Category Archives: Adventures of Gladys

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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!

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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.