Why women lead conservationists’ fight to protect endangered Asian elephants under threat from mankind

For decades human activities have diminished wildlife, but ‘elephant whisperer’ Sangdeaun Lek Chailert, founder of Thailand’s Elephant Nature Park, and Krithi Karanth, chief conservation scientist at India’s Centre for Wildlife Studies, hope education will encourage change

By Fairoza Mansor

September 10, 2020

The natural world appears to have been thriving since most of the Earth’s human population went into lockdown during the Covid-19 pandemic. While few viral images have been proved to be factually misleading, some of these tales of a revived nature and emboldened wildlife are in fact legitimate.

The United Kingdom reported a revival in wildlife species, from birds of prey and warblers to badgers, otters and even orcas, or killer whales. In the Chilean capital, Santiago, cougars were seen wandering in deserted neighbourhoods, while at Hong Kong’s Ocean Park, pandas Ying Ying and Le Le finally mated – ending 10 years of failed attempts by zookeepers at the theme park.

Such sights are welcome news – particularly when mankind has been responsible for wiping out 60 per cent of the planet’s mammals, birds, fish, reptiles and amphibians since 1970, according to global conservation body WWF’s Living Planet Report 2018, compiled by 59 international scientists.

Human activities, including habitat loss and degradation, overfishing and overhunting, are among the biggest causes of this decline.

Asian elephants – listed by WWF as endangered – once roamed across most of the Asian region, but are now restricted to wet forest and grassland areas in only 15 per cent of their former habitats. This is largely the result of development projects such as the construction of dams, roads and industrial complexes, plantations and the spread of human settlements.

Conservationist Sangdeaun Lek Chailert, known simply as Lek, who has been dubbed the “elephant whisperer” because of her ability to connect with the animals, has made it her life’s work to protect and save the species in her home country of Thailand.

In 1996, she founded the Elephant Nature Park, a sanctuary and educational outreach centre for mistreated, injured and traumatised elephants rescued after being forced to work in the tourism and the illegal logging industries.

The elephants, many of which are left seriously malnourished and suffering from psychological and physical problems, including broken limbs, are nursed back to health and free to roam around the sprawling, 250-acre (100-hectare) park located in Mae Taeng valley, about 60km (38 miles) north of the city of Chiang Mai.

As a teenager Lek was haunted by the cries of a distressed elephant being forced to work in logging – banned by the Thai government since 1989 – while accompanying a group of missionaries to observe elephants in the jungle. From then on she vowed that saving elephants would be her mission.

“Although I had no money then, I knew I had to find a way to help them,” says Lek, 59, who is also a founder of the Save Elephant Foundation.

After graduating from Chiang Mai University, she started work in a variety of jobs – all the while saving money to rescue one elephant at a time. She says it costs at least US$30,000 to rescue an elephant from its owner today.

“I’ve no [other] choice as there is no law in Thailand that allows the authorities to confiscate elephants, even if they are abused: I can’t just pick them up.”

Elephant Nature Park, flanked by mountains, is situated in an area of land bought by an American donor.

“Many elephants come to our park bruised, battered and in critical condition – some have lost their balance and can hardly walk; some are blind or cannot hear,” Lek says.

“Friends thought I was silly to buy them when they are about to die. But my only rule is: rescue elephants that need help.”

Although they are revered as a national symbol of Thailand, many of the country’s domesticated elephants are still made to serve the travel industry by performing tricks for tourists, such as playing soccer, painting, offering passenger rides on their backs, or used to beg for money while being led through busy city streets.

Early in their lives many elephants are subjected to a brutal ritual called phajaan, which means “crushing”, where the calves are separated from their mothers, then tied up in wooden cages and subjected to daily physical and psychological torture by being beaten and starved so that their spirits are broken.

Lek says that thankfully these cruel activities are not as common today as they were a decade ago.

“Now, many elephant camps are advertising how they don’t offer riding and circus shows, and that their mahouts [elephant caretakers] don’t use hooks and chains [on the elephants,” she says. “So things are definitely changing now, as people are becoming more aware about animal conservation.”

Lek’s Elephant Nature Park is home to more than 80 elephants, 700 dogs – many of which were rescued after the heavy floods affecting Bangkok in 2011 – 800 cats and 98 buffaloes.

It raises funds mostly through sponsorship and tourism. Visitors can stay for a day or overnight and feed, walk beside and help bathe the elephants, or volunteer to help for up to two weeks.

With tourism levels slumping during the coronavirus pandemic lockdowns, the Elephant Nature Park – like similar holiday attractions around the world – found itself with no visitors, volunteers, or income to pay for its upkeep. Feeding an elephant can cost up to US$30 a day – more than three times Thailand’s minimum daily wage.