In Wilmington, they tell the story of 1922, when an elephant escaped from the circus. Her name was Topsy.
For days, they couldn’t catch her.
She bathed in the waters of the Cape Fear River and wandered through the streets of the city.
Free.
Those must have been the happiest days of her life. She had space.
Years later, in India, I visited the Golconda Fort in Hyderabad. Our guide, Mohammed, told us that the spacious annex of the fortress had once served as stables.
I was surprised. Why would horses need such height, such openness?
He smiled.
“Not for horses. For elephants.”
They need space.
Back in Wilmington, a still-wandering Topsy spotted a fellow elephant in the city. She ran toward it.
A tremendous crash followed.
Too late, she realized—it was her own reflection.
She had run straight into a shop and found herself trapped inside its narrow aisles.
The building still stands today, now a restaurant. There’s an elephant statue outside.
Topsy was eventually captured and taken away in a cramped wagon.
Even then—
Elephants need space.
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