The awe inspired in the breast of the average countryman by the "daring
act" of the lion-tamer is well founded. Long years of familiarity with
this feature of the show business have not served to dampen my sense of
admiration for the grit of a man who does not flinch to enter the cage
of any fierce animal and prove man's mastery over the brute creation.
In justification of this sentiment I have only to point to the
professional animal-trainers of long experience. If there is one of
them who does not bear on his body the marks of his encounters with his
savage pupils he is a rare exception to the rule. The whole fraternity
is physically ragged and tattered--torn and mutilated by the teeth of
beasts they have trained. I have never ceased to marvel that men will
deliberately choose to follow the subjugation of animals as a
profession, particularly when they have only to look upon the veterans
in the business to behold a ghastly and discouraging array of ragged
ears, of split noses, of shredded limbs and lacerated trunks. But at
these substantial warnings the novice and the past-master in the art of
"working" animals alike only laugh and scout the idea of danger or
dread. At least, this is their attitude in private conversation, when
not attempting to make an impression on the minds of their auditors.
If all animals subjected to training were even in disposition, and did
not have their ugly moods, the same as their human lords, the principal
element of danger to trainers would be removed. Unfortunately, it is
the universal testimony of the men who have devoted their lives to the
training of fierce creatures that the most docile, obedient and
friendly carnivorous creature is sure to be in an ugly humor sooner or
later, and then is the great time of test. These sudden, unexpected and
abnormal moods in the animals handled are responsible for having sent
scores of good trainers to early graves.