Ruby the Elephant
— particularly her origins — is full of unanswerable questions. We have tantalizing bits of information...and not much more.
For example, we know she was born in a logging camp in Thailand in 1973. We know this because in our records from the early `70s, the only documentation on Ruby as a youngster is a single shipping receipt. The extensive paperwork that is now a part of our daily routine simply did not exist back then. As a result, we do not know who her parents were. We do not know about her infancy. We do know who decided she would come to the United States and why.
Few people back then knew the world would encounter the environmental problems it has. Few anticipated that so many creatures would become endangered. And certainly no one knew Ruby would become, well, Ruby.
At the age of seven months, she was brought to the U. S. and delivered to the Phoenix Zoo. From employees who worked here then, we know Ruby was so small that when she arrived at Sky Harbor Airport, she and her shipping crate weighed just 350 pounds. Two average-sized men lifted both elephant and crate and loaded them into the back of a small pickup for the drive through traffic to the zoo. And we know that a trainer working at the zoo at the time took one look and exclaimed, "She's a perfect little jewel — let's call her Ruby!"
As the only elephant at the young and growing Phoenix Zoo — it was not yet 10 years old itself when she came — Ruby lived with a succession of keepers, goats, and chickens as part-time companions. Still much of the time she had to find ways to entertain herself. Some of them were not socially acceptable: chasing animals and keepers alike. As Ruby grew larger, this game became more and more dangerous.
In the late `70s, a young keeper, Joanie Stinson, came along who determined to change Ruby's habits and make her a gentler creature. Working patiently — and with lots of help — Joanie gradually earned the young elephant's respect and affection. In time Ruby settled down as her bond with Joanie deepened. There was one curious pastime Ruby retained. She liked to while away the time between Joanie's visits by making marks in the sand in her exhibit with her trunk. No one knew what this meant — but it was harmless and Ruby seemed to enjoy it.
By the mid-1980s, Joanie had gone to work at another zoo and Tawny Carlson had replaced her. Ruby was now a robust teenager. Tawny began looking for ways to stimulate Ruby and add interest to her days. One night Tawny was discussing this with a keeper from another zoo when the keeper suggested she teach Ruby to paint. Not long after that, Tawny began a process of positive reinforcement. When she saw Ruby doodling in the sand, she gave her lots of praise and a treat. Next she gave Ruby a small stick and when Ruby began using it to make her marks in the sand, she got more praise and treats. Over time, Tawny taught Ruby to hold a brush in her trunk and to rub the brush against a piece of cardboard. Then Tawny brought some water-based non-toxic paints. When she dipped the brush in the paint and gave it to Ruby, Ruby got excited because she could now see her doodling in color.
One thing led to another. Ruby graduated from cardboard to actual stretched canvas and from a few jars of paint to a genuine palette. Subsequently, Ruby's paintings raised some interesting questions. A number of times, Ruby chose colors in her work that closely matched new colors in her environment. Once it was a fire truck. Most of the time, it was clothes worn by visitors. Were these color selections coincidences — accidents — or do elephants see in color? Human and veterinary eye specialists and color experts visited with Ruby and discussed various ways to answer these tricky questions, but amid the flood of interest in her, the tests were never formally conducted. The questions remain unresolved to this day.
From the beginning, painting was meant purely as diversion for Ruby. It was never intended for publicity. But when people happened to see Ruby paint, they told friends and neighbors. Word got around quickly and before long magazines and newspapers clamored to see her paint. From there it was just a matter of time before writers and photographers from Smithsonian and National Geographic visited. Overnight Ruby and her paintings were world famous. Amid all the publicity, however, zoo officials were pondering some serious topics. Asian elephants are endangered — meaning they are headed toward extinction unless humans take serious measures to help. As an elephant born in the forests of Thailand, Ruby was genetically valuable.
Working with an international association of zoos, Phoenix officials decided that her species needed Ruby's help. They decided that Ruby should have a calf. At first they worked with several other zoos attempting artificial insemination. It didn't work. Time was running out: no captive female had successfully delivered after reaching the age of 25. Ruby was now 22. Time was running out. There was only one alternative...In the fall of 1995, Ruby was sent to the Tulsa (OK) Zoo where she stayed for two years. During that time she bred with Tulsa's Asian male, Sneezy. In early 1997, suspicions were confirmed with a positive diagnosis of pregnancy. In October 1997 Ruby returned to Phoenix to finish the final 12 months of her 22- month pregnancy. Throughout the next year, her keepers and zoo officials worked to prepare for the delivery. In mid-October 1998 everything looked fine. Ruby's medical exams went well. In the last days of the month, Ruby showed signs of entering labor. But nothing happened. Days passed. Veterinarians and keepers grew more and more concerned. On October 31, a surgical exam revealed that the baby was dead. Suddenly hope gave way to grim prospects.
On November 6, a team of surgical specialists assembled at The Phoenix Zoo to attempt to save Ruby's life. In spite of their best efforts and the concern, best wishes, and prayers of the community, Ruby died. So ended the life of a wonderful creature.
But her inspiring story continues. It's the story of an elephant who — just by being herself — offered so much to anyone who would try to understand — about life, kindness, creativity and, of course, about elephants.