logo
‘Life that they deserve': why Australia's elephants are moving out of city zoos

‘Life that they deserve': why Australia's elephants are moving out of city zoos

The Guardian07-06-2025
After Tricia died, Perth Zoo's last remaining female elephant, Permai, became withdrawn. 'She lost her matriarch … that was her whole world,' says Jack Lemon, the zoo's acting director of life sciences, of the once cheeky and affectionate elephant.
'Elephants need the company of other elephants, and we just don't have the space here to accommodate a herd structure.'
Earlier this year, Permai made the 2,700km trip across the Nullarbor plain to join a makeshift herd at Monarto Safari Park, in regional South Australia. There, she joined Burma from Auckland, and two female elephants from Taronga Zoo Sydney who arrived in April. Perth's male, Putra Mas, will arrive later in the year.
This year, Australia's captive elephants have been on the move, as long-term plans to build communities who can roam come to fruition. In February, Melbourne Zoo's herd of nine were also transported to a new 21-hectare habitat at Werribee Open Range Zoo.
Soon, of Australia's 27 elephants, only two adult males will remain in the city, at the privately owned Sydney Zoo.
Elephants are social animals, particularly females. In the wild, they live in multigenerational family groups – grandmothers, mothers, aunts, cousins and siblings – in herds that can number up to 60 animals.
Some say it's a historic win for elephant welfare, while others argue the animals shouldn't be kept in captivity at all.
'We're the only region in the world where all of our elephants are housed in situations where females have opportunities for social contact with at least two other females,' says Amanda Embury, species coordinator for the Zoo and Aquarium Association Australasia.
'This is a huge milestone.'
It has taken years of collaboration to get to this point but in some ways the work has only just begun.
Introducing elephants to each other – and their new environment – is a slow and careful process, says Peter Clark, director of Monarto Safari Park. At 1,500 hectares (3,700 acres), the park is one of the largest open range zoos in the world. Its five new elephants will have access to 14 hectares – almost the size of Perth Zoo.
Sign up to get climate and environment editor Adam Morton's Clear Air column as a free newsletter
Each animal is different, he says. Shortly after Pak Boon arrived from Taronga, she walked straight into the first waterhole, he says, 'and dragged her mate Tang Mo in with her', while the others 'were still tippy-toeing at that particular pool'.
All the zoos are working together for a successful outcome, with keepers from Auckland, Perth and Sydney staying on as a 'familiar face'.
Social bonds and strong family ties are fundamental for elephants, says the University of Nottingham's Assoc prof Dr Lisa Yon, a veterinarian and expert in elephant welfare.
'In the wild a female calf will often stay in the herd that she was born into for her whole life,' she says. 'She'll be there with mum, brothers and sisters, cousins, auntie, sometimes even a grandmother.'
Elephants live in a 'fission-fusion' society, she says, where larger extended families might split off into smaller groups for a while, before coming together again.
When they reunite, there's a tremendous sense of joy and excitement, she says. 'They're very touch oriented. You'll often see them touching each other with their trunks, providing social reassurance or nudging up against each other.'
They also need large and stimulating environments, she says. 'Opportunities to swim and splash, mud wallow and dust bathe, knock trees over and strip bark off them, crunch on branches, and play with each other.'
Males need much larger spaces in which to roam, and the chance to interact with other males and family groups. 'Bulls often get a really short shrift in captive facilities,' she says.
A solitary life isn't good for elephants, Yon says, but positive welfare isn't just a question of numbers.
It can be hard to predict whether elephants will get along, and there is some evidence to suggest genetically related elephants are more likely to have neutral or positive interactions, while unrelated animals tend to have more unfriendly ones. In those cases, space and the ability to move away is important.
Melbourne Zoo's multi-generational herd was already well-acquainted and keeping those bonds intact in the move to Werribee is a priority, says Erin Gardiner, life sciences manager of the elephant trail at Werribee.
Keepers have been allowing them to settle in slowly – introducing them in stages to their new digs, which include an elephant barn, areas of pasture and trees for grazing and deep pools for swimming.
Grazing is a new activity and natural behaviour that wasn't available in the city.
Gardiner, who has worked with the herd for more than 18 years, says the move has been a career highlight.
'Sometimes, I honestly get tears when I look out to these habitats and I see these elephants doing these beautiful behaviours like grazing or interacting with each other, swimming, wallowing,' she says. 'I feel so happy that they get to live this life that they deserve.'
Not everyone agrees open range zoos are the answer.
'The RSPCA does not believe elephants should be kept in zoos, as it is difficult to meet all their physical and mental needs in a captive environment,' a spokesperson for RSPCA Australia says.
The animal welfare organisation has long advocated stopping the importation of elephants into Australia, and has concerns about breeding in captivity.
While open plains zoos offer more space to roam, 'there are continuing challenges, including limited social interactions due to relatively small herd sizes compared to those in the wild,' the spokesperson says.
'Elephants need space to exercise, a stimulating environment to engage their considerable physical and cognitive capabilities, and a nurturing social life,' says Peter Stroud, a retired independent zoological consultant.
For decades, Stroud worked in Australian zoos as a keeper, curator and director and now advises on elephant welfare, including a stint on the elephant specialist group for the International Union for the Conservation of Nature.
'Older elephants in Australia have led chequered lives,' he says. Some in their 40s and 50s have experienced dramatic changes 'from very small and impoverished exhibits and rigid daily routines, to larger more varied spaces' with more insightful care – although the spaces are still too small, he says.
Their lives have improved but it's important to acknowledge that some have suffered and been shaped by past experiences, he says.
Stroud says the shift from city enclosures to open range zoos is a positive step, but not the end goal.
'What should happen is we stop destroying our environment, nurture biodiversity, protect wildlife and make a world where elephants can live their lives as the wild animals they are.'
Yon agrees. Both Asian and African elephants are now endangered, she says, and dying at a rate faster than they are being born.
Globally, an estimated 18,000 elephants live in captivity – in zoos, logging camps, sanctuaries and tourism facilities. As a species with a long lifespan, even if no more elephants were born in captivity, many would continue to live in those settings for decades to come, she says.
'Regardless of what we feel, we have a responsibility to try to make the lives of those captive elephants as good as possible.'
Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

The kindness of strangers: out of the blue, an older woman handed me a well-thumbed book
The kindness of strangers: out of the blue, an older woman handed me a well-thumbed book

The Guardian

time2 hours ago

  • The Guardian

The kindness of strangers: out of the blue, an older woman handed me a well-thumbed book

A few years ago I decided to improve myself physically and mentally. I did that by setting a couple of new year resolutions. One was to exercise regularly, the other was to read a book a week. The exercise part didn't go so well because on 1 January, I went for my first walk and stepped on a branch that punctured my leg. But my plan to throw myself into reading was much more successful. Later that year I was on a long train trip from Sydney to Melbourne with a friend and told him about my reading goal. I was pretty stoked with how well I was going and was excited to talk about it. I didn't think this was particularly interesting chat to anyone else on the train, so I certainly wasn't worried about anyone eavesdropping. But at some point on this journey, an older couple stood up to get off the train. As they walked past, the woman handed me a well-thumbed copy of The Man Who Was Thursday by GK Chesterton. She smiled at me but didn't say anything. Before I had time to process what had happened, she was gone. I didn't even get a chance to say thank you. That was our only interaction on the train and her gift was completely out of the blue, with no pretext and no expectation. It was a simple, quiet gesture of humanity – kindness just for the sake of it. I didn't quite hit my goal of reading a book a week that year, instead maxing out at about 30 books for the year, which was still a lot more than I'd ever read before. But what makes the memory even fonder is that The Man Who Was Thursday went on to become one of my favourite books – it now has pride of place on my bookshelf. That woman on the train had great taste. From making your day to changing your life, we want to hear about chance encounters that have stuck with you. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian. If you're having trouble using the form click here. Read terms of service here and privacy policy here

We once loved pigeons. We might not remember that, but they do
We once loved pigeons. We might not remember that, but they do

The Guardian

time3 hours ago

  • The Guardian

We once loved pigeons. We might not remember that, but they do

A month or so ago, my partner and I went on a painfully short trip to northern Tasmania. Tucked away in a tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere, we lit fires, watched sunlight dip over the mountains; and, as avid birdwatchers, saw an abundance of avian life, nestled in the trees, awash with golden light. So at first, returning to our home in Sydney, where we live in a flat on a major street, triangulated between three different vape shops, my overwhelming feeling was one of despair. Gone were the rolling hills, replaced by convenience stores selling AI-generated posters of monkeys smoking cigars. Suddenly, everything I observed about city life became evidence for a growing theory that the human race had gone terribly, unavoidably wrong. Around this time, I stepped out on to the street and noticed a pigeon, nestled in the roof above my door. The green of the plumage around her neck glinted, a mossy river struck by a plume of light. She cooed, gently, and her partner fluttered up beside her, his beak filled with twigs, come to help build their nest, together. If there is anything that defines modern life, it is how determinedly and constantly we are trained to not really see. We wake up and get to work ignoring things, like we're being paid to do so. Human brains are naturally predisposed to ignoring the familiar, and focusing on the new, the different, the outrageous. Anything we're surrounded by for too long grows invisible. The humble pigeon is that ethos poured into a feathery, fragile little body. Pigeons are noticed only when they seem particularly foul, paid mind only when they annoy us. They are also victim of rampant animal welfare crimes: pelted with rocks, chased from dwellings, killed and maimed en mass. Which is ironic, because, as it goes with so many problems we face, pigeons are a 'problem' that we have caused. Feral pigeons are descendants of homing pigeons that we kept and domesticated. We loved them, once. We might not remember that, but pigeons do. They are naturally predisposed to want to be close to us. They gather where we gather. They thrive as a result of the particular way we have decided to live, rooting through our trash, taking shelter in our nests. And if pigeons are dirty or disgusting, they are that way because we are dirty and disgusting. Forgive me for excessive anthropomorphism, but we live in a natural world that, rightfully, flinches from human touch. Pigeons are one of the few creatures that don't. And for that, we punish them. But if this makes it sound as though my burgeoning fascination with pigeons is guided by self-hatred, more despair, excessive fury at the way humans have decided to live, then I have miscommunicated. After noticing the nesting pigeons above my door, I began to actively look for them, everywhere. A few days later, walking home from work, I saw a flock of them huddled together, eating a discarded loaf of bread. Their overlapping cooing sounded like the movement of water. It was no northern Tasmania, but it was something. A pigeon deep-dive on Wikipedia that day brought me to an article, published in 1995, which informed me that pigeons are able to differentiate between paintings by Monet and Picasso. And I was moved not only by the image of a little bird, wandering between impressionist and cubist masterpieces, but the gentle, beautiful curiosity of humans too: that we can be interested enough in pigeons to want to know what they think about the art that we make. Another thing about human brains: we adore a binary. Human versus non-human. Nature versus the city. Regular versus exceptional. Just because we see something every day – just because it surrounds us – it doesn't mean it's any less remarkable for that. So often, we picture metropolises as places devoid of wildlife; even in our despair, we end up drawing arbitrary lines between us and the natural world. Humans are not alone. Somehow, even after all that we have done, we still have pigeons by our side, building their nests, quietly, heads down, as we build ours. Joseph Earp is a critic, painter and novelist. His latest book is Painting Portraits of Everyone I've Ever Dated

Danish zoo asks pet owners to donate rabbits and horses to feed its predators
Danish zoo asks pet owners to donate rabbits and horses to feed its predators

The Guardian

time6 hours ago

  • The Guardian

Danish zoo asks pet owners to donate rabbits and horses to feed its predators

A zoo in Denmark is appealing for donations of healthy small pets to be 'gently euthanised' and fed to predators. Aalborg zoo has urged willing chicken, rabbit and guinea pig owners to hand over their pets to be eaten whole by animals including European lynx. Live donations, it said, would be killed by trained staff. It promised that 'nothing goes to waste', and also said it would 'gratefully' receive live horses. The zoo said such animals were needed in order to 'imitate the animals' natural food chain – for the sake of both animal welfare and professional integrity'. 'Chickens, rabbits and guinea pigs form an important part of the diet of our predators,' Aalborg zoo wrote in a social media post alongside a picture of an openmouthed lynx. 'Especially the European lynx, which needs whole prey that resembles what it would naturally hunt in the wild.' It added: 'If you have a healthy animal that needs to be put down for various reasons, you are welcome to donate it to us. The animals are gently euthanised by trained staff and then used as food. That way, nothing goes to waste – and we ensure natural behaviour, nutrition and wellbeing of our predators.' To find out more about the scheme, pet owners are encouraged to click on a web link – illustrated by a tiger tucking into a hunk of meat – that outlines the finer details of its pet euthanasia scheme. The zoo also said it would welcome horses, which would be slaughtered for food. 'Our needs vary throughout the year and there may be a waiting list,' it added. Any horse donated to the zoo must have a horse passport and come with the opportunity for a tax deduction on the horse's value, which is calculated on the basis of its weight. The social media post has attracted a wide array of reactions and comments. Some criticised the appeal, with one describing it as a 'sick invention'. Sign up to This is Europe The most pressing stories and debates for Europeans – from identity to economics to the environment after newsletter promotion Others spoke out in support. 'I took a horse to the zoo a few years ago,' said one. 'It was the most peaceful and calm way it happened.' Pia Nielsen, deputy director of Aalborg zoo, said: 'For many years at Aalborg Zoo, we have fed our carnivores with smaller livestock. When keeping carnivores, it is necessary to provide them with meat, preferably with fur, bones etc to give them as natural a diet as possible. 'Therefore, it makes sense to allow animals that need to be euthanised for various reasons to be of use in this way. In Denmark, this practice is common, and many of our guests and partners appreciate the opportunity to contribute. The livestock we receive as donations are chickens, rabbits, guinea pigs, and horses.' Last week a zoo in Nuremberg, Germany, prompted outcry – including from a woman who glued her hands to the ground near the zoo entrance in protest - after culling 12 healthy Guinea baboons due to overcrowding in their enclosure and reportedly feeding them to the lions in view of the public.

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store