Our Indian newspapers recently (1909) reproduced reports of a public
meeting in London, which had been made remarkable by the presence of
the veteran Mr Selous, who had assured inquirers that the elephants do
really assist each other in distress. He doubtless gave details of
many modern instances; but the newspapers omitted them. So here is
one.
Towards the end of 1897, some herds of wild elephants spread far and
wide over the harvest fields in Toungoo district, Burma. They had used
to do that, not every year, but at intervals, for generations; but
this visitation was unusually severe. The area cultivated was greater
than ever before, and the villagers had been disarmed. On former
occasions the elephants had gone away as soon as the men began to
shoot, or even to make a noise like shots, by putting bamboos into
fires which they hastily kindled on the edges of the fields; but, on
this occasion, the elephants merely paused a little to trumpet to each
other, "I'm not hurt," "Nor I," "Nor I." Then they resumed grazing at
random, heeding the noises of humanity, the shouting and the rattling
of tins and sticks and the bamboo-crackers, no more than the cawing of
the crows.
The news seemed to spread in the elephant world that men had ceased to
shoot; for as the herd that came first went farther from the hills,
seeking pastures new, the farmers who had begun to breathe freely were
horrified to see new herds appear. On the morning that the first news
came to me, it was followed in a few hours by reports of fresh havoc,
like those that rained upon Job. "We'll need an extra officer to
measure up the damage for revenue exemptions on that account," was the
prudent reminder of a responsible subordinate, expert in reeling off
official rigmaroles; but I took an original plan, of which nothing was
said, or ever would have been, if that newspaper report had not
recalled to mind an incident too good to leave in oblivion. I took the
first train to a station that seemed to be the centre of the
elephants' operations; and in less than two hours a general engagement
was in progress. A long line of men, including military and other
policemen and carrying all the firearms of any kind available,
advanced as fast as they could towards the elephants, whose demeanour
and behaviour could not have been surpassed.
Whenever they discovered that the shots were now followed by bullets,
they all ceased grazing, far and near, as far as the eye could reach
over a spacious, level plain. They gathered into herds, and, as soon
as possible, every herd, with cows and calves on the safe side and
fighting males next the enemy to secure the rear, was moving towards
the western hills, far quicker than a man could walk. Many of them
were wounded, but none were left behind. I had not myself the luck to
see, but heard from many others who saw it at the time, a sight that
well might be immortalised. A big, wounded tusker had raised the men's
hopes. They knew the value of ivory, and hastened to isolate him; but
two other big elephants, of which one at least was seen to be a
female, ran to him and supported him, one at each side. They held him
up as he limped along and joined the herd in safety, and all went off
together. The men were left lamenting, and admiring too.
Upon the hills, among primeval woods, the elephants that roam, intent
on provender, oblivious of war, resemble the Yankees among the great
powers of the world. Their superabundance of material brings water to
the teeth of potentates of prey; but the herds of elephants are too
terrible to tackle. They graze in peace in the cool glens, and have
been known, in thirsty weather, to drink alongside a tiger. Such a
thing, at least, has been reported as seen, and often inferred from
tracks. Think of what must have been in the heart of the tiger, as he
lapped the cool water, with an empty stomach, and eyed the elephants'
calves. But "whatsoe'er he thought, he acted right," and departed
without hostilities, undoubtedly protesting, in the language of the
woods, his love of peace--which was no doubt sincere, under the
circumstances.