bond he had forged with the animals was something so large and deep he could frame it only in spiritual terms, saying they were his "religion.

Though he had always thought logging elephants had a good life, he found himself now pining for them to have something better. The war sometimes made men harder and softer at the same time. Even with this reassuring

The elephants are dancing on the graves of squeeling mice.

The question of one versus two species of African elephants isn't about settling an arcane DNA argument; it's about life or death for these majestic, extraordinary creatures.

In the wild, an elephant mother and daughter stay in close proximity their whole lives; I hope I am that lucky.

One of the most amazing things about elephants mourning in the wild is their ability to grieve hard, but then truly, unequivocally, let go. Humans can't seem to do that. I've always thought it's because of religion. We expect to see our loved ones again in the next life, whatever that might be. Elephants don't have that hope, only the memories of this life. Maybe that's why it is easier for them to move on.

When poachers target the matriarchs or older females—as they often do, because older elephants usually have larger tusks—they also destroy that lifetime of learning and knowledge. For an elephant family, the death of a matriarch must feel like losing an encyclopedia, or an entire library—and for us, the loss makes stopping the poaching even more urgent, if only to protect the experienced matriarchs, who keep their families out of harm's way.

Elephants also have the necessary neural anatomy for long-term memories—their brains have especially large and complex frontal lobes, which are important for storing and retrieving memories of scent, touch, smell, and sound. There's little doubt that elephants have prodigious memories.

They say that somewhere in Africa the elephants have a secret grave where they go to lie down, unburden their wrinkled gray bodies, and soar away, light spirits at the end.

Asian elephants have always worked with people and they like company.

I had seen a herd of elephant traveling through dense native forest… pacing along as if they had an appointment at the end of the world.

I've always thought elephants walk as if they have music being piped into their heads that no one else can hear. And from the roll of their hips and their swagger, I'm going to guess that the artist is Barry White.

What is interesting is that elephants can accurately and reliably figure out who is friend and who is foe. Compare this to us humans, who still walk down dark alleys at night, fall for Ponzi schemes, and buy lemons from used-car salesmen.

He shrugged. 'I think grief is like a really ugly couch. It never goes away. You can decorate around it; you can slap a doily on top of it; you can push it to the corner of the room--but eventually, you learn to live with it.' Somehow, I thought, elephants had taken it a step further. They didn't grimace every time they entered the room and saw that couch. They said, 'remember how many good memories we had here?' And they sat, for just a little while, before moving elsewhere.

In the wild, a mother elephant and her daughter will stay together until one or the other dies.

This virtual stranger knew me better than anyone else in Africa. He knew me better than I knew myself. What I was really researching was not how elephants deal with loss but how humans can't.

The zebras are the first stop in the Roger Williams Zoo. Of all the animals in the Africa section, these have always been my favorite. I can give or take the elephants; I can never find the cheetah-but the zebras captivate me. They'd be one of the few things that would fit if we were lucky enough to live in a world that's black and white.