I plant the stubs of my chewed fingernails into the shoulders of my guide and we blast through the jungle on his old Suzuki, 150. It’s a three hour ride through the damp forest on a narrow single track to the Thai/Myanmar border where I am to meet the man who wants to sell me a pregnant elephant.

It’s about 5:30pm, hot, painfully humid, and we have already dropped the bike three times. My feet beg for sympathy as they’re whipped by the tall grasses. Sandals are definitely not the best foot attire for jungle trekking but it’s all I have.

We stop at a shallow river and ease the bike into the water. My guide looks over his shoulder and tells me we are now in Burma (Myanmar). Like many Shan, Chin, Karin, and other ethnic Burmese, I refuse to call the country “Myanmar” for the simple fact that the name change came about during the Burmese military junta’s undemocratic rise to power.

“Shh,” he says as he cups his hand over his ear. Across the river, a growl pierces the thick green forest, a growl that sounds positively prehistoric, like an angry lion into a 500 watt amplifier. We wade across the river, crawl up the steep embankment, and into the bamboo thicket. We bushwhack our way through, hacking at the thick stalks. It starts to rain.

I’ve been working along the border for two months now, slipping back and forth attempting to document the illegal trafficking of live wild and domesticated elephants. Unlike their African cousins, Asian elephants are traded primarily for the entertainment industry, which includes circuses, zoos, safaris, and trekking outfits. And a lucrative business it is. My educated guess is that dozens of these animals are smuggled into and laundered though Thailand every month.

Thailand is the hub for international trade of Asian elephants. In the past two decades exports from Thailand have increased and include sales (or donations) to Japan, China, US, Australia and others. The majority of these animals are considered “captive bred” which the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES) states the animal must have been sired by at least one captive adult in a controlled environment. However, captive breeding in Thailand has been largely unsuccessful. The average number of offspring from a captive adult female Asian elephant is 1.48 in her lifetime. This rate of successful reproduction hardly satisfies the demand for juvenile elephants in the entertainment industry. Thus, the trade is supplemented with young wild caught elephants, primarily from Burma.

Again the angry roar pierces the thick air. It grows louder as we push forward. A few dozen meters up the slope in front of us the dense bamboo rustles under an unseen force. I reach into my pocket and activate the hidden camera sewn into my shirt just as a towering gray mass bursts through the trees in front of me; bamboo cracks under her massive load.

We make eye contact. She lowers her head, squints her watery eyes, and belts out a penetrating scream while struggling with the enormous cargo she drags behind her. A small man precariously perched on her head, kicks with his bare feet at her ears. He swings a hooked instrument (ankus) at her skull repeatedly. Her forehead is saturated with blood. Again she wails.

From a harness around her neck and back, two long chains pulled taunt disappear into the jungle. Tethered at the other end is a massive fifteen meter long, one meter wide teak log. “She can only pull small logs,” my guide explains, “She is pregnant.”

My guide is under the impression that I work for a wealthy farang (Westerner) who is opening a new elephant trekking camp in Northern Thailand, and that we need elephants. My goal is simple (or so it sounds): through undercover means, infiltrate, investigate, and document the illegal trade.

Tourism is growing exponentially in Thailand and with it the demand for show businesses and trekking elephants. Elephant trekking camps are vastly popular with tourists in Thailand. And most every tourist I encounter during this investigation has been on or is going on an elephant trek. When I ask what makes them want to get on the back of an elephant the response is typically a hesitant reply, “We love elephants and want an elephant experience.”

In Bangkok and Chiang Mai tourists are inundated by images and ads selling elephant experiences. It’s impossible to avoid them. And during the course of my research I have yet to meet a single tourist who understands the connections with their desire for an “elephant experience” and the horrors of wild elephant captures, let alone the consequences to the ecosystem. They all appear to have left their brains at the baggage claim in BKK International Airport.

The majority of the trekking camps also serve the international trade. They buy and sell elephants. Since habitat loss and development have rendered Thailand’s wild elephant population virtually extinct the supply market has moved just across the border to SE Asia’s last vestiges of jungle refuge; Burma. With its vast tracks of virgin jungles and the relatively low human population growth, Burma may very well be the last stronghold for the wild Asian Elephant, with an estimated 5000-7000 in the wild including 3 very large herds in the north.

Burma has a population of approximately 60 million people and has an estimated 50% of its jungles intact. But this is changing rapidly as logging increases to serve international demands.

Capturing and training elephants in Burma is hardly illegal (the government encourages the centuries old practice to support the local logging industry), however, the transport and sales across borders is illegal. The particular ring I am focusing on boasts forty elephant deals between Burma and Thailand in the past 2 months. At that rate, the wild elephant roar in Burma may very well be silenced in less than ten years. With Burma’s weak law enforcement and political unrest the elephant trade has become quite a lucrative underground business.

Here’s how it works: In the jungle, a wild herd is tracked, a three to four year old elephant is targeted and separated from the pack. The youngster is lured into a pen where she is lassoed and harnessed. Often, troublesome family members (more precisely, the mothers) are killed in the process. The captive youngster is then forced into a wooden crate called a pajan (crush box). In the pajan she will be starved, poked, prodded, and beaten into submission. This is one of the most painful experiences I have had to witness and document. It typically takes a few weeks for the terrified animal to be completely broken physically and mentally at which time the training commences.

The animal is assigned to an oozie (trainer). Chained on all four legs, she is taught simple commands at first; forward, backward, pull, push, kneel, etc. It will be years before she is strong enough to enter into the logging or trekking profession. But because young elephants are endearing to westerners and highly photogenic, they often end up street begging for unapprised tourists in Thai cities until they are ready for trekking. There are an estimated 500 elephants working in the city streets in Bangkok, Chiang Mai, Surin, Pattaya, and Phuket among others.

A young, healthy, well trained elephant can sell for $20,000 in Thailand to feed the ever growing entertainment and trekking industries. There approximately 300 trekking camps in Thailand, each with 10-80 animals. New camps spring up every year. And there are no less than 100 circuses and tourist attractions with performing elephants.

Thai animal brokers like the one I am about to meet are like used car salesmen from hell. They seek out customers and marketable animals and facilitate transactions up and down the borders. Neither the Thai nor the Burmese governments have done much, if anything, to curtail the illegal trade. In the case of elephants, once an animal is selected that meets a customer’s specific needs she is slipped across the border (often past bribed border guards) into Thailand where, because law states all domestic elephants must be registered, a local sheriff draws up phony documents much like an automobile title. The elephant and documents are then loaded on a truck then transported to and laundered though a large elephant center like Surin. In Surin, new paperwork is drafted making the animal appear to be captive bred, thus legal. The animal will then likely end up in one of various training camps in preparation for a life in show business.

And Thailand knows how to put on a show. The Thai government honors their national emblem at the annual Elephant Roundup in Surin (probably the largest public elephant display and auction in the world). At this grand spectacle I have seen blind elephants, elephants with missing eyes, broken legs, deformed backs, malnourishment, and elephants pacing and tearing at their chains in obvious displays of mental distress; all bearing the physical scars of abuse. Many have had their eyelashes and tail hairs removed for jewelry. Ivory carvings and trinkets are for sale at the event as well.

In the arena hundreds of elephants perform historical war scenes, throw darts, and play soccer for international crowds while unscrupulous mahouts (elephant owners) make transactions backstage in what I call the used elephant auction. For an even broader perspective of the trade, one might even opt to venture a little further to the Thai Airways sponsored camp for unruly elephants in Surin. This is an elephant penitentiary where many of the animals are byproducts or discards of the industry, considered too violent for the public. They have killed mahouts and or tourists. Also worth a visit is the nearby elephant graveyard where there are over one hundred headstones from 2007 alone.

There are just two places that I am aware of in Thailand where folks can have a real, and cruelty free elephant experience; one is Khao Yai National Park where a few small wild herds still roam. The other is the Elephant Nature Park (ENP) outside Chiang Mai. ENP is an elephant sanctuary for rescued performing and street elephants. The one hundred acre park is situated aside a picturesque river and is home to over 30 elephants that will never experience chains or hooks again. Sarinya “Lek” Chaidee, the park founder has made it her life mission to protect Asian elephants from excessive human exploitation. “People need to understand where these animals come from and what they endure just to entertain tourists. Painting and tricks are taught through force,” says Lek. The park is open to visitors and volunteers who would like to learn more about the plight of Asian Elephants.

(see my short documentary from 2005 “The Elephant Lady” on www.rattlethecage.org).

The soon-to-be-mother roars again under the massive strain of the 2 ton log jammed in a narrow crevasse. I wedge myself between two trees and watch. The ground shakes under my feet; bamboo cracks and splinters as she digs in her heels for better leverage. The chains creak and moan under the strain. If the chains break, I imagine she will come tumbling down on top of me and my invaluable footage so I climb to a safer position. Blood streams from the open wounds on her head as a result of the oozie’s insidious hook.

My guide is aware of my obvious empathy for this animal. He defends the use of elephants in logging, “We use them to protect the forest from bulldozers and clear cutting. By using elephants we preserve habitat for wild elephants. If we use bulldozers, the entire area would be cleared.”

There may be some truth to that theory, though I am hard-pressed to justify one animal’s suffering to protect her wild cousins. In Thailand, where elephant logging was outlawed some time ago, deforestation and development has decimated the landscape. The jungle habitats are simply gone, and so are the wild elephants. So yes, one elephant and a single oozie can target a tree and remove it without damaging much of the surrounding ecosystem, but does that justify the suffering of the wild caught individuals involved? From an animal advocate’s perspective I believe no animal should endure such inhumane captures and training for human profit. But from a conservationist’s perspective (to which I also subscribe) it is the use of elephants in logging that helps preserve or at least delay the destruction of entire habitats. The demand for teak and other hard woods is not likely to subside in the near future. So, does the case for conservation and habitat protection justify the mental and physical abuse of “domesticated” elephants? Surely there must be a third option.

But what really plagues my mind at the moment is why are they working this animal so close to giving birth?

“We must use her now, while we can,” the 32 year old Thai broker (a retired Muay Thai boxer) tells me later that night as we drink Singhas by the fire.

“Once she gives birth, she is useless for a long time. So, you want buy her? You will get two for price of one.”

“Maybe,” I say, “I must talk to my boss.”

“Why you just want Burmese elephant?” he asks.

Thinking fast I reply, “My boss does not like Burma government. They abuse people and animals. He wants me to rescue elephants from Burma and take to our new trekking park in Thailand.”

“All my elephants come from Burma,” he says, “even the baby you saw last week. She wild caught too.”

He pauses to take a drink. “What that in your pocket?” he says pointing to the light showing through my pants.

If I wasn’t sweating before I sure am now. I reach into my pocket and with one hand switch off the recorder and unplug the hidden mic and camera. I pull out the device and show it to him. It’s an MP3 player,” I say and scroll through the music I copied to the memory card the night before. “You like Led Zeppelin?” I ask as I hand him my headphones. I crack open another beer and chug immediately aware of the fact that I am alone in the middle of the Burmese jungle –with no visa, miles from the nearest phone—
drinking beer with criminals.

“So,” he says, handing me back the recorder and headphones, “you want buy how many elephant? I can get many many elephant.”

“Not sure,” I reply, and take another swig, “at least one for now.”

“How about tiger? I can get many tiger too; any age.”

Michael Timmons is a field investigator and videographer for Rattle the Cage Productions, an award winning 501c3 non-profit that focuses on animal and environmental advocacy films. Timmons filmed the Antarctic whale wars and is currently fundraising to continue the investigations of the live elephant trade in SE Asia as well as complete a comprehensive documentary on the subject. He plans to return to the region and continue his work this fall. Visit www.rattlethecage.org for more information.