Gold, Sport, and Coffee Planting in Mysore Part 4

Since writing the preceding, I went out after a tiger near my house, where I was placed on a tree quite out of the reach of a tiger--in fact it was too high, and showed me the great disadvantage of being more than say fifteen feet from the ground. The beat was a peculiar one, and I was posted just inside the jungle. The beaters were rather long at their work, and I had fallen into a reverie, from which I was aroused by three roars of a tiger just behind me, and the roars were not charging roars, but of a character which meant, in tiger language, that people had better look out.

Now the tiger was below me, and I was as absolutely safe as a man at home in his armchair, and yet I felt my heart throb quickly. The explanation of this no doubt was that I had forgotten to take my dose of digitalis before starting. Being in the jungle I was under great disadvantages from having to shoot through the underwood, and, though I knocked over the tiger, and there was plenty of blood to prove it, we lost him.

This tiger is known as the lame tiger from being so in the right fore leg--the result of an old wound probably--and some ten days after my wounding him a curious coincidence happened. A young married lady, who was at the time on a visit to my bungalow, had expressed a great wish to see a tiger, and, when leaving for Bangalore in her bullock coach between nine and ten o'clock one night, very nearly saw the lame tiger. He was standing in the road some miles from my house, at a sharp bend where the road deflects abruptly to cross a Nullah, and waited till the coach got within ten or fifteen yards of him, whereupon, after delivering three moderate growls, he limped down off the road, and stood for a moment looking at the coach and bullocks.

All sportsmen must regret the necessity for tying out live bait for tigers, but this is really a fully justifiable proceeding, as thereby an immense amount of pain is saved to animal life in general, and an immense sum of money to the native population. The destruction of cattle by tigers is really enormous, and, I believe, far exceeding that reported to Government, and it is so mainly because the tiger is only allowed to eat a fraction of what he kills, as the moment that news of a bullock being killed reaches the village, the low cla.s.s natives at once proceed to the spot, drive away the tiger, and carry off the beef. And this is only prevented when an English sportsman is within reach, in which case the cattle owners prevent the people from touching the carcase. It is often very annoying when tying out baits for tigers, to find them destroyed by panthers, as the panther, of course, from his habit of climbing trees, and concealing himself in the foliage, and from a kind of general facility that he seems to have for getting out of the way, is a difficult animal to find, in fact so much so, that I latterly would never go out after one, unless it had killed quite close at hand. In 1891 I was once much annoyed to find that a new kind of bait with an additional attraction had been quite ruined by a panther. This attraction consisted of a goat picketed in an open-topped (that was the mistake, it ought to have been closed) wooden cage which was placed in the branches of a tree, on the edge of the jungle, and about fifteen feet from the ground, while a bullock was picketed on the ground in the open land, about twenty yards away. The theory was that the, to a tiger, attractive aroma of the goat would be widely diffused, and that he might, too, further attract the tiger by his cries. News (false as it afterwards turned out to be) was brought in that a tiger had killed the bullock, and I toiled up on to the mountain some seven miles away from my bungalow, merely to find that a panther had killed the bullock and that my goat was hanging dead by the neck outside the cage just like a carcase in a butcher's shop. The panther had seized the goat, killed it, and jumped out of the cage with it, and had either not sense enough to cut the rope with his teeth, or had his suspicions aroused from finding the animal tied. To show that the suspicions of an animal can thus be aroused, I may mention the following incident, which is also especially interesting as showing the great skill of the tiger as a stalker and the singular power he has of stepping noiselessly on dry leaves, and his power to do mischief after being apparently shot dead. But before doing so I may mention rather an interesting circ.u.mstance. Besides the bait killed by the panther, I had two bullocks tied out in the neighbourhood, and as I did not care much for that part of the country, ordered them to be released and brought home with us. I was much struck with the earnest and business-like air with which these poor animals, which had spent some miserable nights in the jungle, expecting every moment to be killed by a tiger, trotted along, on a line often parallel with the party, and it somewhat reminded me of a picture I had seen in an ill.u.s.trated paper, of the hunted deer amicably trotting home with the hounds and huntsmen. The fact was that they were determined to get home in good time, for fear, I suppose, of being shut out of the cattle shed, and though, just as they neared the shed, the remainder of the herd, which had been out grazing in the neighbourhood, appeared within twenty yards, the liberated baits got first into the shed. And now for my story showing how easily the suspicions of the tiger are excited.

A near neighbour of mine--at least he lived ten miles off---was much annoyed by tigers which, from the continuous nature of his large block of evergreen forest land, he could only get at by sitting over a bait. On one occasion he had tied out a bullock, in a piece of land of a few acres which he had cleared in the middle of the forest, and concealed himself on a tree. It was during the day, and the ground was covered with dried leaves which are so brittle in the hot weather that even the scratching, or walking of a bird can be heard some way off. Presently a large tiger--my friend knew that he was about--made his appearance and commenced a stalk so elaborate and careful that my friend declared it would have been worth 1,000 rupees to a young sportsman to have witnessed it. He put every paw down so carefully, gradually crushing the leaves under it, that my friend, though quite close to the tiger, could not hear a sound.

Between the tiger and the bullock was the b.u.t.t, about four feet high, of a felled tree, with long projecting surface roots, and this saved the tiger much trouble, for he got on to one of the roots, and carefully balanced himself on it, and so without noise was able to walk quickly along till he came to the b.u.t.t which he seemed to wind round like a snake, and he then got on to a corresponding root on the other side, and walked along that.

In short, he approached so gradually and noiselessly, and his colour against the brown dry leaves was so invisible, that he got quite close to the bullock before it perceived him. The moment it did so it charged, but the tiger, avoiding the horns, swung round the back of the bullock, and then sat up and put both its paws on its neck evidently to drag it down, but it then perceived that the animal was tied, and at once turned and sprang into the forest with such rapidity that my friend did not fire. He however sat patiently on, and after a considerable time the tiger reappeared, went through the whole stalking performance as carefully and exactly as before, and was seen and charged by the bullock as before. But this time the tiger was in earnest and seized the bullock. There was a struggle, the rope broke, and the bullock dropped dead, and then the tiger stood for a few seconds, a magnificent figure in the bright sunlight, looking all round as it were for signs of danger. Whether the tiger saw or smelt my friend is uncertain, but it suddenly lay down behind the bullock, interposing the carcase between itself and my friend, and resting its head on the body. As it is always more or less precarious to fire at the head of an animal where it may suddenly move my friend waited to get a body shot, but as the tiger had evidently no intention of moving he fired at the head and the tiger was apparently shot dead on the spot. But my friend, who was an experienced sportsman, waited a little, and in the end thought it safe to fire another shot before going up to the tiger. He did so, when the tiger sprang up and went off into the forest at full speed, and fell and died at some little distance away. The first bullet had struck the tiger below the eye, but had been deflected, and was found lodged in the jaw. My friend thinks that it would have proved fatal to the tiger, but that is doubtful, as tigers make such wonderful recoveries from wounds.

In tying out baits it is very important to use a chain instead of a rope, as the tiger will commonly cut the latter and carry off the carcase, and it is sometimes desirable, or even necessary in some cases, to sit over the carcase and await the return of the tiger. The latter is always the case where there are great continuous forests, where tigers cannot be isolated, or successfully pursued, unless one has an army of men and many guns. This form of sport, which Mr. Sanderson speaks highly of, I can imagine may be very interesting, but it is also very tiresome and tantalizing. A great many years ago I remember trying it for two nights, but without any success, and never again tried it till some years ago, when I made an attempt in one of the forests at the foot of one of the pa.s.ses leading down to Mangalore. My people had no experience in the matter either, still we might have been successful had the carcase been chained. I took down a small herd of cattle from my plantations, and ordered some baits to be tied one evening, and early the following morning went round to look at them. In the first case we found that the rope had been cut and the bullock carried off and deposited in a depression in the ground about fifty yards away. The carcase was untouched. In the next case we found that the rope, which was a very strong jungle creeper as thick as a large-sized rope, had not been cut, but that the animal had been killed, and merely a few steaks as it were eaten from the rump. In the third case we found that the bullock, which had evidently been the first one seized, was about half eaten. In the fourth case the bullock, which was an old one, had not been touched. I think my people made a great mistake in tying out so many cattle so close together--they were not one hundred yards apart--still this certainly made matters more sure from one point of view, as a tiger crossing the country might have missed one bait, whereas he could hardly have missed four, but his having killed three baits made our proceedings a little mixed. I first ordered the surviving bullock to be taken home, and two of the carcases to be dragged away to a considerable distance, and resolved to sit over kill number two, as it was the best animal, and in the most convenient position, but unfortunately I ordered two of my people to take a seat on a tree near the place where number one had been killed and carried off, and the tiger, which went there first, looked up and saw them and growled. His suspicions of course were aroused, and the result was that he did not come at all to the kill I was sitting over--at least while I was there. After it was too dark to see to shoot I went home, and returned the following morning, when I found that the tiger had returned, cut the rope, and carried off the bullock to a distance of about two hundred yards, and eaten a good deal of it. I organized a small silent beat of a section of the forest, but nothing came of it. My head man then resolved to prepare a watching place in a tree near the carcase, and this time I resolved to follow Mr. Sanderson's advice, and begin to watch quite early in the afternoon. My man finished his arrangements by about midday, and, after breakfasting at home, I returned with him to the spot at about three o'clock. Horror of horrors, the carcase was gone again. My head shikari--the Rama Gouda, whom I have previously noticed as being such a cool and daring fellow--was enraged beyond measure. He at once, without saying a word, cut a creeper from the nearest tree, and without even a gun in his hand set off on the trail, but not, I observed, before gun-bearer number two, also a daring fellow, had looked at him with an inquiring eye, as much as to say, "are you not a trifle rash?" I followed Rama Gouda, though I was not quite sure of the prudence of our proceedings, and presently we perceived by the chattering of a squirrel that the tiger was moving along close to us. Then we came to the carcase, of which there was now only about half left, and from the tracks about it, and the quant.i.ty of flesh eaten, Rama Gouda was satisfied that the tiger must have watched him making his preparations and then carried off the carcase the moment he had left. Rama Gouda now lashed the creeper to the bullock's horns, and, with the aid of the second man, proceeded to drag it back to the watching place he had prepared, and which was about one hundred yards away. By this time, the hinder part of the bullock had been eaten and only the fore part was intact and the carcase smelt horribly.

There was something so ludicrous in the whole thing that I could not, and much to Rama Gouda's surprise, help laughing. The unfortunate animal had first been driven thirty miles from his home into these remote forests, then killed, then his remains were carried off as we have seen, and then again carried off, and now what was left was being dragged back again to the watching place. Rama Gouda soon arranged matters to his satisfaction by restoring the remains to their original position, but certainly not to mine, for there presently arose a most asphyxiating stench, which seemed to fill the entire air, and reminded one of what soldiers must often have experienced in our eastern campaigns. We waited till it was too dark to see to shoot and then went home, and early next morning I had to start for the coast, and thus ignominiously ended the only attempt of the kind I ever made. The tiger was evidently an old hand and was playing a regular game of hide and seek with us. The great error made was the neglect of Mr.

Sanderson's advice as to chaining the bait in the first instance. Some tigers always carry off the carcase each time they visit it, and a friend of mine told me that when he was once sitting over a carcase, the tiger made a sudden rush, picked up the carcase in the course of it, and made off so suddenly that he had no time to fire.

I can easily understand that, as Mr. Sanderson says, there is a considerable charm and interest connected with this method (and in some cases it is the only method) of pursuing tigers, but I can see that it requires much experience, caution, and patience, and I would particularly advise those interested in this matter to consult Mr. Sanderson's valuable work.

I have often found in conversation that people are surprised to find that tigers eat tigers when a suitable opportunity for doing so presents itself, but considering that man still, in some parts of the world, eats his fellow man, it seems to me extremely natural that a tiger should eat a tiger. I have, however, only met with one instance which occurred in my neighbourhood, and in this case I am strongly inclined to think that the eaten tiger was first of all killed. The incident occurred in this way.

Shortly before my arrival in India one winter, my manager wounded a tiger, but I do not think very severely, as the tiger not only travelled at least two miles, but ascended a mountain up to a considerable elevation. Along one side of the mountain is a rather long strip of forest, which is a favourite place for tigers either to pa.s.s through or lie up in, as it is quite out of any village-to-village route, and had the tiger been hard hit he would certainly have remained there. But not only did he not do so, but skirting the jungle, or pa.s.sing through it, he climbed up a steep ascent, evidently with the view of going into the next valley, and near the top of the ascent his living history ends. Knowing from the direction taken by the wounded tiger that he would probably be in the jungle on the mountain side, my manager had it beaten on the day following, when a tiger came out which he took to be the wounded tiger, and which he killed. It then turned out that it was not the wounded tiger, but a fresh tiger with the wounded tiger, or nearly all the meat of it, inside him, and all that was recovered was the head and the skin of the chest, which I saw after my arrival, and which was sent in to Government for the reward, and by the size of the head it must have been a fine tiger. When I visited the jungle in 1891, I carefully cross-examined the natives in the matter, and they said that they could not say whether the tiger had died from wounds or whether he had been killed by the tiger that had carried off and eaten the body, but they were positive that it was a tiger that had eaten the body, from the tracks, for the body had been taken down to water, on the margin of which no other tracks but those of a tiger were visible, and these were clearly defined. They could also be distinctly traced from the place in the open gra.s.sland whence the body was carried. Taking all the circ.u.mstances into consideration--the distance travelled, the steepness of the ground, and the fact that the tiger pa.s.sed a favourable jungle for lying in, I am strongly of opinion, in fact, I consider it almost certain, that the wounded tiger must have been dispatched by the other tiger, which was hungry and could not resist the smell of the blood. There is nothing remarkable in a tiger eating a tiger found dead, and I have read and heard of instances of this, and also of tigers fighting, and the vanquished tiger being eaten.

It is a common idea that tigers cannot climb trees, but this has arisen from the fact that they have seldom occasion to do so. Mr. Sanderson mentions the case of a tigress having been seen to climb a tree in a wood on the Nilgiri Hills, and though he has never seen a tiger in a tree himself, deprecates the idea of there being anything impossible in the matter, and if we come to consider that the large forest panther, which commonly ascends trees, is really often nearly as heavy as a small-sized tigress, there is nothing at all improbable in the tiger doing so. I myself have never seen a tiger in a tree, but one of my managers did, who once went out after a tiger which he had wounded. He then ran on to cut him off, and tried to get up into a tree, but not succeeding in the attempt, went and took a seat some way off on the hillside. The tiger presently emerged from the jungle, went to the tree and began roaring and sc.r.a.ping at the ground, and he must have either smelt traces of the manager or seen him trying to get up into it, and concluded he was there.

However, he deliberately went up the tree paw over paw, and got into a cleft of it and looked about in the tree, and then came down backwards, and was shot in the act of descending. I sent and obtained measurements of this tree, the stem of which was 16-1/2 feet up to the first branch. The tiger climbed up so far, and looked around in the tree. Another case was told me by Rama Gouda, to whom I have previously alluded, of a wounded tiger going up a tree to get at a beater, whom he nearly reached. In the case just mentioned, the tiger rose on its hind legs and deliberately went up paw over paw, but in the second, started with a spring up the stem of the tree, and then ascended in the same way as the first tiger did.

There is a common idea that jackals attach themselves to tigers, and are useful in warning them of danger, and I have been informed by an experienced sportsman that they always howl when they find a bait tied out for a tiger, and, it is supposed, with the view of informing any tiger within hearing that there is a bullock all ready for him. I have never heard but one confirmatory instance of the former, which was told me by a planter on the Nilgiri Hills, who was opening some new land in quarters occasionally visited by tigers. One evening, after the day's work was over, he went out accompanied by a kangaroo dog, and took a seat on the hillside to enjoy the view. Immediately below him ran a jungly ravine, and behind him the hill rose sharply. He had no gun with him, not expecting any game so close to his new abode, and now, to his dismay, a large tiger emerged from the shola at a point between him and his bungalow. As the gra.s.s was long at that season, the tiger did not perceive my friend (and, as I have previously shown, tigers, and I believe all animals, do not readily perceive any non-conspicuous object which is not in motion), who, as may be supposed, sat as close and still as possible, and beckoning to the dog, held him fast by the collar. The tiger lay down in the gra.s.s, and was presently followed by another tiger, which lay down in front of the first and rolled over on its back. This was pretty well for a beginning, but presently, one after the other, emerged three smaller tigers, which also took their seats in the gra.s.s. Here then was a nice family to have between one and one's dinner. The sun presently set, and the prospect of darkness was not encouraging. My friend naturally waited for the tigers to go, and no doubt devoutly hoped that they would not come his way, but time seemed to them to be of no importance, and they showed not the slightest disposition to move. Presently there came on to the ridge of the hill above a jackal, which looked down upon the party and then set up a most unearthly howl. The three smaller tigers, evidently young and inexperienced animals, took no notice of the protestations of the jackal, but the two larger tigers at once got up and took a long steady look at him, and the jackal moved restlessly about and seemed to redouble his efforts to attract the attention of the tigers. The larger tigers now seemed satisfied that some danger was at hand, and to the immense relief of my friend, walked down into the jungle, followed by the three smaller tigers. After waiting a little my friend got up and proceeded homewards, and, he said, "I am not ashamed to own that, after pa.s.sing the place where the tigers had disappeared from view, I fairly ran for the house." The most interesting experiences one hears of tigers and other wild animals are, as may be supposed, not from sportsmen engaged on shooting expeditions, and who have killed much game, but from pioneer planters and others whose business lies in tigerish localities, and that is why Mr.

Sanderson's book is so particularly interesting. My friend told me when I last met him that he had only killed two tigers, but that he had had occasionally some unexpected interviews with them. One of these was interesting as showing that a tiger does not like the rearing of a horse.

My friend was riding across the country one morning when he came suddenly, at the edge of a shola, on a tiger, which at once crouched as if to spring. The horse, an Australian, wished to turn, but my friend, being afraid that the tiger might then spring on him, turned his horse's head towards the tiger and touched him with the spur. This caused the horse to rear, and the moment he did so the tiger turned tail and ran off. We have seen that man does not relish the roar of a tiger, and it may be interesting to record one instance where a single tiger was commoved and put to flight by the yell of a single man. He was a planter on the Nilgiris, and the brother of a friend of mine, and was in the habit of going out at the end of his day's work with a book and a gun, and seating himself on the hillside to look out for sambur deer. On one occasion he was thus sitting in the long gra.s.s when he heard something coming through it. This turned out to be a large tiger which came into view suddenly, and quite close, as may be supposed from the fact that the planter was sitting in long gra.s.s. The tiger at once crouched, and the planter was afraid to raise his gun, as it was probable that the animal might spring at him before he was ready to fire. Tiger and man thus looked at each other in silence. Mr. B. had heard of the effect of the human eye, and he threw into his the fiercest glare he could, but found that the tiger returned his glance quite unmoved. Then he thought he would try the effect of the human voice, and gathering himself together uttered the most awe-inspiring yell he could command. The tiger at once rose to his legs and turned his body half round. This was encouraging, and he emitted another yell, when the tiger went off.

There can be no doubt that tigers, like men, are often very undecided how to act, and it would be interesting if we could penetrate their state of mind. Shall I attack, or shall I do nothing? and in the end, after long deliberation, the tiger will determine on doing nothing, and walk off. Of his state of mind the following is an instance. On one occasion I left my pony on the side of a hill just outside the forest, and went for a stalk over the mountain above. I could see nothing, and thought it would be well to take a seat and wait in case any game might turn up. I had not been seated more than a few minutes when one of my people, pointing downward, said, "There is a tiger," and we could see him at the foot of the hill about quarter of a mile away, walking steadily across a piece of open land to the forest beyond. Just as he disappeared my horse-keeper came up alone, and evidently in a most agitated state, and no wonder, for we had no sooner got out of his sight when, a tiger appeared from the jungle and lay down on the ground just above the pony and crouched. The horse-keeper had another man with him, but he not unnaturally said that he was afraid to come and tell us, as he thought that there was safety in numbers, and that the tiger might attack the pony if it was left with only one man. The tiger must have thus remained in a state of low doubt for at least half an hour. Finally he got up and left them, and, from the direction he took, was evidently the identical tiger which we had seen from the hill top.

Tigers, like wolves and other animals, form plans, communicate them to their companions, and conjointly carry them out. A friend of mine was once the subject of an excellent instance of this. He was out stalking one day, and with his gla.s.s was scanning the country carefully, when he made out a long way off, in a piece of open gra.s.sland which was surrounded by forest, three tigers looking in his direction. They evidently saw that there was something on the hillside, but the distance was, for them, too great to make out what. After steadily looking at him some time the tigers evidently formed their plan of operations, and plunged into the forest towards him. The tigers had taken my friend and his man for game of some kind, and had determined on a united stalk and drive, and, when they appeared, two remained at the edge of the jungle, while the third made a circuit evidently with the view of coming upon the supposed game from above. But presently they discovered their mistake and went off.

These forest tigers are rarely dangerous to man unless attacked, and in my part of the country they never are so. However, there is no rule without an exception, and when making this a.s.sertion to some natives in my neighbourhood many years ago, one of them said, "I am not so sure about that. A tiger ate an aunt of mine not far from here some years ago." But that is the only instance I ever heard of in my neighbourhood, and even by tradition there were no instances of deaths from tigers, and it is also remarkable how in some cases tigers, when there is plenty of game, live for years near cattle without touching them. I was particularly struck with this in the case of a family who lived quite isolated at the crests of the Ghauts, and the head of it told me that, though tigers were often about they never touched his cattle. There is an amusing story told in "My Indian Journal"[20] (a charming book which everyone should read who is interested in India) of a native who was ready enough it appears to track down tigers to be shot by others, but who by no means wished that any of his family should interfere. On one occasion Colonel Campbell found him belabouring his son with a stout bamboo, and on inquiry learned that the said son had killed a tiger. The father said it was all very well for people who lived in the open country, but with him the case was quite different, as he lived on sociable terms with the tigers in the jungle, had never injured them nor they him, and while there was peace between them he could go amongst them without fear, but now that his rascally son had picked a quarrel with them, there was no knowing where the feud might end.

I have mentioned a case of tigers not interfering with cattle when there was plenty of game, but I should add that this was many years ago, when the natives had not so many guns as they have now. The rice-fields have been abandoned and the house of course deserted, and of recent years the tigers have changed their ways, for, ten years ago, I killed a tigress close to the site of the abandoned house, in the neighbourhood of which it had been killing cattle.

I have said that forest tigers are rarely dangerous to man, and by that I mean the tigers inhabiting the long range of forests stretching along the south-western side of India at varying distances from the sea, but in the interior of Mysore very dangerous man-eaters have existed, and I have been shown places which people made up parties to cross. One man-eater, at least--for it was a.s.sumed that the deaths were the work of one animal--killed, I am informed on good authority, about 500 people. Two tigers were killed at one time, and after that the slaughter of human beings ceased, though it was never ascertained which was the culprit.

There is no man-eater at present in Mysore. Mr. Sanderson says that bold man-eaters have been known to enter a village and carry off a victim from the first open hut. The boldest attempt I ever knew of was mentioned to me by my Nilgiri planter friend, and it occurred in this way. In the middle of the night there were loud cries of "Tiger!" from a hut near his house which was occupied by some of his people. He always kept a loaded gun near him at night, and at once rushed out and fired, when two men came up to the bungalow and declared that a tiger had begun to claw the thatch off the roof of the hut in order to get at them. This was alarming to the planter, as, if proved, many of his people might have left the place, and he told the men to sleep in his veranda, and that he would see in the morning if their story was true. He then went to bed and rose very early the following morning, before anyone was about, and found that the story was quite true, and saw the tracks of the tiger. These he carefully obliterated, and then went back to bed. Then when he rose at his usual time he roused the men and asked to be shown the track of the tiger. This of course they could not do, and he laughed off the whole story, and treated it as a fanciful illusion. I find many stories in sporting books of the great courage and determination often shown by natives in connection with tigers, but my Nilgiri planter friend told me one which was really astonishing. A tiger one day had carried off a Toda cattle herd, and his friend or relative was determined to recover the body, and was about to proceed single-handed and unarmed into the jungle with this view. My friend saw that he could not prevent him, and as he did not like to let him to go in alone, went with him. They went in accordingly, and presently heard the tiger crunching the bones of his unfortunate victim, but when the tiger heard them approaching he retired, and the Toda recovered what was left of the body. There can be no doubt, however, that the death of one of a party does exercise a chilling effect on the zeal of the natives, or at least on a considerable proportion of them, but after all this is not surprising, as I have found a similar coldness coming over my own proceedings when a tiger has retorted with effect on his pursuers.

On the occasion I am now alluding to an unfortunate report had spread that a tiger I had wounded had left the jungle in which we found him, and whither he had retreated. I had wounded the tiger in the evening, and we went to look him up next morning, and the beaters, influenced no doubt by the report in question, went into the jungle in a body in a careless manner, and without sending men up trees to keep a look out ahead.

The tiger waited till the whole party was within springing distance, and then with a tremendous roar which I clearly heard at my post some way off, charged, and buried his deadly fangs in the back of an unfortunate Hindoo peasant who was leading the way. The poor fellow was carried out of the jungle in an evidently dying state, and a caste dispute arose over him, the particulars of which I have given in my chapter on caste. After doing what we could for him we placed him on a rough litter and he was carried to the rear. I confess that after such an exhibition of temper on the part of the tiger and the nature of the jungle I, being Europeanly speaking single-handed, was not so very comfortable at the idea of approaching him, but luckily a toddyman who had run up a tree (these men are wonderful climbers) when the tiger charged, and was afraid for some time to come down, now emerged from the jungle, and reported that he could see the tiger from the tree he had climbed into. This of course much simplified matters, and I at once proceeded into the jungle, but only about ten people, mostly my own followers, cared to accompany me. As it happened, we after all ran no risk whatever, as the tiger was dead, though he was lying with his head on his paws in such a life-like position that we fired a shot into him to make sure. When we were skinning him the poor man expired. In the same jungle, I think about a year afterwards, an English visitor at my house wounded a tiger, which went into one of those reedy and cactus-grown bottoms which make tiger shooting on foot so dangerous. I then declared that none of my people should go into this, and that they might return the next day and see if the tiger was dead (by no means an absolutely safe proceeding even then as we have seen). Much to my amus.e.m.e.nt a lean toddy drawer of mine, an excellent shikari, went a few yards into the swampy ground, got on to a small boulder of rock, squatted down, took out his betel bag, threw some betel into his mouth preparatory to chewing, and then held out his long skinny arm and forefinger and said, "Look! A tiger made a meal of a man close to this last year. Let everyone therefore be careful and get up into trees, and mind what they are about." The next day the tiger was found dead quite close to the rock he had been squatting on. A most remarkable instance of courage on the part of a native occurred when a brother planter of mine was out tiger shooting on the Ghauts to the north of my abode. A tiger flew at a Hindoo peasant--a first-rate plucky sportsman, and as the tiger charged, the man struck at it with his hacking knife (a formidable weapon in the hands of a man who knows how to use it, and used to cut underwood, and thick boughs of trees), with the result that the tiger's skull was split open and the animal killed on the spot. The native was thrown backwards with great force, and his head came in contact with a stone. He got up, and by this time was surrounded by the people, when, holding out his hand, he said, "Look here," and then paused. Everyone expected some remark about the tiger, but, amidst general laughter--for the natives have a keen sense of humour--he continued, "There will be a b.u.mp on my head to-morrow as big as a cocoanut." And now, as we have heard so much of the courage of man, it is time that the dogs should have their turn, and I will conclude these reminiscences with an account of how a dog saved the life of the brother planter to whom I have just alluded. I was so much interested in the story that I wrote down the particulars in my diary at the time and read them over to my informant to make sure they were right. I give the account verbatim as I took it down at the time.

Mr. A. told me that he once wounded a tiger which afterwards sprang on him, knocked him down, and seized him by the hand and arm. With Mr. A. was a large dog, half mastiff and half polygar (a savage and rare native breed), which at once attacked the tiger, and diverted its attention from Mr. A. After driving off the dog the tiger again returned to Mr. A. and commenced to worry him, but was again attacked by the dog. The dog was thus driven off about three or four times by the tiger. The tiger was all this time losing strength from his wounds, and the last time he returned to Mr. A., died on him. The dog was uninjured. Now comes the most curious and interesting part of the story.

The dog, which was not affectionate generally, and indifferent to being noticed, belonged to Mr. A.'s brother, and had previously taken no interest in anyone but his master, but after this event, he refused to go home with his master, and stuck closely to the wounded man, and when some carbolic was applied by Mr. A.'s brother which caused pain to the wound, the dog began to growl and showed signs of displeasure. The dog would not allow anyone to come near Mr. A. except his own special servant, and lay under the bed with his nose sticking out, and keeping close guard. When Mr. A. was carried to the doctor some thirty-five miles away the dog went too, and on the doctor applying carbolic, and setting the bones, which caused pain, the dog at once seized the doctor by the leg. (Evidently looking on him as tiger No. 2, I suppose.) In about three months Mr. A.

was quite cured, and after that the dog lost all interest in him, and returned to his master; and if he met Mr. A. by chance, merely acknowledged him by the faintest wag of his tail. A year afterwards this dog, happening to meet the doctor, whom he had not met since, at once flew at him and seized him by the trousers.

One great danger attending the bite of a tiger is that of blood-poisoning from the frequently foul state of the animal's jaws, and it is, of course, of great consequence to cleanse wounds as soon as possible and apply carbolic. An engineer in the northern part of Mysore a good many years ago was bitten on the thigh by a tiger, and so little hurt that he walked home and went on with his business as usual, but a few days after he was suddenly taken ill and very soon died. Of course there may happen to be no foul matter about the tiger's mouth, and a Hindoo peasant wounded when I was out with no less than thirteen wounds in the arms--several of them double wounds as the man had thrust his locked arms into the tiger's mouth to keep him off--completely recovered. He goes by the nickname of Tiger Linga Gouda, and I always make a point of sending for him when I visit Mysore. On one occasion I was showing the marks of the wounds to a lady, and said that there were thirteen wounds. "Thirteen," echoed Linga Gouda, "There were fifteen, and you have forgotten those two on the head, and I slept on your bed too," he added with an air of great satisfaction--in fact he seemed to attach more importance to that than to anything connected with the transaction. I had given him up my bed because it was a broad one, and so most convenient for resting his lacerated arms. The natives were certain that he would die, and I felt a great triumph in bringing him round. The great thing with wounds of that kind is of course to cleanse them well, and apply carbolic if you have it (I had none on this occasion) and afterwards cover the wounds with damp lint, which should be kept constantly moist by frequent applications of water. This was done in the case I have alluded to. The arms, of course, swelled greatly, and the heat arising from them was very great, hence the need for the constant application of water. The flow of blood from the arms was checked by a tourniquet.

I never but once heard of a mad tiger. This animal was made over in an inoculated condition by a friend of mine to the Garden in Bangalore. He had caught it when out tiger shooting, and, when on the way to Bangalore, he had chained it outside his tent where it was attacked and bitten by what turned out to be a mad Pariah dog.

Before concluding this chapter I must say a few words, which perhaps ought to have been said at an earlier period, as regards one of the most important points of tiger shooting--i.e., that of taking up such a position as will enable you to fire to right or left without moving your body, or rather I should say without moving it more than in a most infinitesimal degree, for, as I have previously shown, it is movement of any kind which alone readily attracts the attention of an animal. It is evident that, if you sit facing the point from which the tiger is expected, though you can readily fire at him without moving if he pa.s.ses to your left (and, as has been shown, you should not fire till he is just pa.s.sing you) you cannot do so if he pa.s.ses to your right without turning your whole body half round in that direction--a movement which might catch the eye of the tiger. To surmount this difficulty Sir Samuel Baker has invented a small stool with a revolving top, which is no doubt air excellent thing if there is time to erect a suitable platform on which to support the stool, but it often happens that positions have to be taken up in a hurry, and that you have to sit on the fork of a branch, or on the ground behind a bush or rock, where the tiger may pa.s.s on either side. In such cases the shooter should sit facing nearly full face to the right, as he can, with hardly any perceptible movement of his body fire readily to his left, and he should instruct his man with the second gun to point with his finger in order to indicate the side on which the tiger is approaching.

In all the books I have read about tigers I have never met with an allusion to tigers purring like cats from satisfaction, but a brother planter informs me that he heard a wounded tiger, that had killed one of the natives who was following him up, purr for several minutes, as he described it, "like a thousand cats." The evening was closing in when the accident occurred and as the jungle was thick nothing could be done. On the following morning the man and the tiger were found lying dead together.

Of all sports tiger shooting affords the most lasting satisfaction, and it is especially interesting when one lives in tigerish localities where one has more leisure and opportunity for going into all the details of this delightful sport, and where a knowledge of the people and their language makes the sport so much more agreeable, and one's acquaintance with the ground enables one to take an active and intelligent part in regulating the plan of operations when a tiger has killed. Then in the case of an animal so destructive it is seldom possible to feel any commiseration, though I have done so on certainly one, or perhaps two occasions. Against many sports something may be said, but that is impossible as regards tiger shooting. The tying out of live baits may be objected to, but after all the tooth of the tiger is to be preferred to the knife of the butcher.

FOOTNOTES:

[15] G. P. Sanderson's "Thirteen Years among the Wild Beasts of India,"

1878.

[16] "Reminiscences of Life in Mysore, South Africa and Burmah." By Major-General R. S. Dobbs. London, Hatchards, Piccadilly, 1882.

[17] _Vide_ Appendix C.

[18] "Oriental Field Sports." By Captain Thomas Williamson, London, 1807.

[19] "Tiger Shooting in India; Experiences 1850 to 1854," by William Rice, 1857.

[20] "My Indian Journal." By Colonel Walter Campbell. Edinburgh, Edmonston and Douglas, 1864.

CHAPTER V.

BEARS--PANTHERS--WILD BOARS--JUNGLE DOGS--SNAKES--JUNGLE PETS.

The Indian black bear (_ursus l.a.b.i.atus_), we are informed by Jerdon, is found throughout India and Ceylon, from Cape Comorin to the Ganges, chiefly in the hilly and jungly districts. The bear, unlike the tiger, which has sometimes five cubs, appears never to have more than two cubs, and I have not been able to hear or read of their ever having more. We have no means of knowing how often they breed, but I imagine that they must seldom do so, and that that is why they are so soon almost exterminated. As I never kept a game diary on my estate (which I now much regret), I have no idea how many have been killed from it, but I am sure we have killed a smaller number of bears than of tigers, and yet the bear is now rarely seen or heard of in my neighbourhood, while we hear as much of tigers as ever, and indeed quite recently a great deal more, for last year they were apparently more numerous than they have ever been in the tiger range of my district; and I say apparently, because, from the destruction of game, the tigers have naturally been compelled to live more upon cattle. It is alleged by the natives that the tigers kill and eat the bears. Mr. Sanderson notices this in his work, and gives one reported instance of it, but I have never known of one in my part of the country. A friend of mine, formerly in the employ of the Mysore State, told me that he knew of two cases in the North-Eastern Division, of tigers killing bears, but in neither case did they eat them. In the first case the bear and tiger had met at a watering-place, and in the second in the jungle.

Mr. Ball, in his "Jungle Life in India,"[21] tells us that he once came across the remains of a bear which the natives said had been killed by a tiger, and that a native shikari had sat over the carcase with the hope of getting a shot at the tiger. We have no returns as regards bears in Mysore, but in the adjacent Bombay districts--Kanara and Belgaum--Colonel Peyton tells us, in the "Kanara Gazetteer," they are fast becoming rare, except near the Sahyadris, and even there are no longer numerous. In Belgaum, between 1840 and 1880, he tells us that no fewer than 223 bears were killed. The steady decline of the numbers of the bears is shown by the fact that 137 were killed between 1840 and 1850, 51 between 1850 and 1860, 32 between 1860 and 1870, and 3 between 1870 and 1880. In Kanara 51 bears were killed between 1856 and 1882, so we have a total then of 274 bears for these two districts alone. As regards big game, the first comers obviously have the best of it.

Colonel Peyton tells us that the bear is, of all animals, most dreaded by the natives. There can be no doubt, he says, that an untouched bear will often charge, while a tiger will rarely do so, and there are numerous instances of people having been mauled and sometimes killed by them. I imagine, though--in fact, I am sure--that this must often occur from the bear constantly keeping his head down, evidently smelling and looking for things in or on the ground. All other game animals have some motive for looking ahead and around--deer and bison for their enemies, and tigers for their prey. But the bear lives on insects and fruits, and flowers and honey, and as he is not apprehensive of being attacked by any animal, has no motive for keeping a lookout, and so does not do so. He may thus, and no doubt often does, run into a man, under the mistaken idea that the man is running into or attacking him, and then the bear, naturally, does the best he can. I can give a remarkable confirmation of this view.

One day, in a break in the monsoon, when the game lies much out of the forest, I was out in the mountains with my manager for a general stalk, when we saw, some way ahead of us, a bear walking along. We quickly formed a plan of operation, and it was arranged that I should make a circuit and get between the bear and a jungly ravine he appeared to be making for, and that my manager should follow on the track of the bear, which would thus be pretty certain to be overhauled. The bear was pottering along as bears do, and I had no difficulty in getting between him and the jungle he was approaching, and the moment I did so I advanced a little towards him. When the bear got within shooting distance--about fifty yards--I stooped down and moved a little on one side so as to get off his direct line, with the view of getting a side shot, but just as I did so he accidentally altered his route, thus bringing himself again head on to me. Then I manoeuvred again to get out of his line, but the bear also altered his line, and as by this time he was getting rather too close--i.e., about ten yards off--I stood up and took a steady shot at his head and dropped him dead.

Now, strange to say, I do not believe that the bear ever saw me at all, and he could not wind me, as the south-westerly wind was blowing strongly from him to me, and yet, as the gra.s.s at that season was by no means long, he had no more difficulty in seeing me than I had in seeing him, and he probably would have walked right up to me. This instance is, I think, interesting, and goes far to explain the numerous accidents in connection with bears. Still there can be no doubt that, as Colonel Peyton says, an unwounded and untouched bear will deliberately attack people when there is no occasion for his doing so, and that too, under circ.u.mstances where no other animal would make an attack, and of this the following little incident will serve as an ill.u.s.tration.

On one occasion a bear was reported on a jungly hill about a mile from my bungalow, and as I was young and inexperienced then, I said that I would lie on the ground till I heard the beaters, and then stand behind a tree.

I was alone, and had only a single barrelled rifle, which I laid on the ground beside me. As the cover was rather a large one, I had no reason to expect anything till I could at least hear the beaters in the distance, and I lay leaning on my elbow and thinking of I cannot now remember what, when on chancing to look up I saw a large bear standing at the edge of the jungle about twenty yards away. The moment I moved he charged, and I at once seized my rifle, sprang up and charged the bear at an angle (there was no time to fire), and made for the jungle from which he had emerged. I just missed his nose, and he followed me for a few paces as I ran towards the jungle from which he had come, which I did knowing that he would not be inclined to go in that direction. Then, having thus cleared me out of the way, he turned, and resumed his original route, and as he was disappearing into the next jungle I fired at him, but the charge must have had a discomposing effect on my shooting, for I missed the bear altogether. Now, as the beaters were far away and not within hearing, there was no occasion for the bear to have attacked me, and there was ample room for him to have altered his line. In fact, unless closely pressed by beaters, no other unwounded animal would have so acted. It will be observed that the bear, after having pursued me for a few yards, turned and went on his way, but had I not been nimble--in other words, had I been completely invested by the bear and thrown down--he might, as the natives would phrase it, have made my wife a widow. It is commonly supposed that, when making an attack, the bear stands on its hind legs, and thus gives the sportsman a good chance of killing him with a shot in the chest, but this is not my experience, and, though instances of the kind may have occurred, I should not advise the sportsman to count on any such delay in the proceedings of an attacking bear.

The preceding ill.u.s.tration, I may point out, affords a useful lesson. If so suddenly attacked by a wild animal that you have no time to fire, always rush towards it, and to one side, so that you may, as it were, dodge past it. This will enable you to gain ground on it, and room to turn round and fire.

I may observe that Mr. Ball, in his "Jungle Life in India," gives several instances of natives being wantonly attacked by bears, and Colonel Campbell[22] gives one remarkable instance of two bears attacking a party of his people, who were on the march through the jungle in Belgaum in charge of his horses, one of which was so severely wounded by one of the bears that the life of the horse was despaired of for some days. The Colonel was determined to be avenged on the bears, had them marked down, and, with the aid of his friends, bagged them both, but not before one of the bears had thrown down one of the party, who ran a great risk of being killed. The determination of the bear in following up his a.s.sailant was in this instance very great.

I may here observe that some little caution is required in approaching, and looking into caves, and examining the entrances for tracks of bears, and the person doing so should be fully prepared for a sudden charge out of the cave, and be ready to jump on one side. No cave should be approached with the a.s.sumption that it is not at all likely that a bear will be at home, and especial care should be taken in the case of a cave with a drop in front of it over which a person might be hurled by a bear charging suddenly out. To get a bear out of a cave is often no easy matter, and different caves require, of course, different treatment. In some cases the bear may be poked out with the aid of a long pole, and when this is done the operation is both interesting and amusing, but care must be taken to see that you have a man who understands bears, and knows by the character of the growl when the bear really means to charge out into the open, and also that the man with the stick can readily get out of the way, which he cannot do in the case of every cave. The native with a long pole, or rather stick, usually commences with a quiet nervous sort of poke, which awakes the bear out of his midday slumbers and causes him to rush at the stick with a furious growl. But this is merely a demonstration, and the experienced native does not expect a charge, though I need hardly say that he is well prepared to get out of the way. Then the native commences to poke away in a more p.r.o.nounced style, and at the same time excites himself by calling in question the purity of Bruin's mother, his female relations, and even those of his remote ancestors, to all of which the bear responds by growls and rushes at the stick. At last his growls and rushes at the stick become fierce and menacing, and all of a sudden the experienced Hindoo, who by some instinctive knowledge is able to gauge the charging moment, drops the stick and scuttles out of the way, and the bear dashes headlong from the cave to be killed, or to make good his escape, as the case may be. Poking a bear out of a cave is rather a severe trial of one's nervous system, and if anyone doubts that he has only to try it for himself, as it will perhaps show the individual that we seldom rightly estimate the amount of nerve which we often expect natives to show. I think I was never more startled in my life than I was one day when I put my ramrod (it was of course in the muzzle loading days) into the very narrow mouth of a cave in which I thought there was little chance of Bruin being at home. A she-bear however was within, and all the fiercer as she had cubs, but luckily she did not charge out, and I need hardly say that I promptly drew back. Sometimes a cave may be so deep and tortuous that the bear cannot be got out with the aid of a pole, and to meet such cases I had stink b.a.l.l.s made, as bears have very fine olfactory nerves and seem particularly to object to disagreeable smells. These b.a.l.l.s were composed of asafoetida, pig dung, and any other offensive ingredient that suggested itself to me at the time, and made up into about the size of a cricket ball and then dried in the sun. The ball was, when required to drive a bear out of a cave, impaled on the end of a long pole and surrounded by dried gra.s.s, or any other inflammable material which was at hand, and this being ignited the pole was thrust as far as possible into the cave. This I found to be a highly successful plan, and I may mention in pa.s.sing that I have met with no account in the many sporting books I have read of this being done previously. Sometimes large fires are lit in the mouth of a cave with the view of smoking a bear out, but this is rather a cruel process which I do not recommend. In some cases of peculiarly shaped and situated caves it is, however, the only practicable plan, but where adopted the bear should not be put to more inconvenience than is necessary to drive him out. A large fire should be lit at the entrance, and when the cave has got filled with smoke all the blazing fragments of wood should be removed from the entrance, and in doing this the people should talk loudly and make as much noise as possible, and afterwards retreat to a distance from the cave leaving the sportsman with his spare gun-carrier to sit just above the entrance to the cave. The bear finding that, as he erroneously supposes, every one has gone away, and being naturally desirous of quitting such uncomfortable quarters will, after a short time, come cautiously out and may thus be easily shot. It is very important to have a couple of bull-terriers when out bear shooting as they are most useful in bringing a wounded bear to bay.

In considering these remarks upon the various ways of getting bears out of caves it may be useful to show how not to attempt to get a bear out of a cave, and the connecting circ.u.mstances will also be useful to anyone who may be overtaken by a hill fire.

On one occasion many years ago news was brought in that a bear had been marked down into a small and very narrow mouthed cave on a bare hillside, and I accordingly proceeded to the spot. The whole mountain was at that time covered with long gra.s.s, and as the cave was closely surrounded by it, and the bear if poked out in the usual way would rush into the gra.s.s and thus give a bad chance to the shooter, I devised what I thought, and what at first appeared to be, an excellent plan for meeting the difficulty. This was to set fire to the whole hill just below the cave, and my theory was that, as the cave was a small one, the heat of the fire and the smoke would cause the bear to quit the cave after the fire had pa.s.sed over it. The wind was, when we lit the fire, blowing from east to west and I perched myself on a pile of rocks rather above, and to the east of the bear's cave as, when leaving it, he would naturally go in a direction opposite to that of the fire, in which case he would pa.s.s within easy shot of my position. With this, distinctly original conception I was highly pleased and watched the progress of the terrific conflagration that ensued with interest and satisfaction. How it roared and leapt as it consumed the long dried gra.s.s, and how soon would the bear be likely to make its appearance! It reached the long gra.s.s around the cave and proceeded to sweep along the hill, away from me, and flying before the easterly wind. Presently there was a dead lull. A few seconds more and the whole position was reversed. I had quite forgotten that, at that season of the year, and that hour of the day, the east wind dies down, and the westerly sea breeze comes in, and in an instant I was caught in my own trap. First of all I thought I would screen myself behind one of the rocks and remain where I was, but I was of course speedily enveloped with ma.s.ses of smoke, and then I thought I would get down and run; first of all, however, I peeped over the rock, but merely to perceive a terrifying ma.s.s of roaring red flames rushing towards me, and this finally determined me, and I stuffed my handkerchief into my mouth and held on. As I had of course leggings and was fully clothed I had much the best of it, but my shikari with his bare limbs got a pretty good roasting. But the fire seemed no sooner to have reached us than it was swept onwards quite away, and I was astonished at the pace it travelled, which one can have no idea of when one witnesses these conflagrations, as one usually does, from a distance. Beyond feeling as if my lungs were on fire for a day or two afterwards I experienced no ill effects from my temporary roasting, but the experience I had was quite sufficient to show me the amount of inconvenience a bear must suffer from being smoked out of his cave, and, as I have previously pointed out, no more fire should be lit at the entrance of a cave than is necessary to make it desirable for the bear to leave it, which, as I have shown, he will soon do, if the people retire to a distance. As for our bear, he probably knew far more about these hill fires and the sudden changes of wind than I did, and had not the slightest idea of coming out for some time, and I therefore had to introduce to his notice one of my stink b.a.l.l.s, which had the effect of bringing him out. By way of a change I had intended fighting it out with the bear without firing, and told a native to attack the bear with my spear when he emerged, while I proposed, if he lodged his spear, to attack with the bayonet of my Enfield rifle. But the spear came into contact with a bone in the bear's back, and thus the point was broken off, and seeing that my man had not lodged his spear I fired and killed the bear. From my subsequent experience of the great power of the bear I am now glad that the spear was not lodged.