The Elephant and the Cassowary
The
baby elephant wasn’t out of place in our home in north
India because India is where elephants belong. In any case,
our house was full of pets brought home by Grandfather,
who worked for the Forest Service. But the cassowary was
different. No one had ever seen such a bird in India before.
Grandfather had picked it up on a voyage to Singapore.
It seemed to do quite well in our subtropical climate of Dehra. It was about five feet in height and looked like a cross between a turkey and an ostrich. It was not a beautiful bird, nor even a friendly one, but it had come to stay, and everyone was curious about it, especially the baby elephant.
Right
from the start the baby elephant took a great interest in
the cassowary. He circled round the odd creature and hesitantly
used his trunk to examine the texture of its small, stumpy
wings. Of course he suspected no evil, and his childlike
curiosity soon led him into trouble. He began to grow bolder
in his investigation of the newcomer.
The big bird responded only by slowly and slyly raising one of its powerful legs, in the meantime gazing into space with an innocent air. We knew too well what the gesture meant. We had seen that treacherous leg raised before, then suddenly shoot out with a force that would have done credit to a vicious camel.
We wished to spare our baby elephant a painful experience, and we led him away from the bird. But he persisted in his friendly overtures, and one morning he received an ugly reward. Rapid as lightning, the cassowary dealt a blow straight from the hip and knee joints, and the elephant ran squealing to Grandmother.
For several days he avoided the cassowary, and we thought he had learned his lesson. He crossed and recrossed the compound and garden, swinging his trunk, thinking furiously. Then, about a week later, he appeared on the veranda at breakfast time in his usual cheery, childlike fashion, sidling up to the cassowary as if nothing had happened.
We were amazed at this and so, it seemed, was the bird. Had the painful lesson already been forgotten, and by a member of the elephant tribe, noted for its ability never to forget? Another dose of the same medicine appeared to be needed.
The cassowary once more began to draw up its fighting leg with sinister determination. It was nearing the true position for the master kick, kung-fu style, when suddenly the baby elephant’s trunk seized the cassowary’s other leg and pulled it out from under the surprised bird. There was a clumsy flapping of wings, a tremendous swelling of the bird’s wattle, and an undignified getting up. The bird then marched off with an attempt to look stately and unconcerned, while we at the breakfast table were convulsed with laughter.
After this the cassowary gave the baby elephant as wide a berth as possible. But they were not forced to coexist for very long. The baby elephant, getting bulky and cumbersome, was sold to a zoo. He has become a favorite with young visitors, who love to take rides on his back.
As for the cassowary, it continued to grace our veranda for many years, gaped at but not made much of, while entering on a rather friendless old age.
