CHAPTER IV.

NATURAL HISTORY AND SPORT.

After the numerous books that have been written on Sport in India, a

chapter on this subject might at first sight seem superfluous. So might,

at first sight, another novel full of what has been written thousands of

times before about love. And yet we never tire of hearing or reading of

either, and naturally, for both appeal to the imagination, and carry the

mind far away from business or carking cares, or, in other words, that

proverbial smoky chimney with which every house is provided. And if the

mere reading of love or sport makes men and women feel better because it

takes them away from themselves (we should have no mirrors in our rooms),

what must the reality of either be? For both dart through the system with

electric and delight-yielding force, and produce effects which, to those

who have not experienced them, are wellnigh incredible. And, as regards

big game shooting in particular, the effects are so astonishing that one

almost ceases to believe in them till another experience proves over again

that sport, or even the prospect of sport, can effect miracles, or at

least that it can cause an alteration in the system through the action of

the mind. And, some eighteen months ago, I realized this most vividly when

feeling much out of sorts, and indeed unfit for anything. For just at the

time of my deepest depression, news came in that a tiger had killed two

cattle in my plantation, and, what made the news much more acceptable,

two trespassing cattle--animals which are the plague of a planter's life.

The news acted like a charm. I at once felt slightly better, better still

when I arrived at the spot and saw the traces of the cattle having been

dragged along the ground, and the bodies of the slain--one more than half

eaten and the other untouched--and almost well when I returned to the

bungalow to make preparations for hunting up the tiger. There is no tonic

half so good as news of a tiger, and I feel that even news of a bear would

rival in a great many cases all that a doctor could do for me. But, though

tiger shooting is a valuable and delightful sport, it is equalled if not

eclipsed by stalking on the mountains amidst the beautiful and splendid

scenery of the Western Ghauts, when you traverse the forest-margined open

lands rifle in hand, feeling that everything depends upon yourself, and

followed by a tried and experienced shikari on whose keen sight and

coolness you can thoroughly rely. There are natives of course and natives,

just as there are Europeans and Europeans, but there are natives who have

been gifted with the greatest daring, coolness, and the promptest presence

of mind, and who are capable of much personal devotion to those who know

how to treat them. I was fortunate enough to have one of these in my

service, and to no sporting scenes in life can I look back with greater

pleasure than when I was able, with my trusted native follower, to spend

delightful mornings and evenings, and at certain times whole days, in

stalking bears, bison, and sambur in the Western Mysore mountains. Danger,

too, there was at times, and quite sufficient to give a pleasing amount of

adventurous feeling to the sport. Indeed, without this moderate degree of

danger the sport would have been of quite a different kind, for is it not

evident that all sport is to be divided into two widely different

classes--sport in which you are liable to be attacked, and sport where

the attack is all on one side? It is, in short, the danger, or the

possibility of danger, which is the vital elixir of big game shooting, and

which gives one, too, an opportunity of knowing oneself, and gauging one's

presence of mind, or the want of it, as the case may be. But what, after

all, is the amount of danger? That depends very much on the experience of

the sportsman. You may make big game shooting as dangerous as you please,

and by following up a wounded bear or bison in a careless manner meet with

an accident, but if proper precautions are taken, the danger of following

up these animals is by no means so great as is generally supposed. But,

though that is so as regards bears and bisons, I must caution the reader

against supposing that there is not considerable risk in following up

wounded tigers on foot, and there can be no doubt that, as Sir Samuel

Baker says, following a wounded tiger into the jungle on foot is a work of

extreme danger. But even this may be largely diminished if proper

precautions are taken, though it must be admitted that, from the great

difficulty of distinguishing a tiger lying amongst dried forest leaves,

there must be a considerable amount of risk, though the amount of it is

rather difficult to determine, but I may mention that though I suppose

upwards of forty tigers have been killed in the neighbourhood of my

plantation, only two natives have been killed when out shooting. Besides

these accidents, one man recovered from thirteen lacerated wounds, and

another was deprived of his ear and cheek by the blow of a wounded tiger's

paw. As regards the comparative risks to life of tigers, bears, and

panthers, I have only been able to meet with one return which throws any

light on the subject--a return which confirms the native view as to the

bear being more dangerous than the tiger, and the panther much less

dangerous than either. The return in question is to be found in the "North

Kanara Gazetteer," and was supplied by the late Colonel W. Peyton, who

wrote the section on Wild Animals. From this it appears that in North

Kanara, during the twenty-two years ending 1877, 510 tigers were killed

and 44 persons killed by them, one of whom was Lieutenant Power, of the

35th Madras Infantry. Between the years 1856 and 1882 51 bears were killed

and 22 persons killed by them, one of whom was Lord Edward Percy St. Maur,

second son of the Duke of Somerset. Between the years 1856 and 1877 805

panthers were killed and 22 persons killed by them. From these returns it

would appear that the bear is about four times as dangerous as the tiger,

that the tiger is about three times as dangerous as the panther, and that

the bear is about fourteen times as dangerous to man as the panther. As

regards comparative destructiveness to animal life, I may observe in

passing that the tiger seems to be more troublesome than the panther, and

that Colonel Peyton records between 1878 and 1882 4,041 deaths of cattle

killed by tigers against 1,617 killed by panthers. The bison (_gavoeus

gaurus_) would appear to be very seldom dangerous to man, if I may judge

by the fact that in his long experience Colonel Peyton does not record a

single death from the gaur, though he observes that it frequently charges

when attacked. In my part of Mysore I have heard of but one death, which

occurred in the case of a native who was tracking a bull which had been

wounded by one of my managers. The wild boars, I may here add, seem to be

now, from being much hunted, no doubt, more dangerous than they were in

former years. Within the last two years in my district five persons were

severely wounded by them, of whom three died. But it is natural that all

wild animals should become more dangerous the more they are hunted, and,

rather to my amusement, my old shikari, to whom I have previously alluded,

complained in a querulous and aggrieved tone that every animal--even the

sambur deer--seemed to charge one nowadays. And this is a fact worth

recording, and if wild animals are declining in numbers, it is some

comfort to think that the sport to be had from the remainder will improve.

But it is time to close these rather desultory remarks, and treat the

subject in a systematic manner, and I now proceed to say (1) something as

regards the natural history of Mysore, and (2) something as to the big

game shooting of the Province. I may here mention that all the anecdotes

given will either be interesting from a natural history point of view, or

told with the view of illustrating points likely to be of use to the

inexperienced sportsman.

As the author of the Gazetteer of the Province, in his opening sentence on

the fauna of Mysore, says with much truth, that "Nothing less than a

separate treatise, and that a voluminous one, could do justice to the

marvellous wealth of the animal kingdom in a province under the tropics

marked by so many varied natural features as Mysore," I need hardly say

that I have only space to make a cursory allusion to the subject. The

varieties of animals, reptiles, birds, fish, and insects are indeed very

numerous, and though Mr. Rice informs us that he has only made an attempt

to collect the names of the main representatives, he enumerates no less

than 70 mammals, 332 birds, 35 reptiles, 42 fishes, and 49 insects, though

only the leading families of the last are given, and many kinds of fish

have not been identified. But, though I cannot, as I have said, go at any

length into the subject, I can at least, give the names of the animals and

birds which are of more or less interest to sportsmen, and perhaps touch

upon some which are mainly of interest to the naturalist. There are then

to be found in Mysore, elephants, tigers, panthers, hunting leopards,

bears, wolves, jungle-dogs, hyenas, and foxes. Amongst the graminivorous

animals I may mention the _gavoeus gaurus_, commonly called bison (a

name to which I shall adhere as it is the one in common use), the sambur

deer, the spotted deer, the hog deer, and the barking deer or jungle

sheep. There are four kinds of antelopes, the nilgei, four-horned

antelope, the antelope, and the gazelle. Of the birds, I may mention 12

varieties of pigeons, 2 of sandgrouse, 2 of partridges, 8 of quail,

peafowl, jungle-fowl, spenfowl, bustard, floriken (a kind of bustard),

woodcock, woodsnipe, common snipe, jacksnipe, painted snipe, widgeon, 4

kinds of teal, and 5 of wild ducks. I may mention that there are 9 kinds

of eagles, 20 kinds of hawks, and 13 varieties of owls. As regards

reptiles, crocodiles are the only ones that sportsmen take any interest

in, and they are to be found in many of the rivers of Mysore. Fish of

various kinds are to be found in the numerous large tanks in Mysore,

though I may add, that some of these pieces of water would elsewhere be

called lakes, as they are sometimes upwards of twelve miles in

circumference. The well-known mahseer abounds in the rivers of the Western

Ghauts of Mysore, and gives excellent sport, and in the opinion of some

anglers, superior to salmon fishing. I have said in my first chapter on

coffee, that the life of a planter to any one fond of nature and an open

air life is an agreeable one, so agreeable that, though from accidents of

fortune no longer dependent on coffee, I still find it the most pleasant

life in the world, and return to it annually with pleasure, and I think

that the mere enumeration of the varied forms of animal life, which are so

interesting both to the sportsman and the naturalist, will go far to

justify my conclusions. Having thus glanced at a part of the fauna of the

province, I now proceed to the big game shooting section of my chapter,

but, before doing so, I may mention that it is stated in the "Mysore

Gazetteer" (Vol. II., p. 13) that, according to old legends, the lion was

once to be found in the Province.

Of elephants, and elephant shooting, I have had no experience. In Mysore

and in British India they are reserved by the State which, from time to

time, captures the elephants by driving them into large inclosures, and

there is a record of one of the sales of captured elephants in my second

chapter. But the reader need not regret my want of experience here, as it

would be difficult for any one to add to the admirable and exhaustive

account of elephants and their ways which is to be found in the late Mr.

Sanderson's[15] admirable work. His death is really much to be lamented,

for he was not merely a destructive sportsman, but an intelligent and

sympathetic observer of the wild animals he lived amongst, and I think I

am only repeating current opinion when I say that a more admirable and

interesting work of its kind never was written. Mr. Sanderson, I may

mention, was specially employed by Government to superintend the capture

of herds of elephants, and also to hunt man-eating tigers, and tigers of

obnoxious character.

Tigers, as to which I shall have, I am afraid, rather too long an account

to give, are fairly numerous in the forests of the Western Ghauts, and

some other parts of the country, if I may judge by the fact that rewards

were paid for 68 in 1874, and for 100 in 1875, but in former times they

were much more numerous in certain parts of the province, a fact which is

testified to by General Dobbs, who when a young man was in civil employ in

the Chittledroog division of Mysore in 1834. He mentions in his

"Reminiscences of Life in Mysore"[16] that his division was infested with

wild beasts and, to reduce their numbers, he obtained from one of the

officials a plan of a pit 12 feet long, 12 feet deep, and 2-1/2 feet wide,

closed with brushwood at both sides and one end. Wooden spikes were fixed

at the bottom, and the top of the pit was covered over with light

brushwood. A sheep or goat was then tied inside at the closed end, where

there was standing place left for it. As tigers usually spring on their

prey they are thus sure to fall through the light brushwood into the pit.

"In a short time," writes the general, "48 royal tigers were thus

destroyed, four of which were brought to me on one morning. Mr. Stokes,

the superintendent of the Nuggur division, obtained from me the plan of

these pits, and in an equally short time caught upwards of 70 tigers. Now

comes a circumstance which I can vouch for, but cannot explain. In a short

time the success in both divisions terminated, and never again did a tiger

fall into one of these pits, though numbers of tigers continued to infest

the country." One result of the success obtained is worth recording. The

balance of nature had been destroyed; the tigers to a great extent lived

on wild pigs, and these, after the destruction of the tigers, multiplied

so rapidly that the general records that there was an increased

destruction of extensive sugar plantations. And I may note in passing,

that the balance of nature may equally be destroyed from the other end of

the line, and tigers made much more destructive than they otherwise would

be. This is remarkably so near the western passes of Mysore, for never

were tigers more numerous or destructive than they have recently been in

my neighbourhood, and this is clearly to be traced to the great

destruction[17] of deer, pigs, and bison by the natives in the immediate

vicinity of the great forests, a subject to which I shall afterwards have

occasion to allude.

The sudden spread amongst the tigers of the news about these pits is

really very remarkable. We know that animals and birds are taught by

example and experience to avoid certain dangers--that birds, which are at

first killed in considerable numbers by telegraph wires, gradually learn

to avoid them, and that hares which are at first excluded by rabbit

netting in the course of time take to jumping it, but it is certainly

impossible to explain by anything we know as regards the spread of

experience amongst animals as to how the news could spread amongst the

tigers, over a tract of country about half as large as Scotland, for traps

were set in two out of the four divisions into which Mysore was then

divided.

It has often been a subject of remark that tigers, without any motive that

we can even guess at, avoid certain parts of the country which, to us,

seem to be equally favourable to them. This is remarkably so in my

district in Mysore, parts of which, apparently quite as suitable for

tigers as other parts, have never been known to hold one. It is also

remarkable that they invariably cross from one range of hills to another

by almost exactly the same route, at least such is my experience. These

tiger passes as they are called by the natives are well known to them.

There is one about a mile and a half to the north of my bungalow, and

another at about the same distance to the south, and between these two

points I have never heard of the track of a tiger being seen except on one

occasion.

It seems singular that, as so much has been written about tigers, there

should be any dispute as to the way in which the tiger usually seizes its

prey, but I find that Mr. Sanderson differs widely from Captain Forsyth,

and Captain Baldwin and others, and says that, though the tiger does

occasionally seize by the nape of the neck in the case of his having to

deal with very powerful animals, his usual method is to seize by the

throat; and another sportsman of great experience tells me that, though he

has seen hundreds of kills, the seizure was always by the throat. In my

part of the country it is so much the usual method for the tiger to seize

by the nape of the neck, that a native, when asked if he is sure that it

was a tiger and not a panther, always puts his hand to the back of his

neck, and if he says that the animal was seized by the throat, we

invariably assume that the seizer is a panther. As Mr. Sanderson was a

most careful observer, I cannot doubt the correctness of his experience,

and as little can I doubt the experience in my neighbourhood. But this

apparent discrepancy may easily be explained, and I regard it as probable,

or even quite certain, that tigers may vary their method of attack in

accordance as they live mainly on game or mainly on village cattle. In the

case of a bison, a wild boar, or of a large and powerful village buffalo,

Mr. Sanderson admits that the seizure is by the nape of the neck, and that

no doubt is the rule with the forest tigers, such as those that have been

killed near my estate, and which have lived mostly upon game, but I can

easily conceive that tigers that have lived on village cattle would attack

in a different way.

There is also another difference between Mr. Sanderson and other sportsmen

as to the tiger killing animals with a blow of its paw. Mr. Sanderson does

not in the least believe that the paw is so used, but Captain

Williamson[18] considers the paw as "the invariable engine of

destruction." "I have seen," he says, "many men and oxen that had been

killed by tigers, in most of which no mark of a claw could be seen." I

have not paid much attention to this subject, but I do recollect one

instance of a bullock that had been killed by a blow of the paw, as I

remember being struck by the fact that there was no apparent cause of

death, but on a closer examination I found a wide bruise, evidently from

the tiger's paw, on the side of the head. A friend of mine of great

experience tells me that he has known of animals being killed by a blow

of the paw. That men are commonly killed by a blow of the paw on the head

I have little doubt. Captain Williamson mentions a case that occurred in

his presence, and I knew of a doctor who had examined seven bodies, and in

each case the skull had been fractured by a blow of the paw. General

Rice,[19] when giving an account of the seizure of Cornet Elliot, mentions

that he had a narrow escape from a blow of the tigress's paw, which he

guarded off with his uplifted rifle. The stock of the rifle was marked

with the claws, while the trigger and guard were knocked completely flat

on one side, so that the gun was useless until repaired. There is no

doubt, then, that the tiger can, and does sometimes, use his paw with

deadly effect, though I have little doubt that he prefers to use his

teeth, as the shock of a blow to the paw must, in the case of a bullock at

any rate, be very considerable.

The carrying power of tigers is very great, and has often been remarked

on, but it has been doubted whether they often carry off an animal without

some part of it dragging on the ground. Mr. Sanderson gives some instances

of their doing so; and I have known of one instance in my neighbourhood

where a tiger after killing a bullock took it into the jungle and carried

the carcase along the trunk of a tree which had fallen across a ravine.

But considering its size, the dragging power of a panther is much more

remarkable, and it seems to carry off a bullock as easily as a tiger does.

On one occasion a panther killed a donkey close to my bungalow, and

carried it off, and had even attempted to jump up the bank of an old ditch

with it, which was five or six feet high, but had failed in the attempt

and abandoned the carcase. But why the panther did not drag the donkey

down to another part of the jungle, where it could easily have dragged the

carcase into it, is difficult to conceive, unless we suppose that these

animals have not, after the failure of one plan, mind enough to try

another. Perhaps this is so, or that they take the pet in a case of

failure and go off in disgust. I imagine that this kind of feeling must

influence tigers, for I once found an uneaten carcase of a bullock wedged

between two rocks. A tiger had killed, high up on a mountain side, and

taken the carcase into the nearest ravine, evidently with the view of

dragging it towards the water further down the hill. On his way he had to

pass through a narrow passage between two rocks, and here the carcase

stuck fast, and he had in vain tried to pull it through, but it had never

occurred to him to pull it out backwards (which he might easily have done

when the carcase was only slightly wedged) and try another route. But,

after all, we must not be surprised, at this, as even the human animal

does not always readily find the solution of a fresh difficulty. Tigers,

it is well known, are good swimmers, and seem to have no difficulty in

taking the carcase of a bullock with them, if I may judge by the fact,

which was told me by a friend, that a tiger once swam eighty yards across

a river in the northern part of Mysore, taking with it the carcase of a

newly killed bullock.

Tiger shooting in the Western Ghauts is always carried out without the aid

of elephants, and it is seldom that one can obtain, even for the first

shot, a fairly safe position. Colonel Peyton, whom I have previously

quoted, says that a man is not safe under sixteen feet from the ground,

but it is seldom that such an elevation can be obtained, as the country is

so steep that, though you have a fair drop on the lower side of the tree,

a tiger from the upper side may easily spring on to you, and is then

generally on your level, or even higher. Of course you select a tree

where, in theory, the tiger must come on the lower side, but tigers will

often take most eccentric courses, and last year, after having taken up a

position on a tree which had a drop of eight feet on the lower side, and

where it was assumed by all of us as certain that the tiger would pass

lower down the hill, it came on the upper side, on rather higher ground

than the cleft I was sitting on, and so close that I could have touched it

with a spear, and had I not fatally crippled it at the first shot, it

might easily have jumped on to me. But I entirely agree with Colonel

Peyton that it is always best for several reasons to get into a tree, even

though it may not be a high one, or indeed into a scrubby tree so low that

your feet are only some five feet from the ground. In the first place, you

can command a wider view, then you are concealed, and can let the tiger

pass your line, and as the tiger could pass under your feet you are not in

his way, and there would be little chance, if you reserved your fire till

he had passed, in his either attacking you or being driven back on the

beaters. Colonel Peyton, whom I quote with great confidence, is in favour

of a bamboo ladder with broad rungs to sit on, and which will enable you

to have your feet eleven feet from the ground. To illustrate the risk of

sitting on the ground, I may mention the following incident:

Many years ago news was brought that a tiger had killed cattle some six or

seven miles off. The distance was considerable, the news came late, and it

was, I think, about three in the afternoon when I reached the spot. The

beaters were all ready and impatient, no doubt, owing to being kept

waiting so long, and as I did not wish to delay them, and had no ladder,

and there was no suitable tree, I took a seat on the ground behind a bush

which lay on one side of, and about twenty yards from, a depression in the

land through the bottom of which, by all the laws of tigers, the tiger

ought to have passed to the main forest beyond. I had no sooner seated

myself than I saw, from the lay of the ground, that if the tiger should

happen to break at a point in a line with my bush he would probably gallop

on to the top of me before it would be possible to make more than a snap

shot. I at once left the spot and climbed a small tree on the opposite

side of the depression, and this enabled me to have my feet some five feet

from the ground. Presently the beat began, and with a roar, and an evident

determination to charge anything in his way, a very large tiger broke

cover at full speed and went exactly over the very spot of ground I had

been sitting on. At the pace he was coming at I do not indeed think he

could have stopped himself, and I hardly think I should have had time to

fire, and I have often wondered what would have happened had he galloped

on to myself and my man. However, as it was, I was all right, fired just

as he passed the bush and knocked him over with one shot, and put another

into him as he got half up and struggled into the jungle, apparently with

his back broken, and lay down about a few yards aside of it. And now by a

curious coincidence we just missed what must have been a very serious

accident, and this is well worth mentioning, as it confirms what another

writer has said as to the care that should be used in approaching a tiger

supposed to be dead.

After the beat was over the beaters rushed up, and one of the natives, who

had no doubt seen the tiger from a point on the hill above, said, "His

back is broken, and he must be dead; let us go in and drag him out."

Feeling that it would be better to wait a little longer to make quite

sure, I said, just to quiet them, "Stand the people in line and count them

for the division of the reward." I had not counted more than five when up

got the tiger close to us with a startling roar, and I then experienced

what Colonel Peyton has said, namely, that there are very few even of the

stanchest sportsmen who will not draw back a pace or two at the sudden

roar of a wounded tiger. On this occasion I removed more than that, for I

at once seized a rifle and ran several yards up the hill to gain the

advantage of the ground, and I need hardly say that there was a slight

scatter amongst the unarmed natives. But as the tiger did not charge out,

I saw that he was probably off, and at once ran down the side of the

jungly ravine to head him, and at the first break in the jungle got up

into a tree. The tiger almost immediately appeared on the opposite side of

the ravine, going steadily along, and showing no signs of being wounded

whatever, and I fired at, but missed him, partly on account of my awkward

position in the tree and partly from excitement. Then I ran on to the next

open break in the jungly ravine, and again got up into a tree. By this

time the beaters came up in the rear of the tiger, who refused to go

further down the ravine, or was unable to do so, and the natives sent to

me to go up and attack the tiger in the jungle, to which I replied by

requesting them to be good enough to forward the animal to me. However, as

he refused to move, and it was getting late, I went up the ravine, and

they pointed out the tiger, which was lying on its side. I fired a shot at

it, when it got up, then I fired another at once, and it fell and died

almost immediately. This was by far the largest tiger ever killed in our

district, and an old sportsman who had seen much of shooting during a long

residence in India told me that he was sure he had never seen a larger

skin, and did not know that he had ever seen one as big. As evidence of

size, he attached, I may mention, great importance to the width of the

skin of the tail just at its junction with the body. The paws of this

tiger, too, were remarkably larger than those of other tigers. I found

that the first bullet had taken effect in the neck, which it had no doubt

grazed with sufficient force to paralyze the tiger for a time, and Colonel

Peyton records a similar case where great risk had been incurred from

approaching a tiger apparently dead, but where the spine had been merely

grazed.

What I have previously mentioned illustrates one danger from sitting on

the ground, and I may give another instance which occurred to me in 1891.

I had gone after a tiger, and my shikari had prepared an excellent seat on

a tree at an absolutely safe height. The tiger, however, had shifted his

ground, it appears, to an adjacent jungle. This consisted of one long and

rather deep ravine, with several spurs at which the tiger might break. It

had several times previously happened that tigers had come up the bottom

of this ravine, and I had once killed one there from a tree in the jungle,

but the trees so situated are difficult to ascend, and we did not wish to

make a noise nor to waste time by making a ladder, so I determined on

sitting on the ground in the jungle, about twenty yards from the bottom of

the ravine, and made myself perfectly comfortable. While keeping an eye on

the bottom of the ravine up which the tiger was expected to pass, I was

suddenly startled by a roar from some little distance behind us. My old

shikari at once saw the danger we were in, and looked extremely disturbed,

and no wonder, for he saw at once that the tiger had been driven back by a

stop at one of the spurs, and might come down on us from behind, so that

we should have had no chance of seeing him till he was almost on the top

of us, and as a matter of fact he did pass down into the ravine rather

higher up and just out of our sight, and from this we failed to dislodge

him. On the whole, for every reason, I am much against sitting on the

ground. You are liable to be run into sometimes, as we have seen, and at

others you are not high enough up to command the ground, and there is a

greater chance of driving a tiger back on the beaters. There are, however,

occasions when one must sit on the ground, and if you have occasion to do

so, it is of course advisable always to try and get about twenty or

thirty yards on one side of the course the tiger is likely to take, and

always let him pass your line of fire before firing. It is also of great

importance to have as your second man one who can remain absolutely

motionless when a tiger is advancing towards him. To illustrate the

importance of this I may mention the following incident:

I was posted one day in a tree, when the tiger charged back through the

beaters with a roar, and I had at once to get down and run to another

point of the jungle to cut him off. I then tried to get up a tree on the

grass land near the edge of the jungle, and next tried another a little

further off, but could not got up into it, and when the beat recommenced

there was nothing for it but to sit down beside a bush about one hundred

yards from the jungle, and on ground on almost exactly the same level as

the tiger would have to traverse. But this bush was so small that it only

partially concealed me, and the entire body of my native second gun-bearer

was exposed to view. This man fortunately had a most remarkable power of

sitting absolutely motionless under any circumstances which required

stillness. I also was fully prepared to remain quite still, and arranged

myself so as to fire at the tiger when he was exactly in front of me. It

was interesting to observe what followed. The tiger was evidently an old

hand. He had anticipated our plan, and charged back through the beaters,

as we have seen. He had also evidently anticipated the alterations we

should probably make, and when the beat recommenced he cautiously emerged

from the jungle and looked up (it is a rare thing for a tiger to do this)

into the tree near the edge of the jungle into which I had tried to climb.

He seemed then to be quite satisfied that all danger was at an end, and

strolled leisurely towards us. As he was passing the point which put the

whole bush between me and him, I cautiously levelled my rifle, which I

already had in almost exact position to fire, so that when he came into my

full view I had the sight on the second stripe behind the shoulder. By a

curious coincidence he stood quite still when he came into my full view,

and, as he was only about twenty yards away, presented a very fine sight.

But I reserved my fire till he had moved forward a pace or two, and then I

fired, and on he bounded. Then followed one of those picturesque,

exciting, and somewhat amusing scenes, which can only occur in tiger

shooting on foot. For the leisurely proceedings of the tiger had given the

beaters time to get to the end of the cover just as I was firing at the

tiger, and as I ran round the hillside to the other side of a ravine which

ran down the hill, they ran forward so rapidly and plunged so suddenly

into the jungle, that the tiger came out just below me. I fired at him,

and so did one or two of the natives who had run up to join me, and the

tiger fell dead in the air in the middle of a long bound. But running and

excitement are not favourable to accuracy of aim, and the tiger, on this

occasion, was struck by only one ball, and, strange to say, in the sole of

the foot, and the only bullet-mark on his body was from my first shot at

him. My account of the incident may be valuable to an inexperienced

sportsman, and illustrates also the peculiar disadvantage of sitting on

the ground, because if the tiger had walked straight up to me, and I had

fired at him in the face, which I should have been obliged to do, he

would, if not killed outright, probably have either gone back amongst the

beaters, or charged me.

I have alluded to my second gun-carrier on this occasion as being a man

who had the greatest power of remaining still under all circumstances, out

shooting, when it was necessary to do so, and I may also mention that he

was a man who combined the greatest coolness with the greatest daring. He

was of a Hindoo peasant family, entered my service as a workman, rose to

be a duffadar or overseer, and for many years has been head overseer on my

coffee estates, and he is as good as a planter as he is as a shikari. I

could give many instances of his cool daring. On one occasion a wounded

tigress--it was the cold weather season, when everything was still green

about the edges of the jungle--went into a ravine which was flanked by a

great bed of ferns about five feet high. The natives looked at this bed

into which the tigress had disappeared with considerable doubt, and one of

them said, "How is anyone to go in here?" "I will show you," said Rama

Gouda quietly, and he picked up several large stones, threw them into the

ferns, and then plunged into them. I afterwards killed the tiger on foot

in the ravine, but of course he ran the risk of coming upon it in the

ferns. But the coolest thing I ever knew him to do was when a manager of

mine wanted to fire at a tiger as it was approaching him. It was in the

days of the muzzle-loaders, and as Rama Gouda knew that to speak would be

fatal, he quietly but firmly put both his fingers on the caps when my

manager presented the gun at the tiger, and kept them there till the tiger

had reached the proper point for action. Then he withdrew them, and my

manager killed the tiger. It is contrary to all rule, on account of the

beaters, to fire at a tiger till he has passed you, and as the manager and

Rama Gouda were seated on the ground, if the tiger had been fired at face

to face an accident might have occurred. On only one occasion did I ever

see him disturbed, and that was when he took up a position at a beat for

big game. Presently he heard a hiss, and on looking round found a

reared-up cobra about to strike at his naked thigh. He saved himself by a

jump on one side, but he showed by his eye when he mentioned the

circumstance that he had been somewhat commoved.

The natives have an idea that a tiger will not attack a group of from

four to five people massed together, and in 1891 four or five unarmed

natives proposed that I should sit on an absolutely bare piece of ground,

and that they should sit round me, and that the tiger should be driven up

to us. But this offer, and more especially as I had only one gun, I

declined, with thanks, unless they could find a small bush or piece of

rock to sit behind, and as neither could be found, I took up a position on

a steep hillside and on a scrubby tree, which I thought safe enough, as I

assumed that the tiger would pass on the lower side of it, but it

approached close on the upper side, and on rather higher ground, and could

easily have sprung on to me, as it was not more than fifteen feet distant,

thus again illustrating how difficult it is in a hilly country to get into

a reasonably safe position. Altogether, the risks of tiger shooting in a

hilly country where elephants cannot be used, and where you may have to

run to cut off a wounded tiger or follow one into the jungle, is attended

with risk even to the most experienced. The amount of that risk is

difficult to determine, but I may say generally it is such that while

bachelors, or married men of independent means whose families are well

provided for, in short, people whose lives are of no cash value, may

freely go into the jungle on foot after wounded tigers, and generally

throw themselves in the way of the animals, I do not consider it right for

a married man, whose family is dependent wholly or partially on his

exertions, to go after tigers on foot, or without the aid of elephants,

for though a man may resolve to stick to safe positions, they are often

difficult and sometimes impossible to find, and the excitement soon does

away with all feelings for one's personal safety.

Though I have no doubt that it is, generally speaking, true that a tiger

will not attack a group of four or five people, I am not at all sure that

this is correct as regards a wounded tiger, and a tiger I had wounded once

sprang into a party of I should say at least twenty people, and killed

one of them--at least the poor man died in the course of a few hours. I

always regretted that I did not obtain and preserve his belt. At the back

of it was the iron catch with which to hitch his wood-knife, and the

tiger's tooth had grazed one side of the iron, and cut it as if one had

worked at the iron with a steel file. Another instance too occurred of a

tiger attacking a party, or at least one of a party which was approaching

a tiger. Several tigers, it appeared, had been marked down, and the jungle

in which they were was surrounded by nets. This was done in Mysore on the

arrival of the Russian princes some years ago, but one of the tigers had

managed to elude the shooters, and, as the native magistrate of the

district was anxious to have it killed, a sporting photographer who was

there undertook to look it up. As they approached the thicket in which the

tiger was concealed the tiger rushed out with a sudden bound, aimed a blow

with its paw at the leading native, tore his scalp right off and flung it

on to a bush, bit the man in the arm, and retreated into the thicket with

such suddenness that no one had time to fire. The poor man afterwards

died.

The great danger from following up wounded tigers on foot in the jungle

arises from the extraordinary difficulty of seeing the animal when it is

lying amongst dry fallen leaves, into which the body partially sinks, and

this is more particularly the case if there is a flickering sunlight

coming though the branches of the jungle trees. In one case of this kind,

though I could see the tiger when it half raised itself up--it had been

wounded in the back--I failed to pick it up the moment it sank back into

the leaves; and my shikari told mo of another similar case he had seen

when there was a similar flickering light. But even without that source of

confusion to the sight a tiger is extremely difficult to see, as difficult

as a hare in a ploughed field, or perhaps more so. On one occasion Rama

Gouda said to me, when we were attacking a wounded tiger, or rather

tigress in the jungle, "There is the tiger." "What!" I said, "that thing

looking like a stone?" The light was bad. We both supposed it to be dead,

but I said, "I suppose I had better take a shot at it," and did so, and,

when the smoke cleared away, found that the tiger had removed. Then a

native went forward and gently parted the reeds with his hands, and showed

me the tigress--which had moved about twenty yards--on her side, and

evidently in a dying condition. She was now only a few yards from me, and

I fired at her, and she rolled over and died. As it happened, I do not

think that I ran much risk, but one never can exactly tell how much

vitality a dying tiger has, and in the case previously alluded to I have

no doubt that the tiger must have died immediately after he made his fatal

attack on the party.

It is owing obviously to their great power of concealment that tigers are

so very rarely ever seen by accident, and Mr. Sanderson says that during

some years of wandering in tigerish localities he has only come upon them

accidentally about half a dozen times, and my own experience, and that of

other sportsmen to whom I have spoken, quite confirms this. But I am

persuaded that a native can see a tiger much more readily than a European,

and the former have, I think, much better distinguishing power. For

instance, a European has great difficulty in seeing a green pigeon in a

green tree till the bird moves, while a native seems to have no such

difficulty. My own sight is, or rather was, very good, but I found on one

occasion, when I was stalked by a tiger, that it was most provokingly

defective as compared with that of a native. The incident occurred in this

way. In cloudy weather, during a break in the monsoon, I was beating a

ravine for game, and had sent my second gun-carrier with the beaters. As

the beat was drawing to a close, I heard a sambur deer belling at the head

of a ravine, about a few hundred yards from the termination of the jungle

we were beating. As I thought I might get a shot at it, I went across the

grassland in the direction of the sound, and up to within about ten yards

of the edge of the jungle, the fringe of which at that point projected a

little. I could see nothing, but as the people were coming my way in any

case, I remained where I was. The first person to arrive was a very plucky

Hindoo peasant--a keen sportsman and splendid stalker--and when he almost

touched me he at once pointed and said "There is a tiger." I put my rifle

to my shoulder, and said to him "Where?" "There," he said, and as he put

his hand on my shoulder I could feel it trembling with excitement. Alas, I

could not make out the tiger; but, after all, that was not so very

wonderful, as the day was dark, and the underwood fringe rather thick, but

the tiger actually managed to back gradually away without my being able to

see him. He had evidently been stalking the sambur, which had uttered the

note of alarm I had heard, and no doubt seeing that there was something at

the edge of the jungle, had crawled to the edge, and there lain down

within ten or twelve yards of me.

Tigers seem to recover easily from wounds, and so completely, that no

trace of a bullet having entered the body can be found. On one occasion I

shot a tiger, and when the skin was being removed we perceived a lump on

the inner side of it. This we opened, and found that it contained a bullet

which a brother of mine had fired into the tiger about a year before. We

had no difficulty in identifying the bullet, as no other rifle in the

country had anything like it. The tiger was perfectly well and fat, and

had not a mark on it of having been previously wounded, and yet the bullet

had gone close to mine, which proved fatal to the tiger. In 1891 I killed

a tiger, which had evidently, from his action, been hunted before. He was

in unusually good condition, and yet had a piece of lead in him, which

appeared to be a fragment of an express bullet. But a friend of mine tells

me that he has often found old bullets in tigers. It is a surprising thing

that tigers and panthers seem often to be little influenced by wounds, and

I have heard of one case of a panther, for which a sportsman was sitting

up, which returned to the kill after being wounded and fired at several

times. A friend of mine was once out small game shooting on the Nilgiris

when a tiger seized one of his dogs. He at once put a ball cartridge into

his smooth bore, had a beat, and wounded the tiger. On the following day

he returned to the spot with his rifle, and again beat the jungle, when he

killed the tiger, which had returned and finished the dog, and then found

that the bullet of the day before, which had struck the tiger in the

chest, had travelled nearly the whole length of the body. I recollect once

shooting a spotted deer which had a matchlock ball lying up against its

liver, and pressing on it, but the deer, though it had good horns, was

rather a stunted animal.

I have previously remarked that, in the opinion of Colonel Peyton, even

the stanchest sportsman when on foot in the jungle, is liable to be

startled by the sudden roar of a wounded tiger close at hand, and so much

so as even to draw back for a pace or two, but he says that the effect is

only momentary. In 1891 I again had an opportunity of observing the

effects on myself and others of the roar of a wounded tiger in the jungle,

but on this occasion, though I confess I was very considerably startled,

and generally commoved for a moment, as I had expected to find the tiger

dead, I did not step back a pace, nor did the stanchest of the natives who

were with me, though a certain number climbed right up to the tops of

trees. As it happened, there was, after all, no danger, for the tiger had

been damaged in the back, and I soon dispatched it. The effect of the roar

of a tiger is really very remarkable, and of this the animal itself seems

to be well aware, for the tiger I have just alluded to--evidently an old

hand, from the trouble he had given us and the cunning he had

displayed--remained in the open, or came out into the open as the beaters

approached, then roared at them and afterwards retreated into the

jungle--a narrow ravine in which he seemed determined to remain, though

shots were fired into it, and in which I think he would have remained had

not the beaters charged into it in a body in the most plucky manner. A

friend of mine also met with a similar instance, where a tiger came

out--confronted the beaters and roared at them. The beaters may see the

tiger, and quite close, and yet not be much disturbed, but a roar even a

good way off has on them a disturbing effect, though it is difficult to

see why the nerves should be affected more easily through the medium of

the ears than the eyes. I may here mention that, when the sportsman has a

damaged heart, the roar of a wounded tiger, at least if the shooter is on

foot in the jungle, is apt to produce a slight flutter of that organ,

though that, too, like the effect alluded to by Colonel Peyton, is

momentary. Having had for some years a rather damaged heart, I was

interested in experimenting as regards the effects of tigers on its

action, but could come to no very distinct conclusion. I was once in an

extremely insecure position on a conspicuous cleft of a bare tree, with my

feet not more than seven or eight feet from the ground, when the tiger

galloped into the arena as it were in the most sudden manner, and passed

within fifteen feet of me. I knocked him over with a ball in the back at

the second shot--the first, from the awkward position I was placed in,

having either missed, or done him little harm. The tiger then lay on his

side, with his head turned backwards and resting on his shoulder. He kept

his eye on me, and I kept mine on him, and I did not fire again, as my

second gun native (we had never expected the tiger to be where we found

him, and were on our way home) had seated himself on another tree. In a

low tone he said to me "Load, load!" but the moment I took my eye off the

tiger to do so he began to wriggle into the jungle, and I only got a snap

shot at his hind leg. Now when the tiger roared, which he did as he

approached me, and he lay watching me, I felt no sensation of the heart,

though I felt a distinct flutter when loading and when the tiger was

wriggling away. On the following day, however, I felt my heart to be

rather the worse, but I attributed this to exposure to the sun. On another

occasion, which occurred shortly afterwards, I shot a tigress so close

that I could have touched her with a spear, and she was on rather higher

ground than myself, but on this occasion neither when I fired, nor when

she fell, and turned her head to me and showed me all her teeth, did I

experience any heart effect whatever. I must say, though, that I had my

attention strongly turned to the necessity of not allowing myself to be

excited, in case it should be bad for my heart, and the power of the will

must no doubt have much effect in controlling the action of the heart.

Anyone who has anything the matter with his heart should take digitalis

before going out, and also take a few doses of this tonic with him, as

well as some very strong beef-tea. He should also endeavour to go after

the tiger in the morning or late in the afternoon, and lie in a cool place

in the jungle in the heat of the day, as I am quite sure, from my own

experience, that exposure to much sun heat is bad for the heart. As heart

disease, from the excitement of life, is becoming more common, these hints

may be useful.

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 class 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 circumstance. 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

illustrated 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 butt, 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 butt 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

passes 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 quantity 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 pass 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 passing 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 grassland whence the body was carried. Taking all the

circumstances into consideration--the distance travelled, the steepness of

the ground, and the fact that the tiger passed 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

scraping 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

grass 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 grass, 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 grass. 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 passing 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 grass 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 grass. 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 glass was scanning the country carefully, when he made out a

long way off, in a piece of open grassland 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 assertion 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 assumed 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

amusement 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 bump 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 passes

to your left (and, as has been shown, you should not fire till he is just

passing you) you cannot do so if he passes 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 pass 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.