Blogging, to take over the world.
I have never mentioned Thandora-the-elephant before.
She was added to the collection at our national zoo when she was four years old. Then another twenty three years in captivity where she was fed, cared for, and had company at all times - even if it was mainly human. Her previous mate passed away a while back, and all she had as company was her handler/feeder.
Her enclosure was an open area; so long by so wide, an island with a moat around it, and an elephant house.
I had read that the elephant house was not well kept by the staff (SPCA said so) and then somehow the move was put into being to remove Thandora to a newer and better place, where she should be set 'free'.
This better place was a long, long way to the south, a different climate condition close to the sea, in a game park, with other elephants who live semi wild.
This story has a happy ending in one way, Thandora was freed, free to start a new life.
They say she developed something or other, and she passed away.
The pathway is paved with good intentions, ask me, for I know it all too well.
Maybe we will live and learn.
Oh, the last time I saw her, she happily reached for the thorntree twigs I offered her at the zoo. And she followed us till we left her - all alone - with no one to play with.
Thorntree twigs are nice and edible, and there were no thorns in that story. The gum from the tree is quite yummy, having eaten it quite a few times myself. Also, the tree is no fool, it has thorns to protect itself as many animals like its leaves.
The events in mid Africa, concerning elephant poaching, is reaching ''red status''.
It means that within a very short time, all the great tuskers will turn into ornaments, some one will smile at his or her new gift made of ivory, and a gene pool, a thing, an animal, a work of art by nature, a living being, will be gone forever.
At least we have great photos to show of what once was.
This week past, a diver passed away, as he was filming the illusive coelacanth.
Now we can officially welcome the fish into our space as a part of our heritage.
In memorial to the divers and crews who pay the price to bring the underwater world to the rest of us.
As for feathers, the Cuckoo is spoilt, it refuses to eat - Mommy Daddy dearest has to feed the beast.
work in progress - lunch called - still on lunch