Savage Words: Feeding apples to elephants in Indianapolis

The circus is coming to town.

And honestly, I don’t know how I feel about it.

There’s one coming to Sioux Falls this weekend. It’s a paranormal display of human acrobatics, called Paranormal Cirque. 

If you’ve ever been to Las Vegas and taken in a Cirque du Soleil show, this is similar, with a paranormal twist that might just scare the bejesus out of you.

If you’re into that sort of thing where people are bending, creaking and transforming, my guess is the Paranormal Cirque show is for you. I’ve been to some Cirque du Soleil shows, and they truly are fascinating.

I’m sure it will be the same next week in Sioux Falls.

It’s the circus events out there that still use animals that makes me … well … cringe, I guess. 

I know, I truly know: I’ll likely get called soft on the issue. They’re “just” animals after all.

I actually brought it up to a couple of my friends the other day when I saw the circus was making its way to Mitchell next week, animals and all. I told them I just thought it was odd. Maybe not cruel, but odd, indeed.

It all goes back for me to 20-plus years ago when I worked for the Indiana Fever and Pacers. Our offices were in downtown Indianapolis and were adjacent to our home arena.

Gainbridge Fieldhouse, known then as Conseco Fieldhouse, is directly right in the heart of downtown Indianapolis. New York City has been called a Concrete Jungle. I’m certainly not comparing Indianapolis to New York, but the definition of Concrete Jungle is an “urban area with very little nature or scenery.”

If that’s the definition, then Gainbridge Fieldhouse is in the midst of a Concrete Jungle. Again, it’s not New York, but downtown Indianapolis is a maze of buildings, oblong streets, and bustling activity. 

When I was working for the Pacers and Fever 20 years ago, the circus came to town and the acrobats, animal trainers, ring master and clowns took over our basketball arena. It really is captivating watching crews transform a basketball arena into a three-ring circus, or motocross dirt track, or rodeo, or even an ice arena.

For the one week the circus came to our Concrete Jungle in downtown Indianapolis, we all received an early-morning email on consecutive days. 

It read something like this:

TO: Staff

FROM: Operations

RE: Apples for Elephants

Hello all - 

Since the circus is in town, the animal trainers will be feeding the elephants today from 12-2 pm in the alley behind the arena. Feel free to head out and enjoy feeding the elephants!

Actually, that sounded pretty cool.

On the first day I walked out to the alley, it was surreal. I was face-to-face with about 15 elephants, all staring back, a few of them chewing on some apples that some of my co-workers had already given them.

I did the same. Again, super cool. I was feeding an elephant an apple, in an alley, right in the center of downtown Indianapolis.

The second day, the same elephant I’d fed the day before was in the same spot. I eventually named him ‘Dumbo’, but I never shared that story with coworkers.

“How you doing today, Dumbo,” I said as I walked up on the giant animal.

I actually said that. I fed him a few apples. He seemed appreciative, but I’m assuming he’s had many apples, from many strangers, in many U.S. cities.

The third day was no different. Dumbo and I shared a moment, and he mowed down some more apples.

I’ll never forget this, but as I walked back to my office, I felt uneasy. And I guess that made sense. I just fed some apples in an alley to an animal that was thousands of miles away from home. It was not natural.

As I walked out on the fourth and final day, I saw Dumbo again. I gave him some apples, but I didn’t feel good about it.

Dumbo looked at me, and no doubt this is just in my head, but he looked anything but interested. 

I felt confident that while Dumbo was in Indianapolis, he had little interest in the Pacers, Fever, Colts or the 500.

He just wanted to go home.