An Elephant Story

The great herd that had once trampled all over Sri Lanka, India, the West Indies, England and parts of Africa had come to a halt. Punter, the herd leader, held the map in his trunk and studied it.

“Yer holding it upside down, yer galah!” mumbled Bing the Limper.

Punter harrumphed and turned the map around.

“Face it, you don’t know where we are,” grumbled Bing.

“Where is this place?” whispered Pup, looking around nervously at the desolate plain, the sinister fog and the crooked trees.

“I know exactly where we are,” snorted Punter. “We’re in Transition.”

“Is that near Darwin?” asked Roy.

Suddenly, Mitch hurried to the front of the front of the line, his tusks gleaming in the setting sun.

“Skip, Skip, come quick!”

“What is it boy, can’t you see I’m busy?”

“It’s Haydos, Skip. He’s not moving!”

Haydos had been around as long as anyone could remember and in his day had been a feared warrior. Always the first into battle, he would stomp up and down, waving his trunk and bellowing, smiting fear into the hearts of his foes.

But now he was a pitiful sight. His great bellowing had become a timid whisper. His arthritic hip meant he could no longer stomp and there were days when he couldn’t even keep his trunk straight. The evil day could be delayed no longer. The law of the herd was harsh, but they could afford no stragglers. Punter knew that the time had come for the old campaigner, just as it came for Warnie, Pigeon, Gilly and the other one. Just as it would come for him one day.

“G’day, Haydos,” said Punter.

The old elephant was sitting down and tried to struggle to his feet.

“No, don’t worry mate. No need to get up.”

“Just needed a rest, Skip. I’ll be back on form for the next mission.”

Punter remained silent.

“What is it, Skip?”

“Thing is Haydos, we don’t need you for the next mission.”

“Oh. Right. Give the younger elephants a chance. Good idea. Happy to stand aside this time, for the good of the herd.”

“Or the mission after that,” continued Punter.

“Oh.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Guess this is it then,” said Haydos. Punter looked down, rubbing his trunk in the dust.

“Guess it is.”

“Right. Well, I’ll see you then.”

Punter turned to walk away.

“Skip?” asked Haydos, for the last time.

“What?”

“Will you do me a favour and break the news to Roy. I don’t think I can.”

“No worries mate,” said Punter.

And so the great old elephant lay down to sleep under a coolibah tree. Punter marched to the front of the herd, trying not to dwell on the day, fast approaching, when he too must lay down in the shade. He looked at the line of expectant faces.

“Right,” he ordered, “keep a nice tidy line. By the left, quick march!”

“Incompetent oaf!” muttered Lee.

“Silence in the ranks!” shouted Punter.

And on they marched, the great, noble herd, trampling almost everything that lay in their path though sometimes they had to take the long way round.