In Awe of the Circle of Life

The Beauty of an Elephant Family

“It's the circle of life, and it moves us all, through despair and hope, through faith and love, 'till we find our place, on the path unwinding. ”― Elton John

Dozens of elephants of every size and shape were gathered around the small water hole on the savanna surrounded by small groves of acacia trees. The young and old took turns at the water hole, crowded together, enjoying one another. A small herd of zebras were close by and grazing on the yellow grass of the savanna.

We were sitting in a jeep about 50 yards away from the water hole, along with our safari guide. Showing our daughters the wonders of the African bush was a life dream for my husband and I. After he was diagnosed with male breast cancer, we accelerated the timing of this trip. When life is uncertain – and it always is – best not to delay the important things, we surmised.

“The water hole is man-made,” our guide said. “It gives the animals another option to find water during the dry season and takes pressure off the river.” Through the binoculars, I could see that it was man-made. It looked like a giant birdbath with a small bubbling fountain. The small diameter of the water hole meant that the elephants had to take turns to get water by shifting and rotating their massive bodies in harmonious rhythm that evoked both patience and intelligence.

Several large elephants remained on the periphery of the water hole, presumably to keep watch for predators and alert the herd. In size, these elephants dwarfed the rest of the herd. Their massive gray bodies interrupted the yellowish-brown savanna dotted with small groves of umbrella-shaped acacia trees. These elephants were older than the others, their wrinkling and dry skin along their hindquarters looked like shattered glass with deep cracks and lines. They evoked a sense of wisdom and authority.

What had these wise elephants seen and learned in their lifetime? I wondered. Who had taught them where to find water during a drought? And how to fend off lions? How many times had they lost a family member to old age, injury, or poaching? I wanted to talk to the elephants, hear their stories, and learn from them – especially the ones that looked like broken glass.

The younger elephants were wiggling underneath their mothers to get closer to the small fountain, filling their trunks, and spraying one another. Full of youthful energy and mischief, their zest for life and play was like that of my own children in their elementary school days. Occasionally, a young elephant would lift its trunk to the sky and make a short, high-pitched trumpeting noise.

A mother and her small calf caught my eye. The calf was standing underneath its mother and tenderly stroking her abdomen and legs with its trunk. A slight upward bend to the head directed its gaze toward the warmth and security of the large mother looming from above.

I turned my head to look at my husband. His gaze was fixed on the water hole, mouth slightly open and corners turned upward in a smile. I savored watching him take in the rich and complex scene and tried to commit the image to memory. This trip was about experiencing Nature as a family and not about his cancer.

My husband and I were probably close in age to the elderly elephants along the outer ring of the herd. It was hard to believe how quickly the years had gone by. It felt like yesterday that we were having our first date over a leisurely Saturday lunch. We had both been nervous, but soon realized that conversation flowed easily. This was a man whose personality and values easily meshed with mine. He was the right guy for me, I had decided fairly quickly. Eighteen years later, I still felt the same way. If anything, his cancer had strengthened my love for him.

“Look there. Another herd is emerging,” said our guide pointing to an area twenty yards from the water hole. “The matriarch will emerge first, and the rest of the herd will follow in a single file.”

At first, I could only see the gray head of the matriarch flanked by acacia trees. Then, her entire body came into view, and I drew in a breath. She was a massive animal and possibly bigger than all the other elephants at the water hole. As she began to descend the small hill, the elephants behind her came into view one-by-one.

The herd relied upon their matriarch, who chose their path. Her long memory of geography, migration routes, water holes, and learned skills could be lifesaving to the herd in times of drought. I read that elephant families with a younger matriarch would seek out families with an older matriarch to benefit from her knowledge. Elephants also seemed to remember other elephants and even people decades after their last contact with the individual. And they mourned their dead.

Without warning, tears filled my eyes. A feeling of awe for these beautiful giants and their playful children washed over me. The elephants treasured their young and honored their aged members in an incredibly tight and beautiful social network. Mother Nature and her circle of life was on display.

I squeezed my husband’s hand and looked at my children, feeling more fortunate than I had any right to be.

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I dedicate this post to a friend, who needed to hear more about elephants right now. — Kristina