My daughter works for a wildlife rescue centre in Thailand and recently, she came home on a whirlwind visit to pick up veterinary supplies to take back to an animal hospital in Petchaburi. While she was here she reminded me of the time I visited her at the centre, some months ago.
I remember that Lucy was working on the day I arrived in Petchaburi, but said she would have someone special at the gate to meet me–a spunk who gets around on two wheels by the name of Bruce and apparently I would just ‘love him’. I was curious about the ‘spunk’ bit, and a little worried about the ‘love’ bit, especially as I am the not too young mother of five children and quite happily married to their father. However, when Tak, the taxi driver told me we were only minutes away from the entrance to the wildlife complex, I have to confess that my heart involuntarily quickened at the thought of being greeted by a wiry, tanned, smiling Thai on a shiny motor bike. However, when we reached the gate all I could see was an excitable stray dog who was making a hugely enthusiastic effort to welcome me. But where was my ‘spunk’?
Earlier on this particular morning, I left the Suvarnabhumi Airport Hotel in Bangkok and its depressing breakfast dining room, full of monosyllabic, mis-matched couples. The males were mostly white and of the red, porous nose, bulging belly variety and their young, delicate, almoned-eyed companions looked universally bored - the effort of verbal communication too bothersome for either side. Tak had been sent to collect me by my daughter, a vet nurse and former volunteer at the Wildlife Friends of Thailand animal rescue centre, which aims to provide a safe shelter for abused and neglected wild animals and where possible return them to the wild. However, many of the animals, including elephants, chimps, bears and tigers are permanently disabled and can never be released back to the jungle. Instead, they spend their days as happy, well-fed and cared for residents of the wildlife centre.
Lucy and best friend
Today was Lucy’s birthday and I was her fast post, special delivery birthday present. We hurtled down the freeway, Tak tailgating, lane changing and chatting animatedly on his mobile phone. However, as we drove somewhat erratically past a gigantic statue of a three headed elephant, balanced delicately on the roof of a temple - a symbol of triple good luck I was told - I took the meaning literally and tried to relax, all the while hoping the chocolate sponge birthday cake perched in the centre of the back seat, directly in line with an air vent serviced by a temperamental air conditioning system, would not end up as a pool of melted chocolate.
We flashed past flat roofed, open fronted road stalls, some almost concealed by plastic wrapped silver hubcaps. There were hawker’s stands, food stalls and jumbo-sized billboards some spruiking the presumably Jenny Craig like ‘Slim Up Centres’ which with the heat and my damp sweaty flesh, I was convinced I wouldn’t need, even if I did overdose on birthday cake. We stopped for gasoline and Tak, in the generous Thai way emerged from the service station with a large cellophane packet full of cold, crispy, sliced green mango. It came with a ‘dip’ of sugar, salt and chilli and was the perfect treat on a hot summer day. I wondered if the situation was reversed what I would choose him in an Aussie petrol station – a pie and tomato sauce just doesn’t seem to cut it.
Three hours later we escaped the freeway for the backroads of Petchaburi, where Tak finally took his foot off the accelerator and meandered on to a winding road leading past waterlogged rice paddies, temples and Budda statues and through peaceful farming communes past simple wooden houses, many on stilts and seemingly occupied by serene, amicable people all with contagious smiles.
Tak told me that our canine meeter and greeter was called Bruce, and Bruce turned out to be my ‘spunk’ on two wheels, for in place of back legs Bruce wore a set of wheels strapped to his rear end which allowed him to run and jump or meet and greet with endless zeal. Some years ago Bruce was left at the centre with his back legs paralysed. Unfortunately they had to be removed after which poor Bruce would drag himself around on his two front legs. However, the staff at the wildlife centre crafted a set of ‘strap on’ wheels which he now wears during the day and which allow him to get around the centre like a mini Michael Schumacher.
Bruce
Bruce knew exactly why he had been sent to the gate and led me straight to the hospital and to Lucy. I had not seen her for 8 months and noted she had lost some weight, was tanned and looked fit, healthy and quite muscled-up. A pleasant thought flashed through my mind that this might very well happen to her mother over the next 10 days.
The centre is without a veterinary surgeon and one day I asked Lucy if I could watch her operate. I was kindly granted permission provided I promised not to ask any embarrassing questions – a curious trait of mothers all over the world, it seems. My subsequent behaviour met with approval and from then on I was allowed to observe at will. I called it quits the day a village dog was brought to the centre with a mangled leg, which had to be amputated– not nice to watch let alone for the poor dog. I was amazed, when after such a gruelling operation, the dog’s owner returned the following morning, made a small donation to the centre, collected the poor animal and took him home. Village dogs sure are tough!
I liked to watch two baby elephants, a boy, Khan Kluey and a girl, Soythong, at play, especially in the water. Khan Kluey had the annoying habit of many adolescent males in a similar situation and would not let poor Soythong get out of the pool until staff intervened. And I have proof that elephants really never forget. Some weeks earlier Lucy had given Khan Kluey an injection and he seriously holds this against her (it probably hurt – I hate to think of the size of the needle)! On one occasion Lucy and I walked past the baby elephant enclosure which was surrounded by a seemingly flimsy but hotwired electric fence. When Khan Kluey saw Lucy, he shrieked, pinned back his gigantic bat ears and with bulging eyes came racing across the enclosure, gathering momentum in a ground shaking charge which ended abruptly in a thick cloud of dust and with the furious elephant executing a delicate fine pointe halt worthy of Rudolf Nureyev, just centimetres from the electric fence near where we were standing – or rather where Lucy remained standing, hands nonchalantly on hips, eyeballing Khan Kluey, determined to get the upper hand. I was already behind a tree many metres away, which in retrospect was a dumb place to hide with a ton of ellie after me.
Khan Kluey and Soythong
I met Andy and Randie the flashy, exotic, yellow-billed hornbills, dramatically outfitted Versace style in glittering gold, black and white. A dysfunctional family of mountain bears, mum, dad and four siblings live together in a vast, grassy plot complete with a mini mountain, and a rogue brother (he sat on his younger brother’s head and smothered him to death in a jealous fit) lives in a separate, adjoining area. The fact that all of these animals are wild was continually drilled in to me, especially when walking past the macaques and the gibbons who like nothing better than to reach out with their long-range, elastic arms and grab a handful of human hair. They won’t let go – the human head gives in first.
Randy
However, I could safely cuddle Leo, a baby leopard cat and Pip and Pin, tiny baby Langurs (monkeys to me) who are being hand reared by the volunteers; but not Poppy and Peanuts the cute but savage Malayan sun bears. And I certainly didn’t want to get up close and personal with Dundee, the salt water crocodile. However, saddest of all was Meow an enormous, striped, Bengal tiger who spent the first years of his life tied up outside a petrol station to attract customers. He was hand fed a diet of sweets and chocolate and developed problems with his central nervous system. Meow was purchased by the centre and has now been restored to health. However, the abuse he suffered has left him with the gait of a ‘drunken’ tiger. He requires hand feeding and his diet of fresh chicken meat must be physically put in his mouth for him to be able to eat. If the food is left on the ground poor Meow doesn’t know how to pick it up with his teeth.
Leo
The animals live on a huge section of forest donated by the abbot of the nearby Kao Look Chang Buddhist Temple. The abbot of the temple is a great supporter of the centre and he and the humble monks often wander though, chanting, sometimes with bowls in their hands to collect food donated by the local people.
baby spectacled langur
Meow
Most Thai villages have a local temple (or ‘wat’) and the abbot and his monks are much respected members of the community. Most Thai men and boys spend a period of time in the monkhood, studying and practicing the Buddhist faith. The temple is the heart of the community. The dead are cremated in the temple, festivals are celebrated here and the advice of the monks is often sought by the local people.
There is much interaction between the monks and the staff at the wildlife centre. In return for permission to use the land owned by the monks, the centre is committed to restoring the forest with massive annual plantings of native plants and bushes, food and fruit trees. Volunteers are always needed.
I stayed at the:
Petchvarin Resort
248 Moo 11, Kladluang Sub-District
Thayang, Petchaburi 76130
Trish Clark is author of Good Night and God Bless: A Guide to Convent and Monastery Accommodation in Europe, Vols I and II, both published by Hidden Spring, an imprint of Paulist Press NJ. We've interviewed Trish about Good Night and God Bless. She writes a monthly column for Wandering Educators as the Travel with a Spiritual Twist Editor.
You can find her at http://goodnightandgodbless.com/
All photos courtesy and copyright Trish Clark