HOW ASIATIC ELEPHANTS ARE CAPTURED ALIVE.
Though the tusks of the Asiatic elephant are not large and valuable
enough to make its capture for that purpose profitable, the live animal
itself is greatly esteemed as a beast of burden, and as a show-animal
in the pageants of the native princes, every petty court or rich man
considering it necessary to his dignity to possess a number of the huge
animals. To supply this demand, professional hunters are in the field
during every season, using several different methods to entrap the
great game. If the plan is to capture a large number of elephants at a
time, kheddahs, or enclosures, are built; this method being the one now
in use by the Government Hunting-Establishment in Bengal. To make it
successful, about four hundred natives are required; and their duties
are so different and varied, that a page from the pay-roll, and list of
duties from the books of Mr. G. P. Sanderson, officer in charge of the
Government Elephant-Catching Establishment in Mysore, are appended:—
No. Detail. Rate of pay Remarks.
per mensem.
_Rs._
} To collect establishment, and conduct
1 Jemadar 25 } operations.
1 Interpreter 10 To Hill-men.
1 Writer 9
1 Head tracker 9 } To go ahead and learn the position of
2 Mate trackers 7½ } herd, and send word to hunters.
15 Trackers 7 }
20 Head coolies 9 } To surround and guard herd, construct
20 Mate coolies 7½ } enclosure, and drive elephants
280 Coolies 7 } in.
} To keep a check on a circle of coolies,
1 Havildar 9 } by going around at short intervals;
1 Naik 7½ } also to mount guard at the department’s
14 Sepoys 7 } camp. These men are furnished
} with guns.
1 Head nooser 9 } To bind the wild elephants when
4 Noosers 7 } impounded in the enclosure.
} These men are furnished with guns,
1 Head pulwán 9 } and take post at any point where
4 Pulwáns 7 } the elephants show a determination
} to face the cordon of coolies.
These men constitute a well-organized army of elephant-hunters under
the immediate command of a jemadar, or native sergeant, who in turn is
responsible to a British or European officer. Besides the remuneration in
the above pay-roll, each man receives free rations equal to two pounds
of rice a day, two pounds of salt fish, chillies, salt, etc., per month.
The total expense of a party is about twelve hundred dollars. Besides
these numerous hunters, every party has a number of tame elephants,
or koonkies, upon which the success of the hunt often depends. It is
estimated that one tame elephant can manage two wild ones. This consists
in leading the captives to water, bringing them fodder, etc. The Asiatic
hunting-parties generally organize in December, and enter the field for
two or three months. When the advance-guard discovers a herd, the large
party comes to a stand-still some distance away, and then begins an
organized system of progression. The men divide, and spread out in a
circle, the object being to surround the herd; and, when complete, the
natives often cover six or eight miles of ground, the men being some
distance apart. When the word has been passed that the herd is in the
centre, a bamboo fence is quickly put up, the material being at hand:
in two or three hours, perhaps, the animals are entirely surrounded,
and the men on the alert to see that they do not break out. During the
day the elephants are generally not visible; and at night bonfires are
built around the great circle, and the men by yells and shouts keep the
terrified animals in the centre. Here they are watched, perhaps for
a week, the men remaining at the posts, where they erect rude huts,
and make themselves comfortable. As soon as the bamboo enclosure is
completed, the important work, or the kheddah, is commenced,—a fence
within the large one. To construct this, half the guard are detailed; and
in a remarkably short time a stout fence is built in a circular form,
about twelve feet in height, and from sixty to one hundred and fifty
feet in diameter, braced and supported in the strongest manner; while
all around the inside of the fence a ditch four feet wide is made. An
opening about twelve feet wide is left on one side, facing one of the
elephant runs, or tracts. To guide the elephants to the gate, palisades
are built, diverging from it to a distance of one hundred and fifty feet.
This arranged, the men close in on the herd, and, by shouting and firing,
force them along the drive that leads to the funnel-shaped opening. Into
this they run in a terrified throng; and, when all are in, the gate,
which is a heavy affair studded with nails, is lowered by men stationed
overhead, and a shout of triumph rises from the crowd of coolies. The
elephants are now completely at their mercy. The fence is strong enough
to prevent an outbreak; and, even if it were not, the ditch prevents
their approaching it near enough to test their strength. Sometimes an
elephant more plucky than the rest will make the attempt, and go through
it like paper: but the elephant lacks intelligence in some things; and,
when a break has been made by one, the others rarely follow the leader, a
few shouting coolies being sufficient to keep them back.
The elephants do not always enter the kheddah so willingly, but break
away, running over the men, and often killing numbers of them; but, as
a rule, a well drilled and organized party manages the drive without
great difficulty. When the herd is under control, the tame elephants are
marched in, each with its mahout, or driver, upon its neck; and it is a
curious fact, again showing the elephant’s lack of intelligence, that the
men are never touched, though they could be hauled from the tame animals
with the greatest ease. Acting under the directions of the mahouts, the
tame elephants separate the wild ones one by one from the herd; and, when
they are surrounded, the men, or tiers, slip to the ground, and pass
ropes or chains about their hind-legs, by which they are picketed until
they have been reduced to subjection.
[Illustration: PLATE VIII.
BABY JUMBO.
_From a photograph taken just after his arrival at London Zoölogical
Gardens about 1862._
_Pages 66-70._]
For many years elephants have been caught in Bengal, and the above plan
for taking entire herds at a time is now in use by Mr. Sanderson.[2]
His most successful operations were carried on near the village of
Chámraj-Nuggar near the foot of the Billiga-rungun hills. His first plan
was met by much ridicule from the natives; and all the true Mussulmans
were firm in the belief that no good would come of it, for the very
good reason that there was a curse handed down by a former unsuccessful
elephant-trapper for the benefit of any one who made the attempt to
capture an entire herd after him. The natives were willing, however, to
enter the employ of the official for a consideration, probably when they
were convinced that the curse would fall upon him alone. Be this as it
may, he had no difficulty in organizing a good band of elephant-hunters;
and in a short time a plan of operations was formed on the Houhollay
River. The first attempt was unsuccessful, but the next season an entire
herd was captured; and since then, many large herds have been secured,
the business being a valuable one to the government. The following is
a description of one of these government hunts from the pen of Mr.
Sanderson, the officer in charge:—
“It was past mid-day before we got all the elephants into cover, and not
a minute’s rest did any of us get until eleven P.M. Capt. C⸺, of the
revenue survey, came over from his camp at Surgoor, and Major G⸺, and
he helped to superintend the people. At one point, the supply of tools
was insufficient; and Capt. C⸺ was superintending and encouraging a
body of men who were digging with sharpened sticks, and even their bare
fingers. The elephants were very noisy in the cover, but did not show
themselves. At every twenty yards three or four men were stationed to
keep up large fires. These were reflected in the water of the channel
and river, which increased their effect. We all had a most exaggerated
idea of what the elephants might attempt; and the strength of our
defences was in proportion, and greater than they need have been. I was
kept on the move almost all night by false alarms at different points,
fortunately groundless ones. One tusker showed himself on the bank of the
channel, but met with such a reception from firebrands and stones, that
he retreated in haste. The river was an advantage, as the elephants had
easy access to water. The lurid glare of the fires, the giant figures of
the lightly clad watchers, their wild gesticulations on the bank with
waving torches, the background of dense jungle resonant with trumpeting
of the giants of the forest, formed a scene which words are feeble to
depict, and that cannot fade from the memories of those who witnessed
it. By eleven P.M. the defences were thoroughly secured; and that the
elephants could not now escape, was certain, unless, indeed, they carried
some of our barricades, which were, however, so strong as to be almost
beyond their power. The men differed as to their number. I had seen about
twenty: some declared there were fifty, but I could not believe this
at the time. The number was fifty-four, as we subsequently found. The
excitement of the scene was irresistible; so I betook myself to walking
around the enclosure at intervals throughout the night, followed by a man
carrying a basket of cheroots, which I distributed to the people. The
rest of the time I lay upon my cot, which my servant had been thoughtful
enough to bring from Morlay, enjoying the wildness of the sounds and
scenes around, and soothed by cheroots and coffee. When the elephants
approached the place where I was, the guards thrust long bamboos into the
fires, which sent showers of sparks up to the tops of the trees overhead,
where they exploded with a sound like pistol-shots. The first crow of
the jungle-cock was the most grateful sound I think I ever heard, as it
showed our anxious vigil was drawing to a close. We knew that during
the day the elephants would give us no trouble. My herdsmen now joined
me from the points where they had been stationed during the night, and
we set about considering the next step to be taken; namely, making a
small enclosure, or pound, into which to get the elephants confined. Of
course, this would take some time to carry out. If driven from the east,
we knew that the animals would pass between the temple and channel at
the west end of the cover, with a view to crossing the river below the
temple, and regaining their native hills, which, however, they were fated
never to see again. I therefore laid out a pound of one hundred yards in
diameter, surrounded by a ditch nine feet wide at top, three at bottom,
and nine feet deep. This was connected with the larger cover by two
guiding trenches which converged to the gate. It was completed in four
days by the personal exertions of the amildár with a body of laborers who
worked with a will, as their crops had suffered from the incursions of
elephants, and they appreciated the idea of reducing their numbers.
“The last thing completed was the entrance gate, which consisted of
three transverse trunks of trees slung by chains between two trees that
formed gate-posts. This barrier was hauled up and suspended by a single
rope, so as to be cut away after the elephants passed. The news of the
intended drive attracted several visitors from Mysore. Tents were pitched
in an open glade close to the river, and we soon had a pleasant party of
ladies and gentlemen. The evening before the drive, all assembled within
view of the point where the elephants were in the habit of drinking at
sunset, and were gratified with an admirable view of the huge creatures,
disporting themselves timidly in the water. On the morning of the 17th,
every thing being in readiness for the drive, Capts. P., B., and I
proceeded with some picked hands to drive the herd from its stronghold
towards the pound. We succeeded in moving them through the thick parts
of the cover with rockets, and soon got them near to its entrance. A
screened platform had been erected for the ladies at a point near the
gate, where they could see the final drive into the enclosure from a
place of safety. The elephants, however, when near the entrance, made
a stand, and refused to proceed, and finally, headed by a determined
female, turned upon the beaters, and threatened to break down an open
glade. P. and I intercepted them, and most of them hesitated; but the
leading female, the mother of an albino calf, which had been evilly
disposed from the beginning, rushed down upon me, as I happened to be
directly in her path, with shrill screams, followed by four or five
others, which, however, advanced less boldly. When within five yards, I
floored her with my eight-bore Greener and ten drams; but, though the
heavy ball hit the right spot between the eyes, the shot was not fatal;
as the head was carried in a peculiar position, and the bullet passed
under the brain. The elephant fell at the shot, almost upon me, and P.
fired; and I gave her my second barrel, which in the smoke missed her
head, but took effect in her chest, and must have penetrated to the
region of the heart, as a heavy jet of blood spouted forth when she
rose. For a moment she swayed about, then fell to rise no more. This was
a painful sight. The elephant had only acted in defence of her young;
but shooting her was unavoidable, as our lives, as well as those of the
beaters, were in jeopardy.
“The next scene partook of the ridiculous. The herd dispersed, and
regained its position. The little albino calf, seeing P., screamed
wildly, and with ears extended, and tail aloft, chased him. He, wishing
to save it, darted around the trees, but was near coming to grief, as he
tripped and fell. The result might have been disastrous had I not given
the pertinacious youngster a telling butt in the head with my eight-bore.
His attention was next turned to a native, who took to his heels when he
found that three sharp blows with a club on the head had little effect.
After some severe struggles, in which a few natives were floored, the
calf was at last secured to a tree by a native’s waist-cloth and a
jungle-creeper.
“While all this took place, the beat became thoroughly disorganized.
When the elephant had charged P. and me, our men had given way; and the
herd regained its original position, at the extreme east end of the
cover. After a short delay, we beat it up again to the spot near the gate
from which it had broken back. The elephants had formed a dense mob,
and began moving round and round in a circle, hesitating to cross the
newly filled-in trench, which had reached from the channel to the river,
but which was now refilled to allow them to pass on into the kheddah.
At length they were forced to proceed by the shots fired, and by the
firebrands carried through the paths in the thicket. The bright eyes of
the fair watchers near the gate were at length gratified by seeing one
great elephant after another pass the Rubicon. After a short pause, owing
to a stand being made by some of the most refractory, the last of the
herd passed in with a rush, closely followed into the inner enclosure
by a frantic beater, waving a firebrand. P. and I came up third, in
time to save any accident from the fall of the barrier. C., who was
perched on a light branch of the gate-post, cut the rope; and, amidst the
cheers of all, the valuable prize of fifty-three elephants was secured
to the Mysore Government. I often think of the rapture of that moment.
How warmly we sahibs shook hands! How my trackers hugged my legs, and
prostrated themselves before P. and B.! An hour of such varied excitement
as elephant-catching is surely worth a lifetime of uneventful routine in
town.”
Such is the account of an enthusiastic hunter, one of the best living
authorities on these elephants; and few men have enjoyed his privileges.
To complete the capture of this herd, seventeen tame elephants were
employed; and finally they were all tamed and ready for use. They
consisted of sixteen male elephants, the largest being eight feet five
inches at the shoulder; three mucknas, or tuskless males; thirty females,
and nine young ones. Nine were given to the Mahárájah’s stud, ten to the
Madras Commissariat Department, while twenty-five were sold at public
auction when they were tame enough to be used by purchasers. The latter
realized about $415 apiece, or in a bulk $10,425; and the amount realized
from the entire catch, deducting the deaths, was $18,770. Deducting from
this the total sum of expenditures from Mr. Sanderson’s first attempt at
their capture in 1873, or $7,780, a profit to the government remained of
$10,995. Mr. Sanderson was congratulated by the chief commissioner of
Mysore, and his excellency the viceroy and governor-general in council,
and has since continued to capture elephants on this plan, always with
marked success. His last catch that I have record of, that of 1882, was
two hundred and fifty-one, and that only up to March. The first drive
yielded sixty-five, and the second fifty-five, elephants. These animals
were taken in the Garrow Hills.
A second method of taking wild elephants in India is by following
them with females trained for the purpose. This plan is usually more
successful in the capture of large tuskers than the kheddah, as the
latter are often away from the herd, and do not become entrapped. The
hunt is generally composed of four or five well-trained female elephants
ridden by mahouts, who sit upon their necks, and are hidden by cloths or
blankets of the same color as the elephant’s skin. In some works, these
elephants are called decoys; but this is an entirely mistaken idea. The
tame elephants use no arts to attract the wild ones, in the sense of a
decoy, merely obeying the commands or signs of the keeper.
When the location of a single male is determined, the tame elephants
approach the spot in a leisurely manner, feeding as they move. Sometimes
the wild elephant scents the mahouts, and moves off; but, as often,
they do not seem to notice them; and, if not, the tame ones gradually
surround him, and endeavor by command of their mahouts, who direct them
by signs, to keep its attention. Generally there is an elephant in the
near vicinity, loaded with ropes and other material; and, as several days
are occupied, the men are relieved every day, the elephants drawing off
one by one, and returning with fresh men.
This surveillance is kept up day and night; and, during the latter, the
wild elephant goes into the fields to feed, being closely followed by
the seemingly treacherous females with their concealed drivers. When
he returns to the forest as the day approaches, they follow: and as he
lies down, and tries to go to sleep, they close in about him, and, at
the command of the mahouts, keep him awake by various devices; all this
performance resulting in thoroughly fatiguing the old fellow, and making
him sleep very soundly when he does take a nap. Sometimes an elephant
is fed with sugar-cane loaded with opium, to make him sleep; and, as
soon as he has fallen into a deep slumber, the mahouts slip off behind,
and securely tie his legs. Then the men in the rear come up, and rudely
awaken him, slapping him on his haunches, and telling him facetiously to
be of “good cheer.”
The struggles of the trapped elephant are terrific, and they often injure
themselves fatally. The tame elephants follow them up until they are
thoroughly subdued, when they are securely bound, and led to the place
where their training commences; and a few months later, they are carrying
their human owners about, or working in the timber district, as if they
had not been wild elephants so short a time before.
A third method of taking elephants here is by the pitfall,—a barbarous
custom, not now in general practice, as it always resulted in the loss by
death of a large proportion of the catch. The plan was to dig pitfalls
in the well-known and beaten tracts of elephants in the jungle, or
under certain trees where they were known to congregate to feed. These
traps, or holes, were generally ten and a half feet long by seven and a
half broad, and fifteen feet deep, being purposely small, so that the
imprisoned animals could not dig down the earth with their tusks, which
they often did. In former years, there was, according to the government
official, a perfect network of these pits in Mysore, and kept in order by
the Mahárájah, the Forest Department, and others. The natives, as the
Strolagas and Kurrabas, also made pits; and when an elephant was trapped,
and they had no way of getting it out, the poor creatures often died
before a tame elephant could be secured to give the required assistance.
Through the endeavors of Sanderson, this inhuman practice has been given
up; and all elephants caught are treated as humanely as possible.
[Illustration: PLATE IX.
ASIATIC ELEPHANT.
_Page 77._]
A fourth plan of capture is by noosing wild elephants from the back
of a tame one; and this affords a most excellent and manly sport, to
be commended, as the animal is given fair play, and boldly met in the
field. It is confined to Bengal and Napaul, not being practised in
Southern India, and is not in favor for the reason that not rarely the
tame elephants are badly injured, and the wear and tear upon them is too
great. The sport is extremely dangerous, and is carried on something
after the fashion of lariating wild cattle in the West of our own
country. Fast elephants are selected, and three drivers provided each.
One sits on the neck, to direct it; another sits near the tail, and, with
a spike and a mallet, is supposed to hammer the unfortunate animal as
hard as possible, just over the spot marked by the _os coccygis_. This
is to spur the elephant on to excessive bursts of speed, and generally
success. A third man sits on a pad upon the elephant’s back, and holds a
noose, the other end of the rope being strapped about the animal’s body.
Thus fitted, a wild herd is followed; and, once sighted, the last man
hammers at the creature with his spike and mallet, and away they go, over
the rocks and through the bush in a wild chase. If the tame elephants are
fleet enough, they soon range alongside, and give the rope-handler an
opportunity to test his skill, which he does by throwing the noose over
the head of the nearest elephant. Some natives are very expert at this;
but men are often hauled off and crushed, or the elephants are choked,
and many accidents occur.
A different kind of noosing is practised in Ceylon, where men follow the
animals on foot, and throw a noose so skilfully, that they catch them
about their legs when running at full speed through the jungle. As soon
as this is accomplished, the men follow along, and twist the end about a
tree, and soon have the great game at their mercy.
In all these cases, there is great danger, but not so much as where the
animal is followed by the hunter on foot, and meets the huge creature
face to face, his object being the tusks; described in a separate chapter
on elephant-hunting as a sport.