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Spring 2008

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Karl Cullen, a mahout (elephant caretaker) from Australia has been caring for an older male elephant at the Elephant Nature Park in Chiang Mai, Thailand, for more than four years. The elephant at left has been treated with Gentian violet (a purple disinfectant spray) for surface abrasions on her trunk. Photo by Josh Plotnik

STUDYING THE MIND OF AN ELEPHANT
By Josh Plotnik

As soon as I wake up, I glance at my watch. It’s 6 a.m. Outside, it sounds like the brass section of the Emory Symphony Orchestra. I roll out of bed, and as I step towards the door, one foot in front of the other, the first finds the floor, while the second cleanly goes right through it. I smile. Bamboo floors are, after all, made of bamboo. I open the door as I throw on a sweatshirt. It feels like 60 degrees now but in three hours it will be pushing 100. I stroll out to my balcony made of – you guessed it, bamboo – and sit comfortably watching the giant grey jumbos enjoying an early morning meal.

Four months ago, I packed up my Toco Hills apartment and moved to Thailand. Four years ago, when I first came to Emory, there was little chance I would have predicted that I would now be studying elephants as a PhD dissertation project. I became interested in animal behavior as an undergraduate, and came to Emory to work with Frans de Waal, director of the Living Links Center at the Yerkes National Primate Research Center and C.H. Candler Professor of Primate Behavior in the Department of Psychology, specifically to study chimpanzee social behavior. When he presented me with an opportunity to work with a larger, similarly intelligent (yet remarkably understudied) mammal two years later, I jumped at the chance. In 2006, he and I, along with Diana Reiss of CUNY Hunter College, conducted the first successful test of mirror self-recognition (MSR) in Asian elephants, at the Bronx Zoo in New York. By demonstrating that elephants are capable of recognizing themselves in their mirror images, we were able to add the elephant to an already small group of intelligent animals: humans, the great apes (chimpanzees, bonobos, orangutans, and gorillas) and dolphins. The question of what the mirror test actually tells us about the animal mind is hotly debated, but its indication of an animal’s self-awareness may have links to other cognitively complex capacities, including empathy. Such behavior is remarkably unique to the same small group of MSR-capable animals: dolphins will help injured and tired conspecifics to the water’s surface to breathe, chimpanzees will help injured birds try to fly or reach for crying infants in trees, and elephants will coordinate the lifting of a dying conspecific, followed by the covering of its body if it passes.

The mirror study, although easy to understand and seemingly simple to explain, raises a ton of new questions. Non-human primates have been continuously studied for decades, with a wealth of literature on both their cognition and behavior available with a few clicks within the Emory on-line databases. But elephants have received remarkably little attention in terms of the links between their minds and their behavior. In only a few short months in Thailand, I’ve seen some incredible social behavior, such as instant reaction to an elephant infant’s distress calls, whether they are serious or benign, the latter often a result of a fluttering garbage bag or a barking dog; conflict between adult females over a magnificently tall yet stubbornly old bull elephant; and female pairs that bully other females, until their respective families come to their rescue. Often, some of the most incredible interactions center around the young 1- to 3-year-old elephant calves. A calf may wander away from its family, and come across a snake or something as small as a twig. He lets out a squeal, and immediately, his mother and aunties, the latter not always individuals closely related to him, perk up. Their ears come straight out – indicating close listening, but also a sign of distress or alertness – and they immediately make a bee-line for the baby (elephants can move as fast as 15 mph, so it’s best to not be in their way). With trumpets, deep rumbles that sound like an approaching thunderstorm, and high-pitched chirps, repetitive sounds a bit like bird song, the adults swarm around the infant, creating a large, grey cocoon that is virtually impenetrable. With the baby on the inside, the adults, constantly touching each other and the calf, stay alert towards any possible threat on the outside. With a few trunk smacks on the ground – a loud popping noise the elephants make to keep others away, seemingly by blowing air out of their trunks as they smack them on the ground – the incredibly emotional interaction is over.

I split my time in Thailand between two research sites, one for conducting behavioral observations (the Elephant Nature Park in Chiang Mai) and the other for conducting cognition experiments (the Thai Elephant Conservation Center in Lampang) similar in style to our mirror study. In captivity, one mahout, or elephant caretaker, is responsible for a single elephant’s care. Because I spend each day working with the elephants and their mahouts, I have had the opportunity to develop strong bonds with both the animals and the men. I recently emailed John Ford, senior vice president and dean of Campus Life, and Tim Downes, director of Athletics and Recreation, for some help in getting surplus Emory gear for the mahouts. Within 24 hours, they had already prepared a box of clothes. I haven’t had a chance to distribute the Emory T-shirts yet, but I know that a single T-shirt will likely double the wardrobe of most of the mahouts. You can feel pretty guilty walking around with expensive camera equipment that is equal to the 6-month-salary of most of the people around you. Having the luxury of watching elephants for a living suddenly doesn’t seem all that glamorous.

The sanity comes, however, from sitting in a field with a mahout and his elephant. As the mahout carves a small wooden elephant to sell to tourists, I speak softly into my voice recorder as his elephant carefully touches the face of one of the young calves. The mahout looks at me and smiles – the only concrete form of communication when our languages are so markedly different – and suddenly it’s about the elephant and tranquility. And then, being a graduate student feels pretty good.


Josh Plotnik is a PhD student in psychology from New York, NY. He is currently studying in Thailand as a 2007-08 U.S. Dept. of Education Fulbright-Hays Fellow.
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