“Thank you. I bow in gratitude for the gift of you that you have shared. The Wednesday morning emails became balm for my anxious soul. You continue to inspire me.”
Feb. 4, 2020: Big Tusker Tim is dead. I looked at my email in disbelief. Impossible. I felt the gap between comprehension and acceptance in my gut. I saw him alive and well just 3 weeks earlier. Twenty Big Tuskers left on the planet—now there are 19.
Read MoreThe sense that the endless procession of elephants was for my personal growth? I balked at the thought—to claim such sacred moment for myself felt egotistical. Yet that’s how it felt. … My time in Amboseli continues to speak to me, like a dream that is so big that it refuses to let me forget and slip back into unconsciousness.
Read MoreI know stories of elephants mourning. I know they visit the bones of their family members where they have died. I’ve seen the skulls, been told how the elephants touch them, smell them with their trunks. I’ve heard about elephant mothers that stand by a baby’s corpse for days. I’ve heard how elephants will try to lift up a recently dead family member, how they call out, trumpet, and shuffle around the body.
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