One big trunk show
By Lauren McKay
Vox, February 9, 2006 | 12:00 a.m. CST
As metal bleachers, bundles of rope and shiny platforms are hauled into the main showroom at the Boone County Fairgrounds, Louie Delmoral stands in the far corner talking to friends while country music plays in the background.
“Whimpy, leave her alone,” Delmoral snaps, reprimanding the 34-year-old elephant for encroaching on Bunny’s food. Whimpy raises her head indignantly to Delmoral then slowly backs away from Bunny’s breakfast.
At more than 40 times his weight, Delmoral’s elephant friends respect and devote their attention to the man in a very special way.
Wearing a bomber jacket, cowboy boots and a baseball cap to crown his long black hair, Delmoral trains the elephants with Circus Spectacular. Originally from Florida, Delmoral says the elephants are now his home.
In a few hours, the three elephants will provide rides to kids and perform tricks such as waltzing and climbing atop one another. One elephant will even carry a female performer around in her mouth.
But for right now, it’s rest time. The trainer gives the animals a chance to adjust to their new atmosphere, down to the straw-laden floor and barn-yard stench.
Toward the entrance, circus employees assemble food stations. The sweet, caramelized perfume of cotton candy masks the smell of the animals. A vendor with helium balloons brings splashes of color to a somewhat bare showroom.
As the third generation in a family of circus performers, Delmoral has been around circus life since childhood. His family members were famous acrobats. Delmoral, not confident his body type was cut out for acrobatic tricks, would always sneak away to watch the animals. From then on, he was captivated by them.
Delmoral pats Bunny’s boulder-sized head, and she makes a purring, whistling sound. As he pets her, a jagged scar, which wraps around his thumb and pointer finger, is exposed — the evidence of a stint training tigers.
Delmoral went through the gamut of circus animals but stuck with elephants because of their abilities and intelligence.
“These girls all have very different personalities,” Delmoral says. He compares them to college roommates; they get along but also can’t stand one another from time to time.
Minnie is the so-called loner of the group. Bunny and Whimpy are the partners, intertwining trunks and constantly facing one another, which alienates Minnie. With a belly nearly grazing the ground, Bunny has a hearty appetite. The elephant also has no qualms with stealing Minnie’s food.
Delmoral notices the tiff between the girls.
“This is how fights begin,” he says and tosses fresh bales of hay to each elephant.
“Bunny, back away,” he warns.
Soon thereafter, Bunny turns her head and shuts out Minnie once again.
Delmoral approaches Bunny, the biggest ham of the three. Excited by his attention, she turns her head to face him and raises her trunk.
“Lie down, Bunny,” Delmoral coaxes. Bunny shakes her trunk back and forth to tell Delmoral no. Delmoral repeats his command.
Bunny’s tree-trunk-sized legs soon buckle beneath her, and the massive leathered torso crashes to the floor. Then she nimbly stretches out her limbs and lies down.
Delmoral commands, “Sit up!” With that, Bunny rocks forward then back like a dog begging for a treat.
When another circus performer approaches Whimpy, she lowers her trunk and investigates the man’s tennis shoes.
“They are very curious,” Delmoral says. “They always smell people’s feet because of all the odors shoes pick up.”
Bunny and Delmoral catch each other’s eyes.
“Buh, buh, buh, buh, buh,” Delmoral coos to the animal. Bunny responds with the delighted trumpet noise of a happy elephant.
Before Delmoral leaves the elephants to retrieve some equipment out of a truck, he tells the girls to behave themselves.
“They’re like 8,000-pound 5-year-olds,” he says with a smile and slight roll of the eyes. “And I’m their baby sitter.”
Once Delmoral is out of sight, the elephants return to pestering one another. Bunny, who already has a stack of hay in front of her, scoots Whimpy’s pile from under her nose as if to get revenge.
Bunny, the chubbiest of the three, seems as if she can’t get enough to eat. Despite her appetite, the elephants each consume 200 pounds of food and drink 40 to 50 gallons of water each day.
Delmoral walks in through the side door carrying a shiny metal stand that helps people climb atop elephants for rides. As soon as the girls see him, they all return to their own food piles.
“What are you doing, huh?” Delmoral asks the elephants. “Daddy’s here.”
As the center ring is assembled and bleachers are aligned against the back wall, the beginning signs of a circus appear.
A man announces over an intercom to Delmoral that the 10 bales of hay he ordered will be arriving at 6 p.m. Then several red metal contraptions are carried into the area. Delmoral explains that they are harnesses for elephant rides.
“In a few hours this place will really begin to look like a circus,” he says.
As he speaks, Whimpy sneezes and sprinkles remnants of hay and dust particles into the air. Soon, the elephants will take a nap before they are washed and prettied for the big show. Delmoral will try to catch a few moments of shut-eye in a nearby folding chair.
“A lot of people don’t see the circus beyond the lights and the music,” says Delmoral, “but it really is more than that.”
http://voxmagazine.com/stories/2006/02/09/one-big-trunk-show/
