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THE TRAINING OF WILD ANIMALS
[Illustration: Frank C Bostock]
THE TRAINING OF WILD ANIMALS
by
FRANK C. BOSTOCK
Edited by
Ellen Velvin, F.Z.S.
Author of “Rataplan: a Rogue
Elephant,” etc.
[Illustration]
New York
The Century Co.
Copyright, 1903, by
The Century Co.
Published July, 1903
Printed in U. S. A.
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
TO MY SON
FRANCIS EDWARD BOSTOCK
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I IN WHICH I BECOME “THE BOY TRAINER”--A LION HUNT IN A SEWER 3
II ORIGIN AND HISTORY OF WILD-ANIMAL TRAINING 23
III HOUSEKEEPING FOR WILD ANIMALS 34
IV THE FEEDING OF SNAKES AND ELEPHANTS 61
V CHARACTERISTICS OF DIFFERENT ANIMALS 76
VI “GOING BAD”--ANIMAL INSTINCT 97
VII HOW WILD ANIMALS ARE CAPTURED 109
VIII THE WILD ANIMALS’ KINDERGARTEN 120
IX HOW WILD ANIMALS ARE TAUGHT TRICKS 143
X AN ANIMAL SHOW AT NIGHT 166
XI THE PRINCIPLES OF TRAINING 182
XII THE ANIMAL TRAINER--SOME FAMOUS TRAINERS 202
XIII GUARDING AGAINST ACCIDENTS 226
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Frank C. Bostock _Frontispiece_
Mr. Bostock and his eight lions 9
*Herman Weedon and his group of lions, tiger, brown, Tibet,
and sloth bears, Silesian boarhounds, and hyena 20
*The towering of the kings 26
“The Three Graces” 35
“Denver” and “Cæsar” 41
Mlle. Aurora and her polar bears 48
Lion monarchs in infancy 57
“Brandu,” the snake-charmer 64
M. Johnson and his trained elephant 70
*The old arm-chair 79
Madame Pianka 85
From a photograph by Chickering
Mr. Charles Miller and his Bengal tigers 95
Queer friends--camel, lionesses, and dromedary 106
Wild ass, quagga, and zebras 111
*Teaching a lion to ride a tricycle 122
Polar bear used at Pan-American Exposition for drawing
children’s carriage 127
Elephants and trainer 137
Trained but not tamed 148
“Depew” 154
*A difficult feat 163
*“Doc” balancing himself on a ball placed on a see-saw 169
*Jaguars, leopards, and panthers 179
*Exchanging confidences 190
The largest number of lions ever grouped 196
*Herman Weedon defying his fiercest lion 205
Captain Jack Bonavita 211
From a photograph by Frank
*Madame Morelli and her jaguars, panthers, and leopards 221
“Consul,” the chimpanzee 232
*Captain Bonavita carrying a lion weighing five hundred
pounds 238
Mr. Sam Stevenson 247
From a photograph by Frank
Polar bears at play 253
* From photographs by Hall.
EDITOR’S NOTE
Before editing this book, I took the opportunity offered by Mr. Frank
C. Bostock of practically living in one of his animal exhibitions for a
few weeks, in order to see things as they were, and not as I had always
heard of them.
I was allowed to go in and out at all times and all hours; to enter
the training-schools whenever I liked; to go behind the runways and
cages,--a special privilege given to the trainers only, as a rule,--and
to be a spectator of whatever happened to be going on at the time.
The thing which interested me most, and to which I paid special
attention, was that at no time in this exhibition did I once see the
slightest act of cruelty in any way. Each one of the trainers and
keepers had pride in his own special animals, and I had many proofs
of their kindness and consideration to their charges. The sick animals
were most carefully looked after and doctored, and in one case of a
lion cub having convulsions, I noticed dim eyes in more than one keeper
when the poor little animal was convulsed and racked with suffering.
Had I seen the least cruelty or neglect in any way, I need scarcely say
nothing would have induced me to edit this book.
ELLEN VELVIN.
NEW YORK CITY,
June 8th, 1903.
PREFACE
The big and little men and women of the jungle have ever fascinated me.
As a child, I used often to romp with cubs attached to the traveling
menageries of my parents and grandfather. Most of my boyhood, and
virtually all of my youth, was passed in the almost daily companionship
of wild animals. At no time have these far-traveled aliens failed
to interest me. Indeed, I believe the subject engrosses me more
to-day than it ever did. No two members of a species are alike. Their
individualities are as clearly marked as are ours of the bigger
life. I early learned that certain traits of my animal acquaintances
were easily to be likened to qualities of real men and women. Longer
acquaintance ripened my knowledge and understanding. Many and many a
lion and tiger have I known that were quite as mean and untrustworthy
as men. Others I met in plenty who would scorn an unfair advantage.
Most of them I found to be fair, considerate, friendly, and genuinely
affectionate. In time I learned to understand my fellows of the
cages, got as close, perhaps, as it is possible for man to get to
mute creatures, and enjoyed the assurance that they understood and
appreciated me.
In my earlier years, I didn’t, I fear, altogether appreciate the good
fortune of this companionship; but later, when maturity and reflection
illumined my way, I was duly grateful for these friends, and, from
being fond of but some, gradually grew to love all. Recognizing as I
did with my broadening life the limitations of their knowledge of us, I
learned not to blame the slow or the rebellious.
At about this period of my career as a trainer and exhibitor, it
occurred to me that perhaps I was wrong in being the jailer of these
friends; that doubtless their original freedom of forest, desert, and
jungle was their right,--one that could not be trespassed upon with
honesty. The question of whether I was wrong or right bothered me for
a long while, and many an ache I had while wrestling with it. I saw
these untamed men and women back in their own; saw them crouching at
night in hidden fastnesses, awaiting the coming of prey; saw tragedies
of the jungle; recalled too frequent ravages of human life, sometimes
from hunger and again through sheer lust. I traced to authentic
sources long records of these acquaintances of mine found on their own
playgrounds dying and dead from hunger and thirst or the shot of the
hunter of sport or gain. I thought, in these reflections, of the horse
in his first wild state, of the zebra and the elephant; how these had
been reclaimed from truculence with benefit to themselves and humanity.
I considered, too, the demands of modern education, the obligations of
natural historians, the incalculable value of living objects for study.
I knew my friends of the jungle suffered no discomforts with me.
My problem then resolved itself to this: Should I recommit my charges
back to their own, and cease abetting further captures, or should I
continue to guard and cherish my friends, thus saving them and their
weaker neighbors from the certain evils of the wilds?
Surely, I reasoned, their better welfare is assured here with me;
they never hunger, thirst, suffer violent deaths, nor administer any.
Incontestably they show that captivity is not a hardship. Feeling thus,
can I conscientiously abandon them, where by continuing I may benefit
them and others.
The result of these and like deliberations was a decision to continue
the work of my forebears.
The training of my dumb companions is never cruel,--less so, perhaps,
when the difference of organization is considered, than the firmness
exercised occasionally in the correction of an evilly disposed child.
Kindness is the whip used to lead wild animals to obey. Without it
none can be made to understand. With confidence, established and
maintained by kindness and gentleness, the most savage beast may be
transformed into a willing and even eager pupil. Of course, there are
limitations to the intelligence of wild animals. These limitations
are pretty clearly established. The pupils are invariably capable of
greater understanding and achievement than they are ever called upon
to display. It is quite probable that other generations will carry
wild-animal training further, but at the stage at which I have stopped
I am content. I understand my associates, and know they understand me.
I should be sorry to learn that the thoughtful of the public denied to
my devotion the instructive and humane incentives that have sustained
it.
For some of the matter of the volume, incorporated from an article†
on wild-animal training, written after an interview with me, I wish to
express my thanks to Mr. S.H. Adams.
F. C. B.
† “The Training of Lions, Tigers, and other Great Cats,” by
Samuel Hopkins Adams, “McClure’s Magazine,” September, 1900.
THE TRAINING OF WILD ANIMALS
CHAPTER I
IN WHICH I BECOME “THE BOY TRAINER”--A LION HUNT IN A SEWER
Although my family was one of animal trainers and exhibitors, my father
did not wish me to follow so hazardous a profession, and decided that I
should become a clergyman of the Church of England. My early education
was carefully looked after, and having completed my preparatory course
under private tutors, I finally went to Kelvedon College in Essex,
England, where I did well. I was fond of study, had good masters,--who
always impressed upon me the fact that “he who would hope to command
must learn to obey,”--and gained some honors.
But during one vacation I went home and saw my father’s wild-animal
exhibition, and there all the glamour and fascination of the show came
upon me. There is no doubt I had inherited my father’s instincts. The
lion-tamer my father had at that time was the great feature of the
show. It struck me, however, that he was extremely cruel, and being
very fond of animals myself, this aroused my indignation. I spoke to my
father about it rather warmly, but he, evidently thinking it a boy’s
impetuosity, laughed it off, saying the man was only protecting himself.
That same evening, however, the trainer handled the lion so roughly
that, enraged at the injustice and indignities to which he was
subjected, the animal suddenly turned upon him, and would certainly
have killed him had not prompt assistance been rendered.
Wrought up and excited by the occurrence, I begged my father to let me
take his place, but he would not hear of it. The next day I took the
law into my own hands, and it was in the lion’s cage that my father
found me, to his horror, when casually going the rounds of the show. He
watched me for a while in fear and trembling, and then said, his voice
quivering with anger and fright:
“If ever you get out of there alive, my lad, I’ll give you the biggest
thrashing you ever had in your life.”
But he didn’t. He was so overjoyed at my safety and so proud of my
success, that after much persuasion I got him to allow me to take the
place of the incapacitated trainer. I was fifteen at this time, and was
called “The Boy Trainer.” From that time my college days were over,
and I knew there could never be any other life for me than that of a
trainer and showman.
I have never regretted this step; but I often look back upon my
peaceful college days with great pleasure, for they laid the foundation
of good principles, self-control, and discipline; and I have always
made it my chief endeavor never to allow anything the least vulgar or
offensive in my exhibitions.
There is a fascination about wild-animal training which few who
have once felt it escape. The constant presence of danger calls for
quick judgment and promptness in meeting an emergency. A thrilling
experience of mine in Birmingham, England, in 1889, may show the
critical situation in which a wild-animal showman is sometimes placed.
A country fair was being held at the time, very similar to the fairs
held in America, which bring into the city country people from all
parts, most of whom look upon them as events in their lives.
We had a remarkably fine specimen of an African lion at that time; well
formed, well grown, with a handsome head and shoulders covered with a
fine darkish mane. He had been much admired, and had been referred to
by several naturalists as a typical king of beasts for his haughtiness
and dignified bearing.
This lion was, however, one of the greatest worries and anxieties I
have ever had. He had killed one man, and wounded several attendants,
so powerful were his paws, and so quick his movements in reaching out
of his cage. He required the most careful watching at all times, and
was a very difficult animal to manage, in spite of unlimited time
and patience spent on him. Kindness had no effect on him whatever.
Special dainties he took with a growl, watching all the time for the
least opportunity to grab and tear the giver. To attempt any sort of
punishment or discipline with him would have been fatal; he was far
too dangerous an animal to risk arousing his wild nature, and the
only thing we could do was to keep him perfectly quiet, see that he
was not irritated in any way, and was made as comfortable and happy
as was possible, with good food, a clean house, and another lion for
companionship.
The second lion was removed from the malcontent by an iron partition,
as it appeared a little doubtful how he would be received. We intended
transferring both lions on the opening day to a much larger cage, where
they would have more space and comfort, and also have a much better
opportunity of being seen.
The opening day was remarkable for its fine weather; crowds of people
were flocking into the city from all parts, and everything promised to
be a huge success. We ran one of our big cages on wheels up to the cage
containing the two lions, and placing the cages door to door, dropped
a lasso over the quiet lion’s neck, and by gentle twitches induced him
to enter the big cage.
Then we tried the same tactics with the African lion, but with very
different results. Time after time he slipped the noose from his great
body and tore madly up and down the cage, as though possessed of the
strength of twenty lions. We waited a few minutes until he stopped to
roar, and then once more slipped the rope over him. With a terrific
wrench and twist he got himself free, and with such a wild bound that
the cages shook again he sprang into the next cage so suddenly, and
with such terrific force as to cause the wagon to move away upon its
wheels; and before the attendants could close the door, he sprang over
their heads and into the street, where for the time he was as free and
untrammeled as when in his native wilds.
[Illustration: MR. BOSTOCK AND HIS EIGHT LIONS]
To approach him probably meant death, but in spite of this we tried to
capture him with ropes and the lasso, but without success. Suddenly
he turned back, dashed through the lions’ tent to the rear of the
building, pushed himself through a rift, and made off for the city of
Birmingham, which contained at that time over two hundred thousand
people.
On his way he came to one of the openings of the many sewers which
empty the waste of the city, and down he sprang, looking up at the
crowd of people and roaring at the top of his voice. In about twenty
minutes nearly every person in Birmingham knew what had happened,
and the greatest consternation prevailed everywhere. The fear was
intensified by the fact that as the lion made his way through the
sewers, he stopped at every manhole he came to, and there sent up a
succession of roars that echoed and reverberated until the very earth
seemed to be full of weird sounds, driving some of the people nearly
wild with terror.
I was at my wits’ end. There was the danger of the lion escaping from
the sewer at any moment and killing some one, for which I should be
responsible, while there was also the greater danger that there would
be a riot among the crowd. Something must be done to allay their
fears, and quickly. People were beginning to flock toward the menagerie
in thousands, with anything but complimentary speeches.
After one of the worst quarters of an hour I ever spent, I gathered
as many of my men as could be spared from the show, put a lion into
a large shifting-cage, and covering the whole thing with canvas, in
order that the lion should not be seen, we set off for the mouth of the
sewer, all armed with as many ropes, pitchforks, pistols, etc., as we
could carry. On arriving, we placed the cage at the mouth of the sewer,
with the door facing it. I knew perfectly well that the lion would
much prefer to remain in his cage than to enter the darkness of that
evil-smelling sewer, and so it proved.
Then, with three of my attendants, I went three blocks back, lowering
ropes down each of the manholes on our way until we pretended we had
found the lion, and then I lowered myself into the depths through the
third manhole. The next thing was to fire blank cartridges, blow horns,
and shout as loudly as possible, and, owing to the peculiar echo, the
noise was deafening. One of the attendants had been instructed at a
given signal to lift the iron door of the cage up and down quickly, and
then suddenly clap the door down with a shout.
Everything went off well. At the sound of the door closing, a shout
went up from the crowd:
“They’ve got him! They’ve got him! They’ve got the lion!”
The cage containing the lion was then driven quickly toward the
menagerie, with myself and attendants seated on top, followed by an
admiring crowd of thousands of people. When we finally reached the
front of the exhibition, some of the men in the crowd rushed forward
and carried me in victory on their shoulders into the menagerie, while
the cage containing the bogus lion was restored to its original place
in the menagerie. Over forty thousand people filed into the show, until
we were positively obliged to refuse admission to any more.
Meanwhile I was in a perfect bath of cold perspiration, for matters
were extremely serious, and I knew not what to do next. The fears
of the people were allayed for the time, and a probable riot had
been stopped only just in time, but the lion was still in the sewer.
He might get out at any moment--might be out even then, for all I
knew--or he might roar again and so let his whereabouts be known and my
deception, which would cause a greater riot than before.
As soon as possible I placed trusty men with iron bars at the mouth
of the sewer; and as, fortunately, the lion stopped his roaring, and
contented himself with perambulating up and down the sewer through
the narrow miles of tunneling, things were quiet for the time. When
everything had been done that was possible I went to bed, but as that
was the most anxious night I have ever had, it is scarcely necessary
for me to say that sleep was out of the question.
On the afternoon of the following day, the chief of police of
Birmingham came to see me, and congratulated me on my marvelous pluck
and daring. This made me feel worse than before, and I at once made
a clean breast of the whole thing. I shall never forget that man’s
face when he realized that the lion was still in the sewer: it was a
wonderful study for any mind-reader. At first he was inclined to blame
me; but when I showed him I had probably stopped a panic, and that my
own liabilities in the matter were pretty grave possibilities to face,
he sympathized with me, and added that any help he could give me, I
might have.
I at once asked for five hundred men of the police force, and also
asked that he would instruct the superintendent of sewers to send me
the bravest men he could spare, with their top-boots, ladders, ropes,
and revolvers with them, so that should the lion appear, any man could
do his best to shoot him at sight. We arranged that we should set out
at five minutes to twelve, midnight, so that we might avoid any crowd
following us, and so spreading the report.
At the appointed time, the police and sewer-men turned out, and I have
never seen so many murderous weapons at one time in my life. Each man
looked like a walking arsenal, but every one of them had been sworn
to secrecy, and there was determination and desire for adventure on
the face of each one. Among so many, and with so much ammunition, the
danger had diminished to a minimum, provided the lion did not get one
man at a time cornered in some narrow place.
The police and sewer-men were to be stationed at every manhole in every
district in which the lion was believed to be, within a radius of a
mile. The empty cage was brought and placed at the mouth of the sewer,
the other end of which had been blocked up so that the lion’s only
means of exit was the open door of the cage.
Then three trusty men and myself, accompanied by my giant boar-hound,
Marco, lowered ourselves into the manhole, crawling on our hands and
knees, and not knowing at any moment when we should come upon the lion.
With such suddenness that we all jumped, Marco gave a sharp bark,
followed by a curious throaty growl, and I knew that the faithful
creature had found the scent and was giving warning of the enemy’s
whereabouts.
This boar-hound of mine had been trained to perform with wild animals
and lions, and was a stanch and game fighter. He was not to be cowed by
any lion on earth, but if he could only once get a hold, would hang on
like grim death. As we went slowly and cautiously along, I suddenly saw
two gleaming eyes of greenish-red just beyond, and knew we were face to
face with the lion at last.
I at once sent one man back to shout the location of the runaway to
the others, and then, dropping on all fours, blowing horns, firing off
blank cartridges, and letting off Roman candles,--which spat and fizzed
in a most uncanny manner in the tunnel,--we went cautiously forward,
hoping to drive the lion to his cage, only two blocks away.
But at this juncture a terrific fight took place between the boar-hound
and the lion, and it is needless to say that the danger to all parties
under these circumstances in that narrow, dark sewer was extremely
great. It was not until the boar-hound had been severely slashed and
torn by the lion on his shoulders and hind quarters, and his head badly
bitten in several places, that he left his savage antagonist and came
to me with a whimper for protection. He had held on until he was at
his last gasp, and had let go only just in time to save his life. I
sent him back to the men to be taken care of, and then went on with the
fight myself.
Taking off my big jack-boots, I put them on my hands and arms, and
going up close to the lion, was fortunately able to hit him a stinging
blow on the nose with one of them. Fearing that he would split my
head open with a blow from one of his huge paws, I told one of my men
to place over my head a large iron kettle which we had used to carry
cartridges and other things to the sewer. While he was trying to fix
this, the kettle tipped and rolled over and went crashing down the
sewer, making a noise and racket which echoed and resounded throughout
the whole length of the narrow tunnel in the most appalling manner.
The lion, who had resisted everything else in the way of capture, at
once turned tail like a veritable coward, and, racing down the sewer at
a mad gallop, was soon lost to sight, as though the earth had suddenly
swallowed him. We wondered where he could have gone, as he had not
had time enough to run far, but following him up, we found him in a
sorry plight.
[Illustration: HERMAN WEEDON AND HIS GROUP OF LIONS, TIGER, BROWN,
TIBET, AND SLOTH BEARS, SILESIAN BOARHOUNDS, AND HYENA]
There was an eight-foot fall in the rear of the sewer, and this
was evidently his reason for being so reluctant to turn back until
frightened by the kettle. We did not know of this, and consequently
tumbled headlong into it. We were not hurt, and as the lion was now
roaring terrifically, we followed him up and soon found out the cause
of his trouble. In the act of falling he had caught his hind legs and
quarters in one of the slip-nooses which had been dropped down the
manhole to secure him, and was hanging head downward from the manhole.
Other strong ropes were let down immediately, for he would soon have
died in that position, and we were fortunate enough to secure his head
and fore paws. The cage was then placed at the manhole, and when we had
run the ropes through the cage and out over the sidewalk, the men began
to haul, and in this unkingly fashion the king of beasts was dragged
out of his prison and into his cage once more, where he never again had
an opportunity to escape. So I got the lion out of the sewer, as the
people of Birmingham supposed I did, only their praise and applause
were a little previous. But I hope never to have such another terrible
experience.