Real Cost of Land--Want of Communication--Coffee-planting--Comparison
between French and English
Settlers--Landslips--Forest-clearing--Manuring--The Coffee
Bug--Rats--Fatted Stock--Suggestions for Sheep-farming--Attack of a
Leopard--Leopards and Chetahs--Boy Devoured--Traps--Musk Cats and the
Mongoose--Vermin of Ceylon.
What is the government price of land in Ceylon? and what is the real
cost of the land? These are two questions which should be considered
separately, and with grave attention by the intending settler or
capitalist.
The upset price of government land is twenty shillings per acre; thus,
the inexperienced purchaser is very apt to be led away by the
apparently low sum per acre into a purchase of great extent. The
question of the real cost will then be solved at his expense. There are
few colonies belonging to Great Britain where the government price of
land is so high, compared to the value of the natural productions of
the soil.
The staple commodity of Ceylon being coffee, I will assume that a
purchase is concluded with the government for one thousand acres of
land, at the upset price of twenty shillings per acre. What has the
purchaser obtained for this sum? One thousand acres of dense forest, to
which there is no road. The one thousand pounds passes into the
government chest, and the purchaser is no longer thought of; he is left
to shift for himself and to make the most of his bad bargain.
He is, therefore, in this position: He has parted with one thousand
pounds for a similar number of acres of land, which will not yield him
one penny in any shape until he has cleared it from forest. This he
immediately commences by giving out contracts, and the forest is
cleared, lopped and burnt. The ground is then planted with coffee and
the planter has to wait three years for a return. By the time of full
bearing the whole cost of felling, burning, planting and cleaning will
be about eight pounds per acre; this, in addition to the prime cost of
the land, and about two thousand pounds expended in buildings,
machinery etc., etc., will bring the price of the land, when in a
yielding condition, to eleven pounds an acre at the lowest calculation.
Thus before his land yields him one fraction, he will have invested
eleven thousand pounds, if he clears the whole of his purchase. Many
persons lose sight of this necessary outlay when first purchasing their
land, and subsequently discover to their cost that their capital is
insufficient to bring the estate into cultivation.
Then comes the question of a road. The government will give him no
assistance; accordingly, the whole of his crop must be conveyed on
coolies' heads along an arduous path to the nearest highway, perhaps
fifteen miles distant. Even this rough path of fifteen miles the
planter must form at his own expense.
Considering the risks that are always attendant upon agricultural
pursuits, and especially upon coffee-planting, the price of rough land
must be acknowledged as absurdly high under the present conditions of
sales. There is a great medium to be observed, however, in the sales
of crown land; too low a price is even a greater evil than too high a
rate, as it is apt to encourage speculators in land, who do much injury
to a colony by locking up large tracts in an uncultivated state, to
take the chance of a future rise in the price.
This evil might easily be avoided by retaining the present bona fide
price of the land per acre, qualified by an arrangement that one-half
of the purchase money should be expended in the formation of roads from
the land in question. This would be of immense assistance to the
planters, especially in a populous planting neighborhood, where the
purchases of land were large and numerous, in which case the aggregate
sum would be sufficient to form a carriage road to the main highway,
which might be kept in repair by a slight toll. An arrangement of this
kind is not only fair to the planters, but would be ultimately equally
beneficial to the government. Every fresh sale of land would ensure
either a new road or the improvement of an old one; and the country
would be opened up through the most remote districts. This very fact
of good communication would expedite the sales of crown lands, which
are now valueless from their isolated position.
Coffee-planting in Ceylon has passed through the various stages
inseparable from every "mania."
In the early days of our possession, the Kandian district was little
known, and sanguine imaginations painted the hidden prospect in their
ideal colors, expecting that a trace once opened to the interior would
be the road to fortune.
How these golden expectations have been disappointed the broken
fortunes of many enterprising planters can explain.
The protective duty being withdrawn, a competition with foreign coffee
at once reduced the splendid prices of olden times to a more moderate
standard, and took forty per cent. out of the pockets of the planters.
Coffee, which in those days brought from one hundred shillings to one
hundred and forty shillings per hundred-weight, is now reduced to from
sixty shillings to eighty shillings.
This sudden reduction created an equally sudden panic among the
planters, many of whom were men of straw, who had rushed to Ceylon at
the first cry of coffee "fortunes," and who had embarked on an
extensive scale with borrowed capital. These were the first to smash.
In those days the expenses of bringing land into cultivation were more
than double the present rate, and, the cultivation of coffee not being
so well understood, the produce per acre was comparatively small. This
combination of untoward circumstances was sufficient cause for the
alarm which ensued, and estates were thrust into the market and knocked
down for whatever could be realized. Mercantile houses were dragged
down into the general ruin, and a dark cloud settled over the Cinnamon
isle.
As the after effects of a "hurricane" are a more healthy atmosphere and
an increased vigor in all vegetation, so are the usual sequels to a
panic in the commercial world. Things are brought down to their real
value and level; men of straw are swept away, and affairs are commenced
anew upon a sound and steady basis. Capital is invested with caution,
and improvements are entered upon step by step, until success is
assured.
The reduction in the price of coffee was accordingly met by a
corresponding system of expenditure and by an improved state of
cultivation; and at the present time the agricultural prospects of the
colony are in a more healthy state than they have ever been since the
commencement of coffee cultivation.
There is no longer any doubt that a coffee estate in a good situation
in Ceylon will pay a large interest for the capital invested, and will
ultimately enrich the proprietor, provided that he has his own capital
to work his estate, that he gives his own personal superintendence and
that he understands the management. These are the usual conditions of
success in most affairs; but a coffee-estate is not unfrequently abused
for not paying when it is worked with borrowed capital at a high rate
of interest under questionable superintendence.
It is a difficult thing to define the amount which constitutes a
"fortune:" that which is enough for one man is a pittance for another;
but one thing is certain, that, no matter how small his first capital,
the coffee-planter hopes to make his "fortune."
Now, even allowing a net profit of twenty per cent. per annum on the
capital invested, it must take at least ten years to add double the
amount to the first capital, allowing no increase to the spare capital
required for working the estate. A rapid fortune can never be made by
working a coffee estate. Years of patient industry and toil, chequered
by many disappointments, may eventually reward the proprietor; but it
will be at a time of life when a long residence in the tropics will
have given him a distaste for the chilly atmosphere of old England; his
early friends will have been scattered abroad, and he will meet few
faces to welcome him on his native shores. What cold is so severe as a
cold reception?--no thermometer can mark the degree. No fortune,
however large, can compensate for the loss of home, and friends, and
early associations.
This feeling is peculiarly strong throughout the British nation. You
cannot convince an English settler that he will be abroad for an
indefinite number of years; the idea would be equivalent to
transportation: he consoles himself with the hope that something will
turn up to alter the apparent certainty of his exile; and in this hope,
with his mind ever fixed upon his return, he does nothing for posterity
in the colony. He rarely even plants a fruit tree, hoping that his
stay will not allow him to gather from it. This accounts for the
poverty of the gardens and enclosures around the houses of the English
inhabitants, and the general dearth of any fruits worth eating.
How different is the appearance of French colonies, and how different
are the feelings of the settler! The word "adieu" once spoken, he sighs
an eternal farewell to the shores of "La belle France," and, with the
natural light-heartedness of the nation, he settles cheerfully in a
colony as his adopted country. He lays out his grounds with taste, and
plants groves of exquisite fruit trees, whose produce will, he hopes,
be tasted by his children and grandchildren. Accordingly, in a French
colony there is a tropical beauty in the cultivated trees and flowers
which is seldom seen in our possessions. The fruits are brought to
perfection, as there is the same care taken in pruning and grafting the
finest kinds as in our gardens in England.
A Frenchman is necessarily a better settler; everything is arranged for
permanency, from the building of a house to the cultivation of an
estate. He does not distress his land for immediate profit, but from
the very commencement he adopts a system of the highest cultivation.
The latter is now acknowledged as the most remunerative course in all
countries; and its good effects are already seen in Ceylon, where, for
some years past, much attention has been devoted to manuring on coffee
estates.
No crop has served to develop the natural poverty of the soil so much
as coffee; and there is no doubt that, were it possible to procure
manure in sufficient quantity, the holes should be well filled at the
time of planting. This would give an increased vigor to the young
plant that would bring the tree into bearing at an earlier date, as it
would the sooner arrive at perfection.
The present system of coffee-planting on a good estate is particularly
interesting. It has now been proved that the best elevation in Ceylon
to combine fine quality with large crops is from twenty-five hundred to
four thousand feet. At one time it was considered that the finest
quality was produced at the highest range; but the estates at an
elevation of five thousand feet are so long at arriving at perfection,
and the crop produced is so small, that the lower elevation is
preferred.
In the coffee districts of Ceylon there is little or no level ground to
be obtained, and the steep sides of the hills offer many objections to
cultivation. The soil, naturally light and poor, is washed by every
shower, and the more soluble portions, together with the salts of the
manure applied to the trees, are being continually robbed by the heavy
rains. Thus it is next to impossible to keep an estate in a high state
of cultivation, without an enormous expense in the constant application
of manure.
Many estates are peculiarly subject to landslips, which are likewise
produced by the violence of the rains. In these cases the destruction
is frequently to a large extent; great rocks are detached from the
summits of the hills, and sweep off whole lines of trees in their
descent.
Wherever landslips are frequent, they may be taken as an evidence of a
poor, clay subsoil. The rain soaks through the surface; and not being
able to percolate through the clay with sufficient rapidity, it lodges
between the two strata, loosening the upper surface, which slides from
the greasy clay; launched, as it were, by its own gravity into the
valley below.
This is the worst kind of soil for the coffee tree, whose long tap-root
is ever seeking nourishment from beneath. On this soil it is very
common to see a young plantation giving great promise; but as the trees
increase in growth the tap-root reaches the clay subsoil and the
plantation immediately falls off. The subsoil is of far more
importance to the coffee-tree than the upper surface; the latter may be
improved by manure, but if the former is bad there is no remedy.
The first thing to be considered being the soil, and the planter being
satisfied with its quality, there is another item of equal importance
to be taken into consideration when choosing a locality for a coffee
estate. This is an extent of grazing land sufficient for the support of
the cattle required for producing manure.
In a country with so large a proportion of forest as Ceylon, this is
not always practicable; in which case land should be cleared and grass
planted, as it is now proved that without manure an estate will never
pay the proprietor.
The locality being fixed upon, the clearing of the forest is commenced.
The felling is begun from the base of the hills, and the trees being
cut about half through, are started in sections of about an acre at one
fall. This is easily effected by felling some large tree from the top,
which, falling upon its half-divided neighbor, carries everything
before it like a pack of cards.
The number of acres required having been felled, the boughs and small
branches are all lopped, and, together with the cleared underwood, they
form a mass over the surface of the ground impervious to man or beast.
This mass, exposed to a powerful sun, soon becomes sufficiently dry for
burning, and, the time of a brisk breeze being selected, the torch is
applied.
The magnificent sight of so extensive a fire is succeeded by the
desolate appearance of blackened stumps and smouldering trunks of
trees: the whole of the branches and tinderwood having been swept away
by the mighty blaze, the land is comparatively clear.
Holes two feet square are now dug in parallel lines at a distance of
from six to eight feet apart throughout the estate, and advantage being
taken of the wet season, they are planted with young coffee trees of
about twelve inches high. Nothing is now required but to keep the land
clean until the trees attain the height of four feet and come into
bearing. This, at an elevation of three thousand feet, they generally
do in two years and a half. The stem is then topped, to prevent its
higher growth and to produce a large supply of lateral shoots.
The system of pruning is the same as with all fruit trees; the old wood
being kept down to induce fruit bearing shoots, whose number must be
proportioned to the strength of the tree.
The whole success of the estate now depends upon constant cleaning,
plentiful manuring and careful pruning, with a due regard to a frugal
expenditure and care in the up-keep of buildings, etc., etc. Much
attention is also required in the management of the cattle on the
estate, for without a proper system the amount of manure produced will
be proportionately small. They should be bedded up every night hock
deep with fresh litter and the manure thus formed should be allowed to
remain in the shed until it is between two and three feet deep. It
should then be treated on a "Geoffrey" pit (named after its inventor).
This is the simplest and most perfect method for working up the weeds
from an estate, and effectually destroying their seeds at the same time
that they are converted into manure.
A water-tight platform is formed of stucco--say forty feet
square--surrounded by a wall two feet high, so as to form a tank.
Below this is a sunken cistern--say eight feet square--into which the
drainage would be conducted from the upper platform. In this cistern a
force-pump is fitted, and the cistern is half filled with a solution of
saltpetre and sal-ammoniac.
A layer of weeds and rubbish is now laid upon the platform for a depth
of three feet, surmounted by a layer of good dung from the cattle sheds
of one foot thick. These layers are continued alternately in the
proportion of three to one of weeds, until the mass is piled to a
height of twenty feet, the last layer being good dung. Upon this mass
the contents of the cistern are pumped and evenly distributed by means
of a spreader.
This mixture promotes the most rapid decomposition of vegetable matter,
and, combining with the juices of the weeds and the salts of the dung,
it drains evenly through the whole mass, forming a most perfect
compost. The surplus moisture, upon reaching the bottom of the heap,
drains from the slightly inclined platform into the receiving cistern,
and is again pumped over the mass.
This is the cheapest and best way of making manure upon an estate, the
cattle sheds and pits being arranged in the different localities most
suitable for reducing the labor of transport.
The coffee berry, when ripe, is about the size of a cherry, and is
shaped like a laurel berry. The flesh has a sweet but vapid taste, and
encloses two seeds of coffee. These are carefully packed by nature in
a double skin.
The cherry coffee is gathered by coolies at the rate of two bushels
each per diem, and is cleared from the flesh by passing through a
pulper, a machine consisting of cylindrical copper graters, which tear
the flesh from the berry and leave the coffee in its second covering of
parchment, The coffee is then exposed to a partial fermentation by
being piled for some hours in a large heap. This has the effect of
loosening the fleshy particles, which, by washing in a cistern of
running water, are detached from the berry. It is then rendered
perfectly dry in the sun or by means of artificially heated air; and,
being packed in bags, it is forwarded to Colombo. Here, it is unpacked
and sent to the mill, which, by means of heavy rollers, detaches the
parchment and under silver skin, and leaves the grayish-blue berry in a
state for market. The injured grains are sorted out by women, and the
coffee is packed for the last time and shipped to England.
A good and well-managed estate should produce an average crop of ten
hundredweight per acre, leaving a net profit of fifteen shillings per
hundredweight under favorable circumstances. Unfortunately, it is next
to impossible to make definite calculations in all agricultural
pursuits: the inclemency of seasons and the attacks of vermin are
constantly marring the planter's expectations. Among the latter
plagues the "bug" stands foremost. This is a minute and gregarious
insect, which lives upon the juices of the coffee tree, and accordingly
is most destructive to an estate. It attacks a variety of plants, but
more particularly the tribe of jessamine; thus the common jessamine,
the "Gardenia" (Cape jessamine) and the coffee (Jasminum Arabicum) are
more especially subject to its ravages.
The dwelling of this insect is frequently confounded with the living
creature itself. This dwelling is in shape and appearance like the
back shell of a tortoise, or, still more, like a "limpet," being
attached to the stem of the tree in the same manner that the latter
adheres to a rock. This is the nest or house, which, although no
larger than a split hempseed contains some hundreds of the "bug." As
some thousands of these scaly nests exist upon one tree, myriads of
insects must be feeding upon its juices.
The effect produced upon the tree is a blackened and sooty appearance,
like a London shrub; the branches look withered, and the berries do not
plump out to their full size, but, for the most part, fall unripened
from the tree. This attack is usually of about two years' duration;
after which time the tree loses its blackened appearance, which peels
off the surface of the leaves like gold-beaters' skin,--and they appear
in their natural color. Coffee plants of young growth are liable to
complete destruction if severely attacked by "bug."
Rats are also very destructive to an estate; they are great adepts at
pruning, and completely strip the trees of their young shoots, thus
utterly destroying a crop. These vermin are more easily guarded
against than the insect tribe, and should be destroyed by poison. Hog's
lard, ground cocoa-nut and phosphorus form the most certain bait and
poison combined.
These are some of the drawbacks to coffee-planting, to say nothing of
bad seasons and fluctuating prices, which, if properly calculated,
considerably lessen the average profits of an estate, as it must be
remembered that while a crop is reduced in quantity, the expenses
continue at the usual rate, and are severely felt when consecutive
years bring no produce to meet them.
Were it not for the poverty of the soil, the stock of cattle required
on a coffee estate for the purpose of manure might be made extremely
profitable, and the gain upon fatted stock would pay for the expense of
manuring the estate. This would be the first and most reasonable idea
to occur to an agriculturist--"buy poor cattle at a low price, fatten
them for the butcher, and they give both profit and manure."
Unfortunately, the natural pasturage is not sufficiently good to fatten
beasts indiscriminately. There are some few out of a herd of a hundred
who will grow fat upon anything, but the generality will not improve to
any great degree. This accounts for the scarcity of fine meat
throughout Ceylon. Were the soil only tolerably good, so that oats,
vetches, turnips and mangel wurtzel could be grown on virgin land
without manure, beasts might be stall-fed, the manure doubled by that
method, and a profit made on the animals. Pigs are now kept
extensively on coffee estates for the sake of their manure, and being
fed on Mauritius grass (a coarse description of gigantic "couch") and a
liberal allowance of cocoa-nut oil cake ("poonac"), are found to
succeed, although the manure is somewhat costly.
English or Australian sheep have hitherto been untried--for what reason
I cannot imagine, unless from the expense of their prime cost, which is
about two pounds per head. These thrive to such perfection at Newera
Ellia, and also in Kandy, that they should succeed in a high degree in
the medium altitudes of the coffee estates. There are immense tracts
of country peculiarly adapted for sheep-farming throughout the
highlands of Ceylon, especially in the neighborhood of the coffee
estates. There are two enemies, however, against which they would have
to contend--viz., "leopards" and "leeches." The former are so
destructive that the shepherd could never lose sight of his flock
without great risk; but the latter, although troublesome, are not to be
so much dreaded as people suppose. They are very small, and the
quantity of blood drawn by their bite is so trifling that no injury
could possibly follow, unless from the flies, which would be apt to
attack the sheep on the smell of blood. These are drawbacks which
might be easily avoided by common precaution, and I feel thoroughly
convinced that sheep-farming upon the highland pasturage would be a
valuable adjunct to a coffee estate, both as productive of manure and
profit. I have heard the same opinion expressed by an experienced
Australian sheep-farmer.
This might be experimented upon in the "down" country of Ouva with
great hopes of success, and by a commencement upon a small scale the
risk would be trifling. Here there is an immense tract of country with
a peculiar short grass in every way adapted for sheep-pasturage, and
with the additional advantage of being nearly free from leopards.
Should sheep succeed on an extensive scale the advantage to the farmer
and to the colony would be mutual.
The depredations of leopards among cattle are no inconsiderable causes
of loss. At Newera Ellia hardly a week passes without some casualty
among the stock of different proprietors. Here the leopards are
particularly daring, and cases have frequently occurred where they have
effected their entrance to a cattle-shed by scratching a hole through
the thatched roof. They then commit a wholesale slaughter among sheep
and cattle. Sometimes, however, they catch a "Tartar." The native
cattle are small, but very active, and the cows are particularly savage
when the calf is with them.
About three years ago a leopard took it into his head to try the
beefsteaks of a very savage and sharp-horned cow, who with her calf was
the property of the blacksmith. It was a dark, rainy night, the
blacksmith and his wife were in bed, and the cow and her calf were
nestled in the warm straw in the cattle-shed. The door was locked, and
all was apparently secure, where the hungry leopard prowled stealthily
round the cowhouse, sniffing the prey within. The scent of the leopard
at once aroused the keen senses of the cow, made doubly acute by her
anxiety for her little charge, and she stood ready for the danger as
the leopard, having mounted on the roof, commenced scratching his way
through the thatch.
Down he sprang!--but at the same instant, with a splendid charge, the
cow pinned him against the wall, and a battle ensued which can easily
be imagined. A coolie slept in the corner of the cattle-shed, whose
wandering senses were completely scattered when he found himself the
unwilling umpire of the fight. He rushed out and shut the door. In a
few minutes he succeeded in awakening the blacksmith, who struck a
light and proceeded to load a pistol, the only weapon that he
possessed. During the whole of this time the bellowing of the cow, the
roars of the leopard and the thumping, trampling and shuffling which
proceeded from the cattle-shed, explained the savage nature of the
fight.
The blacksmith, who was no sportsman, shortly found himself with a
lanthorn in one hand, a pistol in the other, and no idea of what he
meant to do. He waited, therefore, at the cattle-shed door, and
holding the light so as to shine through the numerous small apertures
in the shed, he looked in.
The leopard no longer growled; but the cow was mad with fury. She
alternately threw a large dark mass above her head, then quickly pinned
it to the ground on its descent, then bored it against the wall as it
crawled helplessly toward a corner of the shed. This was the
"beef-eater" in reduced circumstances! The gallant little cow had
nearly killed him, and was giving him the finishing strokes. The
blacksmith perceived the leopard's helpless state, and, boldly opening
the door, he discharged his pistol, and the next moment was bolting as
hard as he could run, with the warlike cow after him. She was
regularly "up," and was ready for anything or anybody. However, she
was at length pacified, and the dying leopard was put out of his misery.
There are two distinct species of the leopard in Ceylon--viz., the
"chetah," and the "leopard" or "panther." There have been many opinions
on the subject, but I have taken particular notice of the two animals,
and nothing can be more clear than the distinction.
The "chetah" is much smaller than the leopard, seldom exceeding seven
feet from the nose to the end of tile tail. He is covered with round
black "spots" of the size of a shilling, and his weight rarely exceeds
ninety pounds.
The leopard varies from eight to nine feet in length, and has been
known to reach even ten feet. His body is covered with black "rings,"
with a rich brown centre--his muzzle and legs are speckled with black
"spots," and his weight is from one hundred and ten to one hundred and
seventy pounds. There is little or no distinction between the leopard
and the panther, they are synonymous terms for a variety of species in
different countries. In Ceylon all leopards are termed "chetahs" which
proceeds from the general ignorance of the presence of the two species.
The power of a leopard is wonderful in proportion to his weight. I have
seen a full-grown bullock with its neck broken by the leopard that
attacked it. It is the popular belief that the effect is produced by a
blow of the paw; this is not the case; it is not simply the blow, but
it is the combination of the weight, the power and the momentum of the
spring which renders the effects of a leopard's attack so surprising.
Few leopards rush boldly to the attack like a dog; they stalk their
game and advance crouchingly, making use of every object that will
afford them cover until they are within a few bounds of their prey.
Then the immense power of muscle is displayed in the concentrated
energy of the spring; he flies through the air and settles on the
throat, usually throwing his own body over the animal, while his teeth
and claws are fixed on the neck; this is the manner in which the spine
of an animal is broken--by a sudden twist, and not by a blow.
The blow from the paw is nevertheless immensely powerful, and at one
stroke will rip open a bullock like a knife; but the after effects of
the wound are still more to be dreaded than the force of the blow.
There is a peculiar poison in the claw which is highly dangerous. This
is caused by the putrid flesh which they are constantly tearing, and
which is apt to cause gangrene by inoculation.
It is a prevalent idea that a leopard will not eat putrid meat, but
that he forsakes a rotten carcase and seeks fresh prey. There is no
doubt that a natural love of slaughter induces him to a constant search
for prey, but it has nothing to do with the daintiness of his appetite.
A leopard will eat any stinking offal that offers, and I once had a
melancholy proof of this.
I was returning from a morning's hunting; it was a bitter day; the rain
was pouring in torrents, the wind was blowing a gale and sweeping the
water in sheets along the earth. The hounds were following at my
horse's heels, with their cars and sterns down, looking very miserable,
and altogether it was a day when man and beast should have been at
home. Presently, upon turning a corner of the road, I saw a Malabar
boy of about sixteen years of age, squatted shivering by the roadside.
His only covering being a scanty cloth round his loins, I told him to
get up and go on or he would be starved with cold. He said something
in reply, which I could not understand, and repeating my first warning,
I rode on. It was only two miles to my house, but upon arrival I could
not help thinking that the boy must be ill, and having watched the gate
for some time to see if he passed by, I determined to send for him.
Accordingly, I started off a couple of men with orders to carry him up
if he were sick.
They returned in little more than an hour, but the poor boy was
dead!--sitting crouched in the same position in which I had seen him.
He must have died of cold and starvation; he was a mere skeleton.
I sent men to the spot, and had him buried by the roadside, and a few
days after I rode down to see where they had laid him.
A quantity of fresh-turned earth lay scattered about, mingled with
fragments of rags. Bones much gnawed lay here and there on the road,
and a putrid skull rolled from a shapeless hole among a confused and
horrible heap. The leopards had scratched him up and devoured him;
their footprints were still fresh upon the damp ground.
Both leopards and chetahs are frequently caught at Newera Ellia. The
common trap is nothing more or less than an old-fashioned mouse-trap,
with a falling door on a large scale; this is baited with a live kid or
sheep; but the leopard is naturally so wary that he frequently refuses
to enter the ominous-looking building, although he would not hesitate
to break into an ordinary shed. The best kind of trap is a gun set with
a line, and the bait placed so that the line must be touched as the
animal advances toward it. This is certain destruction to the leopard,
but it is extremely dangerous, in case any stranger should happen to be
in the neighborhood who might inadvertently touch the cord.
Leopards are particularly fond of stealing dogs, and have frequently
taken them from the very verandas of the houses at Newera Ellia in the
dusk of the evening. Two or three cases have occurred within the last
two years where they have actually sprung out upon dogs who have been
accompanying their owners upon the high road in broad daylight. Their
destruction should be encouraged by a government reward of one pound
per head, in which case their number would be materially decreased in a
few years.
The best traps for chetahs would be very powerful vermin-gins, made
expressly of great size and strength, so as to lie one foot square when
open. Even a common jackal-trap would hold a leopard, provided the
chain was fastened to an elastic bough, so that it would yield slightly
to his spring; but if it were secured to a post, or to anything that
would enable him to get a dead pull against it, something would most
likely give way. I have constantly set these traps for them, but
always without success, as some other kind of vermin is nearly certain
to spring the trap before the chetah's arrival. Among the variety of
small animals thus caught I have frequently taken the civet cat. This
is a very pretty arid curious creature, about forty inches long from
nose to tip of tail. The fur is ash-gray, mottled with black spots,
and the tail is divided by numerous black rings. It is of the genius
Viverra, and is exceedingly fierce when attacked. It preys chiefly
upon fowls, hares, rats, etc. Its great peculiarity is the musk-bag or
gland situated nearly under the tail; this is a projecting and valued
gland, which secretes the musk, and is used medicinally by the
Cingalese, on which account it is valued at about six shillings a pod.
The smell is very powerful, and in my opinion very offensive, when the
animal is alive; but when a pod of musk is extracted and dried, it has
nothing more than the well-known scent of that used by perfumers. The
latter is more frequently the production of the musk-deer, although the
scent is possessed by many animals, and also insects, as the musk-ox,
the musk-deer, the civet or musk-cat, the musk-rat, the musk-beetle,
etc.
Of these, the musk-rat is a terrible plague, as he perfumes everything
that he passes over, rendering fruit, cake, bread, etc., perfectly
uneatable, and even flavoring bottled wine by running over the bottles.
This, however, requires a little explanation, although it is the
popular belief that he taints the wine through the glass.
The fact is, he taints the cork, and the flavor of musk is communicated
to the wine during the process of uncorking the bottle.
There is a great variety of rats in Ceylon, from the tiny shrew to the
large "bandicoot". This is a most destructive creature in all gardens,
particularly among potato crops, whole rows of which he digs out and
devours. He is a perfect rat in appearance, but he would rather
astonish one of our English tom-cats if encountered during his rambles
in search of rats, as the "bandicoot" is about the same size as the cat.
There is an immense variety of vermin throughout Ceylon, including many
of that useful species the ichneumon, who in courage and strength
stands first of his tribe. The destruction of snakes by this animal
renders him particularly respected, and no person ever thinks of
destroying him. No matter how venomous the snake, the ichneumon, or
mongoose, goes straight at him, and never gives up the contest until
the snake is vanquished.
It is the popular belief that the mongoose eats some herb which has the
property of counteracting the effects of a venomous bite; but this has
been proved to be a fallacy, as pitched battles have been witnessed
between a mongoose and the most poisonous snakes in a closed room,
where there was no possibility of his procuring the antidote. His
power consists in his vigilance and activity; he avoids the dart of the
snake, and adroitly pins him by the back of the neck. Here he maintains
his hold, in spite of the contortions and convulsive writhing of the
snake, until he succeeds in breaking the spine. A mongoose is about
three feet long from the nose to the tip of the tail, and is of the
same genus as the civet cat. Unfortunately, he does not confine his
destruction to vermin, but now and then pays a visit to a hen-roost,
and sometimes, poor fellow! he puts his foot in the traps.
Ceylon can produce an enticing catalogue of attractions, from the
smallest to the largest of the enemies to the human race--ticks, bugs,
fleas, tarantulas, centipedes, scorpions, leeches, snakes, lizards,
crocodiles, etc., of which more hereafter.