الفيلة تستخدم «لغة سرية» لا يسمعها البشر
لندن - ي ب ا:
كشفت دراسة جديدة أن الفيلة تستخدم "لغة سرية" لا يسمعها البشر.
وذكرت صحيفة "ديلي ميل" أن باحثين في حديقة سان دييغو اكتشفوا أن قطعان الفيلة الأفريقية تستخدم لغة خاصة بها خلال التخاطب في ما بينها لا يسمعها البشر ، مشيرين إلى أنه عندما تطلق هذه الحيوانات أصواتاً معينة فإنها تريد إيصال "رسالة" ما إلى بقية أفراد القطيع. وحللّ الدكتور مات أندرسون الذي قاد فريق البحث في الحديقة أصوات هذه الحيوانات من اجل معرفة ماذا تقول لبعضها ، وذلك بعد أن وضع حول أعناقها أطواقاً وميكروفونات صغيرة لتتبع حركاتها وأصواتها.
وقال أندرسون إنه تبين له أن إناث الفيلة خاصة تستخدم "لغة سرية" للتخاطب مع غيرها في القطيع وذلك بعد مراقبتها لأربع وعشرين ساعة يوميا وعلى مدى عشرة أسابيع. وتبين أن أنثى الفيل عندما تشعر أنها على وشك أن تضع مولودها فإنها تطلق أصواتاً خفيفة لتحذير بقية القطيع وحماية الرضيع من الوحوش الكاسرة التي قد تكون في المكان وطلباً لحمايتها. وقال أندرسون " كنا نظن أن لدى الفيلة مفردات معينة ولكن تبين لنا أن لديها أشياء أهم مما كان يعتقده الكثيرون". وينوي الفريق جمع نماذج عن أصوات الفيلة في حالات مختلفة من أجل معرفة ماذا يعني كل واحد منها من أجل التوسع في دراستها.
Trunk call: How elephants communicate using a 'secret language'
By Daily Mail Reporter
Last updated at 12:52 AM on 23rd February 2010
Their trumpeting is loud enough to rattle every snake in the jungle.
But it seems elephants have a secret quiet side too - at least to us humans.
Scientists are trying to decode a series of deep growl calls, much of which are inaudible to our ears.
The newest baby elephant at the San Diego Zoo's Wild Animal Park earlier this month. He is part of the African elephant herd whose language is being decoded by researchers
Elephants are perfectly attuned to the low frequency jungle rumbles - and to the messages of love and lust they contain.
To learn more about the 'infrasonic' calls, researchers at San Diego Zoo attached collars with highly-sensitive microphones and a GPS tracking system to eight female elephants.
This allowed them to link the noises the animals were making to what they got up to. The team discovered heavily pregnant females growl to let the rest of the herd know they are about to go into labour.
It is thought the call primes the elephants to look out for predators - and to protect the newborn by encircling it.
Infrasonic calls also explain how elephants co- ordinate their behaviour over great distances - and are crucial for romance.
Several calf births have increased the San Diegno elephant herd's size to 13. Researchers found the animals communicate on a low frequency immediately before a birth
During the brief time that a female is in season - a matter of four days every four years - she emits an infrasonic invitation for sex.
The call, which lasts a few seconds, can be heard by males more than two miles across the Savannah.
Elephants also use rumbles to make contact with other elephants.
Some matriarchs can identify up to 100 other creatures by the sound of their 'voice'.
The team, led by Dr Matt Anderson, decided to analyse these calls in an attempt to unravel what the animals were saying to each other.
They recorded the elephant's vocalisations for a 24-hour period each week for 10 weeks. This was then combined with observations of the elephants and GPS data to put the sounds in context.
Dr Anderson, who is the director of behavioural biology at the park, said: 'We thought elephants had a certain vocabul
Trunk call: How elephants communicate using a 'secret language'
By Daily Mail Reporter
Last updated at 12:52 AM on 23rd February 2010
Their trumpeting is loud enough to rattle every snake in the jungle.
But it seems elephants have a secret quiet side too - at least to us humans.
Scientists are trying to decode a series of deep growl calls, much of which are inaudible to our ears.
The newest baby elephant at the San Diego Zoo's Wild Animal Park earlier this month. He is part of the African elephant herd whose language is being decoded by researchers
Elephants are perfectly attuned to the low frequency jungle rumbles - and to the messages of love and lust they contain.
To learn more about the 'infrasonic' calls, researchers at San Diego Zoo attached collars with highly-sensitive microphones and a GPS tracking system to eight female elephants.
This allowed them to link the noises the animals were making to what they got up to. The team discovered heavily pregnant females growl to let the rest of the herd know they are about to go into labour.
It is thought the call primes the elephants to look out for predators - and to protect the newborn by encircling it.
Infrasonic calls also explain how elephants co- ordinate their behaviour over great distances - and are crucial for romance.
Several calf births have increased the San Diegno elephant herd's size to 13. Researchers found the animals communicate on a low frequency immediately before a birth
During the brief time that a female is in season - a matter of four days every four years - she emits an infrasonic invitation for sex.
The call, which lasts a few seconds, can be heard by males more than two miles across the Savannah.
Elephants also use rumbles to make contact with other elephants.
Some matriarchs can identify up to 100 other creatures by the sound of their 'voice'.
The team, led by Dr Matt Anderson, decided to analyse these calls in an attempt to unravel what the animals were saying to each other.
They recorded the elephant's vocalisations for a 24-hour period each week for 10 weeks. This was then combined with observations of the elephants and GPS data to put the sounds in context.
Dr Anderson, who is the director of behavioural biology at the park, said: 'We thought elephants had a certain vocabulary, but we are finding it is much larger than anyone realised.'
He added that the information could help researchers create a more stress-free environment for elephants being bred in captivity.
The team plan to build up a catalogue of elephant sounds as part of the research
ary, but we are finding it is much larger than anyone realised.'
He added that the information could help researchers create a more stress-free environment for elephants being bred in captivity.
The team plan to build up a catalogue of elephant sounds as part of the research
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همس الفيلة :الجزء الثاني
عشاء أو حفلة شاي مع الفيلة
The elephant whisperer: Part 2- the elephants come to tea
By Daily Mail Reporter Last updated at 10:38 PM on 29th May 2009
- قصة رجل ومحميته من الفيلة و حبهم لبعضهم البعض وكيف تعلم منهم الكثير
His bond with a herd of rogue elephants was amazing, but Lawrence Anthony was powerless when they crashed a party – and drank the pool. By the time I saw her coming, it was too late.
Lawrence Anthony's life changed for ever ten years ago when he was asked to take in a 'rogue' herd of elephants on his African game reserve. The 59-year-old conservationist won them over – but then came a new wild elephant, and a fresh challenge. Here, in our second extract from his moving memoir The Elephant Whisperer, Lawrence tells how the herd's matriarch, Nana, thundered to his rescue.
By the time I saw her coming, it was too late. ET, the wild and troubled new female elephant on my game reserve, was hurtling out of the bush towards me like a missile, and I was in big trouble.
There was no option but to defy every screaming instinct in my body and force myself to hold my ground and face the charge. Despite my mounting panic, some small voice kept reminding me that any attempt to flee would be a deadly mistake.
Trunk call: Lawrence Anthony's herd of elephants on his 5,000 acre reserve
All of a sudden, Nana, the 'resident' herd's matriarch, standing about 20 metres away, realised what was about to happen. She moved across at surprising speed and blocked the charge with the broadside of her body.
ET stumbled, knocked off course. She meekly swung around and lumbered
away while Nana resumed grazing as if nothing had happened. I stared, barely breathing, pulling body, soul and nerves back together. I had never heard of a wild elephant blocking the charge of another to protect a human.
Life had been relatively peaceful at my 5,000-acre South African game reserve, Thula Thula. The troubled herd I took on back in 1999 had settled in and we had built up a special relationship. Then came a call from the same animal welfare group who had persuaded me to take in Nana and her herd: 'There's a 14- year-old female that desperately needs a home.
Her entire family have been shot and she's completely alone.' A week later, ET, short for Enfant Terrible, arrived and we put her in a secure enclosure. If we tried to get close, she bolted. I have never witnessed such terror in an animal. There was no doubt she thought we were going to kill her, just as humans had killed the rest of her family.
Using techniques I had developed with the rest of the herd, I started to talk to her gently, singing and whistling. But ET remained petrified, charging at me from behind her enclosure fence. It was weeks before she made a sound, but, instead of a clear trumpet, she honked like a strangled goose.
Now I realised why she had been silent. The poor creature had destroyed her vocal cords, screaming herself hoarse, calling for her family, lost and alone in the wilderness. Now, she slid into an abyss of loneliness and despair, walking endlessly in large figures of eight. She was so depressed I feared she might die of a broken heart.
المزارع مع الفيلة و سيارته اللاند روفر
Mnumzane and the rest of the herd loved to play with the Land Rover
I went looking for the other elephants. I needed their help to save her life. 'Coooome Nana,' I called when I saw them. I told Nana it was important, and I needed her. Would she get the emotion and the urgency in my voice? Incredibly, she did. Nana and the eight other elephants followed my Land Rover, like I was the Pied Piper.
Deep in the African bush, I had a herd of wild elephants following me because I wanted and needed them to. God, I loved them. After three miles we reached ET's enclo-sure. Nana saw the young elephant, went to the fence and emitted a long set of stomach rumbles.
ET lifted her trunk to get their scent. Then she ran to where Nana was standing. These were the first of her own kind she had seen in a year. Nana lifted her trunk over the electric fence, reaching out to ET. The rest of the herd did the same. They all stood, their stomachs rumbling and grumbling in elephant talk.
We removed the gate poles and electric wire to create an opening, and Nana walked past to show ET the exit. She led the herd away in single file and ET chased after them. Half an hour later we saw them in the distance. They were still in single file, but a new pecking-order had been established.
ET was last but one, holding the tail of the elephant in front, with the teenager Mnumzane behind her. He was resting his trunk on her back as they moved along, comforting her. Walt Disney himself could not have scripted a better ending.
لورانس و فيلة صغيرة:مولودة في محميته بجنوب أفريقيا
Lawrence Anthony and a baby elephant at his reserve
I spent as much time as I could near the elephants, but even my friendly herd could be unpredictable. One night, my wife, Françoise, and I were woken by heavy scraping on the roof of our single-storey lodge. I tentatively opened the top half of the stable door leading to the garden, shotgun at the ready.
I got the fright of my life. There, in the doorway, casually pulling the grass from our thatched roof, was Nana. 'Hey, Nana, you scared the hell out of me. What are you doing here, you beautiful girl?' I said. I will always remember her response. She stretched out her trunk and I did likewise with my hand, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
For a few magnetic moments we connected. She moved the tip of her trunk over my T-shirt and then touched me on the head and face. I held my ground, entranced by the exhilarating combination of danger and affection.
She then lowered her head and moved forward, as if she was trying to come inside. I doubt whether many people have had a ten-foot, five-ton wild elephant trying to squeeze into their house, but take it from me, it is not a soothing experience.
Determined to reach me, she tried to squash between the two brick pillars that straddled the verandah. This didn't work, so she gently placed her forehead on the left pillar and gave an exploratory shove. I knew she could bring the whole verandah roof down, and I hastily stepped forward.
Nana stopped shoving and lifted her trunk. She snaked it over the top of my body, giving me a basting of slime. Satisfied, she eventually ambled away and the herd roamed the garden, eating Françoise's plants. Suddenly, our eight-week-old kitten slipped past us and walked out on the lawn as we watched in horror.
The elephants surrounded it and put their trunks out, as it swiped at them with its paw, playing with them. Eventually they tired of it and walked off. Except feisty Frankie, the second female in command. She suddenly turned and ran at it. It was a sight I don't think I will ever see again – a five-ton elephant charging a five-ounce cat. The kitten skittered back to us just in time.
فيل تزن 5 طنا تطارد قطة وزنها خمسة أونصات:تخيلوا المنظر
Each day I would join the herd as they wandered the game reserve miles from our house, and they would lift their trunks as if waving to me – although, in fact, they were smelling me. I seemed to have been accepted as an honorary member of the group.
They loved to play with anything that protruded from my Land Rover. My side-view mirrors were yanked off, both radio aerials went the same way, and the windscreen wipers were stripped off so often that I gave up replacing them.
But nothing compared to the devastation the night the elephants came to dinner. To make money to keep our game reserve going, we began taking in paying guests. One evening, when the guests were enjoying a candlelit dinner on the verandah, Nana and the herd suddenly appeared on the lawn.
Elephants operate on the principle that all other life forms must give way to them, and that included tourists around a swimming pool. The guests rushed for cover, apart from one loud table of men who feigned indifference as the herd drew nearer. Frankie flicked her ears in warning, but the men stayed put.
She then took a few quick steps towards them, ears flared and trunk held high. Chairs flew everywhere as the men fled. Satisfied that she had got the respect she deserved, Frankie followed Nana as they began to explore the table. Glasses and plates were swept aside by careless trunks and smashed all over the place.
I watched in amazement as first one chair then another went airborne. Candles and holders were tossed on the floor, and then the tablecloth was violently yanked from underneath the remaining crockery and cutlery.
Discovering that some of the mess was edible, they delicately picked up and ate the food from the floor. Then they focused on the now obvious purpose of their visit – the swimming pool. Nana dropped her huge trunk into it and sucked gallons of the clear water up her nose. Throwing her head back, she delivered it messily into her gaping, wrinkled mouth. They had a ball, drinking and bathing themselves in huge squirts and sprays.
Proud Franki with then baby Ilanga, the second born two weeks after Imvula
Suddenly, Nana picked up my scent. She lumbered towards the patio and lifted the tip of her dripping-wet trunk across my chest. Several guests, certain of my impending death, bolted. 'Clever girl! You found the cleanest water on the reserve – and managed to scare the hell out of everyone in the process,' I said. I clapped my hands to encourage her to move back, and she didn't like that one bit.
She put her head on the support pole in front of me and gave a heave so the whole roof shifted. I put my hands on her trunk and pushed – and there we stayed, deadlocked in a battle of wills. Finally, she shook her head at me and walked away, taking a huge dump on the patio to show her disgust.
Nana and Frankie were pregnant when they arrived at Thula Thula, and when both were coming to the end of their 22-month term, I kept a special eye on them. We found them one afternoon with the herd near the road. Next to Nana was a perfectly- formed miniature elephant, about two and a half feet high and perhaps a few days old.
Nana took a few steps towards me with the baby tottering alongside on unsteady feet. She began walking up the road, and I reversed the Land Rover to let them pass. To my surprise, Nana followed me. She came up to my window and stood towering above the Land Rover. Below her was the baby. Incredibly, she had brought her newborn to me.
I held my breath as her trunk reached into the vehicle and touched me on the chest. I sat still, stunned by the privilege she was bestowing on me. 'You clever girl,' I said, my voice scratchy. 'What a magnificent baby.' Her massive skull, just a few yards from mine, seemed to swell even larger with pride. 'I don't know what you call him,' I said to her. 'But he was born during the first spring showers, so I will call him Mvula, the Zulu word for rain.' Nana seemed to agree and the herd moved off.
Two weeks later, Frankie gave birth. She brought her baby, her third, to the house to show me that evening. 'Hello, girl. Your baby is so beautiful.' The normally fierce Frankie stood caressing her calf, visibly glowing with pride. She was looking directly at me and we both knew something precious had passed between us. I named the baby Ilanga, after the sun.
Several years later, when my first grandson, Ethan, was born, the herd came to the house. I took Ethan in my arms and walked up to the elephants. Their trunks went straight up and they all edged closer, intensely focused on the little bundle in my arms. I was repaying the compliment to them, trusting them with my baby as they had with theirs – and they understood this totally.
In 2003, when Iraq was invaded by Western forces, I flew to the Middle East to rescue the sick and distressed animals at Baghdad Zoo. It took me six months to get the correct medical care and then re-home them. When I finally returned home, there at the gate to the reserve were the herd.
Somehow, they had sensed that I was returning. I got out of the car and spoke to them, my voice croaking with emotion. With the new babies, there were now 14 of them. As they stood there, sniffing the air, something soared in my heart and I knew then just how much this herd meant to me – and the lessons they had taught me.
From Nana, I learned how much family means. From Frankie, I learned about loyalty. From Nandi, Nana's teenage daughter, I learned about dignity. From Marula and Mabula, Frankie's children, I saw what good parenting can achieve.
لفيلة علمت صاحبها معان إنسانية راقية عن أهمية العائلة والصداقة والأمانة و الغفران و الكبرياء ،خاصة بعد عوته من الشرق الأوسط لجلب حيوانات وإنقاذها بعد حرب العراق،حيث إستقبلته الفيلة أيما إستقبال
Finally, from ET – who had overcome her anger and bitterness at her family's murder and was now the proud mother of a new baby, sired by one of our mature elephant bulls – I learned forgiveness. I might have become known along the way as the Elephant Whisperer, but it was they who whispered to me and taught me how to listen.
Extracted from The Elephant Whisperer by Lawrence Anthony with Graham Spence, published by Sidgwick & Jackson on 6 June at �12.99. (c) 2009, Lawrence Anthony and Graham Spence. To order a copy (p&p free), tel: 0845 155 0720.
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English-born octopus Paul, which recently made world headlines one more time when it died has been replaced with a French successor at a German aquarium in Oberhausen.
