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A Naughty Baby Elephant

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When elephant Kitty gave birth to the first baby elephant born in Nedangayam lumber camp in S. Malabar India, Kitty’s Baby became a beloved pet to all — until she outgrew her welcome.

Image by Dusan Smetanta

Gladys Gose Pearce, October 1926

Dear Diary,

I was told a story about when logging elephant Kitty gave birth to the first elephant baby born in Nedangayam, to great excitement.

It automatically became “Kitty’s Baby” and was the pet of the camp. The Indian Forest Guards encouraged it to reach its little trunk into their pockets for bites of sugarcane. The old shopkeeper fed it sweetmeats when it favored him with a visit. Kitty was docile and benevolently watched the spoiling of her offspring.

When dry season came and fodder in the vicinity insufficiently sustained the herd, the elephants were moved to greener pastures. When they returned with the rains, Kitty’s Baby had grown enormously but had not forgotten her old friends. She’d again feel in a pocket for sugarcane. But if there was none, a resounding tug tore off the pocket and occasionally part of the coat, to the consternation of the wearer. The friendly tug-of-war games in which many had previously engaged with her now became dangerously unequal.

Worse yet, when she called on the shopkeeper, she had grown too wide for the doorway but went in anyway, taking the door frame and part of the wall with her! The shopkeeper was in a quandary. What should he do? He finally moved his shop to a new location, where he hoped Kitty’s Baby would not find him.

Since then, no one has played with baby elephants.

[Excerpt from Tigers, White Gloves and Cradles, coming soon. Copyright 2020, Laurie Winslow Sargent]

This post is from a collection of diary entrees and letters written in the 1920s by Gladys Gose Pearce, an American expat. Her husband J. Kenneth Pearce (Ken), a logging engineer from Seattle WA, worked in British Raj India for ten years. After a jungle honeymoon touring elephant lumber camps, the couple lived in Ooty, Madras, and the Andaman Islands.

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1929: Dearest Funny Baby

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Kenneth — 91 years ago — wrote this note to his wife and new child when all were confined to home. He was ill, so couldn’t be in the same room with them. He “mailed” it from one end of their house to the other. Ken and Gladys, Americans, were expats in Ooty, India and their home called Braemar.

Southeast Corner of Braemar
6:25 PM, to Pamela’s Mother
N.E. Corner of Braemar

Dearest Funny Baby,

You know I’d give you anything on earth you wanted, so here’s a letter since you wanted one.

But what can I say? Except that I love you, and you already know that, and besides no letter can tell you that as my lips and arms and all can.

As to what I’m thinking, my mind has been more or less of a blank the last two days. I know you and the baby are getting along alright and that’s the most important thing, and I miss you enough without thinking a lot about you and then missing you more.

The Dr. says there is nothing wrong with my lungs and I’ve had not fever today (only had 99 degrees yesterday, which is nothing for me) so I hope to be OK tomorrow. With acres of kisses and oceans of love,

Your very own, Kenneth

[Excerpt from the historical memoir Tigers, White Gloves and Cradles, coming soon. Copyright 2020, Laurie Winslow Sargent]

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One Less Crocodile

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This 1926 jungle story is from the diary of Gladys Gose Pearce, a Seattle woman who lived with spouse Ken in India during the British Raj era.

Photo by Robert Zunikoff

October, 1926

Kerala, SW India

Dear Diary,

Not long after we arrived, while on our honeymoon, Ken and I were told that in a nearby temple pool was a mugger crocodile the villagers hoped we would shoot.

Early one morning we were led to the pool, where we hid in the high bank above.

There was no sign of the crocodile at that quiet scene; indeed it was hard to believe one existed. A man came to bathe and pray. He waded out into water waist deep, and when he finished his ceremonies he cupped some water in his hand to drink. Then women came to wash their clothing. They pounded their wet garments on a flat stone, dipped them repeatedly in the pool then spread their clean garments on bushes to dry. Others came to bathe their children.

As the sun grew higher in the sky, our shade diminished and our own clothes grew sticky with perspiration. The ants found us – black ants, red ones, little and big, crawling toward us and biting us if we failed to detect their advance.

At last our vigil was rewarded. A long snout and two bulging eyes rose slowly to the surface. Ken motioned me to shoot. I shook my head. He took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. The waters of the pool were threshed to a froth, and then as they subsided we saw they were stained red with the blood of the mugger.

To read more fun stories, click HERE or the Jungle Diaries tab!

To not miss future stories from Gladys’s century-old diaries, Subscribe to this blog via email or Follow via WordPress Reader (if you’re logged into WordPress).

ALSO, feel free to comment with any questions or thoughts these posts provoke, and I’ll try to respond. I’d love to hear your thoughts! Let me know what country you are from, and if you also have a blog.

Laurie

[Excerpt from Tigers, White Gloves and Cradles, coming soon. Copyright 2020, Laurie Winslow Sargent]

This post is from a collection of diary entrees and letters written in the 1920s by Gladys Gose Pearce, an American expat. Her husband J. Kenneth Pearce (Ken), a logging engineer from Seattle WA, worked in British Raj India for ten years. After a jungle honeymoon touring elephant lumber camps, the couple lived in Ooty, Madras, and the Andaman Islands.

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Dilemma of the Multi-Genre Author

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It’s great fun for a writer to wear many different hats: to write effectively on a variety of fun topics. It keeps life interesting. But how does the multi-genre author effectively manage their brand, website, and social media pages?

That’s a trick I confess I’ve yet to manage properly. I’d love reader feedback on this dilemma!

When I began writing, it wasn’t quite so tricky. My first website I managed myself was in the 90s, on Tripod (no longer in existence, but oldies may remember it) under my author name.

Next came WordPress blogging. For parents, I had (have) my Parenting by Faith blog. For writers, it was (is) my Sell Your Nonfiction blog, on how to sell magazine articles. My articles on parenting and writing are still there; most on perennial topics, thankfully.

Well eventually my old WordPress themes became unsupported: the graphics went wacky. The switch from free WordPress.com to fee supported WordPress.org made sense, for more personal control over my material. The creation of CrossConnect Media to merge (ideally) all the weird parts of my brain on one site seemed possible. I chose the Get Noticed Theme, which had/has quite a learning curve. (It is no longer supported by the designer, but still seems to work … for now).

NOW here I go, turning into a history nut! At least a nut revolving around 95-year-old letters found in my own attic, written from an American mom in the Indian jungle, a remote island convict colony with an elephant logging camp in the 1920s. How could that NOT be irresistible to a writer?

So here I am. As if my sites are not complicated enough. It may not be as much a disconnect as it seems: a good portion of the historical biography I’m writing has to do with motherhood. And writing, of course. But if I’m not careful, this website could turn into a very strange medusa.

For now, I just keep running my old blogs and hope my social media pages add clarity to what I do, in addition to my Bio. History buffs may enjoy my Facebook page, Laurie Winslow Sargent: for Parents, Writers and the Eternally Curious with links to my Twitter page. There I’m posting some fun historical tidbits related to my research of the 1920s-1930s in British Raj India. Here, I will continue to post tips on the writing business.

If, perchance, you are a multi-genre author like myself and have successfully figured out a one-size-fits-all website for yourself, I’d love to hear about it!

Laurie