somewhat loosely described[1], which would be too violent a motion for
so vast a body; but a shuffle, that he can increase at pleasure to a
pace as rapid as that of a man at full speed, but which he cannot
maintain for any considerable distance.
[Footnote 1: _Menageries, &c_. "The elephant," ch. i. Sir CHARLES BELL,
in his essay on _The Hand and its Mechanism_, which forms one of the
"Bridgewater Treatises," has exhibited the reasons deducible from
organisation, which show the incapacity of the elephant to _spring_ or
_leap_ like the horse and other animals whose structure is designed to
facilitate agility and speed. In them the various bones of the shoulder
and fore limbs, especially the clavicle and humerus, are set at such an
angle, that the shock in descending is modified, and the joints and
sockets protected from the injury occasioned by concussion. But in the
elephant, where the weight of the body is immense, the bones of the leg,
in order to present solidify and strength to sustain it, are built in
one firm and perpendicular column; instead of being placed somewhat
obliquely at their points of contact. Thus whilst the force of the
weight in descending is broken and distributed by this arrangement in
the case of the horse; it would be so concentrated in the elephant as to
endanger every joint from the toe to the shoulder.]
[Illustration]
It is to the structure of the knee-joint that the elephant is indebted
for his singular facility in ascending and descending steep activities,
climbing rocks and traversing precipitous ledges, where even a mule dare
not venture; and this again leads to the correction of another generally
received error, that his legs are "formed more for strength than
flexibility, and fitted to bear an enormous weight upon a level surface,
without the necessity of ascending or descending great acclivities."[1]
The same authority assumes that, although the elephant is found in the
neighbourhood of mountainous ranges, and will even ascend rocky passes,
such a service is a violation of its natural habits.
[Footnote 1: _Menageries, &c_., "The Elephant," ch. ii.]
Of the elephant of Africa I am not qualified to speak, nor of the nature
of the ground which it most frequents; but certainly the facts in
connection with the elephant of India are all irreconcilable with the
theory mentioned above. In Bengal, in the Nilgherries, in Nepal, in
Burmah, in Siam, Sumatra, and Ceylon, the districts in which the
elephants most abound, are all hilly and mountainous. In the latter,
especially, there is not a range so elevated as to be inaccessible to
them. On the very summit of Adam's Peak, at an altitude of 7,420 feet,
and on a pinnacle which the pilgrims climb with difficulty, by means of
steps hewn in the rock, Major Skinner, in 1840, found the spoor of an
elephant.
Prior to 1840, and before coffee-plantations had been extensively opened
in the Kandyan ranges, there was not a mountain or a lofty feature of
land of Ceylon which they had not traversed, in their periodical
migrations in search of water; and the sagacity which they display in
"laying out roads" is almost incredible. They generally keep along the
_backbone_ of a chain of hills, avoiding steep gradients: and one
curious observation was not lost upon the government surveyors, that in
crossing the valleys from ridge to ridge, through forests so dense as
altogether to obstruct a distant view, the elephants invariably select
the line of march which communicates most judiciously with the opposite
point, by means of _the safest ford_.[1] So sure-footed are they, that
there are few places where man can go that an elephant cannot follow,
provided there be space to admit his bulk, and solidity to sustain his
weight.
[Footnote 1: Dr. HOOKER, in describing the ascent of the Himalayas,
says, the natives in making their paths despise all zigzags, and run in
straight lines up the steepest hill faces; whilst "the elephant's path
is an excellent specimen of engineering--the opposite of the native
track,--for it winds judiciously."--_Himalayan Journal_, vol. i. ch.
iv.]
This faculty is almost entirely derived from the unusual position, as
compared with other quadrupeds, of the knee joint of the hind leg;
arising from the superior length of the thigh-bone, and the shortness of
the metatarsus: the heel being almost where it projects in man, instead
of being lifted up as a "hock." It is this which enables him, in
descending declivities, to depress and adjust the weight of his hinder
portions, which would otherwise overbalance and force him headlong.[1]
It is by the same arrangement that he is enabled, on uneven ground, to
lift his feet, which are tender and sensitive, with delicacy, and plant
them with such precision as to ensure his own safety as well as that of
objects which it is expedient to avoid touching.
[Footnote 1: Since the above passage was written, I have seen in the
_Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal_, vol. xiii, pt. ii. p. 916, a
paper upon this subject, illustrated by the subjoined diagram.
The writer says, "an elephant descending a bank of too acute an angle to
admit of his walking down it direct, (which, were he to attempt, his
huge tody, soon disarranging the centre of gravity, would certainly
topple over,) proceeds thus. His first manoeuvre is to kneel down close
to the edge of the declivity, placing his chest to the ground: one
fore-leg is then cautiously passed a short way down the slope; and if
there is no natural protection to afford a firm footing, he speedily
forms one by stamping into the soil if moist, or kicking out a footing
if dry. This point gained, the other fore-leg is brought down in the
same way; and performs the same work, a little in advance of the first;
which is thus at liberty to move lower still. Then, first one and then
the second of the hind legs is carefully drawn over the side, and the
hind-feet in turn occupy the resting-places previously used and left by
the fore ones. The course, however, in such precipitous ground is not
straight from top to bottom, but slopes along the face of the bank,
descending till the animal gains the level below. This an elephant has
done, at an angle of 45 degrees, carrying a _howdah_, its occupant, his
attendant, and sporting apparatus; and in a much less time than it takes
to describe the operation." I have observed that an elephant in
descending a declivity uses his knees, on the side next the bank; and
his feet on the lower side only.
[Illustration]]
A _herd_ of elephants is a family, not a group whom accident or
attachment may have induced to associate together. Similarity of
features and caste attest that, among the various individuals which
compose it, there is a common lineage and relationship. In a herd of
twenty-one elephants, captured in 1844, the trunks of each individual
presented the same peculiar formation,--long, and almost of one uniform
breadth throughout, instead of tapering gradually from the root to the
nostril. In another instance, the eyes of thirty-five taken in one
corral were of the same colour in each. The same slope of the back, the
same form of the forehead, is to be detected in the majority of the same
group.
In the forest several herds will browse in close contiguity, and in
their expeditions in search of water they may form a body of possibly
one or two hundred; but on the slightest disturbance each distinct herd
hastens to re-form within its own particular circle, and to take
measures on its own behalf for retreat or defence.
The natives of any place which may chance to be frequented by elephants,
observe that the numbers of the same herd fluctuate very slightly; and
hunters in pursuit of them, who may chance to have shot one or more,
always reckon with certainty the precise number of those remaining,
although a considerable interval may intervene before they again
encounter them. The proportion of males is generally small, and some
herds have been seen composed exclusively of females; possibly in
consequence of the males having been shot. A herd usually consists of
from ten to twenty individuals, though occasionally they exceed the
latter number; and in their frequent migrations and nightly resort to
tanks and water-courses, alliances are formed between members of
associated herds, which serve to introduce new blood into the family.
In illustration of the attachment of the elephant to its young, the
authority of KNOX has been quoted, that "the shees are alike tender of
any one's young ones as of their own."[1] Their affection in this
particular is undoubted, but I question whether it exceeds that of other
animals; and the trait thus adduced of their indiscriminate kindness to
all the young of the herd,--of which I have myself been an
eye-witness,--so far from being an evidence of the strength of parental
attachment individually, is, perhaps, somewhat inconsistent with the
existence of such a passion to any extraordinary degree.[2] In fact,
some individuals, who have had extensive facilities for observation,
doubt whether the fondness of the female elephants for their offspring
is so great as that of many other animals; as instances are not wanting
in Ceylon, in which, when pursued by the hunters, the herd has abandoned
the young ones in their flight, notwithstanding the cries of the latter
for help.
[Footnote 1: A correspondent of Buffon, M. MARCELLUS BLES, Seigneur de
Moergestal, who resided eleven years in Ceylon in the time of the Dutch,
says in one of his communications, that in herds of forty or fifty,
enclosed in a single corral, there were frequently very young calves;
and that "on ne pouvoit pas reconnaître quelles étoient les mères de
chacun de ces petits éléphans, car tous ces jeunes animaux paroissent
faire manse commune; ils têtent indistinctement celles des femelles de
toute la troupe qui ont du lait, soit qu'elles aient elles-mêmes un
petit en propre, soit qu'elles n'en aient point."--BUFFON, _Suppl. à
l'Hist. des Anim._, vol. vi. p. 25.]
[Footnote 2: WHITE, in his _Natural History of Selborne_, philosophising
on the fact which had fallen under his own notice of this indiscriminate
suckling of the young of one animal by the parent of another, is
disposed to ascribe it to a selfish feeling; the pleasure and relief of
having its distended teats drawn by this intervention. He notices the
circumstance of a leveret having been thus nursed by a cat, whose
kittens had been recently drowned: and observes, that "this strange
affection was probably occasioned by that desiderium, those tender
maternal feelings, which the loss of her kittens had awakened in her
breast; and by the complacency and ease she derived to herself from
procuring her teats to be drawn, which were too much distended with
milk; till from habit she became as much delighted with this foundling
as if it had been her real offspring. This incident is no bad solution
of that strange circumstance which grave historians, as well as the
poets, assert of exposed children being sometimes nurtured by female
wild beasts that probably had lost their young. For it is not one whit
more marvellous that Romulus and Remus in their infant state should be
nursed by a she wolf than that a poor little suckling leveret should be
fostered and cherished by a bloody Grimalkin."--WHITE'S _Selborne_,
lett. xx.]
In an interesting paper on the habits of the Indian elephant, published
in the _Philosophical Transactions for_ 1793, Mr. CORSE says: "If a wild
elephant happens to be separated from its young for only two days,
though giving suck, she never after recognises or acknowledges it,"
although the young one evidently knows its dam, and by its plaintive
cries and submissive approaches solicits her assistance.
If by any accident an elephant becomes hopelessly separated from his own
herd, he is not permitted to attach himself to any other. He may browse
in the vicinity, or frequent the same place to drink and to bathe; but
the intercourse is only on a distant and conventional footing, and no
familiarity or intimate association is under any circumstances
permitted. To such a height is this exclusiveness carried, that even
amidst the terror and stupefaction of an elephant corral, when an
individual, detached from his own party in the _mêlée_ and confusion,
has been driven into the enclosure with an unbroken herd, I have seen
him repulsed in every attempt to take refuge among them, and driven off
by heavy blows with their trunks as often as he attempted to insinuate
himself within the circle which they had formed for common security.
There can be no reasonable doubt that this jealous and exclusive policy
not only contributes to produce, but mainly serves to perpetuate, the
class of solitary elephants which are known by the term _goondahs_, in
India, and which from their vicious propensities and predatory habits
are called _Hora_, or _Rogues_, in Ceylon.[1]
It is believed by the Singhalese that these are either individuals, who
by accident have lost their former associates and become morose and
savage from rage and solitude; or else that being naturally vicious they
have become daring from the yielding habits of their milder companions,
and eventually separated themselves from the rest of the herd which had
refused to associate with them. Another conjecture is, that being almost
universally males, the death or capture of particular females may have
detached them from their former companions in search of fresh
alliances.[2] It is also believed that a tame elephant escaping from
captivity, unable to rejoin its former herd, and excluded from any
other, becomes a "_rogue_" from necessity. In Ceylon it is generally
believed that the _rogues_ are all males (but of this I am not certain),
and so sullen is their disposition that although two may be in the same
vicinity, there is no known instance of their associating, or of a
_rogue_ being seen in company with another elephant.
[Footnote 1: The term "rogue" is scarcely sufficiently accounted for by
supposing it to be the English equivalent for the Singhalese word
_Hora_. In that very curious book, the _Life and Adventures of_ JOHN
CHRISTOPHER WOLF, _late principal Secretary at Jaffnapatam in Ceylon_,
the author says, when a male elephant in a quarrel about the females "is
beat out of the field and obliged to go without a consort, he becomes
furious and mad, killing every living creature, be it man or beast: and
in this state is called _ronkedor_, an object of greater terror to a
traveller than a hundred wild ones."--P. 142. In another passage, p.
164, he is called _runkedor_, and I have seen it spelt elsewhere
_ronquedue_, WOLF does not give "_ronkedor_" as a term peculiar to that
section of the island; but both there and elsewhere, it is obsolete at
the present day, unless it be open to conjecture that the modern term
"rogue" is a modification of _ronquedue._]
[Footnote 2: BUCHANAN, in his _Survey of Bhagulpore_, p. 503, says that
solitary males of the wild buffalo, "when driven from the herd by
stronger competitors for female society, are reckoned very dangerous to
meet with; for they are apt to wreak their vengeance on whatever they
meet, and are said to kill annually three or four people." LIVINGSTONE
relates the same of the solitary hippopotamus which becomes soured in
temper, and wantonly attacks the passing canoes.--_Travels in South
Africa_, p. 231.]
They spend their nights in marauding, often about the dwellings of men,
destroying their plantations, trampling down their gardens, and
committing serious ravages in rice grounds and young coco-nut
plantations. Hence from their closer contact with man and his dwellings,
these outcasts become disabused of many of the terrors which render the
ordinary elephant timid and needlessly cautious; they break through
fences without fear; and even in the daylight a _rogue_ has been known
near Ambogammoa to watch a field of labourers at work in reaping rice,
and boldly to walk in amongst them, seize a sheaf from the heap, and
retire leisurely to the jungle. By day they generally seek concealment,
but are frequently to be met with prowling about the by-roads and jungle
paths, where travellers are exposed to the utmost risk from their savage
assaults. It is probable that this hostility to man is the result of the
enmity engendered by those measures which the natives, who have a
constant dread of their visits, adopt for the protection of their
growing crops. In some districts, especially in the low country of
Badulla, the villagers occasionally enclose their cottages with rude
walls of earth and branches to protect them from nightly assaults. In
places infested by them, the visits of European sportsmen to the
vicinity of their haunts are eagerly encouraged by the natives, who
think themselves happy in lending their services to track the ordinary
herds in consideration of the benefit conferred on the village
communities by the destruction of a rogue. In 1847 one of these
formidable creatures frequented for some months the Rangbodde Pass on
the great mountain road leading to the sanatarium, at Neuera-ellia; and
amongst other excesses, killed a Caffre belonging to the corps of Caffre
pioneers, by seizing him with its trunk and beating him to death against
the bank.
To return to the herd: one member of it, usually the largest and most
powerful, is by common consent implicitly followed as leader. A tusker,
if there be one in the party, is generally observed to be the commander;
but a female, if of superior energy, is as readily obeyed as a male. In
fact, in this promotion there is no reason to doubt that supremacy is
almost unconsciously assumed by those endowed with superior vigour and
courage rather than from the accidental possession of greater bodily
strength; and the devotion and loyalty which the herd evince to their
leader are very remarkable. This is more readily seen in the case of a
tusker than any other, because in a herd he is generally the object of
the keenest pursuit by the hunters. On such occasions the others do
their utmost to protect him from danger: when driven to extremity they
place their leader in the centre and crowd so eagerly in front of him
that the sportsmen have to shoot a number which they might otherwise
have spared. In one instance a tusker, which was badly wounded by Major
ROGERS, was promptly surrounded by his companions, who supported him
between their shoulders, and actually succeeded in covering his retreat
to the forest.
Those who have lived much in the jungle in Ceylon, and who have had
constant opportunities of watching the habits of wild elephants, have
witnessed instances of the submission of herds to their leaders, that
suggest an inquiry of singular interest as to the means adopted by the
latter to communicate with distinctness, orders which are observed with
the most implicit obedience by their followers. The following narrative
of an adventure in the great central forest toward the north of the
island, communicated to me by Major SKINNER, who was engaged for some
time in surveying and opening roads through the thickly-wooded districts
there, will serve better than any abstract description to convey an idea
of the conduct of a herd on such occasions:--
"The case you refer to struck me as exhibiting something more than
ordinary brute instinct, and approached nearer to reasoning powers than
any other instance I can now remember. I cannot do justice to the scene,
although it appeared to me at the time to be so remarkable that it left
a deep impression in my mind.
"In the height of the dry season in Neuera-Kalawa, you know the streams
are all dried up, and the tanks nearly so. All animals are then sorely
pressed for water, and they congregate in the vicinity of those tanks in
which there may remain ever so little of the precious element.
"During one of those seasons I was encamped on the bund or embankment of
a very small tank, the water in which was so dried that its surface
could not have exceeded an area of 500 square yards. It was the only
pond within many miles, and I knew that of necessity a very large herd
of elephants, which had been in the neighbourhood all day, must resort
to it at night.
"On the lower side of the tank, and in a line with the embankment, was a
thick forest, in which the elephants sheltered themselves during the
day. On the upper side and all around the tank there was a considerable
margin of open ground. It was one of those beautiful bright, clear,
moonlight nights, when objects could be seen almost as distinctly as by
day, and I determined to avail myself of the opportunity to observe the
movements of the herd, which had already manifested some uneasiness at
our presence. The locality was very favourable for my purpose, and an
enormous tree projecting over the tank afforded me a secure lodgement in
its branches. Having ordered the fires of my camp to be extinguished at
an early hour, and all my followers to retire to rest, I took up my post
of observation on the overhanging bough; but I had to remain for upwards
of two hours before anything was to be seen or heard of the elephants,
although I knew they were within 500 yards of me. At length, about the
distance of 300 yards from the water, an unusually large elephant issued
from the dense cover, and advanced cautiously across the open ground to
within 100 yards of the tank, where he stood perfectly motionless. So
quiet had the elephants become (although they had been roaring and
breaking the jungle throughout the day and evening), that not a movement
was now to be heard. The huge vidette remained in his position, still as
a rock, for a few minutes, and then made three successive stealthy
advances of several yards (halting for some minutes between each, with
ears bent forward to catch the slightest sound), and in this way he
moved slowly up to the water's edge. Still he did not venture to quench
his thirst, for though his fore-feet were partially in the tank and his
vast body was reflected clear in the water, he remained for some minutes
listening in perfect stillness. Not a motion could be perceived in
himself or his shadow. He returned cautiously and slowly to the position
he had at first taken up on emerging from the forest. Here in a little
while he was joined by five others, with which he again proceeded as
cautiously, but less slowly than before, to within a few yards of the
tank, and then posted his patrols. He then re-entered the forest and
collected around him the whole herd, which must have amounted to between
80 and 100 individuals,--led them across the open ground with the most
extraordinary composure and quietness, till he joined the advanced
guard, when he left them for a moment and repeated his former
reconnoissance at the edge of the tank. After which, having apparently
satisfied himself that all was safe, he returned and obviously gave the
order to advance, for in a moment the whole herd rushed into the water
with a degree of unreserved confidence, so opposite to the caution and
timidity which had marked their previous movements, that nothing will
ever persuade me that there was not rational and preconcerted
co-operation throughout the whole party, and a degree of responsible
authority exercised by the patriarch leader.
"When the poor animals had gained possession of the tank (the leader
being the last to enter), they seemed to abandon themselves to enjoyment
without restraint or apprehension of danger. Such a mass of animal life
I had never before seen huddled together in so narrow a space. It seemed
to me as though they would have nearly drunk the tank dry. I watched
them with great interest until they had satisfied themselves as well in
bathing as in drinking, when I tried how small a noise would apprise
them of the proximity of unwelcome neighbours. I had but to break a
little twig, and the solid mass instantly took to flight like a herd of
frightened deer, each of the smaller calves being apparently shouldered
and carried along between two of the older ones."[1]
[Footnote 1: Letter from Major SKINNER.]