Trunk call

 

Forty years ago Linda treated me to a caravan holiday from the isle of Wight to Ynys Môn, from one island to another. Visiting Biwmaris (Beaumaris) we were surprised by the incongruous sight of an elephant exercising on The Green by the shore*. There had been a circus in town (acceptable in those improper days), but was it also an omen for future fortune? It was certainly the start of a long relationship - with elephants. Around the same time I became familiar with a lush barbershop harmony rendition of this song:

“When I look in your eyes

I see the wisdom of the world in your eyes

I see the sadness of a thousand goodbyes

When I look in your eyes” (Leslie Bricusse)

Its original version had been “sung” by Rex Harrison to "Sophie the seal" in the film Dr Dolittle (1967), but for me the song has always been about an elephant. Attempts at avoiding anthropomorphism fail to recognise our connection with all sentient beings, and panpsychism makes it only logical to talk to the animals. There are still "elephants" in Eryri (below), and seals on its shores (but sadly no elephant seals). 

Making eye contact with an elephant is something never to be forgotten. Some years ago we were looking for (but also hoping not to see) tigers in the Chitwan Jungle of Nepal, from the safety of the Howdah platform atop an elephant. Now feeling pangs of guilt for taking part after reading of their mistreatment elsewhere, at least the elephants here seemed to have a good relationship with their Mahouts (carers). A “call of nature” caused some amusement among fellow travellers. It seems the elephant and mahout were quite familiar with this sort of thing. The elephant crouched forward so that I could climb down her trunk to hide behind a convenient arborial trunk, then waited for me to return while the four other people in the howdah clung on at a perilous angle on her back. Thankfully there were no tigers in the vicinity. Much mirth as I climbed back up the trunk, making close eye contact with the elephant, as if we could see into each others’ souls. The contact continued as we later fed and washed the elephant and her companions in the river, a process they seemed to enjoy immensely. 

A map showing part of Gwynedd (above) shows remarkable similarity to an elephant’s face in profile. Her mouth is the estuary of Afonydd Dwyryd and Glaslyn, her eye approximates to Mynydd Mawr opposite Yr Wyddfa, an ear in that large expanse containing the Carneddau north of Capel Curig, and the trunk obviously Penrhyn Llyn (the peninsula). But what of Ynys Môn (Anglesey) above its head? Maybe that just recalls the Howdah perched jauntily in the jungle. But there are others hidden in the map.

Returning to Biwmaris, looking due south across Afon Menai on a clear day, it’s possible to see the elephantine bulk of Mynydd Mawr mentioned above. It is known colloquially as “Yr Eliffant”, and a closer view can be had from Waunfawr. At the “eye of the elephant" on the map, it is indeed an elephant in the elephant's eye. Above Llyn Gwynant on Afon Glaslyn, the river that flows from the highest peak past our home near its mouth, sits "Elephant Rock".

At home we have many tributes to the spirit of the elephant. They are on carvings, curtains, cushions, ornaments and pictures. Some seem larger but are further away, others are smaller but closer to wherever you happen to be sitting, each having some personal significance. There are more than forty elephants in one room, but that's not a major problem. 

 

LINKS 

When I look in your eyes (Gas House Gang) - Barbershop Quartet (youtube.com)

Mynydd Mawr - Wikipedia

Recycling (cambriancrumbs.blogspot.com)

Elephant in the room - Wikipedia

* Sub-footnote: Do not read if of a sensitive disposition. If you must, please do so out loud, quickly.

Looking at the draft, Linda said "You forgot to say there was also a camel". I replied "For the purposes of this blog, that's irrelevant". "No it was a camel" she insisted.