In India this week, a wild tusker broke into a circus and left with four interested female elephants on his arm.

Forest officials are unsure how to rescue one of the runaways, who has become his paramour, because wild elephants don't move much during the day while elephants accustomed to human contact are, like us, more cautious at night and stay home in the hours of darkness. The two have been spotted frolicking in the water in the morning. Officials are politely averting their eyes for a while, despite the circus manager who is jumping up and down with impatience.

Asian elephants don't breed easily in captivity, as far as I can work out, because they like to fall in love first. It's no good just introducing them and expecting them to be grateful. An incurable romantic myself - yes, really - this reassures me. The species will survive because it wants to; because it takes an interest in itself and each other (yes, pandas, I'm lookin' at you).

Tomorrow, I'll continue to ponder the pleasures of summer romances. But if ever there was an appropriate song for tonight, it has to be the story of the clever Indian elephant who ran away from the circus to go back to the jungle: "Nellie the Elephant" (Butler & Hart, 1957). Enjoy trying to get that one out of  your head.