Howdahs and howdah-ropes.--Mussulman custom.--Killing animals for
food.--Mysterious appearance of natives when an animal is killed.
--Fastening dead tigers to the pad.--Present mode wants improving.
--Incident illustrative of this.--Dangerous to go close to wounded
tigers.--Examples.--Footprints of tigers.--Call of the tiger.--Natives
and their powers of description.--How to beat successfully for tiger.
--Description of a beat.--Disputes among the shooters.--Awarding
tigers.--Cutting open the tiger.--Native idea about the liver of the
tiger.--Signs of a tiger's presence in the jungle.--Vultures.--Do they
scent their quarry or view it?--A vulture carrion feast.
The best howdahs are light, single-seated ones, with strong, light
frames of wood and cane-work, and a moveable seat with a leather
strap, adjustable to any length, on which to lean back. They should
have a strong iron rail all round the top, covered with leather, with
convenient grooves to receive the barrels of the guns, as they rest in
front, ready to either hand. In front there should be compartments for
different kinds of cartridges; and pockets and lockers under the seat,
and at the back, or wherever there is room. Outside should be a strong
iron step, to get out and in by easily, and a strong iron ring,
through which to pass the rope that binds the howdah to the elephant.
You cannot be too careful with your howdah ropes. A chain is generally
used as an auxiliary to the rope, which should be of cotton, strong
and well twisted, and should be overhauled daily, to see that there is
no chafing. It is passed round the foot-bars of the howdah, and
several times round the belly of the elephant.
Another rope acts as a crupper behind, being passed through rings in
the terminal frame-work of the howdah, and under the elephant's tail;
it frequently causes painful sores there, and some drivers give it a
hitch round the tail, in the same way as you would hitch it round a
post. Another steadying rope goes round the elephant's breast, like a
chest-band. 'A merciful man is merciful to his beast.' You should
always, therefore, have a sheet of soft well oiled leather to go
between the chest and belly ropes and the elephant's hide; this
prevents chafing, and is a great relief to the poor old _hathi_, as
they call the elephant. _Hatnee_ is the female elephant. _Duntar_ is a
fellow with large tusks, and _mukna_ is an elephant with small
downward growing tusks.
Many of the old fashioned howdahs are far too heavy; a firm, strong
howdah should not weigh more than 28 lbs. In most of the old fashioned
ones, there is a seat for an attendant. If your attendant be a
Mussulman, he hurries down as soon as you shoot a deer, to cut its
throat. The Mohammedan religion enjoins a variety of rules on its
professors in regard to the slaying of animals for food. Chief of
these is a prohibition, against eating the flesh of an animal that has
died a natural death; the throat of every animal intended to be eaten
should be cut, and at the moment of applying the knife, _Bismillah_
should be said, that is, 'In the name of God.' If therefore your
mahout, or attendant, belong to the religion of the _Koran_, he will
hurry down to cut the throat of a wounded deer if possible before life
is extinct; if it be already dead, he will leave it alone for the
Hindoos, who have no such scruples.
A number of _moosahurs, banturs, gwallas_, and other idlers, from the
jungle villages, generally follow in the wake of the line. If you
shoot many pigs, they carry off the dead bodies, and hold high
carnival in their homes in the evening. To see them rush on a slain
buffalo, and hack it to pieces, is a curious sight; they fight for
pieces of flesh like so many vultures. Sportsmen generally content
themselves with the head of a buffalo, but not a scrap of the carcase
is ever wasted. The natives are attracted to the spot, like ants to a
heap of grain, or wasps to an old sugar barrel; they seem to spring
out of the earth, so rapidly do they make their appearance. If you
were to kill a dozen buffaloes, I believe all the flesh would be taken
away to the neighbouring villages within an hour.
This appearance of men in the jungles is wonderful. You may think
yourself in the centre of a vast wilderness, not a sign of human
habitation for miles around; on all sides stretches a vast ocean of
grass, the resort of ferocious wild animals, seemingly untrodden by a
human foot. You shoot a deer, a pig, or other animal whose flesh is
fit for food; the man behind you gives a cry, and in ten minutes you
will have a group of brawny young fellows around your elephant, eager
to carry away the game. The way these natives thread the dense jungle
is to me a wonder; they seem to know every devious path and hidden
recess, and they traverse the most gloomy and dangerous solitudes
without betraying the slightest apprehension.
In fastening dead game to the pad of the carrying elephant great care
is necessary. Some elephants are very timid, and indeed all elephants
are mistrustful and suspicious of anything behind them. They are
pretty courageous in facing anything before them, but they do not like
a rustling or indeed any motion in their rear. I have seen a dog put
an elephant to flight, and if you have a lazy _hathi_, a good plan is
to walk a horse behind him. He will then shuffle along at a prodigious
pace constantly looking round from side to side, and no doubt in his
heart anathematising the horse that forces the running so
persistently.
The present method of roughly lashing on dead game anyhow requires
altering. Some ingenious sportsman could surely devise a system of
slings by which the dead weight of the game could be more equally
distributed. At present the dead bodies are hauled up at random, and
fastened anyhow. The pad gets displaced, the elephant must stop till
the burden is rearranged; the ropes, especially on a hot day, cut into
the skin and rub off the hair, and many a good skin is quite spoiled
by the present rough method of tying on the pad.
One day, in taking off a dead tiger from the pad, near George's
bungalow, the end of the rope (a new one) remained somehow fixed to
the neck of the elephant. When he rose up, being relieved of the
weight, he dragged the dead tiger with him. This put the elephant into
a horrible funk, and despite all the efforts of the driver he started
off at a trot, hauling the tiger after him. Every now and then he
would turn round, and tread and kick the lifeless carcase. At length
the rope gave way, and the elephant became more manageable, but not
before a fine skin had been totally ruined, all owing to this
primitive style of fastening by ropes to the pad. A proper pad, with
leather straps and buckles, that could be hauled as tight as
necessary--a sort of harness arrangement, could easily be devised, to
secure dead game on the pad. I am certain it would save time in the
hunting-field, and protect many a fine skin, that gets abraded and
marked by the present rough and ready lashing.
It is always dangerous to go too close up to a wounded tiger, and one
should never rashly jump to the conclusion that a tiger is dead
because he appears so Approach him cautiously, and make very certain
that he is really and truly dead, before you venture to get down
beside the body. It is a bad plan to take your elephant close up to a
dead tiger at all. I have known cases where good staunch elephants
have been spoiled for future sport, by being rashly taken up to a
wounded tiger. In rolling about, the tiger may get hold of the
elephants, and inflict injuries that will demoralise them, and make
them quite unsteady on subsequent occasions.
I have known cases where a tiger left for dead has had to be shot over
again. I have seen a man get down to pull a seemingly dead tiger into
the open, and get charged. Fortunately it was a dying effort, and I
put a bullet through the skull before the tiger could reach the
frightened peon. We have been several times grouped round a dying
tiger, watching him breathe his last, when the brute has summoned up
strength for a final effort, and charged the elephants.
On one occasion W.D. had got down beside what he thought a dead tiger,
had rolled him over, and, tape in hand, was about to measure the
animal, when he staggered to his feet with a terrific growl, and made
away through the jungle. He had only been stunned, and fortunately
preferred running to fighting, or the consequences might have been
more tragic; as it was, he was quickly followed up and killed. But
instances like these might be indefinitely multiplied, all teaching,
that seemingly dead tigers should be approached with the utmost
respect. Never venture off your elephant without a loaded revolver.
In beating for tiger, we have seen that the appearance of the kill,
whether fresh or old, whether much torn and mangled or comparatively
untouched, often affords valuable indications to the sportsman. The
footprints are not less narrowly looked for, and scrutinized. If we
are after tiger, and following them up, the captain will generally get
down at any bare place, such as a dry nullah, the edge of a tank or
water hole, or any other spot where footprints can be detected. Fresh
prints can be very easily distinguished. The impression is like that
made by a dog, only much larger, and the marks of the claws are not
visible. The largest footprint I have heard of was measured by George
S., and was found to be eight and a quarter inches wide from the
outside of the first to the outside of the fourth toe. If a tiger has
passed very recently, the prints will be fresh-looking, and if on damp
ground there can be no mistaking them. If it has been raining
recently, we particularly notice whether the rain has obliterated the
track at all, in any place; which would lead us to the conclusion that
the tiger had passed before it rained. If the water has lodged in the
footprint, the tiger has passed after the shower. In fresh prints the
water will be slightly puddly or muddy. In old prints it will be quite
clear; and so on.
The call of the male tiger is quite different from that of the female.
The male calls with a hoarse harsh cry, something between the grunt of
a pig and the bellow of a bull; the call of the tigress is more like
the prolonged mew of a cat much intensified. During the pairing season
the call is sharper and shorter, and ends in a sudden break. At that
time, too, they cry at more frequent intervals. The roar of the tiger
is quite unlike the call. Once heard it is not easily forgotten, The
natives who live in the jungles can tell one tiger from another by
colour, size, &c., and they can even distinguish one animal from
another by his call. It is very absurd to hear a couple of natives get
together and describe the appearance of some tiger they have seen.
In describing a pig, they refer to his height, or the length of his
tusks. They describe a fish by putting their fists together, and
saying he was so thick, _itna mota_. The head of a tiger is always the
most conspicuous part of the body seen in the jungle. They therefore
invariably describe him by his head. One man will hold his two hands
apart about two feet, and say that the head was _itna burra_, that is,
so big. The other, not to be outdone, gives rein to his imagination,
and adds another foot. The first immediately fancies discredit will
attach to his veracity, and vehemently asserts that there must in that
case have been two tigers; and so they go on, till they conclusively
prove, that two tigers there must have been, and indeed, if you let
them go on, they will soon assure you that, besides the pair of
tigers, there must be at least a pair of half-grown cubs. Their
imaginations are very fertile, and you must take the information of a
native as to tigers with a very large pinch of salt.
For successful tiger shooting much depends on the beating. When after
tiger, general firing should on no account be allowed, and the line
should move forward as silently as possible. In light cover, extending
over a large area, the elephants should be kept a considerable
distance apart, but in thick dense cover the line should be quite
close, and beat up slowly and thoroughly, as a tiger may lay up and
allow the line to pass him. On no account should an elephant be let to
lag behind, and no one should be allowed to rush forward or go in
advance. The elephants should move along, steady and even, like a
moving wall, the fastest being on the flanks, and accommodating their
pace to the general rate of progress. No matter what tempting chances
at pig or deer you may have, you must on no account fire except at
tiger.
The captain should be in the centre, and the men on the flanks ought
to be constantly on the _qui vive_, to see that no cunning tiger
outflanks the line. The attention should never wander from the jungle
before you, for at any moment a tiger may get up--and I know of no
sport where it is necessary to be so continuously on the alert. Every
moment is fraught with intense excitement, and when a tiger does
really show his stripes before you, the all-absorbing eager excitement
of a lifetime is packed in a few brief moments. Not a chance should be
thrown away, a long, or even an uncertain shot, is better than none,
and if you make one miss, you may not have another chance again that
day: for the tiger is chary of showing his stripes, and thinks
discretion the better part of valour.
All the line of course are aware, as a rule, when a tiger is on the
move, and a good captain (and Joe S., who generally took the direction
of our beats, could not well be matched) will wheel the line, double,
turn, march, and countermarch, and fairly run the tiger down. At such
a time, although you may not actually see the tiger, the excitement is
tremendous. You stand erect in the howdah, your favourite gun ready;
your attendant behind is as excited as yourself, and sways from side
to side to peer into the gloomy depths of the jungle; in front, the
mahout wriggles on his seat, as if by his motion he could urge the
elephant to a quicker advance. He digs his toes savagely into his
elephant behind the ear; the line is closing up; every eye is fixed on
the moving jungle ahead. The roaring of the flames behind, and the
crashing of the dried reeds as the elephants force their ponderous
frames through the intertwisted stems and foliage, are the only sounds
that greet the ear. Suddenly you see the tawny yellow hide, as the
tiger slouches along. Your gun rings out a reverberating challenge, as
your fatal bullet speeds on its errand. To right and left the echoes
ring, as shot after shot is fired at the bounding robber. Then the
line closes up, and you form a circle round the stricken beast, and
watch his mighty limbs quiver in the death-agony, and as he falls over
dead, and powerless for further harm, you raise the heartfelt,
pulse-stirring cheer, that finds an echo in every brother sportman's
heart.
Disputes sometimes arise as to whose bullet first drew blood. These
are settled by the captain, and from his decision there is no appeal.
Many sportsmen put peculiar marks on their bullets, by which they can
be recognised, which is a good plan. In an exciting scrimmage every
one blazes at the tiger, not one bullet perhaps in five or six takes
effect, and every one is ready to claim the skin, as having been
pierced with his particular bullet. Disputes are not very common, but
an inspection of the wounds, and the bullets found in the body,
generally settle the question. After hearing all the pros and cons,
the captain generally succeeds in awarding the tiger to the right man.
After a successful day, the news rapidly spreads through the adjacent
country, and we may take the line a little out of our way to make a
sort of triumphal procession through the villages. On reaching the
camp there is sure to be a great crowd waiting to see the slain
tigers, the despoilers of the people's flocks and herds.
It is then you hear of all the depredations the dead robber has
committed, and it is then you begin to form some faint conception of
his enormous destructive powers. Villager after villager unfolds a
tale of some favourite heifer, or buffalo, or cow having been struck
down, and the copious vocabulary of Hindostanee Billingsgate is almost
exhausted, and floods of abuse poured out on the prostrate head.
On cutting open the tiger, parasites are frequently found in the
flesh. These are long, white, thread-like worms, and are supposed by
some to be Guinea worms. Huge masses of undigested bone and hair are
sometimes taken from the intestines, shewing that the tiger does not
waste much time on mastication, but tears and eats the flesh in large
masses. The liver is found to have numbers of separate lobes, and the
natives say that this is an infallible test of the age of a tiger, as
a separate lobe forms on the liver for each year of the tiger's life.
I have certainly found young tigers having but two and three lobes,
and old tigers I have found with six, seven, and even eight, but the
statement is entirely unsupported by careful observation, and requires
authentication before it can be accepted.
A reported kill is a pretty certain sign that there are tigers in the
jungle, but there are other signs with which one soon gets familiar.
When, for example, you hear deer calling repeatedly, and see them
constantly on the move, it is a sign that tiger are in the
neighbourhood. When cattle are reluctant to enter the jungle,
restless, and unwilling to graze, you may be sure tiger are somewhere
about, not far away. A kill is often known by the numbers of vultures
that hover about in long, sailing, steady circles. What multitudes of
vultures there are. Overhead, far up in the liquid ether, you see them
circling round and round like dim specks in the distance; farther and
farther away, till they seem like bees, then lessen and fade into the
infinitude of space. No part of the sky is ever free from their
presence. When a kill has been perceived, you see one come flying
along, strong and swift in headlong flight. With the directness of a
thunderbolt he speeds to where his loathsome meal lies sweltering in
the noonday sun. As he comes nearer and nearer, his repulsive looking
body assumes form and substance. The cruel, ugly bald head, drawn
close in between the strong pointed shoulders, the broad powerful
wings, with their wide sweep, measured and slow, bear him swiftly
past. With a curve and a sweep he circles round, down come the long
bony legs, the bald and hideous neck is extended, and with talons
quivering for the rotting flesh, and cruel beak agape, he hurries on
to his repast, the embodiment of everything ghoul-like and ghastly. In
his wake comes another, then twos and threes, anon tens and twenties,
till hundreds have collected, and the ground is covered with the
hissing, tearing, fiercely clawing crowd. It is a horrible sight to
see a heap of vultures battling over a dead bullock. I have seen them
so piled up that the under ones were nearly smothered to death; and
the writhing contortions of the long bare necks, as the fierce brutes
battled with talons and claws, were like the twisting of monster
snakes, or the furious writhing of gorgons and furies over some fated
victim.
It has been a much debated point with sportsmen and naturalists,
whether the eye or the sense of smell guides the vulture to his feast
of carrion. I have often watched them. They scan the vast surface
spread below them with a piercing and never tiring gaze. They observe
each other. When one is seen to cease his steady circling flight, far
up in mid air, and to stretch his broad wings earthwards, the others
know that he has espied a meal, and follow his lead; and these in turn
are followed by others, till from all quarters flock crowds of these
scavengers of the sky. They can detect a dog or jackal from a vast
height, and they know by intuition that, where the carcase is there
will the dogs and jackals be gathered. I think there can be no doubt
that the vision is the sense they are most indebted to for directing
them to their food.
On one occasion I remember seeing a tumultuous heap of them, battling
fiercely, as I have just tried to describe, over the carcases of two
tigers we had killed near Dumdaha. The dead bodies were hidden
partially in a grove of trees, and for a long time there were only
some ten or a dozen vultures near. These gorged themselves so
fearfully, that they could not rise from the ground, but lay with
wings expanded, looking very aldermanic and apoplectic. Bye-and-bye,
however, the rush began, and by the time we had struck the tents,
there could not have been fewer than 150 vultures, hissing and
spitting at each other like angry cats; trampling each other to the
dust to get at the carcases; and tearing wildly with talon and beak
for a place. In a very short time nothing but mangled bones remained.
A great number of the vultures got on to the rotten limb of a huge
mango tree. One other proved the last straw, for down came the rotten
branch and several of the vultures, tearing at each other, fell
heavily to the ground, where they lay quite helpless. As an experiment
we shot a miserable mangy Pariah dog, that was prowling about the
ground seeking garbage and offal. He was shot stone-dead, and for a
time no vulture ventured near. A crow was the first to begin the feast
of death. One of the hungriest of the vultures next approached, and in
a few minutes the yet warm body of the poor dog was torn into a
thousand fragments, till nothing remained but scattered and disjointed
bones.