Elephants
have the largest brains of any mammal on the face of the Earth. They are
creative, altruistic and kind. They use tools to sweep paths and even to draw
pictures in the dirt and scratch themselves in inaccessible places, and they
communicate subsonically at frequencies so low that humans cannot detect them
without sophisticated equipment. Imagine, then, what it must be like for them
to be told what to do, courtesy of a bullhook--a rod resembling a
fireplace poker with a sharp metal hook on the end--at every moment of
their lives. Yet this is what life is like for elephants used in circuses, who
are constantly beaten and kept chained, sometimes for days at a time.
It takes a lot to get circusgoers to see beyond the headdresses
and glitter to that metal-tipped bullhook sinking into an elephant's soft flesh
behind her ears and knees. But I hope that PETA's new undercover investigation of
Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus will help open some eyes.
PETA's
investigator caught Ringling employees digging sharp metal bullhooks into the
sensitive skin behind elephants' knees and under their trunks. Eight
employees--including an animal superintendent and a head elephant
trainer--used bullhooks and other objects to strike elephants on the head,
ears and trunk. Employees whipped elephants and a tiger, including on or near
the face. One elephant, Tonka, repeatedly exhibited signs of severe
psychological stress but was nevertheless forced to perform night after night.
The footage can be seen at www.PETA.org.
All of
this was going on while Ringling was already on trial in a federal court in Washington, D.C.,
answering charges that its elephant-handling practices violate the federal
Endangered Species Act.
In their
natural homes, elephants live for more than 70 years; their average life span
in captivity is just 14 years. Because of stress, travel in boxcars and time
spent stabled in damp basements, many captive elephants have arthritis, lame
legs and tuberculosis.
Left to
their own devices in their homelands, elephants are highly social beings who
enjoy extended family relationships. Aunts babysit, mothers teach junior life
skills such as how to use different kinds of leaves and mud to ward off sunburn
and insect bites, babies play together under watchful eyes, lovemaking is
gentle and complex and elephant relatives mourn their dead.
In
captivity, elephants are deprived of all these experiences. Life under the big top
means "pay attention to your trainers, feel the bite of their implements
in your flesh, don't stumble or falter even if you feel tired or ill, obey,
obey, obey." It means leg chains between acts, the loss of all comfort and
warmth from your father and mother and no long-term friends.
Behaviorists
tell us that elephants can and do cry from the loss of social interaction and
from physical abuse. Yes, cry. If you wonder how these magnificent beings keep
from going mad--waiting in line night after night, eyes riveted on the
person with the metal hook, ready to circle to the music in their beaded
headdresses--perhaps the answer is, they don't. PETA's investigator at
Ringling documented stereotypic behavior, which is typically seen in animals
who are suffering from extreme stress caused by a lack of anything to do, the
inability to move around, severe frustration and desolation.
Sometimes,
elephants stop behaving like wind-up toys and crush the bones and breath out of
a keeper, make a break for it, go berserk or run amok. But most simply endure.
Their spirits were broken during their capture and, later, God help them, when
they were trained for the ring. Otherwise, they would all use their immense
strength to fight back against the human hand of tyranny. They would refuse to
be kept chained between performances like coats on a rack, refuse to be backed
up ramps into railroad cars and trailers like so many cars being parked out of
the way.
Ringling
and other circuses have made it clear that they have no intention of stopping
their abusive practices. And the law--which provides minimal requirements
for cage size and little else--does not protect animals in circuses. It's
up to us to say "enough is enough."