Such an animal naturally became a great favorite, and, at the time, was as famous as Jumbo. It displayed great affection for its keeper; and it is needless to say, that it was returned. The first keeper attended it for eight years; and, when he left, it seemed to mourn, and showed a disposition to resent the advances of the new attendant, but was gradually won over by kindness, and finally would cry lustily for him if he remained away what it considered too long a time. This famous elephant died of consumption in 1829, in the prime of life, being about twenty-one years of age.
CHAPTER XVI.
ELEPHANTS AND THEIR FRIENDS.
All animals have their favorites or friends,—it may be some attendant or some animal to which they have formed an attachment,—and the elephant is no exception to the rule. Most of the latter’s friends are made in confinement; but the wild animal has a number of little companions, which are of great value, at least, in adding to its comfort. These are birds; and chief among them is a beautiful crane, which is often seen—and, indeed, numbers of them—perched upon the back of the great animal, and riding about, presenting a strange and decided contrast to the dark-skinned proboscidian. The presence of these shy birds moving about on so curious a roost would seem a mystery; but, should we watch them, we should see that they were performing a most friendly act. They walk over the great, wrinkled back, and with their sharp eyes spy out all the insects which infest the great pachyderm, picking them out, and so securing a dinner and serving their friend at the same time, who probably is often driven to desperation by the myriads of insect-torments which abound in the dark continent. Besides the cranes, there are several smaller birds which are equally friendly to the king of beasts, and often congregate upon its back in great numbers; running about without fear, clinging to the huge ears, now dangling by the tail, and performing a still more friendly act at times in warning their friend of danger by rising in a flock, and uttering shrill cries, which arouse the drowsy elephant to a sense of its danger.
In confinement particularly, the elephant is famous for its friendships, attaching itself to certain persons or animals, showing its affection for them in various ways. One of the Barnum elephants formed a strong friendship for a large dog, which was fully reciprocated; the dog sleeping with its great friend, and always remaining about its feet. If it strayed away at any time, the elephant would look after it, and on its return show its delight and pleasure in many ways.
Elephants often become attached to children, and seem to display the greatest solicitude for them. They have been employed as nurses to extremely small children, performing the duties as care-taker with perfect satisfaction.
Though, as a rule, elephants obey their keepers from fear, there are cases where a decided friendship exists; and even when furious with rage, an elephant will often obey its keeper’s voice. An affecting instance of this was seen in the case of the famous elephant Chuni, who was believed to have gone mad. The animal was taken out to be shot; and its keeper was obliged to order it to kneel, that the soldiers might shoot it. The man reluctantly gave the order; and the elephant obeyed the command, and fell, pierced by many bullets.
A mad elephant in Germany, which had destroyed much property, yielded immediately to the voice of the man who owned it, or had been its friend and keeper. The works of the ancient writers abound in instances of attachment and friendship between the huge animals and human beings. Ælian relates a story of an elephant who became passionately attached to a little girl who sold flowers in the streets of Antioch, and had occasionally given it a part of her store. Athenæus tells of one which became so fond of a little child, that it would eat only in its presence; but I fear that this story will not stand the test. Strabo states that elephants were known to have pined away and died when deprived of their keepers to whom they were attached. Lieut. Shipp gives, in his memoirs, a very minute account of an elephant, who, upon killing its keeper, was seized with what was considered a fit of remorse, which ultimately killed the animal. In other words, it died of “a broken heart,” a term that is applied to-day to elephants in India who die of no apparent cause.
In Purchas’s collection of travels, there is an account of an elephant who mourned for its master, the King of Ava, who was slain in battle, for many days; and, as the same is known to have occurred among dogs and cats at the present day, it is not at all improbable.
That the elephant should become attached to its keeper, is not strange. It is perfectly familiar with all his movements, receives all its food from him, is caressed and petted; and it is not surprising that at times the animals rebel when provided with an utter stranger to replace the one in whom they have learned to trust.