I collect animal stories the way other people collect postage stamps, and one of my favourites is the one Jennifer told me about her father, Mr. Russell, when he was in the Indian Police.
One such elephant had run amok in Bhopal and killed his keeper. He then ran into the jungles on the outskirts of a cluster of small villages, where he terrorized the villagers by stampeding every time one of then emerged. He would not allow them to work in the fields in the day, and at night he trampled and uprooted the young crops. Something had to be done, and the decision to shoot an animal that is a protected species was taken at the highest level.
So Commandant Russell was called in and ordered to take a squad of the Special Armed Force and go out and shoot the elephant.
''But he killed a man -- his keeper!'' the inspector general said.
The inspector general heaved a sigh of relief. Russell was one of their very best men. It would have been extremely awkward to charge him with something like indiscipline.
Russell and the armed squad left and everyone settled down to wait for news. A week passed and there was no news. Then the armed squad returned without Russell or the elephant. The ''sahib'' had sent them back, they said. He would continue on his own.
Now the inspector general was really worried. What if he had forced Russell into a position where he would rather die than kill an elephant? Perhaps by now he had been trampled into the dust, or broken a leg, or even perhaps gone off to some small ashram, or monastery, of which there were so many in India. What would his family say? And what about the elephant?
Search parties were sent out. They came back with the news that the villagers said the elephant had left their area and moved on into deeper jungle. No one had seen Russell.
Then just as all hope was being given up, a mud-spattered Commandant Russell walked into the office. His clothes were tattered, his face, arms, and legs scratched and bitten, and his eyes seemed swollen. He was dirty, hungry, and tired. But what he said made the inspector general grin with delight.
''Then what in blazes did you do?'' asked the inspector general.
And sure enough there was the elephant, happily munching sugar cane which was being fed to him by an admiring crowd. He looked mild, reliable, and the model of all that an elephant should be.
''But how did you do it? What happened?'' the inspector general asked.