Betsy's Birthday

January 3rd

Today was our day off, and just in time. It finally decided to snow on us, and all of the elephants are stuck inside for the day. That means cleaning around them. Imagine that feat, maneuvering around a 7-ton animal. Quite a task. Gail and I went to Wal-Mart again to get hangers to line-dry our clothes and a bread pan to make cinnamon bread. Before we got to baking, we went down to African barn to watch Bets get her birthday present.
When the trainers are just standing around, it means something’s up. Bets has got this signal down. As we were waiting for the giant popsicle (made in an industrial sized bucket and frozen to a chain so as to hook to one of hooks on the floor to keep the thing from going flying every which way) to thaw out in an even bigger bucket of hot water, Bets was going bananas. She stood at the gate, ran in circles, trumpeted, and finally started to hop up and down, rearing up on her hind legs. When the gate was finally opened to let her in, Amy stuck her trunk out in front of the little’un and went in first. Mom wanted to get at that treat just as much as little Bets did. Bets can’t eat very hard things yet, so she had to wait for everything to thaw. Or, she’d just stick the fruit in her mouth and let it thaw. Smart girl. But, mom was more concerned about getting her share than Bets seemed to be. As the gate opened, Betsy went parading around the enclosure, sticking her trunk out the bars to everyone she passed. Perhaps a thank you of sorts? She finally went back to the treat waiting for her, where mom had already begun to chip away at the frozen block of sweets. Amy is 7 tons and could have easily crushed the thing, but she simply chipped away at it, the comparison of speed that of a human shaving a normal-size popsicle with their fingernail until it was all gone. She wanted to savor it, I suppose. Bets, on the other hand, was bent on bashing that thing to a million pieces. She let mom try it out, but soon realized the effort to be futile. Every so often Bets would grab the chain and yank the popsicle away from mom, if only to keep it from her for a few moments. Amy was tactile, positioning the popsicle upside-down where the chain wouldn’t hurt her foot while stepping on it. She’d chip off a bit at a time, pick up the shavings and enjoy her reward. Bets had had enough of this madness. She yanked the popsicle away one last time. Only this time, she picked it up. What is she doing, I thought to myself. Sure enough, she lifted the chain above her head, positioned the frozen hunk of fruit over her mouth and tossed it into the air. Thankfully, she missed, and didn’t smash herself in the face with the thing, but she did achieve her goal: smashed to smithereens. There were cheers all around. She quickly forgot about her feat and made another lap around the bars, waggling her trunk at everyone and waiting for a tongue scratch from anyone willing to oblige. Approval seemed to be the best kind of present.