Circus Elephant Trainer Talks Kindly, but Still Carries a Stick

For Axel and Donna Gautier, family life is a three-ring circus, both figuratively and literally.

Figuratively because the couple’s two sons and 19 daughters all live at home, and the inherent difficulties in raising a brood of that size are compounded by periodic bouts with sickness, sibling rivalries and disciplinary problems.

Literally because their 19 “daughters” are Asian elephants, and “home” is the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus train. The train, on the average, travels 12,483 miles a year to take “The Greatest Show on Earth” to 44 cities for an annual total of 519 performances.

The 46-year-old Swedish-born Axel Gautier has been head elephant trainer with the circus for 30 years. And his parental philosophy is the same for all his children, human and elephant: kind words and rewards when they do as they’re told, harsh words and punishment when they don’t.

“Like children, elephants can get spoiled very easily if you always let them have their way,” said Gautier, who performs with his family and the rest of the circus troupe through Sunday at the San Diego Sports Arena.

“You really have to work with them,” he said. “You show affection when they do things good, by talking nicely and giving them something they like, maybe an apple or a carrot. When they do something bad, you talk harshly to them, or, if they really misbehave, you rap them on the behind with a stick.”

Thirty years of working with elephants puts Gautier in a good position to comment on the much-publicized Dunda incident in San Diego, in which elephant trainers at the San Diego Wild Animal Park were accused by colleagues of using excessive force in disciplining an 18-year-old African ele phant shortly after its transfer to the park from the San Diego Zoo in February.

The controversy came to a head June 30 when City Atty. John Witt announced that no criminal charges would be filed in the case because animal park keepers were using an accepted training technique and because “this case is riddled with reasonable doubt.”

When Gautier was asked about the incident, a publicist working on the local promotion for the circus, interrupted and asked that the subject not be discussed. Gautier was asked in German if he would meet later, alone, to discuss elephant discipline, and he agreed.

“I think it’s been blown out of proportion,” Gautier said of the Dunda incident. “The fellow who works out there (Alan Roocroft), he’s worked with elephants for quite a few years, and I don’t think he gets his kicks by beating them. . . . “

Gautier said each trainer has his own procedures for working with elephants.

“You have to get to know each elephant individually,” he said. “They’re just like people; some are smart, some are stubborn and some are dumb. And this, along with their size differences, lets you pick certain elephants for certain tricks.

“But you always have to remember that you can’t force an elephant into doing anything it doesn’t want to do. They’re so much bigger than you are, so you have to go about it very easy.

“When you train dogs, you can simply push them into position--beg, sit, lie down. But with elephants, you need to coax them, using kind words and rewards,” Gautier said.

As for handling difficult elephants?

“The public doesn’t really understand the dangers involved in working with such big animals,” he said. “I don’t think (the keepers) got any kicks out of abusing and hurting the animals, because that’s their bread and butter. Besides, I’m sure if there was a lot of that stuff going on, the zoo officials wouldn’t stand for it.

“You might get mad and smack the elephant a couple of times, but an animal that size you’re not going to hurt. It’s like whacking a kid on the keister and then that’s it, from then on he’ll do as you say.”

The chief problem with Dunda, Gautier surmised, was the abrupt change in environment.

“If an elephant is taken out of one place and put into a new place where everything is strange and unfamiliar, he’s naturally going to be afraid,” he said. “And, when an elephant is afraid, he tends to go berserk, so you have to be careful.

“From what I heard, the elephant attacked the keepers. And I’m sure if an elephant was tangling with me, I’d do everything I could to stop it and make sure it wouldn’t tangle with me again. If you’re going to have elephants in captivity, you’re going to have to get around them--because if an elephant gets a hold of you, that’s the end of you.”

Gautier was born into a circus family in his native Sweden. His parents worked with horses and, by the time he was 16, Gautier was bored.

“The majority of horses, I think, are on the dumb side, and I wanted to get out. But it didn’t last long--a close friend of our family suggested I try elephants instead of horses, and that’s what I did.

“And as you can see, this time I didn’t get bored. Elephants are very intelligent; they’re right behind dogs and apes, I believe. And the thing that’s always amazed me about the elephant is that here’s this giant animal that man, after it’s trained, can command by voice only.”

The most popular trick for circus elephants--other than those unpredictable moments when the animals respond to calls of nature--is when the huge pachyderms walk on their front legs, hind legs or do one-foot stands.

Gautier bemoaned the fact that obtaining elephants to replenish circus herds like his has become considerably more difficult since they were placed on the endangered-species list.

“Back in the 1950s and ‘60s, you could still buy baby elephants from dealers in Africa and Asia for maybe $1,200,” he said. “But now you can no longer import them from the wild, so the only way to get them is from zoos and circuses that have breeding programs.

“As a result, the supply is very limited, and, even if you do find a decent baby elephant, paying $40,000 wouldn’t be too much.”