536 ANNUAL KEPORT SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION, 19 2 8 



mammoth heart. That kindness and common sense are the open 

 sesame to an elephant's obedience is shown by the fact that, con- 

 trary to general belief, the animal's keeper may, in most instances, 

 be changed frequently without interfering with the daily routine so 

 long as he is treated with due consideration of his animal rights. 

 These include that, above all, he must not be overworked, he must be 

 regularly and properly fed (no small task) and must have two daily 

 baths (with massage) as well as subsequent repose in a quiet, cool, 

 and retired spot. 



From all I could learn from reliable observers the lifetime of the 

 average captive elephant, like that of the happily placed parrot, is 

 about the span allotted to man — 70 years. 



Just as few persons have ever seen a dead mule so infrequently 

 has the body of a dead elephant been found in the Singhalese forest. 

 The natives believe that elephants bury their dead just like humans, 

 and some assert that when an aged beast senses the approach of death 

 he sets out for a remote and quiet valley and there patiently awaits 

 his end. I know of a forest near Anaradhapura that conceals one 

 of these reputed elephant cemeteries, but so well hidden is it that no 

 man knows its exact location. 



When an elephant has tusks he uses them and his trunk in most of 

 his work. In lifting large rocks and timber a chain or rope is usually 

 stretched around the object, which is also attached to a rope end. 

 This latter the elephant holds in his mouth and with the aid of his 

 trunk (and tusks when he has any) slowly carries the heavy burden 

 to its allotted position, placing it with great care and evident appre- 

 ciation of the purpose of his work. In all the operations the worker 

 is ordered to carry on, he is the judge as to its safety and propriety. 

 If he is to cross a bridge with or without a load or is commanded to 

 essay a piece of cut stone or a heavy timber he considers the task 

 and tests it with foot, trunk, and eye — taking all factors into consid- 

 eration. If he thinks the ground unsafe or the weight of materials 

 too great he hesitates or halts and if then urged to go ahead refuses, 

 roars, and shows temper. He is captain of his own resources. 



Writers on the subject devote much space to the "rogue" (Sin- 

 halese hora) elephant and he certainly is a pitiful and picturesque 

 creature. He is nearly always a male who, an outcast from his herd 

 owing to some breach of jungle law, is not allowed to join any other 

 group and becomes a veritable Ishmaelite. He may drink, bathe, and 

 eat in the vicinity of a herd but any attempt at familiarity or in- 

 timacy with any of its members is at once resented and the intruder 

 is driven off, the process being punctuated by heavy blows with the 

 trunk and butting with the head administered, it may be, by previous 

 friends and companions. No wonder this otherwise gentle, intelli- 

 gent, naturally gregarious and social animal becomes savage, morose, 



