OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS 135 



I am still wondering how we escaped broken necks 

 and cameras. We all went over the top together, 

 falling and scrambling down the cliff towards the 

 elephants. The latter whirled about and stood 

 with trunks out and ears up. At this moment they, 

 too, got the roar and scent of the fire. They stuck 

 their tails into the air and dashed for the far side of 

 the donga, while we followed at best speed. When 

 we emerged the elephants had disappeared. 



Boculy told us one day that elephants do not care 

 about their rears; these are almost impervious to 

 bullets and even spears. But he could not explain 

 how it was that flies and tick birds annoyed the great 

 animals. 



Then Osa wanted to know how long they lived ; but 

 all Boculy could say was, "Many year" — he could 

 not count far enough. But I informed her that 

 some of the books had recorded a hundred and 

 seventy-five years as a very old age for an elephant; 

 and, barring spear and rifle catastrophes, most lived 

 considerably past the century mark. 



I have often heard people boast about killing an 

 elephant. We were both sorry we had to kill one. 

 Our thrill came in a fine film and a narrow shave. 



Years of this sort of work have of course given me 

 a pretty close insight into elephant character. My 

 views have changed since as a boy I watched circus 

 elephants on parade. In fact they are still chang- 



