TROPICAL FELIDÆ.
The Lion--Conflicts with Travellers on Mount Atlas--The Lion and
the Hottentot--A Lion taken in--Narrow Escapes of Andersson and
Dr. Livingstone--Lion-Hunting by the Arabs of the Atlas--By the
Bushmen--The Asiatic Lion--The Lion and the Dog--The Tiger--The
Javanese Jungle--The Peacock--Wide Northern Range of the Tiger--
Tiger-Hunting in India--Miraculous Escape of an English Sportsman--
Animals announcing the Tiger’s Presence--Turtle-Hunting of the Tiger
on the Coasts of Java--The Panther and the Leopard--The Cheetah--
The Jaguar--The Puma--The smaller American Felidæ--The Hyæna--
Fables told of these abject Animals--The Striped Hyæna--The Spotted
Hyæna--The Brown Hyæna.
The majestic form, the noble bearing, the stately stride, the fine
proportions, the piercing eye, and the dreadful roar of the Lion,
striking terror into the heart of every other animal, all combine to
mark him with the stamp of royalty. All nerve, all muscle, his enormous
strength shows itself in the tremendous bound with which he rushes
upon his prey, in the rapid motions of his tail, one stroke of which
is able to fell the strongest man to the ground, and in the expressive
wrinkling of his brow.
No wonder that, ever inclined to judge from outward appearances, and
to attribute to external beauty analogous qualities of mind, man has
endowed the lion with a nobility of character which he in reality does
not possess. For modern travellers, who have had occasion to observe
him in his native wilds, far from awarding him the praise of chivalrous
generosity and noble daring, rather describe him as a mean-spirited
robber, prowling about at night-time in order to surprise a weaker prey.
The lion is distinguished from all other members of the feline tribe
by the uniform colour of his tawny skin, by the black tuft at the
end of his tail, and particularly by the long and sometimes blackish
mane, which he is able to bristle when under the influence of passion,
and which contributes so much to the beauty of the male, while it is
wanting in the lioness, who, as everyone knows, is very inferior in
size and comeliness to her stately mate.
His chief food consists of the flesh of the larger herbivorous animals,
very few of which he is unable to master. Concealed in the high rushes
on the river’s bank, he lies in ambush for the timorous herd of
antelopes which at nightfall approach the water to quench their thirst.
Slowly and cautiously the children of the waste advance; they listen
with ears erect, they strain their eyes to penetrate the thicket’s
gloom, but nothing suspicious appears or moves along the bank. Long and
deeply they quaff the delicious draught, when suddenly, with a giant
spring, like lightning bursting from a cloud, the lion bounds upon the
unsuspecting revellers, and the leader of the herd lies prostrate at
his feet.
During the daytime the lion seldom attacks man, and sometimes even when
meeting a traveller he is said to pass him by unnoticed; but when the
shades of evening descend, his mood undergoes a change. After sunset it
is dangerous to venture into the woody and wild regions of Mount Atlas,
for there the lion lies in wait, and there one finds him stretched
across the narrow path. It is then that dramatic scenes of absorbing
interest not unfrequently take place. When, so say the Bedouins, a
single man thus meeting with a lion is possessed of an undaunted heart,
he advances towards the monster brandishing his sword or flourishing
his rifle high in the air, and, taking good care not to strike or to
shoot, contents himself with pouring forth a torrent of abuse:--‘Oh,
thou mean-spirited thief! thou pitiful waylayer! thou son of _one_
that never ventured to say _no_! think’st thou I fear thee? Knowest
thou whose son I am? Arise, and let me pass!’ The lion waits till the
man approaches quite near to him; then he retires, but soon stretches
himself once more across the path; and thus by many a repeated trial
puts the courage of the wanderer to the test. All the time the
movements of the lion are attended with a dreadful noise, he breaks
numberless branches with his tail, he roars, he growls; like the cat
with the mouse, he plays with the object of his repeated and singular
attacks, keeping him perpetually suspended between hope and fear. If
the man engaged in this combat keeps up his courage,--if, as the Arabs
express themselves, ‘he holds fast his soul,’ then the brute at last
quits him and seeks some other prey. But if the lion perceives that he
has to do with an opponent whose courage falters, whose voice trembles,
who does not venture to utter a menace, then to terrify him still more
he redoubles the described manœuvres. He approaches his victim, pushes
him from the path, then leaves him and approaches again, and enjoys the
agony of the wretch, until at last he tears him to pieces.
The lion is said to have a particular liking for the flesh of the
Hottentots, and it is surprising with what obstinacy he will follow one
of these unfortunate savages. Thus Mr. Barrow relates the adventure of
a Namaqua Hottentot, who, endeavouring to drive his master’s cattle
into a pool of water enclosed between two ridges of rocks, espied
a huge lion couching in the midst of the pool. Terrified at the
unexpected sight of such a beast, that seemed to have his eyes fixed
upon him, he instantly took to his heels. In doing this he had presence
of mind enough to run through the herd, concluding that if the lion
should pursue he would take up with the first beast that presented
itself. In this, however, he was mistaken. The lion broke through the
herd, making directly after the Hottentot, who, on turning round and
perceiving that the monster had singled him out, breathless and half
dead with fear, scrambled up one of the tree-aloes, in the trunk of
which a few steps had luckily been cut out to come at some birds’
nests that the branches contained. At the same moment the lion made
a spring at him, but missing his aim, fell upon the ground. In surly
silence he walked round the tree, casting at times a dreadful look
towards the poor Hottentot, who screened himself from his sight behind
the branches. Having remained silent and motionless for a length of
time, he at length ventured to peep, hoping that the lion had taken
his departure, when to his great terror and astonishment, his eyes met
those of the animal, which, as the poor fellow afterwards expressed
himself, flashed fire at him. In short, the lion laid himself down at
the foot of the tree, and did not remove from the place for twenty-four
hours. At the end of this time, becoming parched with thirst, he went
to a spring at some distance in order to drink. The Hottentot now, with
trepidation, ventured to descend, and scampered off home as fast as his
feet could carry him.
On account as well of the devastation which he causes among the herds
as of the pleasure of the chase, the lion is pursued and killed in
North and in South Africa wherever he appears: a state of war which,
as may well be supposed, is not without danger for the aggressive
party. Thus, Andersson once fired upon a black-maned lion, one of the
largest he ever encountered in Africa. Roused to fury by the slight
wound he had received, the brute rapidly wheeled, rushed upon him with
a dreadful roar, and at the distance of a few paces, couched as if
about to spring, having his head imbedded, so to say, between his fore
paws. Drawing a large hunting-knife, and slipping it over the wrist
of his right hand, Andersson dropped on one knee, and thus prepared,
awaited the onset of the lion. It was an awful moment of suspense,
and his situation was critical in the extreme. Still his presence of
mind (a most indispensable quality in a South African hunter) never
for a moment forsook him; indeed, he felt that nothing but the most
perfect coolness and absolute self-command would be of any avail. He
would now have become the assailant; but as, owing to the intervening
bushes and clouds of dust raised by the lion’s lashing his tail
against the ground, he was unable to see his head, while to aim at any
other part would have been madness, he refrained from firing. Whilst
intently watching every motion of the lion, the animal suddenly made a
prodigious bound; but whether it was owing to his not perceiving his
intended victim, who was partially concealed in the long grass, and
instinctively threw his body on one side, or to his miscalculating the
distance, he went clear over him, and alighted on the ground three or
four paces beyond. Quick as thought Andersson now seized his advantage,
and wheeling round on his knee, discharged his second barrel; and
as the lion’s broadside was then towards him, lodged a ball in his
shoulder, which it completely smashed. The infuriated animal now made
a second and more determined rush; but owing to his disabled state was
happily avoided, though only within a hair’s breadth, and giving up the
contest, he retreated into a neighbouring wood, where his carcase was
found a few days after.
Dr. Livingstone once had a still more narrow escape, for he was
actually under the paws of a lion, whose fury he had roused by firing
two bullets into him. ‘I was upon a little height; he caught my
shoulder as he sprang, and we both came to the ground below together.
Growling horribly close to my ear, he shook me as a terrier-dog does
a rat. The shock produced a stupor, similar to that which seems to be
felt by a mouse after the first shake of the cat. It caused a sort of
drowsiness in which there was no sense of pain nor feeling of terror,
though quite conscious of all that was happening. It was like what
patients partially under the influence of chloroform describe, who see
all the operation, but feel not the knife. This singular condition
was not the result of any mental process; the shake annihilated fear,
and allowed no sense of horror in looking round at the beast. This
peculiar state’ (a fine remark) ‘is probably produced in all animals
killed by the carnivora; and if so, is a merciful provision by our
benevolent Creator for lessening the pain of death. Turning round to
relieve myself of the weight, as he had one paw on the back of my head,
I saw his eyes directed to Mebalwé, who was trying to shoot him at a
distance of ten or fifteen yards. His gun, a flint one, missed fire
in both barrels; the lion immediately left me, and attacking Mebalwé,
bit his thigh. Another man attempted to spear the lion while he was
biting Mebalwé. He left Mebalwé, and caught this man by the shoulder,
but at that moment the bullets he had received took effect and he fell
down dead. The whole was the work of a few moments, and must have
been his paroxysm of dying rage. A wound from this animal’s tooth
resembles a gun-shot wound; it is generally followed by a great deal of
sloughing and discharge, and pains are felt in the part periodically
ever afterwards. I had on a tartan jacket on the occasion, and I
believe that it wiped off all the virus from the teeth that pierced the
flesh, for my two companions in this affray have both suffered from
the peculiar pains, while I have escaped with only the inconvenience
of a false joint in my limb. The man whose shoulder was wounded showed
me his wound actually burst forth afresh on the same month of the
following year. This curious point deserves the attention of inquirers.’
In the Atlas, the lion is hunted in various ways. When he prowls about
the neighbourhood of a Bedouin encampment, his presence is announced
by various signs: at night, his dreadful roar resounds; now an ox, now
a foal is missing from the herd; at length even a member of the tribe
disappears. Terror spreads among all the tents, the women tremble for
their children, everywhere complaints are heard. The warriors decree
the death of the obnoxious neighbour, and congregate on horse and on
foot at the appointed hour and place. The thicket in which the lion
conceals himself during the daytime has already been discovered, and
the troop advances, the horsemen bringing up the rear. About fifty
paces from the bush they halt, and draw up in three rows, the second
ready to assist the first in case of need, the third an invincible
reserve of excellent marksmen. Then commences a strange and animated
scene. The first row abusing the lion, and at the same time sending
a few balls into his covert to induce him to come out, utter loud
exclamations of defiance: ‘Where is he who fancies himself so brave,
and ventures not to show himself before men? Surely it is not the lion,
but a cowardly thief, a son of Scheitan, on whom Allah’s curse may
rest!’
At length, the roused lion breaks forth. A momentary silence ensues.
The lion roars, rolls his flaming eyes, retreats a few paces, stretches
himself upon the ground, rises, smashes the branches with his tail.
The front row give fire, the lion springs forward, if untouched, and
generally falls under the balls of the second row, which immediately
advance towards him. This moment, so critical for the lion, whose
fury is fully excited, does not end the combat till he is hit in the
head or in the heart. Often his hide has been pierced by a dozen
balls before the mortal wound is given, so that sometimes, in case
of a prolonged contest, several of the hunters are either killed or
wounded. The horsemen remain as passive spectators of the fray so
long as the lion keeps upon hilly ground, but when driven into the
plain, their part begins, and a new combat of a no less original and
dramatic character commences; as every rider, according to his zeal
or courage, spurs his horse upon the monster, fires upon him at a
short distance, then rapidly wheels as soon as the shot is made, and
reloads again, to prepare for a new onset. The lion, attacked on all
sides, and covered with wounds, fronts everywhere the enemy, springs
forward, retreats, returns, and only falls after a glorious resistance,
which must necessarily end in his defeat and death, as he is no match
for a troop of well-mounted Arabs. After he has spent his power on a
few monstrous springs, even an ordinary horse easily overtakes him.
One must have been the witness of such a fight to form an idea of its
animation. Every rider utters loud imprecations, the white mantles that
give so spectral an appearance to their dusky owners, fly in the air
like ‘streamers long and gay,’ the carbines glisten, the shots resound,
the lion roars; pursuit and flight alternate in rapid succession. Yet,
in spite of the tumult, accidents are rare, and the horsemen have
generally nothing to fear but a fall from their steed, which might
bring them under the claws of their enemy, or, what is oftener the
case, the ball of an incautious comrade.
The Arabs have noticed that the day after the lion has carried away a
piece of cattle, he generally remains in a state of drowsy inactivity,
incapable of moving from his lair. When the neighbourhood, which
usually resounds with his evening roar, remains quiet, there is every
reason to believe that the animal is gorged with his gluttonous repast.
Then some huntsman, more courageous than his comrades, follows his
trail into the thicket, levels his gun at the lethargic monster, and
sends a ball into his head. Sometimes even, a hunter, relying on
the deadly certainty of his aim, and desirous of acquiring fame by a
display of chivalrous courage, rides forth alone into the thicket,
on a moonlight night, challenges the lion with repeated shouts and
imprecations, and lays him prostrate before he can make his fatal bound.
Dr. Livingstone informs us that the Bushmen likewise avail themselves
of the torpidity consequent upon a full meal, to surprise the lion in
his slumbers, and shoot him with their poisoned arrows.
In ancient times, the lion was an inhabitant of south-eastern Europe.
Herodotus relates that troops of lions came down the Macedonian
mountains, to seize upon the baggage camels of Xerxes’ army, and even
in the time of Alexander the Great, the animal, though rare, was not
yet completely extirpated.
In Asia also, where the lion is at present confined to Mesopotamia,
the northern coast of the Persian Gulf, and the north-western part of
Hindostan, he formerly roamed over far more extensive domains. The
Asiatic lion differs from the African, by a more compressed form of
body, a shorter mane, which sometimes is almost entirely wanting, and a
much larger tuft of hair at the end of the tail.
Africa is the chief seat of the lion, the part of the world where he
appears to perfection with all the attributes of his peculiar strength
and beauty. There he is found in the wilds of the Atlas, as in the
high mountain-lands of Abyssinia, from the Cape to Senegal, and from
Mozambique to Congo, and probably more than one species of the royal
animal, not yet accurately distinguished by the naturalist, roams over
this vast expanse.
While the lion reigns in Africa, the Tiger is lord and master of the
Indian jungles. A splendid animal--elegantly striped with black on
a white and golden ground; graceful in every movement, but of a most
sanguinary and cruel nature. The lengthened body resting on short legs,
wants the proud bearing of the lion, while the naked head, the wildly
rolling eye, the scarlet tongue constantly lolling from the jaws, and
the whole expression of the tiger’s physiognomy, indicate an insatiable
thirst for blood, a pitiless ferocity, which he wreaks indiscriminately
on every living thing that comes within his grasp. In the bamboo jungle
on the banks of pools and rivers, he waits for the approaching herd;
there he seeks his prey, or rather multiplies his murders, for he often
leaves the carcase of the axis or the nylghau still writhing in the
agony of death, to throw himself upon new victims, whose bodies he
rends with his claws, and then plunges his head into the gaping wound
to absorb with deep and luxurious draughts the blood whose fountains he
has just laid open.
Nothing can be more delightful than the aspect of a Javanese savannah,
to which clumps of noble trees, planted by Nature’s hand, impart a
park-like character; yet even during the daytime, the traveller rarely
ventures to cross these beautiful wilds without being accompanied by
a numerous retinue. The horses frequently stand still, trembling all
over, when their road leads them along some denser patch of the jungle,
rising like an island from the grassy plain, for their acute scent
informs them that a tiger lies concealed in the thicket, but a few
paces from their path.
It is a remarkable fact that the peacock and the tiger are so
frequently seen together. The voice of the bird is seldom heard during
the daytime, but as soon as the shades of evening begin to veil the
landscape, his loud and disagreeable screams awaken the echoes,
announcing, as the Javanese say, that the tiger is setting forth on his
murderous excursions. Then the traveller carefully bolts the door of
his hut, and the solitary Javanese retreats to his palisadoed dwelling,
for the tyrant of the wilderness is abroad. At night his dreadful roar
is heard, sometimes accompanied by the peacock’s discordant voice. Even
in the villages, thinly scattered among the grass or alang-wilds of
Java, there is no security against his attacks, in spite of the strong
fences with which they are enclosed, and the watch-fires carefully kept
burning between these and the huts.
[Illustration: TIGER.]
India, South China, Sumatra, and Java are the chief seats of the tiger,
who is unknown both in Ceylon and Borneo, while to the north he ranges
as far as Mandschuria and the Upper Obi, and Jennisei (55°--56° N.
lat.). A species of tiger identical with that of Bengal is common in
the neighbourhood of Lake Aral, near Sussac (45° N. lat.), and Tennent
mentions that he is found among the snows of Mount Ararat in Armenia.
As Hindostan is separated from these northern tiger haunts by the
great mountain chains of Kuen-Lun (35° N.), and of Mouztagh (42° N.
lat.), each covered with perpetual snows, mere summer excursions are
quite out of the question, and it is evident that the animal is able to
live in a much more rigorous climate than is commonly imagined. Even in
India the tiger is by no means confined to the sultry jungle, for we
learn from Mr. Hodgson’s account of the mammalia of Nepaul, that in the
Himalayas he is sometimes found at the very edge of perpetual snow.
Tiger-hunting is a chief pleasure of the Indian rajahs and zemindars,
who, anxious that their favourite amusement may suffer no diminution,
forbid anyone else to chase on their domains, however much their
poor vassals may have to suffer in consequence. But the delight they
take in tiger-shooting never leads these cautious Nimrods so far as
to endanger their precious persons. On some trees of the jungle a
scaffolding is prepared, at a ludicrous height, for his Highness,
who, at the appointed hour, makes his appearance with all the pomp of
a petty Asiatic despot. The beating now begins, and is executed by a
troop of miserable peasants, who most unwillingly submit to this forced
and unpaid labour, which is the more dangerous for them as they are
dispersed on a long line, instead of forming a troop, the only way
to secure them against the attacks of the tiger. Thus they advance
with a dreadful noise of drums, horns, and pistol-firing, driving the
wild beasts of the jungle towards the scaffolding of their lord and
master. At first the tigers, startled from their slumbers, retreat
before them, but generally on approaching the scaffolding they guess
the danger that awaits them and turn with a formidable growl upon the
drivers. Sometimes, however, they summon resolution to rush with a few
tremendous bounds through the perilous pass, and their flight is but
rarely impeded by the ill-aimed shots of the ambuscade. Nevertheless,
great compliments are paid to the noble sportsman for his ability and
courage, and nobody says a word about the poor low-born wretches that
may have been killed or mutilated by the infuriated brutes.
Our English tiger-hunters generally proceed on a very different plan.
Provided with very excellent double-barrelled rifles, and accompanied
by a troop of well-armed, well-paid drivers, and a number of courageous
dogs, they boldly enter the jungle to rouse the tiger from his lair. In
front of the party generally marches the shikarree, or chief driver,
who attentively reconnoitring the traces of the animal, points out
the direction that is to be followed. On his right and left hand walk
the English sportsmen, fully prepared for action, and behind them the
most trustworthy of their followers, with loaded rifles ready for an
exchange with those that have been discharged. Then follows the music,
consisting of four or five tambourins, a great drum, cymbals, horns,
a bell, and the repeated firing of pistols, and convoyed by men armed
with swords and long halberds. A few slingsmen make up the rear, who
are constantly throwing stones into the jungle over the heads of the
foremost of the party, and even more effectually than the noise of the
music drive the tiger from his lair. From time to time, one of the
men climbs upon the summit of a tree, to observe the movements of the
grass. The whole troop constantly forms a close body. The tiger in
cold blood is never able to attack a company that announces itself in
so turbulent a manner. If he ventures, it is only with half a heart;
he hesitates, stops at a short distance, and gives the hunter time to
salute him with a bullet.
The tiger is particularly fond of dense willow or bamboo bushes on
swampy ground, as he there finds the cool shade he requires for his
rest during the heat of the day, after his nocturnal excursions. It is
then very difficult to detect him, but the other inhabitants of the
jungle, particularly the peacock and the monkey, betray his presence.
The scream of the former is an infallible sign that the tiger is rising
from his lair; and the monkeys, who during the night are frequently
surprised by the panther or the boa, never allow their watchfulness to
be at fault during the day. They are never deceived in the animal which
slinks into the thicket. If it is a deer or a wild boar, they remain
perfectly quiet, but if it is a tiger or a panther, they utter a cry
designed to warn their comrades of the approach of danger. When, on
examining a jungle, the traveller sees a monkey quietly seated on the
branches, he may be perfectly sure that no dangerous animal is lurking
in the thicket.
[Illustration: JACKAL.]
During the night the cry of the jackal frequently announces the tiger’s
presence. When one of these vile animals is no longer able to hunt from
age, or when he has been expelled from his troop, he is said to become
the provider of the tiger, who, after having satiated himself on the
spoil, leaves the remains to his famished scout.
The tiger, who on the declivities of the Himalayas tears to pieces the
swift-footed antelope, lacerates on the desert sand coasts of Java
the tardy tortoise, when at nightfall it leaves the sea to lay its
eggs in the drift-sand at the foot of the dunes. ‘Hundreds of tortoise
skeletons lie scattered about the strand, many of them five feet
long and three feet broad; some bleached by time, others still fresh
and bleeding. High in the air a number of birds of prey wheel about,
scared by the traveller’s approach. Here is the place where the turtles
are attacked by the wild dogs. In packs of from twenty to fifty, the
growling rabble assail the poor sea animal at every accessible point,
gnaw and tug at the feet and at the head, and succeed by united efforts
in turning the huge creature upon its back. Then the abdominal scales
are torn off, and the ravenous dogs hold a bloody meal on the flesh,
intestines, and eggs of their defenceless prey. Sometimes, however, the
turtle escapes their rage, and dragging its lacerating tormentors along
with it, succeeds in regaining the friendly sea. Nor do the dogs always
enjoy an undisturbed repast; often during the night, the “lord of the
wilderness,” the royal tiger, bursts out of the forest, pauses for a
moment, casts a glance over the strand, approaches slowly, and then
with one bound, accompanied by a terrific roar, springs among the dogs,
scattering the howling band like chaff before the wind. And now it is
the tiger’s turn to feast; but even he, though rarely, is sometimes
disturbed by man. Thus on this lonely, melancholy coast, wild dogs and
tigers wage an unequal war with the inhabitants of the ocean.’[39]
After the tiger and the lion, the Panther and the Leopard are the
mightiest felidæ of the Old World. Although differently spotted, the
ocelli or rounded marks on the panther being larger and more distinctly
formed, they are probably only varieties of one and the same species,
as many intermediate individuals have been observed.
Both animals are widely diffused through the tropical regions of the
Old World, being natives of Africa, Persia, China, India, and many
of the Indian islands; so that they have a much more extensive range
than either the tiger or the lion. The manner in which they seize
their prey, lurking near the sides of woods, and darting forward with
a sudden spring, resembles that of the tiger; and the chase of the
panther is said to be more dangerous than that of the lion, as it
easily climbs the trees and pursues its enemy upon the branches.
The Cheetah, or hunting leopard (_Gueparda jubata_, _guttata_), which
inhabits the greater part both of Asia and Africa, exhibits in its form
and habits a mixture of the feline and canine tribes. Resembling the
panther by its spotted skin, it is more elevated on its legs and less
flattened on the fore part of its head. Its brain is more ample, and
its claws touch the ground while walking, like those of the dog, which
it resembles still further by its mild and docile nature. In India and
Persia, where the Cheetahs are employed in the chase, they are carried,
chained and hoodwinked, to the field in low cars. When the hunters
come within view of a herd of antelopes, the Cheetah is liberated, and
the game is pointed out to him: he does not, however, immediately dash
forward in pursuit, but steals along cautiously till he has nearly
approached the herd unseen, when, with a few rapid and vigorous bounds,
he darts on the timid game and strangles it almost instantaneously.
Should he, however, fail in his first efforts and miss his prey, he
attempts no pursuit, but returns to the call of his master, evidently
disappointed, and generally almost breathless.
The same radical differences which draw so wide a line of demarcation
between the monkeys of the Old and the New World are found also to
distinguish the feline races of both hemispheres, so that it would
be as vain to search in the American forests and savannahs for the
Numidian lion, or the striped tiger, as on the banks of the Ganges or
the Senegal for the tawny puma, or the spotted jaguar. While in the
African plains the swift-footed springbok falls under the impetuous
bound of the panther--or while the tiger and the buffalo engage in
mortal combat in the Indian jungle--the bloodthirsty Jaguar, concealed
in the high grass of the American llanos, lies in wait for the wild
horse or the passing steer.
The arrival of the Spaniards in the New World, so destructive to most
of the Indian tribes with whom they came into contact, was beneficial
at least to the large felidæ of tropical America, for they first
introduced the horse and the ox into the western hemisphere, where
these useful animals, finding a new and congenial home in the boundless
savannahs and pampas which extend almost uninterruptedly from the Apure
to Patagonia, have multiplied to an incredible extent. Since then the
jaguar no longer considers the deer of the woods, the graceful agouti,
or the slow capybara as his chief prey, but rejoices in the blood of
the steed or ox, and is much more commonly met with in the herd-teeming
savannahs than in the comparatively meagre hunting-grounds of the
forest.
Of all the carnivora of the New World, perhaps with the sole exception
of the grisly and the polar bears, the tyrants of the North American
solitudes, the Jaguar is the most formidable, resembling the panther
by his spotted skin, but almost equalling the Bengal tiger in size
and power. He roams about at all times of the day, swims over broad
rivers, and even in the water proves a most dangerous foe, for when
driven to extremities he frequently turns against the boat, and forces
his assailants to seek their safety by jumping overboard. Many an
Indian, while wandering through thinly populated districts, where
swampy thickets alternate with open grass plains, has been torn to
pieces by the jaguar, and in many a lonely plantation the inhabitants
hardly venture to leave their enclosures after sunset, for fear of his
attacks. During Tschudi’s sojourn in Northern Peru, a jaguar penetrated
into the hut of an Englishman who had settled in those parts, and
dragging a boy of ten years out of his hammock, tore him to pieces
and devoured him. Far from being afraid of man, this ferocious animal
springs upon him when alone, and when pressed by hunger will even
venture during the daytime into the mountain villages to seek its prey.
The chase of the jaguar requires great caution, yet keen sportsmen
will venture, single-handed, to seek the jaguar in his lair, armed
with a blow-pipe and poisoned arrows, or merely with a long and
powerful lance. The praise which is due to the bold adventurers for
their courage is, however, too often tarnished by their cruelty. Thus,
a famous jaguar-hunter once showed Pöppig a large cavity under the
tangled roots of a giant bombax-tree, where he had some time back
discovered a female jaguar with her young. Dexterously rolling down
a large stone, he closed the entrance, and then with fiendish delight
slowly smoked the animals to death, by applying fire from time to time
to their dungeon. Having lost one-half of his scalp in a previous
conflict with a jaguar, he pleaded his sufferings as an excuse for his
barbarity.
To attack these creatures with a lance, a sure arm, a cool determined
courage, and great bodily strength and dexterity are required; but
even these qualities do not always ensure success if the hunter is
unacquainted with the artifices of the animal. The jaguar generally
waits for the attack in a sitting posture, turning one side towards
the assailant, and, as if unconcerned, moves his long tail to and fro.
The hunter, carefully observing the eye of his adversary, repeatedly
menaces him with slight thrusts of his lance, which a gentle stroke
of the paw playfully wards off; then seizing a favourable moment, he
suddenly steps forward and plunges his weapon into his side. If the
thrust be well aimed, a second is not necessary, for pressing with his
full weight on the lance, the huntsman enlarges and deepens the mortal
wound. But if the stroke is parried or glances off, the jaguar, roused
to fury, bounds on his aggressor, and fells him to the ground with a
stroke of his paw. Having his enemy now fully in his power, the jaguar
looks at him quietly for a few moments as if enjoying his pangs, like a
cat playing with a mouse, and this short delay has not seldom enabled
the companion of the unfortunate hunter to save his life by a timely
shot.
All those that have escaped from one of these death-struggles affirm
that the breath of the enraged animal is of a suffocating heat, with a
smell like that of burning capsicum, and that its pestilential contact
produces an inflammation of the throat, which lasts for several days.
Those who are less inclined to desperate conflicts destroy the jaguar
by poisoned pieces of meat, or else they lay pitfalls for him, when
they kill him without running any personal risk. Like the cayman, the
jaguar, after having once tasted the flesh of man, is said to prefer
it to anything else. During his first solitary journeys through the
American wilds, the traveller’s sensations, on meeting with the fresh
footmarks of the monster, are like those of Robinson Crusoe when he
discovered the vestiges of the savage on the beach of his lonely
island; but as the animal itself very rarely crosses the wanderer’s
path, he at length becomes completely indifferent, and roams about
the wilderness as unconcernedly as if no beasts of prey existed under
the forest shade, or among the high grasses of the savannah. During
his long residence in Yuarmangua, Pöppig met but one jaguar, who, not
deeming it advisable to engage in hostilities, slowly retreated into
the woods.
In the Brazilian campos great devastations are caused among the herds
by the jaguar, who has strength enough to drag an ox to some distance.
He frequently kills several bullocks in one night, and sucks their
blood, leaving their flesh for a future repast. When, after having
satiated himself, he retires to a neighbouring thicket, the vaqueros or
herdsmen follow his bloody trail with their hounds; and as soon as the
jaguar sees the pack approach, he seeks to climb the inclined trunk of
a tree, and is then shot down from his insecure station. But the chase
does not always terminate without accident or loss of life, as very
strong jaguars will face the dogs, kill several of them, and frequently
carry them away and devour them.
While Prince Maximilian of Neu Wied was travelling through the campos,
he heard of the heroic conflict of three vaqueros with a monstrous
jaguar that had never been known to retreat. One day, while following
their herds through the woods, their dogs discovered the fresh
foot-prints of the beast, and following the scent, soon brought it to
a stand. Armed merely with their long lance-like _varas_, the bold men
did not long deliberate, but resolutely advanced towards the jaguar,
who stood confronting the dogs, and immediately bounding upon his new
antagonists, wounded them one after the other, though not without
receiving repeated thrusts of their lances and knives. The least
determined of the three, appalled by his wounds, at first retreated,
but seeing the boldest of his companions lying prostrate under the paws
of the monster, his courage revived, and the attack being vigorously
renewed, the jaguar was at length killed. The bleeding and exhausted
heroes were hardly able to crawl home in the evening. They pointed out
the spot where they had fought, and where the jaguar was found swimming
in his blood, surrounded by the dogs which he had torn to pieces.
It is a general belief among the Indians and the white inhabitants of
Bengal that the jaguar has the power of fascination. Many accounts are
given to prove this; among others, a person informed Mr. Wallace that
he had seen a jaguar standing at the foot of a high tree looking up
into it. On the top was a howling monkey looking down at the jaguar,
and jumping about from side to side, crying piteously. The jaguar stood
still, the monkey continued descending lower and lower on the branches,
still uttering its cries, till at length it fell down at the very feet
of the jaguar, who seized and devoured it.
There is a black variety of the jaguar, on whose dark skin the
ring-formed spots are still visible, and which is said to surpass the
common species in size and ferocity.
The Couguar, or the Puma, as he is called by the Indians, is far
inferior to the jaguar in courage, and consequently far less dangerous
to man. On account of his brownish-red colour and great size, being
the largest felis of the new world, he has also been named the
American lion, but he has neither the mane nor the noble bearing of
the ‘king of animals.’ In spite of his strength he is of so cowardly a
disposition that he invariably takes to flight at the approach of man,
and consequently inspires no fear on being met with in the wilderness;
while even the boldest hunter instinctively starts back when, winding
through the forest, he suddenly sees the sparkling eye of the jaguar
intently fixed upon him.
The puma has a much wider range than the jaguar, for while the latter
reaches in South America only to the forty-fifth degree of latitude,
and does not rove northwards beyond Sonora and New Mexico, the former
roams from the Straits of Magellan to the Canadian lakes. The jaguar
seldom ascends the mountains to a greater height than 3,000 feet, while
in the warmer lateral valleys of the Andes the puma frequently lies in
ambush for the vicuñas at an elevation of 10,000 feet above the level
of the sea. He can climb trees with great facility, ascending even
vertical trunks, and, like the lynx, will watch the opportunity of
springing on such animals as happen to pass beneath. No less cruel than
cowardly, he will destroy without necessity forty or fifty sheep when
the occasion offers, and content himself with licking the blood of his
victims. When caught young, he is easily tamed, and, like the common
cat, shows his fondness at being caressed by the same kind of gentle
purrings. Tschudi informs us that the Indians of the northern provinces
frequently bring pumas to Lima, to show them for money. They either
lead them by a rope, or carry them in a sack upon their back, until the
sight-seers have assembled in sufficient number.
Besides the puma or the jaguar, tropical America possesses the
beautifully variegated Ocelot (_Felis pardalis_); the Oscollo (_F.
celidogaster_); the spotless, black-grey Jaguarundi (_F. jaguarundi_),
which is not much larger than the European wild cat; the long-tailed,
striped, and spotted Margay or Tiger-cat, and several other felidæ.
All these smaller species hardly ever become dangerous to man, but
they cause the death of many an agouti and cavy; and, with prodigious
leaps, the affrighted monkey flies from their approach into the deepest
recesses of the forest.
While the sanguinary felidæ may justly be called the eagles, the
carrion-feeding Hyænas are the vultures, among the four-footed animals.
Averse to the light of day, like the owl and the bat, they conceal
themselves in dark caverns, ruins, or burrows, as long as the sun
stands above the horizon, but at nightfall they come forth from their
gloomy retreats with a lamentable howl or a satanic laugh, to seek
their disgusting food on the fields, in churchyards, or on the borders
of the sea. From the prodigious strength of their jaws and their teeth,
they are not only able to masticate tendons, but to crush cartilages
and bones; so that carcases almost entirely deprived of flesh still
provide them with a plentiful banquet.
Though their nocturnal habits and savage aspect have rendered them
an object of hatred and disgust to man, they seem destined to fill
up an important station in the economy of Nature, by cleansing the
earth of the remains of dead animals, which might otherwise infect the
atmosphere with pestilential effluvia.
Among other fabulous qualities, a courage has been attributed to the
hyæna which is completely alien to his base and grovelling nature.
Far from venturing to attack the panther, or putting even the lion to
flight, as Kämpfer pretended to have seen, he is in reality a most
pusillanimous creature, and cautiously avoids a contest with animals
much weaker than himself. Although his jaws are strong, he has not
the sharp retractile claws of the felidæ, nor their formidable spring,
his hind legs being comparatively feeble, and thus he can hardly
become dangerous to the herds, though Bruce assures us that the hyænas
destroyed many of his mules and asses.
In Barbary, the Arabs pursue the hyænas on horseback, and run them
down with their greyhounds, never thinking of wasting their powder on
so abject a game. They are held in such contempt that huntsmen will
fearlessly penetrate into the caverns where they are known to sojourn,
first carefully stopping the opening with their burnous, to keep out
the light of day. They then advance towards the snarling brute, address
it in menacing language, seize and gag it, without its venturing upon
the least resistance, and cudgel the animal out of the den. The rough
and ugly hide of the hyæna is but of little value, and in many tents
its sight is not even tolerated, as if so unworthy a spoil could only
bring misfortune to its owner.
The intractability of the hyæna is as fabulous as his courage or his
cruelty. On the contrary, he is very easily tamed, and may be rendered
as docile as the dog himself.
The striped hyæna is a native of Asiatic Turkey, Syria, and North
Africa as far as the Senegal, while the spotted hyæna ranges over South
Africa, from the Cape to Abyssinia. Both species attain the size of the
wolf, and have similar habits. As the shark follows the ship, or the
crow the caravan, they are said to hover about the march of armies, as
if taught by instinct that they have to expect the richest feast from
the insanity of man.
The moonlight falling on the dark cypresses and snow-white tombs of
the Oriental churchyards not seldom shines upon hungry hyænas busily
employed in tearing the newly-buried corpses from their graves.
A remarkable peculiarity of the spotted hyæna is that when he first
begins to run he appears lame, so that one might almost fancy one of
his legs was broken; but after a time this halting disappears, and he
proceeds on his course very swiftly.
‘One night, in Maitsha,’ says Bruce, ‘being very intent on observation,
I heard something pass behind me towards the bed, but upon looking
round could perceive nothing. Having finished what I was then about, I
went out of my tent, intending directly to return, which I immediately
did, when I perceived large blue eyes glaring at me in the dark. I
called upon my servant for a light, and there was a hyæna standing nigh
the head of the bed, with two or three large bunches of candles in his
mouth. To have fired at him, I was in danger of breaking my quadrant or
other furniture; and he seemed, by keeping the candles steadily in his
mouth, to wish for no other prey at that time. As his mouth was full,
and he had no claws to tear with, I was not afraid of him, but with a
pike struck him as near the heart as I could judge. It was not till
then he showed any sign of fierceness, but upon feeling his wound he
let drop the candles and endeavoured to run up the shaft of the spear
to arrive at me, so that in self-defence I was obliged to draw a pistol
from my girdle and shoot him, and nearly at the same time my servant
cleft his skull with a battle-axe.’
The _brown_ hyæna, which is found in South Africa, from the Cape to
Mozambique and Senegambia, and has a more shaggy fur than the preceding
species, has very different habits. He is particularly fond of the
crustacea which the ebbing flood leaves behind upon the beach, or which
the storm casts ashore in great quantities, and exclusively inhabits
the coasts, where he is known under the name of the sea-shore wolf. His
traces are everywhere to be met with on the strand, and night after
night he prowls along the margin of the water, carefully examining the
refuse of the retreating ocean.