Of all the things mankind has invented, one of the most astonishing to me are those automated car washes. Pull your car up to the tracks, put in it neutral and away you go, with rolling brushes and sprayers coming from unexpected directions. It never stops amusing me, like you’re in some sort of old Rube Goldberg contraption.
I’m glad nobody has invented such a device to wash elephants, as I likely wouldn’t have had the opportunity to hose one down. Since the zoo in the city closest to where I live is a world-class facility, you just know they’d have such a machine if it existed. I can imagine walking a pachyderm up to the track, putting it in neutral and watching as it is pulled into the wash. I bet the beasts would especially look forward to the underbody wash, as that would have to be an illicit thrill.
My brother-in-law forked over a princely sum to partake in this animal encounter for two. These are rarely offered by the zoo, and very expensive when they are. When he asked me months ago if I wanted to wash an elephant, I seemingly channeled Milhouse from The Simpsons when I exclaimed, “Would I!”
On the day of the event, I was in a great mood even before the main attraction. This was on a Wednesday, so the zoo was very poorly attended, with employees vastly outnumbering guests. It was amazing to see the animals when it was calm and quiet, and people weren’t doing things like banging on the class to get their attention. They also weren’t dangling their kids into the gorilla habitat, which is also never good. Conversely, we got to see a new gorilla mother and her infant as much we cared to do, and without having to jostle our way through onlookers.
At the appointed time, we walked to the elephant habitat with a P.R. woman from the zoo. I love behind-the-scenes stuff at any public place, and I marveled at such things as the colossal water reclamation tanks. What I didn’t know was we were not allowed to take any photos in that area, and I received the gentlest of reprimands for taking a photo of zoo guests as viewed from the other side of the bars. I was simply amused I was seeing things from the elephants’ perspective for a change.
While the PR person handled that delicately, I was less than thrilled with the zookeeper who monitored this photo op to ensure nobody got hurt. Nodding towards the PR person, “If she gets hurt, I have to fill out one piece of paper”, then to us, “But if you get hurt, it’s fourteen pieces of paper.” Admittedly, I was already a bit chafed from something he said before leading us into the habitat, telling us we would be washing not one elephant, but we would actually get to wash two that day. I sensed this was a jest and, indeed, he added, “Every time I tell guests that, they’re like [in mocking falsetto] Oh, look at me, I’m sooo special. But it’s one elephant, and one of you will wash one side, then we turn her around and the other washes the other side”. I’m pretty sure I did a bemused side-eye to a camera that wasn’t there, as if my life is some sort of TV show.
At last, it was time to address the elephant in the room, which was the literal elephant in the room. I was initially disappointed to learn we would be on the other side of a steel cable fence from it. My opinion changed as soon as I found myself looking up at the top of this monstrosity. We all know elephants are large, and I have even seen them fairly up close before. But it is a whole other thing to find your feet and its own at the same level. I felt very small.
The cleaning was accomplished with only a powerful spray hose applied from the top of the back to the bottom of the legs. I was worried about getting the spray in her eye, but learned they have a transparent third eyelid as protection. Cats have a similar feature, and I wonder how many other species have this adaptation. The weirdest thing I learned is elephants, if they live long enough, will have six sets of teeth over the course of a lifetime. They aren’t even like the baby teeth we lose. These are akin to a conveyor belt, the new pushing out of the old in a continuous row. I tried to imagine this process, and the gears in my brain ground to a complete halt.
After we each had cleaned our respective sides of the elephant, it was time to get a photo with a hand on her side. The zookeeper went to great lengths to explain the hand should be situated exactly between two of the cables. If one deviates from that, and she was to press up against the fence, say goodbye to the fingers between her and the cable! The thing is, you’re supposed to leave your hand there, then turn and face the camera. So, my hand was on her side, but I wouldn’t be able to see if she moved. I was surprised to find I don’t look as scared in the photos as I felt.
Getting to wash an elephant was a peculiar, yet fascinating, experience. I can’t say it was a life-changing moment, but it did make me realize how fortunate I am to live where I am, when I am, and to have great people in my life. It made me count my blessings, though the first thing I did after the photo op with the elephant was count my fingers.
