It was an enduring myth at the turn of the previous century: The Elephant Graveyard.
It produced a picture of a massive jumble of pachyderm bones...and tusks. The belief was that King Kilimanjaro could sense his impending doom and would make a final pilgrimage to some high, isolated valley. There, he would die a dignified death in a place where his worldly remains would be un-nibbled by mice and un-pillaged by humans.
I can only add a wee bit to the lore of The Elephant Graveyard. I found the mouse graveyard.
Much like the fabled Elephant Graveyard, it was an isolated place of high elevation. It was above the drop ceiling in our basement bedroom.
No pictures will be posted. I don't want to tempt vandals who might violate the sanctity of their resting spot by rending it apart to harvest the ivory of their front incisors.
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