Enamored by Elephants

A 6-year-old boy walks by a cello in a window and tells his parents, “That is what I want to play for the rest of my life.” At the age of 10, Georgia O’Keefe says she will be a famous artist, and never looks back on her way to history. Carol Buckley, 21, glimpses a tiny elephant walking by and knows she will devote her life to that elephant and the happiness of others like her.

The thunderbolt of destiny—for an elephant? That is exactly how the then-college student felt when a bouncing baby elephant was led by her window to promote a tire store. Today, Tarra is a 9,700-pound matron. Carol Buckley—the woman who saw her future tied to the pachyderm—is with Tarra after a half-century of achievement, devotion, drama, and finally, peace.

In the sunlight of a recent spring morning, Mundi, one of the three elephants who also call the Attapulgus, Georgia Elephant Refuge North America (ERNA) their home, walks out of the shadows—he’s less shy and paler than he seemed from a distance. Framed by her massive butterfly-wing ears, a signature of African elephants, she lets Buckley’s hose spray water into her trunk, which she then aims into her mouth. It sounds as if a bucket has been emptied down a well. Relaxed mornings like this encapsulate how the three elephant residents of the preserve spend their time on the 850 acres of the sanctuary’s pastoral landscape: meandering the grounds, socializing, nibbling at green shoots, clearly living their best elephant lives—something none of them could have looked forward to if not for Carol Buckley. 

Photo by Dave Barfield

But across 52 years, how does one build a life as mother, teacher, champion, and best friend when your life partner is an elephant? How do you change minds that animals are not purely entertainers and instead deserve the respect and agency we offer humans? Carol Buckley has shown us how through tenacity, risk-taking, and an enduring love.

Lots of children love animals, but the young Carol Buckley seemed to have a special sense when it came to her pets. And there were many: cats, dogs, geese, rabbits, ducks. By high school, she was working in a pet store, later a kennel, and by graduation, she had found Moorpark College with its two-year exotic animal program, which entailed learning how to train exotic animals, primarily for shows. Buckley claimed one of fifteen openings in her  cohort.

Enrolled and loving her studies, the connection Buckley felt when she saw the tire company mascot saunter by her window was something she couldn’t get out of her mind. Buckley began to visit the tire store frequently, expressed her interest in becoming involved in Tarra’s care, and soon began teaching her small “behaviors.” When she eventually asked to become Tarra’s trainer, a mutual agreement ensued. 

With what she admits was a “large dose of hubris,” she took a break from her studies at Moorpark College to train Tarra more formally. The 1-year-old Thailand-born elephant learned to sit up, skip, wave, play the harmonica, and eventually, roller skate.

Photo by Dave Barfield

Buckley credits some coaching from famed trainer Smokey Jones; however, while he was old school and a bit “heavy-handed,” she says, “From the beginning, I always believed the animal and I were in a relationship … not master over a  slave.”

And, of course, those in the entertainment business were charmed by a 5-foot-tall trainer and a powerful elephant who could play the harmonica. Initially, the owner of the tire company allowed Buckley to take Tarra on little gigs. Then, bigger contracts arrived. And finally, with the help of a $25,000 loan, Buckley bought Tarra and entered the world of seasonal circuses, festivals, openings, and theme park animal shows. 

“During those years, we were sort of everywhere,” says Buckley, with both nostalgia and a whiff of regret. “We were on The Bob Hope Christmas Special, we were in Annie, the movie Little House on the Prairie, Jerry Lewis telethons, the Academy Awards, and so, so many commercials. We performed all across Canada and the U.S. for almost 13 years.” 

But the years began to add up, and the logistics for caring for and transporting an animal of Tarra’s size were complicated. Tarra was becoming a teenager, and at times, cantankerous. And Buckley was looking at 40—a time for taking stock and making a few changes.

Getting off the road seemed like a good change. The predictability of living and showing Tarra at a zoo felt appealing, but after giving it a try for a few years, Buckley realized that the static boredom of zoo life was not psychologically healthy for her young elephant. 

Photo by Dave Barfield

She tried shifting Tarra to an animal “park,” where elephants lived in herds, and where then-19-year-old Tarra became pregnant. And then an exciting possibility arose: the Nashville Zoo offered Buckley a contract to become the animal expert for a new concept, a sanctuary where large animals could roam 30 acres of wild land and live in peace without having to “be who humans wanted them to be.” 

For a while, it felt like everything Buckley had dreamt of was coming to pass. But time also passed, and an ice storm destroyed much of the zoo—and with it, all of the plans for the sanctuary. Yet Carol Buckley was nothing if not tenacious.

“I decided to break through the fear,” she says of the 1995 launch of her own sanctuary for sick, old, and needy elephants. Buckley purchased 112 acres in Hohenwald, Tennessee, to found The Elephant Sanctuary, the first organization of its kind in North America. Over the course of 16 years of growth, conflict between Buckley and her co-founders resulted in a complicated custody battle of Tarra, who eventually landed safely back in Buckley’s care.

In the meantime, she had founded Elephant Aid International and became sought-after across Asia as a consultant, teacher, and creator of chain-free solar-powered corrals. And then, in 2016 at age 62, Buckley opened the Elephant Rescue North America (ERNA) preserve in Attapulgus, Georgia: the place Tarra, Mundi, Bo, and Carol now call home. 

Any day will find the agile woman with a silvery braid hopping aboard hay wagons, filling huge water vats, calling out to elephants in the distance—who may just trumpet back. Haylie Moye, a devoted employee who seems cut of the same fabric as Buckley, is likely close by. Moye and a coterie of volunteers see Buckley as a kind of Jane Goodall for elephants, an advocate for animals who only look different from us.

“All I know is that with them, I am my authentic self,” Buckley says. “Here, I can let them be their true selves as well.” And with a second barn on the horizon, the elephant’s “circle of caring” may just enlarge.  

Photo by Dave Barfield

Tarra

Carol Buckley’s first elephant is now 52. From Thailand, she has small ears and the arching back of an Asian breed. It is said Asian elephants’ bladders can hold an average of 30 gallons. A female her size eats approximately 250 pounds of food each day. Buckley says that Tarra is now middle-aged and doesn’t have the energy she was once famous for. Since their separation during the era of The Elephant Sanctuary, the trust, affection, and spunk that characterized their 50-year “mother-daughter” relationship has returned. “Now,” Buckley says, “she makes me sit down beside her and tells me with her trunk that she’s back.”

Bo

Weighing over 13,000 pounds, Bo is a castrated Asian male who is at ease with his female buddies and will move his hay close to Tarra to dine beside her. He can also be seen using his trunk to caress the spot where Buckley kissed him on the chest earlier in the day. Formerly a circus performer and a resident of the sanctuary since 2021, he seems to say, “Retirement is all I hoped it would be.”

Mundi

The newest member of the family, Mundi is a smaller African elephant with a distressing past. She was orphaned in an aerial “cull,” which left only babies to be lifted off of their home soil and placed in holding camps from where their abductors would sell them off to international buyers. There, Mundi’s ear was ripped and one of her tusks broken by an attacking elephant. She was later sold to a zoo in Puerto Rico, where a hurricane necessitated her rehoming. Buckley is grateful to the U.S. Department of Justice, which airlifted Mundi and other animals to better circumstances. Today, Mundi affectionately rumbles to Carol Buckley and teases big Bo.