Pachyderms & Pickles

On Saturday morning, August 23rd, I fought the general laziness that compelled me to sleep late or stay at home. Instead I rose early and made the trek up to the Oregon Zoo. The zoo opens at 9:00am, and in the summertime, you’d better get there by 10:00am if you want to find a parking space. I arrived and began my own version of a “three hour tour,” and much like Gilligan, I got sidetracked and ended up spent vastly more time there… 9+ hours actually.

One of our female Asian elephants, Rose-Tu, was expecting a bouncing baby girl. The due date, after 22 long months of gestation, was anytime between late August and early October. I just wanted to go commune with the animals that morning and leave by noon, not having heard that Rose was in labor. I arrived at the elephant exhibit and found the doors to the indoor viewing area blocked off and covered with paper and signs advising that only staff could enter. I quickly found a volunteer and confirmed my suspicions, that the blessed event was imminent. Much to my excitement, I also discovered that the staff had set up a flat panel TV inside the Elephant Museum building with continuous live feed of the labor & delivery process.

I understand that for many people, watching video of an elephant in labor would rank only slightly higher than watching paint dry, but to me it was irresistible. I stood in that museum for 4 hours, watching, waiting and praying for a safe delivery. Some people might find it a bit odd to pray for animals, but I figure the Lord cares for all of his creation and wants to see animals thrive as well as humans.With the recent decline in the Asian elephant population and a decade-long hiatus on any serious breeding programs, we are at risk of having only 20 Asian elephants left in North American zoos by 2050. The 30% mortality rate for infant elephants doesn’t help either.

Rose-Tu wasn’t alone in her time of need. Shine and Chendra, the other females, kept her company. Normally the “experienced” mothers in a herd would function as midwives and assist a first-time mother such as Rose. Although neither Shine nor Chendra is a mother, Shine had actually witnessed Rose’s birth 14 years ago, when she herself was 11 years old. Shine did her best to comfort her, staying nearby and stroking Rosie's contracting belly with her trunk.

I started watching around noon, just after her water broke, along with a crowd that ranged from perhaps 50-60 people in quieter moments to upwards of 200 in the final hour before the delivery. Early on, Rose-Tu’s labor seemed to be progressing nicely, but by 3:00, it seemed to have stalled. The keepers and vets came in to perform another ultrasound and give her some massage to encourage her contractions. After determining that a.) the baby was in a safe position and b.) that labor had virtually stopped, the vets decided to administer oxytocin to speed things up. The gamble paid off, because at 3:56pm, the baby arrived!

The crowd cheered wildly in those first moments, until things took a frightening turn. It’s common for elephants to nudge their newborns to break the amniotic sack and help the baby to stand, but Rose-Tu seemed confused about what was happening, and became aggressive. She kicked the poor little guy repeatedly, sending him spinning around like a hockey puck. I watched, horrified and wondering if the baby was alive, as the keepers rushed in to intervene. The video feed cut out at that point, leaving the crowd shocked and unsure of what we had just witnessed.

The first update, given by the verklempt Deputy Director about 20 minutes after the birth, was dire news indeed. Although the baby was alive – and surprisingly a “he” rather than the “she” that was expected – they anticipated that he might have internal injuries. The news 20 minutes later was slightly better; the baby was on his feet (with some help), and didn’t have any obvious fractures or deformities. X-rays and scans were needed to rule out any invisible injuries. I spent the next couple of hours wandering around aimlessly and periodically returning to the Elephant Museum for updates. Finally there was some good news! The baby was walking around, had a good sucking reflex and had accepted some fluids, and he was calling for mom. Better yet, Rose-Tu was starting to call back to him. At that point, the Deputy Director said they were “guardedly optimistic,” and I breathed a major sigh of relief.

The battle wasn’t over, yet, for our dedicated staff. Although baby appeared healthy, they now had to reintroduce him to Rose-Tu and determine that her intentions were maternal instead of murderous. The first couple of attempts did not go well, and there were fears that she would reject the calf entirely. After a slow and careful reintroduction process that took nearly 4 days, Rose-Tu began to nurse the baby and accept her role of mother. Hallelujah!!

So this brings me to this past weekend, and the title of my blog… On Saturday, August 30th, the zoo starting offering limited viewing of our new boy. Naturally, I *had* to be there, to bring the traumatic events of the previous Saturday full circle in my mind. I arrived at 9:00am, and stood in a line of hundreds to get a brief peek at the little one. Of course, “little” is a relative term for baby elephants. Nonetheless, our boy tops the scales at 286 pounds – significantly more than the 200-250 pound average.

When I reached the front of the line and entered the viewing area with eager anticipation, I was elated to find a healthy and curious baby, with mom stoically eating and keeping tabs on the boy. This guy is all charm and personality, and it seems clear he’ll be a handful when he gets bigger. And like all newborns, he sleeps. A lot. In fact, while I was watching, he deemed it was time for a nap, and went from exploring and literally trying to climb the walls, to flopping down for a snooze. I think the transition took all of about 20 seconds, and left the observers giggling and emitting gleeful noises.

So the pachyderm connection is clear, but what about the pickles? Well, that was the other main event in this 3-day weekend… trekking to Sauvie Island with Beth and Rebekah to procure 50 pounds of lovely, petite cucumbers for this year’s pickling extravaganza. After 2 days of washing, sorting, slicing, packing jars, and boiling brine we are now knee-deep in dills, bread & butters, and tarragon pickles. The payoff for the labor is worth it in the end, but as Beth indicated, it’s an exhausting process that tends to leave a person smelling like a deli and not wanting to see another pickle for quite some time. Luckily, this is the stage where the pickles “rest” for about 6 weeks, and by the time they’re ready for eating, we’ll have forgotten the long hours in the kitchen and will appreciate anew the glory that is homemade pickles. :o)

Pachyderms + Pickles + 3-Day Weekend = Contented Lisa