theBlackman on 13/8/2008 at 22:43
In 1986, Peter Davies was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from Northwestern University.
On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air. The elephant seemed distressed, so Peter approached it very carefully.
He got down on one knee and inspected the elephant's foot and found a large piece of wood deeply embedded in it. As carefully and as gently as he could, Peter worked the wood out with his hunting knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot. The elephant turned to face the man, and with a rather curious look on its face, stared at him for several tense moments. Peter stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled. Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned, and walked away. Peter never forgot that elephant or the events of that day.
Twenty years later, Peter was walking through the Chicago Zoo with his teenage son. As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to near where Peter and his son Cameron were standing. The large bull elephant stared at Peter, lifted its front foot off the ground, then put it down. The elephant did that several times then trumpeted loudly, all the while staring at the man.
Remembering the encounter in 1986, Peter couldn't help wondering if this was the same elephant. Peter summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing and made his way into the enclosure. He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder. The elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of Peter legs and slammed Peter's stupid ass against the railing, killing him instantly.
Probably wasn't the same elephant.
This is for all of my friends who send me those touchy, feelie, heart-warming stories.
The_Raven on 13/8/2008 at 22:52
Quote Posted by theBlackman
Remembering the encounter in 1986, Peter couldn't help wondering if this was the same elephant.
Peter summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing and made his way into the enclosure.Dumb fuck. :nono:
Duncan on 13/8/2008 at 23:03
Did i just open my email by mistake? No i will not pass on your chain letter. Funny one though.
paloalto90 on 13/8/2008 at 23:27
The elephant had Alzheimers.Tragic but true.
Actually I find it suspicious that there is no link to this story.
raevol on 14/8/2008 at 05:51
<samsim> I heard about this guy who broke into a lion's den at the zoo
<samsim> and got mauled
<samsim> and people were talking about how there should have been better defences put up to prevent people getting into the cage
<samsim> a friend of mine suggested setting up some kind of deterrent
<samsim> for example, putting some sort of fierce animal in the cage, which would attack anybody who climbed in
From bash.org, but the site's down so I can't provide a link.
Muzman on 14/8/2008 at 06:42
That is funny, but I sort of sympathise. We have the same problem with crocodiles and tourists. It's really kinda hard to believe, in the fundamental fearful way that you need to, that a giant prehistoric lizard, which can move silently and like greased lighting, is going to leap out of the bush or water and eat you. Even when you "know" it's true.
Those big dozy cats are harmless! They barely move and when they do it's not fast. I'll be fine.
I do like to think that being stared down by an elephant giving a 'charge' threat would give me pause though, regardless of how many thorns I'd removed over the years.
Vivian on 14/8/2008 at 06:50
Quote Posted by Muzman
giant prehistoric
archosaursorry, occupational niggle, feel free to take the piss
raevol on 14/8/2008 at 09:32
Suburban life has successfully removed all natural survival instincts from our race. I mean, when people actually think it's worthwhile to keep track of the dating and sexual habits of broadcast television actors and lip-syncing music industry figureheads, what have we come to?
Muzman on 14/8/2008 at 10:21
That's true. I'm sure we were much nicer people under constant fear of certain death from disease, starvation, wild animals or each other.
