Saengduean Lek Chailert was five years old when she first saw an elephant. The chained animal trudged past her home in rural Thailand, heading to help loggers haul trees from the forest. At the time, she saw these giant creatures like everyone else—simply as animals that served humans. But everything changed the day she heard a scream from the woods.
Chailert was 16 when she heard that awful sound. She rushed through the trees and found a bull elephant struggling in the mud, trying and failing to pull a log from a ditch. With each failed attempt, the loggers and the mahout (the elephant’s keeper) punished it—one hurled stones with a slingshot, another stabbed it with a knife, and a third drove a spike into its leg. Every jab made the elephant scream in pain.
“The elephant looked at me, and I felt its fear and anger. I was helpless and confused. My heart ached,” Chailert recalls. “I tried everything to stop the screaming, but I was interrupting their work, so I had to leave. All I could think was, Why?”
That night, back in her village, she could still hear the elephant’s cries as her family ate dinner.
The experience changed Chailert’s life forever. Though she came from a poor village without electricity or a school, she vowed to help the animals she loved.
Before Thailand banned logging in natural forests in 1989, elephants were crucial to the industry. In the early 1900s, there were around 100,000 elephants in Thailand. Thousands died or suffered severe injuries from dragging massive logs from the rainforest to roads for transport.
After the ban, many elephants were forced into Thailand’s booming tourism industry, performing tricks or giving rides. Working at a tourism agency in her early twenties, Chailert watched in horror as elephants were trained to dance, ride motorcycles, play darts, hula hoop, walk tightropes, or even play harmonicas—all for tourist entertainment.
Determined to help, Chailert sold everything she owned and borrowed money to start an elephant sanctuary in 1996. She bought four hectares (10 acres) of land for $30,000 to house nine elephants, refusing to allow rides or performances. When disagreements arose over how to run the park, she left—taking the elephants with her.
Then, luck struck. National Geographic was filming a documentary about Thailand’s wild elephants (estimated at 4,000 to 4,400 by 2023) with Hollywood star Meg Ryan, and Chailert’s rescued elephants were featured. A Texas couple, Bert and Christine Von Roemer, saw the show and donated funds to buy 20 hectares of land near Chiang Mai. In 2003, Elephant Nature Park was born.
Today, the park is a haven for rescued elephants, many arriving with deep physical and emotional scars. “Some stand like zombies,” Chailert says. Despite financial struggles, each rescue has only strengthened her commitment to protecting these animals.
(Note: The last line appears to be an incomplete reference to another article—likely about bees helping reduce conflicts between farmers and elephants—so it has been omitted for coherence.)The park is now home to 120 rescued elephants and has expanded to cover over 1,000 hectares. These elephants represent just a small portion of Thailand’s estimated 3,900 domesticated elephants. The sanctuary’s work has gained a massive following on social media platforms like Instagram and Facebook.
Elephants come to the sanctuary from across Thailand. Lek Chailert, now 64, sometimes spends more than 50 hours traveling with the animals after their rescue.
“Some arrive with severe psychological trauma,” she says. “Some stand like zombies, while others are aggressive, swinging their heads back and forth. When they first arrive, we don’t allow staff to use any tools or do anything that might scare them. We must be gentle, show them love, and earn their trust. It takes patience.”
New arrivals are usually quarantined and gradually introduced to the herd. Over time, they are accepted. According to Chailert, you can tell the elephants are happy when their ears start flapping and their tails begin to swish.
“The priority is making sure every elephant has a family,” she says, pointing to a screen showing the herd grazing in the forest.
Today, the sanctuary is funded by visitors and volunteers who pay to support the project. Despite its success, Chailert worries about the future of Asian elephants. She believes their numbers are declining in Thailand, even though official reports suggest the population is stable or growing.
“Across Asia, many people are starting to resent elephants,” she explains. “Human-wildlife conflict is a major issue. Many elephants die from being shot or poisoned. They’ve lost their habitats and water sources, forcing them into golf courses and rice fields—places where they don’t belong. This makes people angry, and elephants are seen as the villains. The future depends on government policies to address this.”
She adds, “When you see an elephant’s ears flapping and tail whirling, you know they’re happy.”
