Elephants Arrive
“Noah was six hundred years old when the flood of waters came upon the earth. And Noah and his sons and his wife and his sons’ wives with him went into the ark to escape the waters of the flood.” Genesis 7:6, 7
“Wait!” Shem threw out an arm to block Ham’s mad dash from the ark. Just two hours after bidding Eudocea goodbye, Ham was so eager to see his wife again he paid scant attention to where he was headed. A bemused smile curled Shem’s lips.
“What’s the matter with you?” Ham shoved away Shem’s arm and pushed past his brother before stopping at the top of the ramp in open-mouthed surprise. An enormous herd of elephants milled around on the rise near the end of the ramp, almost close enough for the brothers to see individual eyelashes. More blocked the path to the house and trailed away in the direction of the shallow lake behind the ark.
“There must be hundreds of them,” Ham said in an awed whisper.
“Looks like Eudocea will have to do without you a little longer.”
The two brothers gaped at the sight in silence. The enormous beasts, covered in thick dust, circled two adolescent elephants, continually touching them, caressing them with trunks. Examining them. Wrapping trunks around them in embrace. Low reverberations rumbled through the group. Shem could feel as well as hear them. Occasionally one of the large females well back in the group would throw back her head, lift her trunk and blast an ear-piercing cry. Shem had the eerie feeling she was looking directly at him.
“Where’d they come from?” Ham asked.
Shem slowly rotated his head to glare at his brother. “You think I know?”
“Well, I’m not staying here.” Ham sounded determined, but he didn’t move. “I’m not going to be separated from my wife.”
“Really?” Shem’s raised his eyebrows. “So how do you plan to get past our friends out there?”
A grimace showed Ham’s dimples and he sighed. “Do you have any idea how long herds stay in one spot before they move on?”
“No, but I know I’m not going to weave through all those legs and trunks.”
Several elephants moved to the back of the herd and others replaced them, traveling in a line past the adolescents, running trunks over bodies and entwining trunks before moving on. Drops of moisture ran through the dust down more than one elephant’s face. Shem recognized them as tears because he’d seen that very phenomenon when his favorite pet elephant’s baby died. Tears dripped out of the small hole on the side of Bavai’s head. He didn’t doubt for an instant she was crying for her baby.
Elephants suffered grief over loss and cried real tears.
“Is it possible they’re saying goodbye to them?” Ham asked incredulously.
Shem knew what Ham implied and he’d assumed the same thing: The two adolescents must have been chosen for the ark. He didn’t believe Ham’s question required an answer because enough had transpired in the last few days that talking about it seemed unnecessary. “Remember Bavai?”
“Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten about her. Good elephant.”
“Great elephant.”
“I can’t remember why Father got rid of her.”
“Traded her for a load of iron or bronze.” Shem sighed. “He had no choice, but I hated to see her go. I loved that elephant.”
“I remember.” Ham tilted his head and squinted at the elephants. “Hey! That looks like ash instead of dust.”
Narrowing his eyes, Shem inspected the animals more closely. “You’re right. Makes sense.”
Suddenly, several of the elephants lifted a foreleg simultaneously. Soon most of the rest either followed suit or laid trunks on the ground. The entire herd stood shock still for a several beats before turning without warning and thundering from the ark en masse. The herd stampeded to the center of the grassy field and stopped, shifting restlessly.
Stunned, the brothers eyes’ met.
“What’s going on?” Ham asked.
Shem bunched his lips and slowly shook his head, puzzled. “No idea, but it looks like the path to the house is open now.”
Ham had time to take only a single step when a loud noise from the earth itself rolled toward them. “Earthquake!” he shouted, and both men ducked for the door frame and held on while the ark rolled violently. The earthquakes were getting worse.
When movement finally ceased, Shem’s heart wouldn’t stop pounding. He lay on his belly on the square planks of the ark’s floor, arms stretched out, cheek resting on the deck. He desperately needed something solid and dependable beneath him, and right now the ark seemed more trustworthy than the ground.
“Eudocea!” Ham popped to his feet.
“Not yet! The elephants might rush back this direction and trample you.” Shem warned. He pointed toward the house. “She’s fine.” The entire family stood outside signaling the all-is-well sign.
Ham trotted a few feet down the ramp to wave back, then returned with a foolish grin and flopped down beside Shem.
“That was the worst one yet,” Shem said, “but I don’t think the quake did a thing to the ark. Father sure knows how to build.”
Sitting on the deck with his palms resting on it, Shem stuck out his lower lip mulling over what had just happened. Even though he assumed Ham would ridicule the idea, he decided to share his thoughts with him. Shem needed to talk to someone. “I think they sensed it. The elephants knew the quake was coming.”
“You think so?” Ham sounded doubtful. “How?”
“I’m not sure. The pads of their feet are soft. I think they can sense through them, kind of like our fingers feel the textural differences between rocks and wool.”
Ham rolled his eyes. “Pretty far fetched.”
“You know their trunks are sensitive.” Shem defended himself. “Remember the way Bavai used her trunk?”
“I remember.”
“Remember the heart-shaped mark right in the center of her forehead?” A mental image of her made him smile.
Shem felt the vibrations before he heard the sound. He quickly glanced up and saw the entire herd heading toward the ark again. He jumped to his feet – just in case.
Once again the herd stopped at the end of the ramp and continued the ritual with the two younger elephants for another hour or more. Only after all the elephants filed past did the two young ones start up the ramp.
Surrounded by about twenty adults.
“Run!” Shem shouted and he and Ham fled for protection to the first room they came to. They couldn’t handle that many wild elephants all at once.
The brothers slumped atop a pile of salt chunks in a storage area just off the main entrance to the ark. Long ago, they’d mined the mineral deep in a volcanic mountain some distance away. Though had Shem accepted the fact that all animals needed salt – and they’d need lots and lots of salt for the collection of beasts they’d be carrying -- he had not enjoyed his time underground. The caves felt claustrophobic to him then just as the room seemed to close around him today. He wished they could have hidden in a more aromatic spot. A hay room, maybe. Better yet, a large space with dried lavender hanging in clumps across the ceiling.
Obviously, the time crunch hadn’t allowed an ideal spot.
Because there was no opening for looking out of this room, the brothers couldn’t see what awaited them beyond the door. Had every individual in the smaller group crowded aboard, or just the two adolescents? As soon as the shuffling outside their walls ended, Shem slid down the pile and pressed an ear against the door. “I don’t hear anything. But I smell something.” He changed ears, sniffing audibly. “What do you think? They could be gone and the whole place would still reek.”
“Elephant odors are nasty and disgusting and they permeate everything and I hate them,” Ham agreed.
“You sounds like Japheth when he has to work Buzz in the middle of the night.” Shem grinned at him.
Ham scowled. “You can afford to be cheerful because a bunch of elephants aren’t keeping you away from your wife.”
The words slammed Shem like a punch to the gut. Ham should know that comment would hurt. He should understand Shem rarely felt cheerful. But because Shem didn’t want to lapse deeper into depression and hopelessness by focusing on his singleness, he switched the subject back to unpleasant aromas. “You think it smells bad now, wait till they start plopping mounds of brown everywhere they go.”
“Look on the bright side, when the manure dries it’ll make great fuel for the fire in the family quarters. Heat us up real good.” Ham grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Though I may not need a lot of heating up with Eudocea around.”
“You really think manure could dry sufficiently during a flood for us to build a fire?” Shem snorted in derision. “It’s going to stay damp and musty in here. We’ll burn wood as planned.” He chided himself for the demeaning tone he’d used with his brother, though Ham didn’t appear to notice. Or maybe Ham understood he’d hurt Shem and planned to save face by ignoring his brother’s offense in lieu of apologizing.
“Time to check and see how many elephants we’ve got.” Shem squeaked open the door and peeked into the corridor. “All clear.” A careful examination of the ark uncovered only the two adolescents sauntering down to the bottom level. “How do they know where to go?” he asked.
Ham shrugged. “I’m confused about a number of things.”
After securing the young elephants, the brothers walked through the rest of the ark. No additional elephants lingered in the hallways. None were outside by the ramp, though Shem could hear trumpeting from the direction of the lake. He hoped they’d stay at a distance. Several years back he’d heard about a group of elephants enraged by the loss of a baby who’d broken down the gates of a walled city and rampaged through the streets killing nearly a hundred people. Those elephants lost only one baby. This group had lost two youngsters.
They could be dangerous.
Shem dismissed Ham to go home to his wife and then, after checking the lock on the door to the salt storage unit, he spent the night in his quarters on the ark. Alone. Without eating an evening meal. He viewed solitude on the ark as better than enduring the happy sounds of couples at home.
The sky through the window above Shem’s head glowed pink by the time he rolled from his comfortable mattress the next morning. Exiting the family quarters, he carefully closed the door behind him and bolted it to prevent any new strays from causing havoc inside.
Not bothering with a torch he fixed his eyes on the rectangle of light leading to the exit as he made his way down the long corridor, watching the pink of the sky merge into orange right before his eyes. Despite the dark days, the morning sky seemed more brilliant than usual today. Shem idly wondered if the intensified colors had anything to do with the eruptions.
Hunger churned in his stomach and he imagined the smell of Mother’s hot corn cakes and jam. She should be up by now preparing the morning meal with Ulla and Eudocea before Father and Japheth left for the fields and Ham returned to work on the ark.
Within the next few days they’d all labor as a seven-person unit to bring in the final harvest and finish stocking the ark to full capacity. Having Father and Japheth working on the ark again would be a relief, Shem and Ham needed them to help care for animals. Right now bringing in water and food for the animals seemed a nearly overwhelming task for two. Fatigue was Shem’s constant companion. He wondered how they’d manage once all the animals trooped aboard.
The ark was nearly ready to embark -- an easy-to-read fact in Father’s face. Since Paseah’s departure, Shem had noticed so much sadness residing there. During all the years of preparation, when Father was still able to go to the city to preach, hope continually sparkled in the depths of his eyes. But now Shem could tell that Father was resigned to the fact that no one but his immediate family would believe and live. Shem understood why he appeared unhappy.
Still, Shem anticipated that once sufficient time passed and Father’s grieving abated, joy would fill his eyes once again. It might take time, but Father would be happy.
Shem didn’t like to think about the implications of the Flood on his own life.
Ambling toward the exit lost in his thoughts, Shem failed to notice the massive elephant obscured by shadows until it moved forward and planted itself directly in his path, blocking his way. Shem’s heart thudded into his throat. Was that a bull in musk? How had Shem not seen him? Smelled him?
The elephant approached slowly, deliberately, as though it had spotted Shem from the large herd earlier and returned with a plan. Shem retreated a step. The elephant spread large ears in warning and moved closer, staring down its trunk at Shem. If he tried to run, the elephant would overtake and crush him. He remained motionless, staring up at the monstrous beast towering over him.
A white ring around the iris told him the elephant was old. Other parts of the anatomy revealed the sex: female. Bulls at mating season could be dangerous, but if one of the calves penned up below belonged to this individual . . . Shem’s mind couldn’t wrap around the fury that might erupt from her momentarily, but his body tingled with fear.
The elephant took another step toward him, raised her trunk and swiveled it from side to side, evaluating him. Shem stiffened, taking shallow breaths. The elephant lowered her long proboscis and two finger-like projections at the tip reached out to explore his hair and face. The trunk snuffled down his arm. He could smell her breath, see the shortened left tusk.
Bavai had been left-tusked, too. She had worn down the tusk digging for salt and debarking trees.
A low growl emanated from the elephant’s throat and extended into a moan, growing in intensity until it escalated to a roar. Shem held his breath. The female threw back her head with a bellow, revealing the rounded teeth of extreme old age before dropping her trunk in a sign of submission.
The dark heart-shaped spot above her trunk confirmed Shem’s suspicions.
“Bavai, you wonderful old beast!” Shem hugged her head and stroked her trunk in wonder. “You came home.” He vigorously rubbed the massive neck. “You’re still alive!” She encircled Shem’s torso with her trunk, joyfully lifting him off his feet. He almost believed God had sent the elephant to encourage him. Maybe there was hope. By the time Shem instructed the elephant to set him down and she gently complied, a plan had solidified in his brain.
Shem issued a command and Bavai lifted her leg. He grabbed a leathery ear and placed his left foot on her fetlock, springing up as the elephant hoisted him onto her back. Sitting with thighs spread eagle, he grasped a fold of prickly skin and urged her forward. He missed the customary rope, but he’d ridden this particular elephant enough times he didn’t need one. He could still manage bare-back.
At the exit, he tapped the back of her right ear and she obediently turned left down the ramp. “Ya still got it, old girl.” Shem thumped her back. No one could ask for a better elephant. They descended at a slow pace, Shem bumping easily along with the rise and fall of Bavai’s shoulders. He stroked the lumpy gray flesh. Fewer razor-sharp hairs sprouted from her back these days. Another sign of age.
Shem shouted and the elephant trumped with delight all the way to the house. Near the front door Shem tapped her sagging back and she lowered to the ground, permitting Shem to slide off easily. While the family encircled the elephant, welcoming her home with hugs and pats, Shem hurried for a rope and blanket to slip on her.
When he returned, a beaming Ham slapped him on the back. “Finally got some guts!”
“How’d you know?”
“Look at your face,” Japheth said, laughing. “I approve, big brother!”
Father and Mother wordlessly kissed Shem goodbye, tears shinning in their eyes. Ulla and Eudocea stayed by the house grinning.
Shem gave the command and mounted Bavai again. He tapped behind her right ear and she started left toward the trailhead. Pushing away the doubt trying to kill his newly found hope, he hollered and pumped his fist in the air confidently and the elephant sped up.
If God had preserved a wife for Shem, he’d find her. If he hadn’t waited too long.
