“I left for England after I got out of the hospital. I was told all the people who were in the water had perished due to exposure. I checked the local hospitals—nothing.”
“And Modoc?”
“I called the zoo, they knew nothing. Only that an elephant had been used to save some people out at sea. So I went to England. Spent a good many years there as a longshoreman working the docks out of Southampton. Sometimes I signed on one of the ships heading for points unknown, you know, just traveling around to different ports. It’s great fun and the money’s good. Then, quite a while back, I came here to better myself but the work I do, the life I lead, is back there at the docks.”
“And now?” asked Bram.
“I’ll return to England. A freighter is leaving for India and I want to be on board her. Ever since the sinking I feel that I must go back.” Hands’s attitude changed. “All these years. Do you imagine? I don’t know why, but there is something I have to do or see. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just to relive the experience emotionally. I don’t think I ever gave what happened a chance to settle itself. It’s still with me, you know what I mean?”
Bram nodded. He knew very well what he meant.
Mo’s eyesight had gotten worse. She couldn’t leave the elephant barn without Bram being there to help.
“Well, Mosie, how ya doing today, huh?”
Mo had developed a new way to compensate for her blindness.
She constantly kept her trunk busy, like a man with a cane, touching all things, whether standing still, walking, meeting people, she had to touch them; it was the only way she could “talk” with them. But she was getting into everything. Chairs, tables, cars, glasses, nothing escaped. If it was loose, it fell victim to her ever-swinging trunk.
When Bram took her out, she moved carefully, touching as she walked, but still anything in her way was fair game. Bram, seeing the problem, decided to resolve it.
“Today I will teach you something new.”
He put the tip of her trunk into his back belt loop. “Now you just hang on to that and I’ll be your ‘seeing-eye’ person.”
And so it was. Wherever they went Mo would tuck her trunk into Bram’s belt and off they would go. She would slide her feet as she walked, to assure herself that the ground was smooth. After a while even that stopped, her trust in Bram was so complete.
Bram taught her how to go up and down the steps to the circus ring he had set up, where he worked her three times a week.
“You must have a purpose in life, girl,” he would say. “Work is important.”
Her act was not the same. Slower, but passable. Sometimes she staggered, her moves weren’t as graceful. But she performed!
Gertie saw the deterioration. She worried what would happen to Bram were Mo to die. “She’s getting old, Bram. You know, the time will come when…”
“I know, Gertie, I know,” he would say and then walk away, usually in the direction of the barn.
Bram walked up and down the aisle in front of Mo, sometimes his hands locked behind his back, other times they were expressing a point. Mo listened, swinging her head to and fro, not missing a word.
“You know, Mo, I’ve been thinking of the Elephantarium lately. You remember Atoul, the white elephant? Well, he taught me that all things need to change form to live. When we die we change into ashes, gases, things like that. Then they carry on until they change. The ashes may help a tree grow, the gases could mingle with others and become…something else! That means someday you and I are going to change and…ah…well…” His voice stuck in his throat. He stopped, cleared his throat, turned and walked to Mo. He rubbed the soft leathery skin on the underside of her ear. “And you…you will become something greater and more wonderful than you can imagine! You will soar in the cosmos, become part of all things, you will sit at HIS side and help rule all of nature.”
Bram’s whole being felt the impact…the thought of not being with her.
“I will be waiting for you, okay? I’ll meet you there.” His voice broke, tears were streaming down his cheeks. “I just don’t want you to go first. Okay? I don’t want you to be there…alone.” He rested his head on hers and cried aloud.
“So don’t be afraid. You have many friends here to take care of you.” He whispered in her ear, “Don’t cross over before me, Mo, okay?”
He rubbed his hand gently over her white eye, smoothing the soft skin around it. She stood stock-still, quiet, her trunk hung loose. Head held low. A little chirping was heard, a small belly rumble.
“I’m so, so, sorry…”
“Bram, you in there?”
It was Gertie, calling him for dinner.
“I’m coming.” He wiped his eyes, hers, too. “I’m coming.”
Ralph had decided to retire Mo. He was afraid that she might get hurt, trip…maybe even fall. Yet he knew how Bram felt about retiring. “To retire is to die,” he would say.
He had a private meeting with the ranch trainers.
“I want to retire Mo without her…I mean…Bram…well, both of them knowing about it. We can’t ever use that word.”
“How old is she?”
“The best we can figure is around seventy.”
“Wow! That’s got to be some kind of record.”
“That’s it! We’ll throw her a birthday party. Bram, too. You know they share the same birthday.”
“In reality, you mean like a farewell to Mo.”
“God, it’s like she’s got cancer and is going to die!”
“No, silly, many people have a farewell party for those who served their company or country well,” spoke up one of the female trainers.
Ralph broke in, “She has spent her entire life helping, pleasing people. It’s a way of saying thanks to her.”
“Will she know it, I mean is it for her…or for us?”
“Both.”
Ralph contributed into the pool allowing them to rent a large tent and have it erected at the ranch over the circus ring. It was big enough to house the ring and bleachers for a large group of people. They even had a calliope brought in to simulate the feeling of the circus.
Invitations were sent out near and far, to all her friends.
“There is to be a birthday celebration.”
The response was more than they could have imagined. Letters, telegrams, telephone calls, all poured in from around the world; some sent their love, others said, “Hope I can be there.” Many others said they would come.
“Well, this is an important day for you, big girl. All your friends are coming.”
Bram washed her early in the morning in preparation for the celebration. He sprayed her with some perfume.
Mo’s trunk was fussing with everything, wouldn’t stand still, playing with Bram’s nose, his face, messing his hair. Her backbone had become more prominent as she aged, the burn scars from the fire more noticeable as well.
Bram covered her with the red and gold blanket he had been given by the sideshow people from the circus.
“It’s yours, Mo, nobody else can ever do or be what you are!”
Sometimes Bram would look up at her white eye and bony back, and tears would come into his eyes as he remembered the past when she had been young and strong. “Remember, Mosie, pushing that cart up the ramp when the wheel broke?”
These thoughts brought back vivid pictures of Sian smiling, her black silky hair blowing in the breeze. It was as though she were looking at him. The tears rushed to his eyes; he turned his head away, breaking the thought into a thousand bubbles.
“Sorry, Mo, it’s just that lately it’s all been coming back to me. Maybe to you, too, huh?”
Mo was too busy swaying, feeling the tassels bounce against her side.
Bram donned his old costume, saw that the pants didn’t fit as they used to.
“The jacket will do,” he said.
A package arrived addressed to Modoc Gunterstein. Bram gave it to Mo to check out. She tried to eat it. A letter accompanied the pack
age:
Dear Mo,
I received a letter of your commemoration. Congratulations. Through a most unusual pattern of communication I had the opportunity to purchase these from the circus. They had no use for them and anyhow, no one else should wear them. Wish I could be there. In many respects, I am.
Best to Bram,
Regards,
Kalli Gooma
In the package were the two golden tips. Bram slipped them on as he had in the old days. He fought back the memories. They were too painful.
“I’ll remember them later,” he said. He stood back a bit, looking at Mo. “Let me see how you look, girl!”
She was so proud! Trunk curled, head held high.
The blanket hung a bit loose, the headpiece had been taken up, the golden tips were a little lopsided, but she was PROUD! She stood tall, her spirits high! She was young again!
Bram, taking his choon, rubbed his hand over his father’s initials. Then he tucked Mo’s trunk into the back of his waistband. With a proud note in his voice, he said, “Move up, Mo! Move up, old girl.”
The circus music could be heard coming from the tent. Mo followed him across the yard, her trunk playing with his belt, sashaying to the music, down the steps, into a darkened arena. A voice rang out.
“Ladies and gentleman, children of the world, we give you Bram Gunterstein, and the world’s greatest elephant, the one, the only, Golden Elephant, MODOC!!”
A single spotlight flashed on the center ring. Bram slowly brought Mo into the center ring and as the calliope started, he backed away, not too far, but where she could hear his voice.
“Okay. Mosie, you’re on!”
Mo stood for a moment, ears out as though…listening. The calliope started to play. She stood there…missed her cue. Or did she?
She was somewhere else, hearing different music coming from a different place. Then she started to sway, to dance…her dance, in her own time, more beautiful than ever before. The calliope played on, and somehow it matched her movement, or maybe it just seemed to. The slight stumble, a waver off balance were dissolved in the beauty of the moment…
The circus tent seemed to spin, flashes of performers, the girls on the flying trapeze, the Great Zifferoni and his fall of death, Gertie dancing on her back, uprooting the flower fields, the scorching fire, her trunk around Bram…
She bowed at the end of the performance, not quite as low, and the spot went out.
When the tent lights came on, she heard the thunderous applause. The stands were full.
Hundreds had come to say their goodbyes, to thank her for all that she had done to better the lives of so many. The audience rose as one. They stood in respect, in honor of a great lady.
Gertie was there, as were Kelly, Fat Lady, Thin Man, Fingers, even Hands, and if one looked closely one might have thought there was a little fellow standing on the seat, waving, nearly falling off. They had all had come to say their farewells.
Epilogue
Bram died soon after Mo’s birthday celebration.
Mo was to follow shortly.
Who is to say that their Cross-Over wasn’t arranged, so she wouldn’t be…alone.
Move Up, Mo!
Move UP, Mo!
The ragged flapping ears slapped alert.
The massive trunk swayed, spraying dust
Huge mammoth pondering feet stirred
Keeping in step.
As though waiting for the inner beat.
Then, gathering it all together
All parts lurching in unison
…it MOVED!
Nine thousand one hundred eighty pounds
Eight foot two
…moved.
Move UP, Mo!
Her tail swayed as if to keep the balance,
Her trunk touching out in front of her to check the ground.
And if you fall, don’t FRET, Mo.
The chains, the cranes, our LOVE will get you up.
Trunk UP, Mo!
Lift me up (I need it now).
Pack your trunk, smell the flowers,
Fall asleep against the old oak.
Talk to the birds, talk to the children,
Lift them to your mighty back
Spray them with water till they giggle
Your trunk was so long
A trunk was born
And God added an elephant.
Lean way down, I’ll put my eye to yours.
Or is it yours? For it seems another is looking out at me from inside.
How you loved it when we patted your tongue and pulled your teats. The bellowing rumble emitting from your cavernous tune seemed to say, “I was great, wasn’t I?”
And you were! So great! So kind! So gentle!
A good life you had, Mo. Seventy-eight years. You were the oldest! World traveled…India, Germany, England, the U.S.A. The great days of the circus, the calliope, the midway: “Step right up and see the great Modoc!” Center ring, you had, Mo. Remember the lights, the popcorn, the clowns. “Ladies and gentlemen…children of all ages.” The great tent would darken, voices would still, the music would begin. A spotlight blasted the darkness on you, Mo!
Bedazzled with sequins, the sop would follow you, swaying and bowing. Trunk up! Head down! No trainer, Mo. You did it…alone, alone! Lights on! An avalanche of applause and then back to the menagerie tent. Pushing, pulling, helping…always helping, no complaining.
Remember the fire, Mo! The screaming people! The frantic animals? How many you saved? Pulling circus wagons free, pushing, lifting fiery beams. And the poisoning? So many died, but you survived. Remember, Mo?
And then that horrible day the mad, drunk keeper blinded you in one eye. One-eye Mo, they called you. Couldn’t use you then. No green pastures, no thanks. For ten years you stayed in that zoo, Mo. So thin, so depressed. I didn’t even have enough money to buy you. Had to borrow. Not even a truck to haul you. Took a loan. We suffered hard time together, Mo, good old, Mo. I owe most all to you. It was you who gave to me! You trained me! You taught me how to “affection train.”
Move, up, Mo!
Move up through those great gates!
Make way for the best of them all!
Crank open those pearly gates just a little wider
Strengthen that bridge a little stronger
…for Mo’s comin’!
Move UP, Mo!
Give her a railing to guide her.
She only has one good eye.
Call out to her loudly but with love
Her hearing’s not too good.
I know her great legs are weak.
But she can make it.
You won’t have to worry about her
complaining.
Or giving you any cause for trouble.
Mo’s a good girl
It’s time to go, Mo.
May you live in a gentle jungle
And when my time comes,
Let down your trunk, Mo
And lift me up
to YOU, Mo.
to you.
(Written two days after Mo’s death)
RALPH D. HELFER
Acknowledgments
I have had the good fortune to be allowed to enter into the mysterious world of an exotic animal from the inside out, to live there and learn the wonders it has to offer.
The trail that leads into this sphere forms the epicenter, where the essences of animal thoughts, feelings, and being live. Sometimes it can be difficult to fathom, and one needs a special family of talented friends to see one through. I have been so very fortunate to have had them when I have lost my way. Together we have held hands to build an energy that has made this book possible. My love, thanks, and appreciation go out to:
Tana—her father’s mind reader. Our energy so much alike. We’re always in tune with each other. She always knew what was to be. Miku Musoke—my lady, who “lived” the day-by-day adventure. She held me together during the trying times. Toni Law—the Faithful Keeper who always saw Modoc compl
eted and waited patiently for it to happen. Donna Zerner—wise with the ways of words. Brought to Modoc her marvelous spiritual energy believing in it from the start. Laurie Rose—from the beginning, her belief inspired me to heights not known before. Cathi—a sister who’s always been there, far beyond the simple family duties. Stevie—whose inspiration will always be in my heart, even from so far a distance. Richard Curtis, my agent, who launched my career by believing in me and encouraging me to write from my heart. HarperCollins’s wonderful team of talented people from Lawrence P. Ashmead and Jason S. Kaufman for giving both support and sound advice, to the copy editor, typesetter, and designer. All animal lovers.
And finally, Rebecca St. George—metaphysical, of the Earth. A writer in her own right whose detailed contributions and wisdom helped inspire and challenge me to make Modoc a true and loving tribute.
About the Author
RALPH HELFER is a well-known Hollywood animal trainer who was one of the first to use affection and kindness to train wild animals. He is the author of The Beauty of the Beasts, and he lives in Los Angeles and Kenya, where he leads safari tours.
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Also by Ralph Helfer
THE BEAUTY OF THE BEASTS
Copyright
Photo insert excluded from e-book edition.
MODOC. Copyright © 1997 by Ralph Helfer. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition April 2007 ISBN 9780061748288