On Eating Elephant Essay

On Eating Elephants

The largest land animal on Earth can stand up to 13 feet tall and weigh up to 15,400 pounds, yet it is still a vulnerable creature. Perhaps this is because it has one of the largest hearts in the world, weighing up to 46 pounds. This shows in the creature’s endangerment and its compassion. Elephant populations have decreased rapidly in recent decades, primarily to habitat loss and ivory poachers. Elephants also experience emotions such as anger, joy, and grief. Perhaps the most astounding, though logical, example of the elephant’s vulnerability is its avoidance of certain acacia trees because of the ants that live on them. Elephant trunks are full of sensitive nerve endings, but it is incredible to see vulnerability on that

It seems to trumpet its existence to the world for all of the notice it’s gotten; with each compliment, the feet of the elephant crush into my ribcage the way that elephants were used as executioners up until the 19th century, breaking prisoners in India, Sri Lanka, and Thailand under its weight. An animal recognized for its strength, compassion, and is the best possible symbol to represent my grandfather, and I wear the necklace in honor of his recent death in August, and each compliment is a reminder that keeps him with me.

The African Elephant is larger than the Asian Elephant, even in the size of its ears, which resemble the shape of the continent. My grandfather was six-foot-two, towering over the rest of my family. When I was younger, I thought he was the tallest man in the world. Ten months of cancer claiming his body made him so small, skin and bone. When elephants grieve, they stroke the bones and lay leaves over the body to cover it. The day that I found out my grandfather had hairy cell leukemia, a rare strand of the already rare strand of chronic lymphotic leukemia, my best friend sat 205 miles away and gave me the best advice possible over Skype. She asked: “How do you get rid of an elephant in a room?” I thought of the massive size of an elephant, imagining one squeezing like a balloon into my nine-foot-tall living room. “You have to eat it,” she said, “How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a

I loved the book; there was a toy box and a small bookshelf in the guest room of my grandparents’ house, and I used to sit in the living room on the blue couch and read them, and my grandmother would tell me to keep my feet off of the furniture, and she would make me a sandwich on a Lion King plate. One of Fozzie Bear’s jokes was about knowing there was an elephant in your fridge by the footprints in the butter. Imagine an elephant entrée in the refrigerator, Saran-wrapped on a paper plate -- grilled elephant breast or elephant sandwich, waiting on the small shelves next to the