Ask your average random punter to sum up camels in three words, and you may get something like “humpy, grumpy and pumpy”. Although poetic, this is a gross slander of a remarkable creature.
Sure, camels can come off as grumpy. So would you, if forced to carry loads of up to half a ton. Camels at tourist sites like the Pyramids have even more reason to act pissed off. Not only are they forced to parade around dressed in ridiculous baubles and pom-poms, but they have to baksheesh the police camels for the privilege of being humiliated there in the first place.
Similarly, the charge of “pumpy” is hard to deny. Camels do fart more than a cowboy in a baked beans factory, and are blessed with a… somewhat unique odour. But in their defence, they rarely ride the Metro, so at least it’s possible to escape the noxious body part. A pity the same is not true of the armpits of Sadat station.
And of course a camel is humpy. That’s the whole point. The hump is a badge of honour, the essence of camel distilled and stored as a lump of fat. That’s right – fat, not water. It’s a food source, oxidised to produce energy in times of need. Interestingly, this actually results in a net loss of water, or H2O if you’re a scientist.
In fact, camels don’t really store water at all. They are very well adapted for conserving it, and for surviving chronic dehydration. They can go for a week without drinking a single drop… in the middle of summer! During cooler periods they can survive for over six months, obtaining sufficient moisture from the greenery they eat. Which explains why, when they finally do get to sup, they put British binge drinkers to shame, easily quaffing over 200 pints in one sitting!
The real beauty of the camel is how well she fits her home environment. See how elegant she is as she sails over the desert sands, swaying gently from side to side. She forms part of the landscape and she is also – in the same mildly disconcerting way – as alluring.
Look at her sinuous neck and velvet muzzle, a sand dragon without the wings. Look into her liquid brown eyes, framed by eyelashes worthy of any harem. These eyelashes are a protective adaptation to the heat and swirling sands of the desert, as are her dainty, furry ears and sealable nostrils. The jutting brow ridges above her eyes are a sun visor, and give the camel her slightly comical, quizzical expression. Try telling me camels aren’t cute!
They are, however, a study in contradictions. Therein lies part of the appeal. Stately in motion, and graceful in repose, yet the transition between sitting and standing so painful to watch. The camel resists, groaning and complaining, until her ludicrous leg joints finally snap into place, and she either lurches to her feet or sinks to the floor. What has gone wrong with the design here, that such an essential movement be so difficult?
And the noises! Sounds that range from throaty gurgling to blood-curdling Jurassic roar, and reveal jagged yellow tombstones masquerading as teeth. It’s a blessing that camels normally maintain a dignified silence.
And that’s the thing I love most about these animals: the sense of haughty serenity they exude; the arrogant peace of mind that comes from knowing only you in the whole world can live where you live, and do what you do.
An old Arab proverb tells you to “Trust in Allah, but tie your camel.” I say trust in your camel, and let God look after Himself.
Note for Camelinae pedants: The snippets of camel lore presented here refer to Dromedaries, not Bactrian camels.
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These descriptions are so poetic yet so funny! I adore camels. But they do look kind of sadly ridiculous when outfitted in baubles and pom-poms – poor camels.