I encountered my first elephant when I was eight years old, while visiting my grandparents in Bangkok. Back in the 1980s, it was common to see the animals roaming the streets, begging for food in the company of their mahouts, or handlers. I would grab some fruit from my grandmother’s kitchen to secretly feed these majestic giants. I remember being awestruck when one scooped up a whole watermelon from my hands and crushed it effortlessly. 

The History of Elephants in Thailand

The mystique surrounding elephants has been ingrained in Thai culture for centuries. White elephants, in particular, have been considered symbols of wisdom, power, and good fortune since the birth of the Buddha; legend has it that the Buddha’s mother dreamed that a white elephant gave her a lotus flower on the eve of his birth. In the 16th century, the kings of Siam rode into battle on elephants. And later, the animal became a symbol of power: the more elephants one had, the higher one’s status. The beloved creatures were even featured on Thailand’s flag for the better part of the 1800s.

Elephants are protected by law, and the country has 69 reserves created especially for the now endangered species. While Thailand had about 50,000 Asian elephants in 1950, there are only 3,500 alive today — most found in sanctuaries and national parks. 

Visiting Huai Kha Khaeng Wildlife Santuary

Last May, I drove to the Huai Kha Khaeng Wildlife Sanctuary, in the western province of Rabam, to learn more about these creatures. Together with the neighboring Thung Yai Wildlife Sanctuary, it’s part of a protected area of more than 1.5 million acres and is home to more elephants than anywhere else the kingdom.

“The government is taking conservation very seriously by observing levels of protective infrastructure and requirements for entry,” said Coke Smith, a wildlife photographer who accompanied me and my guide, Boonloed Thainchang. In 1991, following a series of poaching incidents, the combined sanctuaries became a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  

 To explore the park, Smith, Thainchang, and I hopped on the back of a pickup and ventured into the sanctuary in search of elephants, as well as wild boar, deer, bears, tigers, and banteng, an endangered species of wild cattle. Anyone can drive into the area, but a guide is required to visit the three observation towers. 

We started at the first tower, which was covered in a black tarp so the animals couldn’t see us. Almost immediately, we saw a herd of about 25 banteng. They were peacefully grazing on grass and taking sips of water from a stream, unaware of our presence. 

After returning to the pickup, I spotted a male elephant in a dense patch of forest no more than 100 feet away. I was thrilled when the animal turned his gaze toward us and made what felt like direct eye contact as I snapped away with my camera. As Thainchang began to drive on, I asked if we could linger a little. He explained that the elephant’s ear movements suggested a defensive attitude toward us, so it would be better to keep moving. 

“The biggest threat elephants face today is habitat loss,” John Roberts, director of elephants and conservation at the Golden Triangle Asian Elephant Foundation, later told me. In the 1960s, Thailand was half forest; today it’s closer to a third. Despite this decline, successful conservation efforts, such as increasing food sources, have meant that elephant populations are actually on the rise in certain regions. 

Visiting Kui Buri National Park

Kui Buri National Park — my next stop — is one such place, where the current population is estimated to be around 320. Wildlife guide Pakenee Kittipinyowat picked me up at the tiny airport in the beach town of Hua Hin, about 50 miles away, where most visitors to the park choose to stay. Our destination was the home of Dr. Mattana Srikrachang, the senior biologist at the Department of National Parks, Wildlife and Plant Conservation, in the rural heart of Kui Buri. 

Srikrachang and I joined Kittipinyowat for the traditional safari experience offered at the park; Kui Buri doesn’t permit visitors to drive their own vehicles into the area, so hiring a guide with a pickup is essential. We ventured to three viewing sites, but the elements conspired against us: it was the rainy season, and the elephants prefer to retreat to the canopy of the dense jungle when thunder approaches, Kittipinyowat told me. 

Despite that, we kept our fingers crossed, voices hushed, and eyes peeled. We encountered countless oriental pied hornbills, as well as egrets, herons, and storks. Later we saw a large herd of gaurs — bison that grow to be about eight feet tall and 10 feet long. 

Nearing the end of our three-hour excursion, as dark clouds loomed and a sense of defeat started to creep in, an elephant appeared on the side of the road, about 150 feet away. The pickup pulled to a stop just as rain started to pour; we scrambled to protect ourselves with umbrellas and rain jackets. The elephant remained unfazed, playfully splashing water on himself from a little reservoir. He turned to us for a moment before proceeding back into the jungle. By the end, we were smiling and totally drenched.

In the end I saw seven wild elephants across my two park visits, thriving in their natural habitat. To see them in this state — wild and free — made me feel like a kid again.

A version of this story first appeared in the December 2024 / January 2025 issue of Travel + Leisure under the headline “Standing Tall.”