The tiger.--His habitat.--Shooting on foot.--Modes of shooting.--A
tiger hunt on foot.--The scene of the hunt.-The beat.--Incidents of
the hunt.--Fireworks.--The tiger charges.--The elephant bolts.--The
tigress will not break.--We kill a half-grown cub.--Try again for
the tigress.--Unsuccessful.--Exaggerations in tiger stories.--My
authorities.--The brothers S.--Ferocity and structure of the tiger.
--His devastations.--His frame-work, teeth, &c.--A tiger at bay.
--His unsociable habits.--Fight between tiger and tigress.--Young
tigers.--Power and strength of the tiger.--Examples.--His cowardice.
--Charge of a wounded tiger.--Incidents connected with wounded tigers.
--A spined tiger.--Boldness of young tigers.--Cruelty.--Cunning.--Night
scenes in the jungle.--Tiger killed by a wild boar.--His cautious
habits.--General remarks.
In the foregoing chapters I have tried to perform my promise, to give
a general idea of our daily life in India; our toils and trials, our
sports, our pastimes, and our general pursuits. No record of Indian
sport, however, would be complete without some allusion to the kingly
tiger, and no one can live long near the Nepaul frontier, without at
some time or other having an encounter with the royal robber--the
striped and whiskered monarch of the jungle.
He is always to be found in the Terai forests, and although very
occasionally indeed met with in Tirhoot, where the population is very
dense, and waste lands infrequent, he is yet often to be encountered
in the solitudes of Oudh or Goruchpore, has been shot at and killed
near Bettiah, and at our pig-sticking ground near Kuderent. In North
Bhaugulpore and Purneah he may be said to be ALWAYS at home, as he can
be met there, if you search for him, at all seasons of the year.
In some parts of India, notably in the Deccan, and in some districts
on the Bombay side, and even in the Soonderbunds near Calcutta,
sportsmen and shekarries go after the tiger on foot. I must confess
that this seems to me a mad thing to do. With every advantage of
weapon, with the most daring courage, and the most imperturbable
coolness, I think a man no fair match for a tiger in his native
jungles. There are men now living who have shot numbers of tigers on
foot, but the numerous fatal accidents recorded every year, plainly
shew the danger of such a mode of shooting.
In Central India, in the North-west, indeed in most districts where
elephants are not easily procurable, it is customary to erect
_mychans_ or bamboo platforms on trees. A line of beaters, with
tom-toms, drums, fireworks, and other means for creating a din, are
then sent into the jungle, to beat the tigers up to the platform on
which you sit and wait. This is often a successful mode if you secure
an advantageous place, but accidents to the beaters are very common,
and it is at best a weary and vexatious mode of shooting, as after all
your trouble the tiger may not come near your _mychan_, or give you
the slightest glimpse of his beautiful skin.
I have only been out after tiger on foot on one occasion. It was in
the sal jungles in Oudh. A neighbour of mine, a most intimate and dear
friend, whom I had nicknamed the 'General,' and a young friend,
Fullerton, were with me. A tigress and cub were reported to be in a
dense patch of _nurkool_ jungle, on the banks of the creek which
divided the General's cultivation from mine. The nurkool is a tall
feathery-looking cane, very much relished by elephants. It grows in
dense brakes, and generally in damp boggy ground, affording complete
shade and shelter for wild animals, and is a favourite haunt of pig,
wolf, tiger, and buffalo.
We had only one elephant, the use of which Fullerton had got from a
neighbouring Baboo. It was not a staunch animal, so we put one of our
men in the howdah, with a plentiful supply of bombs, a kind of native
firework, enclosed in a clay case, which burns like a huge squib, and
sets fire to the jungle. Along with the elephant we had a line of
about one hundred coolies, and several men with drums and tom-toms.
Fullerton took the side nearest the river, as it was possible the
brute might sneak out that way, and make her escape along the bank.
The General's shekarry remained behind, in rear of the line of
beaters, in case the tigress might break the line, and try to escape
by the rear. My _Gomasta_, the General, and myself, then took up
positions behind trees all along the side of the glade or dell in
which was the bit of nurkool jungle.
It was a small basin, sloping gently down to the creek from the sal
jungle, which grew up dark and thick all around. A margin of close
sward, as green and level as a billiard-table, encircled the glade,
and in the basin the thick nurkool grew up close, dense, and high,
like a rustling barrier of living green. In the centre was the
decaying stump of a mighty forest monarch, with its withered arms
stretching out their bleached and shattered lengths far over the
waving feathery tops of the nurkool below.
The General and I cut down, some branches, which we stuck in the
ground before us. I had a fallen log in front of me, on which I rested
my guns. I had a naked _kookree_ ready to hand, for we were sure that
the tigress was in the swamp, and I did not know what might happen. I
did not half like this style of shooting, and wished I was safely
seated on the back of 'JORROCKS,' my faithful old Bhaugulpore
elephant. The General whistled as a sign for the beat to begin. The
coolies dashed into the thicket. The stately elephant slowly forced
his ponderous body through the crashing swaying brake. The rattle of
the tom-toms and rumble of the drums, mingled with the hoarse shouts
and cries of the beaters, the fiery rush of sputtering flame, and the
loud report as each bomb burst, with the huge volumes of blinding
smoke, and the scent of gunpowder that came on the breeze, told us
that the bombs were doing their work. The jungle was too green to
burn; but the fireworks raised a dense sulphurous smoke, which
penetrated among the tall stems of the nurkool, and by the waving and
crashing of the tall swaying canes, the heaving of the howdah, with
the red puggree of the peon, and the gleaming of the staves and
weapons, we could see that the beat was advancing.
As they neared the large withered tree in the centre of the brake, the
elephant curled up his trunk and trumpeted. This was a sure sign there
was game afoot. We could see the peon in the howdah leaning over the
front bar, and eagerly peering into the recesses of the thicket before
him. He lit one of the bombs, and hurled it right up against the hole
of the tree. It hissed and sputtered, and the smoke came curling over
the reeds in dense volumes. A roar followed that made the valley ring
again. We heard a swift rush. The elephant turned tail, and fled madly
away, crashing through the matted brake that crackled and tore under
his tread. The howdah swayed wildly, and the peon clung tenaciously on
to the top bar with all his desperate might. The _mahout_, or
elephant-driver, tried in vain to check the rush of the frightened
brute, but after repeated sounding whacks on the head he got her to
stop, and again turn round. Meantime the cries and shouting had
ceased, and the beaters came pouring from the jungle by twos and
threes, like the frightened inhabitants of some hive or ant-heap. Some
in their hurry came tumbling out headlong, others with their faces
turned backwards to see if anything was in pursuit of them, got
entangled in the reeds, and fell prone on their hands and knees. One
fellow had just emerged from the thick cover, when another terrified
compatriot dashed out in blind unreasoning fear close behind him. The
first one thought the tiger was on him. With one howl of anguish and
dismay he fled as fast as he could run, and the General and I, who had
witnessed the episode, could not help uniting in a resounding peal of
laughter, that did more to bring the scared coolies to their senses
than anything else we could have done.
There was no doubt now of the tiger's whereabouts. One of the beaters
gave us a most graphic description of its appearance and proportions.
According to him it was bigger than an elephant, had a mouth as wide
as a coal scuttle, and eyes that glared like a thousand suns. From all
this we inferred that there was a full grown tiger or tigress in the
jungle. We re-formed the line of beaters, and once more got the
elephant to enter the patch. The same story was repeated. No sooner
did they get near the old tree, than the tigress again charged with a
roar, and our valiant coolies and the chicken-hearted elephant vacated
the jungle as fast as their legs could carry them. This happened twice
or thrice. The tigress charged every time, but would not leave her
safe cover. The elephant wheeled round at every charge, and would not
shew fight. Fullerton got into the howdah, and fired two shots into
the spot where the tigress was lying. He did not apparently wound her,
but the reports brought her to the charge once more, and the elephant,
by this time fairly tired of the game, and thoroughly demoralised with
fear, bolted right away, and nearly cracked poor Fullerton's head
against the branch of a tree.
We could plainly see, that with only one elephant we could never
dislodge the tigress, so making the coolies beat up the patch in
lines, we shot several pig and a hog-deer, and adjourned for something
to eat by the bank of the creek. We had been trying to oust the
tigress for over four hours, but she was as wise as she was savage,
and refused to become a mark for our bullets in the open. After lunch
we made another grand attempt. We promised the coolies double pay if
they roused the tigress to flight. The elephant was forced again into
the nurkool very much against his will, and the mahout was promised a
reward if we got the tigress. The din this time was prodigious, and
strange to say they got quite close up to the big withered tree
without the usual roar and charge. This seemed somewhat to stimulate
the beaters and the old elephant. The coolies redoubled their cries,
smote among the reeds with their heavy staves, and shouted
encouragement to each other. Right in the middle of the line, as it
seemed to us from the outside, there was then a fierce roar and a
mighty commotion. Cries of fear and consternation arose, and forth
poured the coolies again, helter skelter, like so many rabbits from a
warren when the weasel or ferret has entered the burrow. Right before
me a huge old boar and a couple of sows came plunging forth. I let
them get on a little distance from the brake, and then with my
'Express' I rolled over the tusker and one of his companions, and just
then the General shouted out to me, 'There's the tiger!'
I looked in the direction of his levelled gun, and there at the edge
of the jungle was a handsome half-grown tiger cub, beautifully marked,
his tail switching angrily from side to side, and his twitching
retracted lips and bristling moustache drawn back like those of a
vicious cat, showing his gleaming polished fangs and teeth.
The General had a fine chance, took a steady aim, and shot the young
savage right through the heart. The handsome young tiger gave one
convulsive leap into the air and fell on his side stone dead. We could
not help a cheer, and shouted for Fullerton, who soon came running up.
We got some coolies together, but they were frightened to go near the
dead animal, as we could plainly hear the old vixen inside snarling
and snapping, for all the world like an angry terrier. We heard her
half-suppressed growl and snarl. She was evidently in a fine temper.
How we wished for a couple of staunch elephants to hunt her out of the
cane. It was no use, however, the elephant would not go near the
jungle again. The coolies were thoroughly scared, and had got plenty
of pork and venison to eat, so did not care for anything else. We
collected a lot of tame buffaloes, and tried to drive them through the
jungle, but the coolies had lost heart, and would not exert
themselves; so we had to content ourselves with the cub, who measured
six feet three inches (a very handsome skin it was), and very
reluctantly had to leave the savage mother alone. I never saw a brute
charge so persistently as she did. She always rushed forward with a
succession of roars, and was very wary and cunning. She never charged
home, she did not even touch the elephant or any of the coolies, but
evidently trusted to frighten her assailants away by a bold show and a
fierce outcry.
We went back two days after with five elephants, which with great
difficulty we had got together[1], and thoroughly beat the patch of
nurkool, killed a lot of pig and a couple of deer, shot an alligator,
and destroyed over thirty of its eggs, which we discovered on the bank
of the creek; and returning in the evening shot a nilghau and a black
buck, but the tigress had disappeared. She was gone, and we grumbled
sorely at our bad luck. That was the only occasion I was ever after
tiger on foot. It was doubtless intensely exciting work, and both
tigress and cub must have passed close to us several times, hidden by
the jungle. We were only about thirty paces from the edge of the
brake, and both animals must have seen us, although the dense cover
hid them from our sight. I certainly prefer shooting from the howdah.
Although it is beyond the scope of this book to enter into a detailed
account of the tiger, discussing his structure, habits, and
characteristics, it may aid the reader if I give a sketchy general
outline of some of the more prominent points of interest connected
with the monarch of the jungle, the cruel, cunning, ferocious king of
the cat tribe, the beautiful but dreaded tiger.
I should prefer to shew his character by incidents with which I have
myself been connected, but as many statements have been made about
tigers that are utterly absurd and untrue, and as tiger stories
generally contain a good deal of exaggeration, and a natural
scepticism unconsciously haunts the reader when tigers and tiger
shooting are the topics, it may be as well to state once for all, that
I shall put down nothing that cannot be abundantly substantiated by
reference to my own sporting journals, on those of the brothers S.,
friends and fellow-sportsmen of my own. To G.S. I am under great
obligations for many interesting notes he has given me about tiger
shooting. Joe, his brother, was long our captain in our annual
shooting parties. Their father and _his_ brother, the latter still
alive and a keen shot, were noted sportsmen at a time when game was
more plentiful, shooting more generally practised, and when to be a
good shot meant more than average excellence. The two brothers between
them have shot, I daresay, more than four hundred and fifty male and
female tigers, and serried rows of skulls ranged round the
billiard-rooms in their respective factories, bear witness to their
love of sport and the deadly accuracy of their aim. Under their
auspices I began my tiger shooting, and as they knew every inch of the
jungles, had for years been observant students of nature, were
acquainted with all the haunts and habits of every wild creature, I
acquired a fund of information about the tiger which I knew could be
depended on. It was the result of actual observation and experience,
and in most instances it was corroborated by my own experience in my
more limited sphere of action. Every incident I adduce, every
deduction I draw, every assertion I make regarding tigers and tiger
shooting can be plentifully substantiated, and abundantly testified
to, by my brother sportsmen of Purneah and Bhaugulpore. From their
valuable information I have got most of the material for this part of
my book.
Of the order FERAE, the family _felidae_, there is perhaps no animal
in the wide range of all zoology, so eminently fitted for destruction
as the tiger. His whole structure and appearance, combining beauty and
extreme agility with prodigious strength, his ferocity, and his
cunning, mark him out as the very type of a beast of prey. He is the
largest of the cat tribe, the most formidable race of quadrupeds on
earth. He is the most bloodthirsty in habit, and the most dreaded by
man. Whole tracts of fertile fields, reclaimed from the wild
luxuriance of matted jungle, and waving with golden grain, have been
deserted by the patient husbandmen, and allowed to relapse into
tangled thicket and uncultured waste on account of the ravages of this
formidable robber. Whole villages have been depopulated by tigers, the
mouldering door-posts, and crumbling rafters, met with at intervals in
the heart of the solitary jungle, alone marking the spot where a
thriving hamlet once sent up the curling smoke from its humble
hearths, until the scourge of the wilderness, the dreaded 'man-eater,'
took up his station near it, and drove the inhabitants in terror from
the spot. Whole herds of valuable cattle have been literally destroyed
by the tiger. His habitat is in those jungles, and near those
localities, which are most highly prized by the herdsmen of India for
their pastures, and the numbers of cattle that yearly fall before his
thirst for blood, and his greed for living prey, are almost
incredible. I have scarcely known a day pass, during the hot months,
on the banks of the Koosee, that news of a _kill_ has not been sent in
from some of the villages in my _ilaka_, and as a tiger eats once in
every four or five days, and oftener if he can get the chance, the
number of animals that fall a prey to his insatiable appetite, over
the extent of Hindustan, must be enormous. The annual destruction of
tame animals by tigers alone is almost incredible, and when we add to
this the wild buffalo, the deer, the pig, and other untamed animals,
to say nothing of smaller creatures, we can form some conception of
the destruction caused by the tiger in the course of a year.
His whole frame is put together to effect destruction. In cutting up a
tiger you are impressed with this. His tendons are masses of nerve and
muscle as hard as steel. The muscular development is tremendous. Vast
bands and layers of muscle overlap each other. Strong ligaments, which
you can scarcely cut through, and which soon blunt the sharpest knife,
unite the solid, freely-playing, loosely-jointed bones. The muzzle is
broad, and short, and obtuse. The claws are completely retractile. The
jaws are short. There are two false molars, two grinders above, and
the same number below. The upper carnivorous tooth has three lobes,
and an obtuse heel; the lower has two lobes, pointed and sharp, and no
heel. There is one very small tuberculous tooth above as an auxiliary,
and then the strong back teeth. The muscles of the jaws are of
tremendous power. I have come across the remains of a buffalo killed
by a tiger, and found all the large bones, even the big strong bones
of the pelvis and large joints, cracked and crunched like so many
walnuts, by the powerful jaws of the fierce brute.
The eye is peculiarly brilliant, and when glaring with fury it is
truly demoniac. With his bristles rigid, the snarling lips drawn back,
disclosing the formidable fangs, the body crouching for his spring,
and the lithe tail puffed up and swollen, and lashing restlessly from
side to side, each muscle tense and strung, and an undulating movement
perceptible like the motions of a huge snake, a crouching tiger at bay
is a sight that strikes a certain chill to the heart of the onlooker.
When he bounds forward, with a roar that reverberates among the mazy
labyrinths of the interminable jungle, he tests the steadiest nerve
and almost daunts the bravest heart.
In their habits they are very unsociable, and are only seen together
during the amatory season. When that is over the male tiger betakes
him again to his solitary predatory life, and the tigress becomes, if
possible, fiercer than he is, and buries herself in the gloomiest
recesses of the jungle. When the young are born, the male tiger has
often been known to devour his offspring, and at this time they are
very savage and quarrelsome. Old G., a planter in Purneah, once came
across a pair engaged in deadly combat. They writhed and struggled on
the ground, the male tiger striking tremendous blows on the chest and
flanks of his consort, and tearing her skin in strips, while the
tigress buried her fangs in his neck, tearing and worrying with all
the ferocity of her nature. She was battling for her young. G. shot
both the enraged combatants, and found that one of the cubs had been
mangled, evidently by his unnatural father. Another, which he picked
up in a neighbouring bush, was unharmed, but did not survive long.
Pairs have often been shot in the same jungle, but seldom in close
proximity, and it accords with all experience that they betray an
aversion to each other's society, except at the one season. This
propensity of the father to devour his offspring seems to be due to
jealousy or to blind unreasoning hate. To save her offspring the
female always conceals her young, and will often move far from the
jungle which she usually frequents.
When the cubs are able to kill for themselves, she seems to lose all
pleasure in their society, and by the time they are well grown she
usually has another batch to provide for. I have, however, shot a
tigress with a full-grown cub--the hunt described in the last chapter
is an instance--and on several occasions, my friend George has shot
the mother with three or four full-grown cubs in attendance. This is
however rare, and only happens I believe when the mother has remained
entirely separate from the company of the male.
The strength of the tiger is amazing. The fore paw is the most
formidable weapon of attack. With one stroke delivered with full
effect he can completely disable a large buffalo. On one occasion, on
the Koosee _derahs_, that is, the plains bordering the river, an
enraged tiger, passing through a herd of buffaloes, broke the backs of
two of the herd, giving each a stroke right and left as he went along.
One blow is generally sufficient to kill the largest bullock or
buffalo. Our captain, Joe, had once received _khubber_, that is, news
or information, of a kill by a tiger. He went straight to the
_baithan_, the herd's head-quarters, and on making enquiries, was told
that the tiger was a veritable monster.
'Did you see it?' asked Joe.
'I did not,' responded the _goala_ or cowherd.
'Then how do you know it was so large?'
'Because,' said the man, 'it killed the biggest buffalo in my herd,
and the poor brute only gave one groan.'
George once tracked a tiger, following up the drag of a bullock that
he had carried off. At one place the brute came to a ditch, which was
measured and found to be five feet in width. Through this there was no
drag, but the traces continued on the further side. The inference is,
that the powerful thief had cleared the ditch, taking the bullock
bodily with him at a bound. Others have been known to jump clear out
of a cattle pen, over a fence some six feet high, taking on one
occasion a large-sized calf, and another time a sheep.
Another wounded tiger, with two bullets in his flanks, the wound being
near the root of the tail, cleared a _nullah_, or dry watercourse, at
one bound. The nullah was stepped by George, and found to be
twenty-three paces wide. It is fortunate, with such tremendous powers
for attack, that the tiger will try as a rule to slink out of the way
if he can. He almost always avoids an encounter with man. His first
instinct is flight. Only the exciting incidents of the chase are as a
rule put upon record. A narrative of tiger shooting therefore is apt
in this respect to be a little misleading. The victims who meet their
death tamely and quietly (and they form the majority in every
hunt),--those that are shot as they are tamely trying to escape--are
simply enumerated, but the charging tiger, the old vixen that breaks
the line, and scatters the beaters to right and left, that rouses the
blood of the sportsmen to a fierce excitement, these are made the most
of. Every incident is detailed and dwelt upon, and thus the idea has
gained ground, that ALL tigers are courageous, and wait not for
attack, but in most instances take the initiative. It is not the case.
Most of the tigers I have seen killed would have escaped if they
could. It is only when brought to bay, or very hard pressed, or in
defence of its young, that a tiger or tigress displays its native
ferocity. At such a moment indeed, nothing gives a better idea of
savage determined fury and fiendish rage. With ears thrown back, brows
contracted, mouth open, and glaring yellow eyes scintillating with
fury, the cruel claws plucking at the earth, the ridgy hairs on the
back stiff and erect as bristles, and the lithe lissome body quivering
in every muscle and fibre with wrath and hate, the beast comes down to
the charge with a defiant roar, which makes the pulse bound and the
breath come short and quick. It requires all a man's nerve and
coolness, to enable him to make steady shooting.
Roused to fury by a wound, I have seen tigers wheel round with amazing
swiftness, and dash headlong, roaring dreadfully as they charged, full
upon the nearest elephant, scattering the line and lacerating the poor
creature on whose flanks or head they may have fastened, their whole
aspect betokening pitiless ferocity and fiendish rage.
Even in death they do not forget their savage instincts. I knew of one
case in which a seemingly dead tiger inflicted a fearful wound upon an
elephant that had trodden on what appeared to be his inanimate
carcase. Another elephant, that attacked and all but trampled a tiger
to death, was severely bitten under one of the toe-nails. The wound
mortified, and the unfortunate beast died in about a week after its
infliction. Another monster, severely wounded, fell into a pool of
water, and seized hold with its jaws of a hard knot of wood that was
floating about. In its death agony, it made its powerful teeth meet in
the hard wood, and not until it was being cut up, and we had divided
the muscles of the jaws, could we extricate the wood from that
formidable clench. In rage and fury, and mad with pain, the wounded
tiger will often turn round and savagely bite the wound that causes
its agony, and they very often bite their paws and shoulders, and tear
the grass and earth around them.
A tiger wounded in the spine, however, is the most exciting spectacle.
Paralysed in the limbs, he wheels round, roaring and biting at
everything within his reach. In 1874 I shot one in the spine, and
watched his furious movements for some time before I put him out of
his misery. I threw him a pad from one of the elephants, and the way
he tore and gnawed it gave me some faint idea of his fury and
ferocity. He looked the very personification of impotent viciousness;
the incarnation of devilish rage.
Urged by hunger the tiger fearlessly attacks his prey. The most
courageous are young tigers about seven or eight feet long. They
invariably give better sport than larger and older animals, being more
ready to charge, and altogether bolder and more defiant. Up to the age
of two years they have probably been with the mother, have never
encountered a reverse or defeat, and having become bold by impunity,
hesitate not to fly at any assailant whatever.
Like all the cat tribe, they are very cruel in disposition, often most
wantonly so. Having disabled his prey with the first onset, the tiger
plays with it as a cat does with a mouse, and, unless very sharp set
by hunger, he always indulges this love of torture. His attacks are by
no means due only to the cravings of his appetite. He often slays the
victims of a herd, in the wantonness of sport, merely to indulge his
murderous propensities. Even when he has had a good meal he will often
go on adding fresh victims, seemingly to gratify his sense of power,
and his love of slaughter. In teaching her cubs to kill for
themselves, the mother often displays great cruelty, frequently
killing at a time five or six cows from one herd. The young savages
are apt pupils, and 'try their prentice hand' on calves and weakly
members of the herd, killing from the mere love of murder.
Their cunning is as remarkable as their cruelty; what they lack in
speed they make up in consummate subtlety. They take advantage of the
direction of the wind, and of every irregularity of the ground. It is
amazing what slight cover will suffice to conceal their lurking forms
from the observation of the herd. During the day they generally
retreat to some cool and shady spot, deep in the recesses of the
jungle. Where the soft earth has been worn away with ragged hollows
and deep shady water-courses, where the tallest and most impenetrable
jungle conceals the winding and impervious paths, hidden in the gloom
and obscurity of the densely-matted grass, the lordly tiger crouches,
and blinks away the day. With the approach of night, however, his mood
undergoes a change. He hears the tinkle of the bells, borne by some of
the members of a retreating herd, that may have been feeding in close
proximity to his haunt all day long, and from which he has determined
to select a victim for his evening meal. He rouses himself and yawns,
stretches himself like the great cruel cat he is, and then crawls and
creeps silently along, by swampy watercourses, and through devious
labyrinths known to himself alone. He hangs on the outskirts of the
herd, prowling along and watching every motion of the returning
cattle. He makes his selection, and with infinite cunning and patience
contrives to separate it from the rest. He waits for a favourable
moment, when, with a roar that sends the alarmed companions of the
unfortunate victim scampering together to the front, he springs on his
unhappy prey, deprives it of all power of resistance with one
tremendous stroke, and bears it away to feast at his leisure on the
warm and quivering carcase.
He generally kills as the shades of evening are falling, and seldom
ventures on a foraging expedition by day. After nightfall it is
dangerous to be abroad in the jungles. It is then that dramas are
acted of thrilling interest, and unimaginable sensation scenes take
place. Some of the old shekarries and field-watchers frequently dig
shallow pits, in which they take their stand. Their eye is on the
level of the ground, and any object standing out in relief against the
sky line can be readily detected. If they could relate their
experiences, what absorbing narratives they could write. They see the
tiger spring upon his terror-stricken prey, the mother and her hungry
cubs prowling about for a victim, or two fierce tigers battling for
the favours of some sleek, striped, remorseless, bloodthirsty
forest-fiend. In pursuit of their quarry, they steal noiselessly
along, and love to make their spring unawares. They generally select
some weaker member of a herd, and are chary of attacking a strong
big-boned, horned animal. They sometimes 'catch a Tartar,' and
instances are known of a buffalo not only withstanding the attack of a
tiger successfully, but actually gaining the victory over his more
active assailant, whose life has paid the penalty of his rashness.
Old G. told me, he had come across the bodies of a wild boar and an
old tiger, lying dead together near Burgamma. The boar was fearfully
mauled, but the clean-cut gaping gashes in the striped hide of the
tiger, told how fearfully and gallantly he had battled for his life.
In emerging from the jungle at night, they generally select the same
path or spot, and approach the edge of the cover with great caution.
They will follow the same track for days together. Hence in some
places the tracks of the tigers are so numerous as to lead the tyro to
imagine that dozens must have passed, when in truth the tracks all
belong to one and the same brute. So acute is their perception, so
narrowly do they scrutinize every minute object in their path, so
suspicious is their nature, that anything new in their path, such as a
pitfall, a screen of cut grass, a _mychan_, that is, a stage from
which you might be intending to get a shot, nay, even the print of a
footstep--a man's, a horse's, an elephant's--is often quite enough to
turn them from a projected expedition, or at any rate to lead them to
seek some new outlet from the jungle. In any case it increases their
wariness, and under such circumstances it becomes almost impossible to
get a shot at them from a pit or shooting-stage. Their vision, their
sense of smell, of hearing, all their perceptions are so acute, that I
think lying in wait for them is chiefly productive of weariness and
vexation of spirit. It is certainly dangerous, and the chances of a
successful shot are so problematical, while the _disagreeables_, and
discomforts, and dangers are so real and tangible, that I am inclined
to think this mode of attack 'hardly worth the candle.'
With all his ferocity and cruelty, however, I am of opinion that the
tiger is more cowardly than courageous. He will always try to escape a
danger, and fly from attack, rather than attack in return or wait to
meet it, and wherever he can, in pursuit of his prey, he will trust
rather to his cunning than to his strength, and he always prefers an
ambuscade to an open onslaught.
[1] This was at the time the Prince of Wales was shooting in Nepaul,
not very far from where I was then stationed. Most of the
elephants in the district had been sent up to his Royal Highness's
camp, or were on their way to take part in the ceremonies of the
grand _Durbar_ in Delhi.