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But seven years later, while reporting the story, I found
myself watching a group of tourists pass around a tiger
cub after paying a couple of dollars to feed him a bottle
of milk—and wondering if anyone else was questioning
why he wasn’t with his mom.
It’s complicated. People love animals and naturally
want to get close to them—and genuinely want to learn
more about them too. It’s a desire that’s increasingly
fueled by social media, where travelers share their
experiences instantaneously. The reality that many
tourists don’t see is that to stay in business, elephant
interactions—and photo ops with tigers and swimming
with manta rays—rely on a steady stream of working
wild animals, all of which have been caught or bred
or trained into submission.
And it’s all too easy to misread signs of suffering.
Captive elephants sway their trunks back and forth—
almost as if they’re dancing. In reality, it’s a sign of
psychological distress. Sloths seem to love cuddling,
but their hug is really just an attempt to cling to what
feels to them like a tree trunk. Dolphins appear to be
smiling but that’s the natural set of their mouths.
Travelers are increasingly recognizing that many
animal tourist attractions may not be ethical. More
and more backpackers are shunning elephant riding.
The industry knows it. Dozens of properties in
Thailand now call themselves “sanctuaries.” Many
look a lot like Elephant Valley and boast five-star rat-
ings on travel sites such as TripAdvisor. But Kirsten
and I found that, unlike Elephant Valley, almost every
one offers elephant bathing for visitors who wish to
splash with an elephant in a river or mud pit. Often
the bathing is repeated all day long. And only trained
elephants will submit to baths.
Jack Highwood opened Elephant Valley in 2016.
The 40-acre property is his second elephant sanctu-
ary, following a much bigger one he established in
Cambodia. He chose to go small with the Thai sanc-
tuary, installing inexpensive wooden fencing and
minimal infrastructure because he wanted to make
the model as easy as possible for others to copy. It felt
peaceful, several visitors at Elephant Valley told me.
As if the elephants didn’t even know they were there.
While traveling the world, I spoke to tourists every-
where. In restaurants and hostels. At aquariums and
monkey shows. I would often ask people if they prefer
to have an up-close experience with an animal in cap-
tivity or observe it from afar in the wild. More often
than not, they told me the latter. Yet captive encounters
remain extremely popular. Maybe because an animalsighting is assured. Maybe because the animals seem
happy, and it seems that your admission fee is going
to contribute to someone’s paycheck. Maybe, per-
haps most compelling of all, because it gives you a
photograph—you, together with an exotic animal—
that can go straight to your social media feed, where
likes and comments are guaranteed.
Across the Pacific, on the North Shore of Oahu, in
Hawaii, there’s a beach called Laniakea. People more
commonly call it Turtle Beach, because sea turtles
regularly come ashore. They’ll pick a spot and sleep in
the sun, sometimes for hours at a time. Volunteers are
there every day to keep people away from the animals.
When a turtle emerges from the sea, the volunteers
block off space for it with rope, giving the turtle ample
room to relax in peace.
One weekday in September, I sat with dozens of
tourists behind the rope and watched them watching
a turtle. For the most part, people were respectful. A
few asked why they couldn’t touch. It’s illegal to touch
sea turtles in Hawaii, the volunteers explained. And
it’s important to respect their space, they added. This
is their beach too, after all.
It can be hard for most people to tell the difference
between ethical and problematic wildlife experiences.
There are many shades of gray. But you might follow
a few simple guidelines:
—Seek experiences that offer observation of
animals engaging in natural behaviors in natural
environments.
—Do your research. A highly rated place may not
necessarily be humane. Read those one- and two-star
reviews. It’s often in the pans that visitors chronicle
animal welfare concerns.
—Beware of buzzwords like “gives back to conser-
vation” and “rescue.” If a facility makes these promises
yet offers extensive interaction, that may be a red flag.
Individual actions don’t happen in a vacuum. When
travelers decide they want something different, the
wildlife tourism market will change.Travelers are increasingly
recognizing that many
animal tourist attractions
may not be ethical.
NATASHA DALY is a
staff writer and editor
at National Geographic.
Her feature story on
hidden suffering in
the wildlife tourism
industry appears in
the June 2019 issue of
National Geographic
magazine. To read
more, visit natgeo.com/
wildlifetourism.