by Rebecca Shoer
One year ago, I was a fresh-faced college graduate heading
into the great unknown. A Biology and
Neuroscience major who had only left the US once in her whole life, I was eager
(and, to be frank, terrified) at the prospect of living for a year in a developing
country. My only exposure to Thailand
had come from a passing knowledge of The
King and I lyrics and a love for our on-campus Thai restaurant. But at
least, I thought, I know something
about elephants.
Photo by Rebecca Shoer
Well, it should come as no surprise that my dearth of
knowledge about Thailand was equally matched by my lack of elephant facts. Sure, I knew that they are the largest
terrestrial mammals, that their herds are led by matriarchs, and that they are
endangered. But I had no idea about the
spectacular sounds they make, and about the amount of noise they don't make (elephants can walk nearly
silently). I didn't know that they are
hairy, or that they love to coat themselves in a healthy layer of mud. I didn't know that elephants only have four
teeth, that they are dichromatic, or that they can hold about 14 liters of
water in their trunk at one time. I
thought they could be kind and gentle, but I didn't know they could be equally
aggressive and dangerous. Of course, I
also learned about how little I, and the scientific community in general, knows
about elephants. What do those
spectacular sounds mean? How keen is
their sense of smell? How acute their
vision? And perhaps, most importantly,
how can we save them from extinction?
For some of us, we are simply curious about the natural
world. We wish to learn and understand
more about the wildlife that surrounds us simply because we have a drive to
explore the unknown. For others, we want
to learn how to protect humans and elephants from each other. And finally, for all of us, we want to find
ways to protect and conserve an incredible, and incredibly intelligent,
species.
Photo by Rebecca Shoer
Perhaps the most valuable lesson for a young person just graduated
from an academic setting, is the value of a
lack of knowledge. I had just spent
four years learning about (what felt like) everything scientists know about
biology, and to move to a place and a job about which I knew very little was
extremely humbling. Yet, at the same
time, it was the best decision I could have made for my future plans in
conservation. In a field populated by
seemingly lost causes and a desperate sense of urgency, discovering just how
little we know about our planet was surprisingly reassuring. Yes, the fate of our planet can seem truly
hopeless at times, but every day we are working to find new natural wonders and
ways to protect them. As long as there
are groups like Think Elephants International, I refuse
to give up on our planet.
This year has been an incredible experience, full of
frustrations, joys, heartbreak, and hope.
I have to thank my incredible fellow RAs (Lisa, Elise, Sophie, and Ou),
my Thai mother (P'TomTem), my wonderfully supportive boss (Dr. Plotnik), and
the incredible friends I've made along the way.
I wish you all the best, and I hope that you continue to boldly go where
no elephant researcher has gone before!
Photo by Elise Gilchrist
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