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At the Sanctuary, an elephant keeper’s journey usually begins with Bambi. And not by chance. Bambi is the sweetest, most approachable, and most tranquil of them all. She is the one who welcomes us into the world of elephant care.

Bambi has vision problems and requires eye drops at both breakfast and dinner. We feed and medicate her right there at the fence line. At first—I confess—it is daunting. The sheer size of her. The power. The acute awareness that you are standing before a colossal animal; yet Bambi dispels that fear with the grace of one who seems to know exactly the effect she has on others. Gentle, patient, and incredibly careful, she teaches us that strength and softness can indeed inhabit the very same body. At least, that is, until Guille shows up. 

When the herd’s youngest member arrives—full of youthful audacity—to try and steal food, Bambi’s gentleness takes on a different tone. She knows how to set boundaries and, quite literally, gives Guille an ear-pulling. It is impossible not to see a familiar scene playing out there: like a grandmother raising her granddaughter. 

With Maia, however, the relationship is different. Between them lies something deeper: the bonds of deep friendship. It is beautiful to observe the relationship they are building at the sanctuary. Whenever we plan feeding times, medical treatments, or enclosure rotations, we make sure to keep the two of them within easy reach of one another. Whenever she feels separated from her friend, Bambi vocalizes, calling out for Maia. Bambi seems to find a safe haven in Maia. After being rejected by Mara, her friend’s presence became its own kind of sanctuary. When she senses that Mara is in a nearby enclosure, Bambi becomes apprehensive—uncomfortable, as if fearing that old wounds might reopen. Yet, by Maia and Guille’s side, something shifts. The two of them become her safe harbor.

Curiously, that uncertainty vanishes when it comes to exploring. Today, Maia and Bambi are the only elephants bold enough to venture across the creek in Yard 5, even though it’s not that difficult to travel and Rana has many times in the past. Even Guille, with all her youthful energy, doesn’t make the trip with the older girls.

Maia also plays another vital role: helping to calm Bambi on days when she seems particularly withdrawn. There are moments when Bambi fixes her gaze on some invisible point and remains there, immersed in her own world. In those instances, it is impossible not to wonder what is passing through her mind. Perhaps memories. Perhaps fears. Perhaps the traumas of a lifetime spent in captivity. Watching from the outside, we know there’s only so much we can do, but Maia can communicate with Bambi in ways we never can.

Caring for elephants has this curious side effect, too: as they grapple with the scars of their own histories, we often end up confronting our own. One of the feelings I discovered along this path was the fear of rejection. “What if the animal doesn’t accept my care?” For a time, that thought haunted me. Until I realized something simple: such thoughts make the moment about *me,* rather than about my true mission here—to listen to the voice that has been silenced for a lifetime.

Photo of Bambi with Maia in the background