II. THE BEARS OF INDIA AND BURMAH
There are no fewer than five varieties of bears to be found in our Eastern Empire. The three most commonly met with are the Himalayan black bear, Ursus torquatus (native name ‘Kala Bhalu’); the Himalayan snow bear, Ursus Isabellinus (native names ‘Lal Bhalu’; Cashmere ‘Harput’); and the sloth bear of the plains, Ursus labiatus (native names ‘Bhalu,’ ‘Reech,’ ‘Adam zad’).
A FAIR CHANCE AT BLACK BEARS
The Himalayan black bear is common enough on the southern slopes of the Himalayas, but rarely crosses the main snow-line. Being chiefly a fruit and corn eater, in contradistinction to the snow bear, whose main food consists of grass and roots, it likes to live near villages, especially when the maize crops are ripening. Dense jungle is a necessity to it for shelter during the day and for the wild fruit and berries it lives on before the crops are ripe, and this jungle is non-existent on the northern side of the main range. The snow bear is found on both sides of the range, but does not extend to Ladak. Both black and snow bears will kill cattle and sheep if they get the chance, and neither variety is above eating carrion. The black bear with his short sturdy nails climbs readily, while the long digging claws of the snow bear prevent him doing much in that line, though he is said to be able to climb a little. The villagers in the Himalayas have to keep their bees inside their houses both for the sake of warmth in winter and also to prevent the hives being robbed by bears. Both varieties hibernate, but Colonel Kinloch points out, and all natives agree, that while the snow bear is never seen abroad in the winter, the black bear periodically wakes up and makes short excursions for food and water. As regards their comparative ferocity, the snow bear, being generally found and shot in the open, rarely has an opportunity of doing mischief, though he will occasionally show fight. The black bear, on the other hand, from living near villages has partly lost his fear of man, and though he rarely if ever goes out of his way to attack, he will charge freely if cornered, or suddenly disturbed in his midday siesta by anyone walking almost on to him. This is almost invariably the reason wood-cutters and herdsmen get mauled.
Snow bears
One of the best ways to shoot black bears is to have them marked down into ravines or patches of dense jungle on their return from feeding in the early morning, and to wait for them to draw out in the evening just before sunset. As a rule Mr. Bruin is pretty punctual. Shooting bears by moonlight when they are feeding in the fruit trees is generally unsatisfactory work, as so many escape wounded, and having the jungle driven usually ends in disappointment.
The snow bear is easily stalked on the open slopes he frequents, and provided that the wind is favourable, and that the sportsman remains absolutely motionless as long as the animal’s head is turned towards him, he can play almost any trick with a bear, even though standing in full view; but he must be careful not to let the sun shine on the barrels of his rifle, for that at once attracts attention. The best place to find a snow bear is one of those patches of bright green grass that mark the spots where sheep have been folded the year before. The writer knows several instances of black bears having been followed into their caves and shot there under circumstances of intense excitement. Colonel Howard, whose adventures with sloth bear are narrated below, had a sparkling time with a Himalayan black bear in a cave; but it is not everybody’s sport.
Few men, after they have procured a good specimen or two, care to shoot bears. Their skins require more attention than they are worth, and on good shooting ground where snow bears are most common, it is rarely worth the risk of disturbing a good ibex or markhor for the biggest bear in Asia.
Jerdon remarks of the black bear—and the natives of Chumba at all events thoroughly believe it—that when one is caught in a rope snare, if he cannot break it by the first effort he will not try again, but will remain on the spot moaning and looking at the imprisoned paw without attempting to bite the rope.
A glorified comet
The sloth bear is the common black bear of Central and Southern India. It extends to the base of the Himalayas, but does not ascend them, its northern limit being about 31° N. Lat. Its long flexible snout and long claws distinguish it at once from its Himalayan cousin, and though it delights in a temperature more suggestive of the necessity of punkahs and ice than of greatcoats, its fur is longer and better. In spite of its long claws it climbs well, and as, like deer and natives, it delights in the nasty-tasting flowers of the ‘mhowa’ tree, a moonlight stroll in March or April, when the blossoms are falling, will often afford the chance of a shot. The best way of hunting these bears is to have them marked down in the early morning like U. torquatus, and then either to stalk or have them driven. Should the bears go into caves, they are easily dislodged by poking sticks or rolling stones through fissures above, or if the cave is shallow a bundle of rags or a turban dangled over the entrance and a few shouts will fetch them out. A firework thrown into or a shot fired down the mouth of the cave is a very effectual summons. Though U. labiatus is both willing and able to do a good deal of mischief, if due precautions are taken few branches of sport afford such a succession of ludicrous episodes. Poor old ‘Adam zad,’ if he is not witty himself, is a fund of merriment to others. Forsyth’s and Sanderson’s books teem with comical situations. The companionship of a fellow-sportsman whose shooting can be relied upon is necessary if full enjoyment of the sport is desired, as tricks may then be played which would be a little too risky to attempt single-handed. Native fireworks, ‘Anar,’ are rather dangerous to use, as they are apt to explode in the hand. Never will the writer forget seeing a lot go off in a howdah during a tiger beat: the poor old elephant went streaking across country like a glorified comet. Two guns are ample for following up a wounded bear on foot in jungle; if there are more the party is apt to get separated, and then, if the bear shows sport, there are too many bullets flying about to be pleasant. Natives, except perhaps one tracker, are only encumbrances. The way a cub will ride on its mother’s back and keep its seat under the most trying circumstances is marvellous. The writer once rolled an old bear clean over without the cub letting go. Sterndale quotes a capital story about this. Rusty coloured bears are not uncommon: the writer saw two in Central India, but as in each case the bear passed under his tree before the tiger in the beat had been fired at, he had to spare them. Bears may occasionally be ridden down and speared, but they are not often found on ground that will admit of this, and the way they ‘sling their chat’ will prevent most horses from going up to them. This bear does not hibernate.
Colonel Howard gives the following account of his experiences in Central India in 1884:
L. and I were at Lulliapoora tying up for a tiger, and hearing of some bears’ caves about two miles off, we rode out to look at them. On arrival at the ground we dismounted and strolled along, accompanied by a couple of villagers. Whenever we found a cave we rolled rocks down into it to see whether it was occupied or not, and having gone on in this way for some time without result, the natives began to get careless and went ahead of us. Presently we heard some growls and saw our Aryan brethren scuttling up trees. L. and I ran forward and found a large crevice in the rocky ground about four feet wide, eight or ten yards long, and from fifteen to eighteen feet deep; at either end of this caves seemed to run into the ground, and in the centre was a ragged archway that formed a staircase for the bears to climb in and out. Standing astride of the crevice I saw a bear’s head appear at the entrance of one of the caves, and as L. was new to the work, I signalled to him to come and shoot, while I stood a foot or two back from the edge, ready for whatever might turn up. The bear, noticing L., turned, and, on receiving a bullet in his seat of honour, ran along the bottom of the crevice to the opposite cave, acknowledging the second barrel with that peculiarly plaintive moan which a bear so often gives when he has received his death wound. L. then jumped aside, saying, ‘Look out’; a second bear’s head and shoulders appeared just above the crevice. I fired into her ear at about a yard’s distance, and she rolled back to the bottom dead. Tying the ponies’ leading ropes together I climbed down, put a noose round the bear’s neck, and steadied her while the others hauled her out.
I now told L. that I was perfectly certain that his bear was dead too, and that I would go down and see. I did not fancy going down the archway, as that seemed to be the bears’ regular run, so looked about for another entrance, and soon found one which seemed to lead almost perpendicularly down into the back of the cave. After removing a stone or two at the top in the vain hope of being able to see without actually going down, I started on my journey. As it was pitch dark and I had to use both hands in climbing down, I left my rifle behind, intending to run and not fight if I got into a scrape.
On reaching the bottom, I found myself on an underground continuation of the crevice. On one side was a stone about a couple of feet high on which I stood, and as my eyes got accustomed to the darkness, I made out an overhanging rock just in front of me, and protruding from beneath it, at my feet, a mass of hair.
I did not like to put my hand on it, so climbed up again, borrowed a stick from one of the natives, then jogged down again, and jammed the end of the stick into the bear. To my horror he jumped up with a growl, but luckily, being just as frightened as I was, he bolted further up the cave, while I legged it up my hole at about the best pace on record.
I then sent back to camp for a lantern, and with it in my hand and my short single rifle slung across my back, journeyed down for the third time, after posting L. at the top of the crevice, warning him to let any bear that might turn up come well out into the open before he fired, and on no account to let a wounded one come back into the cave on me.
Arrived at the bottom, I placed the lantern on the ground, unslung the rifle, and stepped on to the stones. There, just sticking out from under the overhanging rock, was undoubtedly the back of a bear, so I let drive into it. The smoke completely concealed everything, then there was a prolonged growl, afterwards a succession of short grunts, my lantern was put out and sent flying by a bear who charged it, brushing past me, probably with the idea that the lantern was the assailant. I scuttled up the hole, and L., who, in the excitement of the moment had forgotten my warning, fired at the bear and rolled him back down into the crevice before I got out.
It was now evening, and getting very dark, so I lit a bunch of grass, and, on throwing it down the crevice, could see a bear lying at the bottom. I threw a stone down, at which he did not growl, but, probably owing to the flickering light of the burning grass, he seemed to move, so we agreed to leave him till next morning. As we were starting home, my shikari noticed that the dry leaves at the bottom of the crevice were burning, which meant that by the morning the bear would have his coat singed off, so I hardened my heart, and, taking the rope, climbed down again, gave the bear a kick when I got just above him, and as he did not move, went up to him, felt for his head, slipped a noose over it, and the men above hauled him out. We started early next day, taking L.’s lantern, as mine was in the cave, and, on arrival at the place, to my infinite disgust, found fresh droppings at the entrance. They were probably only those of cubs, but one could not tell their size, and it made the idea of going down in cold blood much less pleasant.
I fired a shot down the cave, listened, but could hear no sound, so went to my old entrance and tried to lower L.’s lantern by a string, which was cut against the rocks, so that the lantern fell to the bottom.
We were now in a fix, for both our lanterns were down below, and if we left them there we should have to spend our evenings in darkness.
L., whose figure was not suited to climbing about in narrow caves, did not like the idea of my going down again—no more did I—but I could not well leave the lanterns there simply because I was afraid of fetching them; so taking my double-barrelled rifle with me, I started on my fifth journey. The length of the rifle made the climbing very awkward; however, I reached the bottom without damaging it, found my own lantern none the worse except for a few dents and scratches, followed the bottom of the cave until I reached the crevice, above which the others were standing anxiously awaiting my reappearance. They lowered a rope and hauled up the lantern, while I went back, found L.’s lantern in two pieces, handed it up, and then proceeded in my search for the bear.
I found him stone-dead under the overhanging ledge, but I could hear something moving ahead of me the whole time; the cave was pitch dark, was getting much lower and narrower, and turned two sharp corners.
To get at the bear’s head I should have to crawl over him, and we had no rope long enough to reach to where I was, besides which the cave made so many zig-zags that it would in any case have been impossible to haul the bear out without several of the party coming down to assist; so pulling out some hair to show that I had handled him, I returned, and offered to go on ahead of the bear as a guard, with rifle and lantern, if some of the others would bring the rope and do the hauling.
The noise ahead was probably made by cubs, but as I did not know their size, and as it might have been a fourth bear, I did not care to risk being attacked while I was tying up the quarry in a place where I had no elbow-room.
L., I think wisely, decided that we had been very lucky in recovering two bears and our lanterns without accident, and that it would be folly to risk an almost certain mauling for the sake of a third; so I came out, by no means unwillingly. I never fancied the last part of the job—I could not have got the bear out alone, and as two or three men on hands and knees in a narrow cave must get in each other’s way in a scrimmage, a charge would probably have ended badly.
I only escaped the first time through putting the lantern on one side of me instead of at my feet, and through the cave at that place being wide enough for the bear to pass by my side; very likely also the fact of my standing on the stone, though it was at the most two feet high, brought me a little above the level of the bear’s eyes, and seeing the lantern he charged it.
The astonishing part of the whole thing was the rapidity with which the bears came up the crevice. It was by no means an easy climb for a man, and yet it hardly seemed to delay them at all.
There is a certain delicacy in this branch of sport that requires such exceptional temperament and nerve that the writer can hardly feel himself justified in recommending its practice, at all events to a novice in the art.
The remaining varieties of the bear family found in India are somewhat more rare than those already described. They are the Burmese bear (Ursus malayanus), the Beluchistan bear (Ursus gedrosianus), called by the natives ‘mamh,’ and a quaint looking piebald bear (Ailuropus melanoleucos), discovered in Eastern Thibet by the Abbé David. U. malayanus resembles the Himalayan black bear but is smaller, the white horse-shoe mark upon the chest of the Himalayan bear being prolonged in a white stripe down the belly of U. malayanus. U. gedrosianus also resembles, but is smaller than, the Himalayan, but in colour he is brownish instead of black.
Measurements
| Authority | Height at shoulder | Length nose to tail | Girth | Forearm | Sex |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Ursus Isabellinus | |||||
| ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ||
| Major FitzHerbert | 36 | 65 | 48 | 17 | Male |
| ” | .. | 57 | .. | .. | Female |
| Major Ward | .. | 82 | .. | .. | .. |
| Ursus torquatus | |||||
| Major Ward | .. | 78 | .. | .. | .. |
| Col. Howard | .. | 76½ | .. | .. | .. |
| Authority | Height at shoulder | Length nose to tail | Weight |
|---|---|---|---|
| Ursus labiatus | |||
| ins. | ins. | lbs. | |
| Sanderson | 36 | about 72 | 280 |
| Sterndale | about 36 | 60 to 72 | 210 to 280 |
| Major FitzHerbert | .. | 65 | .. |
| Ursus malayanus | |||
| Sterndale | .. | not exceeding 54 | .. |
| Ailuropus melanoleucos | |||
| Sterndale | about 26 | about 58 | .. |
III. THE LION (Felis leo)
Native names: ‘Sher-babbar,’ ‘Singh,’ ‘Unthia Bagh’
The Indian lion differs little in appearance from the African variety, the males of both being furnished with manes, though a black mane is unknown in India.
Lions are almost extinct in India, though there are still a few left in Guzerat and Kutch, and natives occasionally bring in reports of them in Central India; but the writer has not heard of one being shot in the last district for many years. The lion is a less active animal than the tiger, and apparently not so powerful; in every case of a fight between the two occurring in a menagerie the tiger has invariably killed his opponent.
Essentially a wanderer, the Indian lion avoids heavy forest as a rule, preferring sandy hills covered with thin scrub and grass, and may be tracked and shot on foot in a way that it would be foolhardiness to attempt with a tiger. There is a capital account of the sport given in the ‘Oriental Sporting Magazine,’ July 1876. The narrator came across four males, shot one that charged him brilliantly, wounded and lost a second, and missed a third.
Native shikaris declare that lions always put up for the day under the same bushes, and that consequently if there is a lion about he is generally easily found. It would be curious if African sportsmen could corroborate this story.
Unlike tigers, there is a large preponderance of males to females among full-grown lions, which is supposed to be attributable to the mortality among female cubs in teething.
Measurements
| Authority | Total length | Tail | Height at shoulder | Girth of chest | Weight | Remarks |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| ft. ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | lbs. | ||
| Sterndale | 8 6 to 9 6 | 30 to 36 | 42 | .. | .. | |
| ” quoting Captain Smee | 8 9½ | .. | .. | .. | 490[16] (cleaned) | |
| ‘The Delhi Gazette’: a lion killed in Central India | 8 7 | 34 | 39 | 46 | .. | |
| ‘Oriental Sporting Magazine,’ July 1876 | 9 3 | .. | .. | .. | .. | |
| African Lion | ||||||
| Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | .. | .. | .. | .. | 500 | F. C. Selous, ‘A Hunter’s Wanderings’ |
| ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | 563 | ‘The Field,’ July 13, 1890 |
| ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | 385 | J. S. Jameson |
IV. TIGER (Felis tigris)
The tiger is found throughout India wherever there is suitable jungle, and extends through Burmah to the Malayan Archipelago and China, but is not found in Ceylon. Sterndale says: ‘It has been found as far north as the island of Saghalien, which is bisected by N. L. 50°. This is its extreme north-eastern limit, the Caspian Sea[17] being its westerly boundary. From parallel 50° downwards it is found in many parts of the highlands of Central Asia.’
Howdah shooting
The biggest tigers the writer has heard of are one of 13 ft. that Sir Charles Reid quotes as having been shot by the late Sir Andrew Waugh,[18] and one of 12 ft. 4 ins. quoted in a letter by Mr. F. A. Shillingford to ‘The Asian’ as having been shot by Mr. C. A. Shillingford of Munshye in 1849; and Williamson, writing about the year 1805 of a tiger killed by Mr. Paul, the superintendent of the Elephant Establishment at Daudpore, says: ‘The tiger proved to be the largest ever killed on the Cossim Bazar island. The circumference of the joint at his wrist was 26 ins.; he was 13 ft. and a few inches from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail, and in a right line, taken as he lay, from the sole of his forepaw to the tip of his withers, between the shoulders, gave very nearly 4 ft. for his height.’ As the old gentleman afterwards states that ‘nine in ten do not measure 10 ft.,’ it seems only fair to conclude that the above extraordinary measurements were honestly taken of the beast as he lay before being skinned.
Captain Forsyth’s division of tigers into three classes has been generally accepted by sportsmen as a correct definition of their habits. They are, as Sanderson writes: ‘Those which habitually prey upon cattle; those which live upon game alone; and the few dreaded individuals of their race that frequently prey upon human beings.’ None of these classes absolutely restrict themselves to one diet. The cattle-lifter will kill game occasionally, the game-killer does not despise a juicy young buffalo, nor does a man-eater live entirely on human flesh; but in broad terms the game-killer, who is in reality one of the villagers’ best friends in that he preys upon the wild pigs and deer that ravage his crops, is an active wandering beast which is proportionately hard to bring to bag, being generally met with by chance.
The cattle-lifter is generally a stay-at-home old gentleman, averse to travel, who takes two or three villages under his protection, and lives, as far as they will allow him, on good terms with the people, simply taking a cow, or a donkey, as his droit du seigneur every four or five days. Occasionally he may contract the wasteful habit of knocking over two or three animals at a time out of a herd; but this, as Sanderson points out, is the result of continual ill-judged interference on the part of the cowherds. Buffaloes in a herd he is too wary to meddle with, as he knows they will not hesitate to charge him, and the small boys who pretend to look after them traverse the tiger’s domain in perfect safety if mounted on the broad back of one of their charges. In reality the buffaloes are sent out to look after the children, and there is no better nursemaid than an old cow buffalo, who combines perambulator and guardian in one.
Seldom do these tigers attack a man wantonly, and though when they increase in numbers their system of taxation becomes oppressive, the damage they do is often overrated. Forsyth gives the alarming figures of 325l. to 650l. worth per annum for each tiger, but Sanderson more justly cuts the estimate down to about 70l. He adds, ‘The tiger might in turn justly present his little account for services rendered in keeping down wild animals which destroy crops,’ and gives many excellent arguments in favour of tigers.
The gravest charge against cattle-lifters is that they occasionally turn man-eaters; the game-killer, according to Sanderson, never does. As regards man-eaters, the crafty she-devils—they are generally tigresses—often bring up their cubs to the same way of living. They roam over a considerable tract of country, rarely staying long enough in one place to afford a chance of beating them out like ordinary tigers, killing perhaps on successive days at villages ten miles apart, rendering the whole district helpless from terror. These are the hardest brutes of all to destroy. The sportsman can get no help from the natives, he can gain no knowledge of the brute’s conduct to assist him in the pursuit; ceaseless hunting at all hours and in every method available, hoping that luck may favour him at last, is his only chance of ridding the country of its scourge. Even if he succeeds in killing every tiger he finds in the district, he can never be sure of having destroyed the real culprit; he may have driven it away only to return after his departure. There may be more than one man-eater at work, or it may very possibly be a panther that is doing the real damage, which he might refrain from firing at, like Sterndale, for fear of spoiling his chance of a tiger. Unless the beast is caught red-handed, time alone will prove its destruction.
Well may the unhappy villagers attribute to it supernatural powers, declaring that the spirits of its victims ride on its forehead, and that even, as Forsyth relates, a corpse raises its arm to warn the tiger of the hidden shikari. Well may they magnify its size, declaring it has a white moon on its forehead, and its belly sweeps the ground. Till all killing has ceased for some months no man dare pursue his usual avocation or travel to the nearest village alone.
Tiger shooting may be broadly divided into three classes, viz.: shooting from elephants; driving with beaters to guns posted in trees; sitting up over kills. The first method is that usually employed in the high grass jungles of the Terai. The ordinary plan, if a tiger is marked down into a particular patch of grass, is to send one or two guns ahead to prevent the creature slinking out, and these guns should, if possible, be posted in trees, as the restless movements of the elephants will almost invariably head the tiger back, and the elephant is better employed with the line. Of course, if it is considered desirable to hem the tiger in till the line gets up, elephants should be posted ahead, but a man in a tree will as a rule get a better chance than if he were on an elephant. The forward guns being posted, the line beats up to them with guns on the flanks and the pad elephants in the centre; if there are more than two guns with the line, the remainder distribute themselves along it. The elephants should not, if possible, be more than twelve yards apart at starting, and if a tiger is wounded should be closed up till they almost touch one another, as the elephants and their mahouts will gain confidence, and the formidable aspect of the close line will prevent most tigers from attempting to charge home; short half-hearted attacks he may make, but the line will stand firm, for the mahouts are under too close supervision and have hardly room to turn their elephants round; the guns on the flanks are also close enough to protect the whole line.
To hear of tigers making good their charges and springing on to elephants’ heads sounds very nice and exciting, but nothing is more demoralising to the elephants, especially at the beginning of a trip, and every precaution should be taken to save your elephants from getting mauled; for, if injured, many of them never recover confidence, and become absolutely worthless for tiger shooting afterwards. Forsyth mentions an instance of an elephant dying of wounds received from a tiger. It is all very fine for the sportsman to take a charge, standing in a howdah perched on the back of a large tusker; but it is a very different thing for the opium-sodden nerves of an unarmed mahout riding a small timid pad elephant. Close order is the only safe formation for pad elephants, and should invariably be adopted. If the tiger is marked into a particular bush, the line may be halted, and the howdah elephants alone be taken up to engage him; but until the mahouts have thorough confidence in the guns a fight is better avoided.
It is a good plan to reward all the mahouts engaged after a successful hunt, and the douceur should be bestowed on the spot, or at latest the same evening on return to camp; any mahout misconducting himself of course forfeits the reward. A wounded tiger rarely goes far before lying up, and there is really less chance of a close line missing him than an extended one, as with the latter he may crouch and be passed over.
Ringing tigers with a large number of elephants, as practised in the Nepal Terai, is merely a variation of the ordinary method, and is thus described by Sir E. Durand:
The usual method is to send men ahead the day before, to tie up buffaloes in all the likely places round the place selected for camp, then beat up the jungle with a long line of three or four hundred elephants. If a kill is found, the flanks of the line gradually get forward and wheel inwards, and on a tiger being seen the flanks sweep round as rapidly as possible and form a ring round the patch of jungle the tiger is supposed to be in. If the tiger breaks out, fast elephants are sent in pursuit at once to head him and try to detain him till a fresh ring can be formed. On one occasion, when a kill had been found, both flanks of the line of elephants had gradually been creeping forward till they were almost at right angles to the centre, which still kept steadily advancing. Suddenly, although apparently no news had been passed up, a sort of electric current seemed to run through the line; then bugles sounded right and left, and the movement became hurried. The Maharajah (Bir Shumshir of Nepal) and I then stopped to mount our howdah elephants (as we had hitherto been riding pads), and, advancing on them, found ourselves outside a ready-formed ring of elephants, some two hundred yards in diameter, encircling a lovely glade in the forest, damp and cool, with tall green reeds and scattered trees. A tiger had been viewed, and the question now was, whether he was inside the ring or not. Orders were now given for the ring to close very slowly and steadily, till it had contracted to a circle of about a hundred yards, and the elephants were in some places standing two deep. A halt was now made to complete the formation; gaps had to be filled up here and there, and big tuskers sent round to any weak points where a number of small elephants had got together, to give them confidence in case of a charge. The Maharajah and I then entered the ring, and took up a position on our howdah elephants, between where we thought the tiger was lying hid and the heaviest cover. I have seen several tigers break the ring and escape for the time when this precaution has not been observed. Three big tuskers, which had accompanied us to rouse the tiger, then began moving about very quietly, lifting up a tangle of grass here, shaking a bush there; for tigers in these rings lie very close, the elephants invariably making a masterly retreat immediately pending the result of each special inquiry. Suddenly, not fifty paces from us, a lovely tigress with a glitter of gold on her flanks appeared, standing listening and motionless. As we had detected no movement she must have been crouching in the short grass and risen to her feet. We usually took it in turn to fire first, and as it was the Maharajah’s shot, and our elephants were standing side by side, I leant over my howdah and touched his arm. He fired hurriedly, and with a whoop of anger the lady answered the shot and sprang into a thick bed of high reeds. Thinking she was hit, we went round and posted ourselves again between the reeds and the line of elephants on the far side. We had hardly settled ourselves when there was a deliberate rush, beginning some thirty yards from us, and the charge came straight and true. When within three yards of the tusks of the Maharajah’s elephant she met her fate, and rolled over and over like a rabbit, almost between the lowered tusks of the elephant, with a bullet through the head, and never moved again. The Maharajah’s elephant, usually impassive and unhysterical, had actually been so far shaken by the decided nature of the charge that he had moved and forced his rider to sit down just at the critical moment. The noise of the charge and the shot roused up her mate, a heavy, long tiger, who gave me a chance as he walked quietly between two patches of cover about sixty yards off, and I dropped him with an Express bullet through the shoulder. Now began a performance that I never like, and for which the only excuse is the fear—a very real one—that if the howdah elephants get mauled they no longer remain absolutely staunch and reliable. The game is, that when a tiger is wounded in thick cover, the big tuskers are sent in to move him. It is often a very funny sight as the tiger goes for them and they find pressing business on the other side of the ring, whilst the careful way they hunt for him or break down a tree to fall near him and stir him, and then clear out, is quite a study. The mischief is that they are often caught, and on this occasion three of them were caught by the tiger, one after the other. The tiger once was swinging under a big tusker’s head and getting his hind leg up; for a moment we thought he would pull the elephant down, but the latter managed to shake him off. The Maharajah and I then went in and killed the tiger before he had time to get in a fair charge at us.
On some occasions we have had as many as three, four, or even five tigers in one ring, and the excitement is of course proportionate. Then, though a purist would object that the whole thing is not real sport, it is most interesting from beginning to end: the careful search for the tiger, always an excitement in itself, the ringing, the doubt whether you have him inside or not, his break, perhaps, before or after the ring is formed, and the mad rush of shouting mahouts and crashing elephants to head him and surround him again; the lesser life that goes whirling up overhead when the tuskers search the ground—peacock, jungle-fowl, partridge—or the blundering gallop round the ring of a frightened boar, the rush of terrified hogdeer or chital; and perhaps, at last, a circus performance on the part of the tiger himself, who will gallop round the ring, his tail whirling like that of an angry cat, trying the circle here and there with a hoarse, grunting charge, which is met by a volley of abuse and cudgels flung by the mahouts, and by shrill trumpetings on the part of the elephants, backing with fright. All this tends to make a Nepalese tiger ring an interesting and an exciting show, even before the tiger charges the howdah elephants, which he seems to recognise at once as the real enemies he has to fear.
The second way of hunting tigers by beating them out is that generally practised in Central India, Bombay, and Madras; here, though a few elephants may be employed as they are in Central India, their chief use is for following up wounded animals, and not for obtaining the first shots. The circumstances of tiger hunting in these two districts are entirely different.
Instead of the seas of high grass in which tigers are found in the Terai, the usual beats in Central and Southern India are densely wooded ravines, often with precipitous banks. The modes of hunting vary slightly in different districts, but the method perfected by the Central India Horse parties is the one generally adopted. It is as follows: a line of country for the party is decided upon, and the camp is preceded by three or four pairs of shikaris, who practically form a line of scouts ten or twelve miles ahead of the camp. These men visit all the known tiger nullahs, and on obtaining information from the villagers tie up young male buffaloes (the cheapest animals that can be bought, as they are of little use except to train as pack animals, and even then are not as good as bullocks for the purpose) as baits in all the likely spots within reach of the village; the baits are visited next morning, and reports of kills sent in to headquarters. The head of the party, after receiving the reports from all the country round, is then able to decide on his plan of operations, selects one or more beats for the day’s work, and orders the remainder of the shikaris to keep on tying up. The shikaris of the beat selected assemble the beaters, sixty or a hundred men being engaged according to the ground. Operations begin about noon, when the tigers are pretty sure to be lying up. The guns, usually four in number, as there is rarely room for more, draw lots for their trees (this is generally done for each beat), and take up their positions as quietly as possible. Each gun is accompanied by his gun-carrier, and is provided with a leather bottle of water and a stout leather cushion two feet square, with eyelet-holes at the corners and ropes to sling it.
The cushion is lashed up in the tree so that the sportsman’s left shoulder is towards the beat; loops of rope are arranged as stirrups to prevent an attack of pins and needles in his legs, and another loop should be passed loosely round his body and fastened to the trunk or to a strong bough, so that he can lean well over without fear of falling; the small boughs that would interfere with his shooting are cut away as noiselessly as possible with a green-wood saw. The gun-carrier is sent to another tree, about a hundred yards in rear; the sportsman takes a good pull at his water-bottle and sits, slowly frying in the sun, till the beat strikes up. He will now appreciate the precautions he has taken of wearing a good big hat, a thick cummerbund round his waist, and a cotton quilt down his back. In the meantime men have been posted as stops along the flanks of the beat and in places where the tiger may break out; these are of course either up trees or on high rocks, and their orders are merely to clap their hands if the tiger tries to break out. The slightest noise ahead will suffice to turn a tiger. As a rule the guns are not allowed to smoke, and this, not so much from fear lest he should wind the tobacco, as because, if he hears a match struck, he will perhaps crouch till the beaters come up to him, and then dash back through them. The beaters form line under the direction of all the available shikaris (the four or five elephants that may be out being distributed along the line), and advance towards the guns making all the noise they can with tomtoms, horns, rattles and their own sweet voices. If matters go smoothly the tiger will walk with long swinging strides close past one of the guns, and be either dropped on the spot, the point of the shoulder being the place to aim at, or will dash on with a loud ‘wough’ towards the gun-carrier in rear, who should be able to mark him down. He may, however, particularly if he has been driven before, creep on just ahead of the beaters, hide before he reaches the guns till the last moment, and then come out at a gallop. If he has to cross an open glade, he will almost invariably bound across, pulling up to a walk in the cover of the far side.
Probably the first things that the sportsman will see will be a herd of chital trooping quietly past his tree, or he will hear an irresolute tread among the dry leaves coming closer and closer, till the head of a peacock peers round a bush, instantly detects him—for no man ever yet hid from a peacock—and the bird scurries off with a squawk. A bear may come shambling by, or a panther walk right under his tree, but the first shot must be reserved for the tiger; when that is fired anyone may take his choice. The sure signs of either a tiger or panther being in the beat are when the monkeys begin swearing or peafowl get up with a peculiar ‘kok-kok.’ Monkeys running along the ground is a bad sign for sport, but not an absolute guide.
As soon as the first shot is fired the beaters are stopped, and either sent up trees or collected in masses on rocks or high ground. The elephants come up to the guns, and the head of the party details one or two guns to get round the wounded tiger and force him back up to the other guns, who remain in their trees—this is when the fun begins. The tiger’s every move will be probably observed by some of the men in the trees; he can hardly get away, and has every inducement to show fight.
If a tiger is killing near camp, there is a good deal of sport to be had by going round the baits in the morning oneself. If one of them is taken, a wide circuit should be made round the cover with a good tracker to ensure the tiger being at home. An inner circuit may be then made to determine his approximate position, and to do this well without disturbing him requires great care and skill; but the knowledge so gained is invaluable in beating for him afterwards.
In Bombay and Madras elephants are not generally used, and, instead of the square cushions to sit on, light bamboo ladders are carried and set up against trees or clumps of bamboo where cushions could not be slung, the top of the ladder being lashed to the tree or bush, and the sportsman seating himself on one of the rungs. Many sportsmen praise these highly, as being easier to erect and giving more choice of position; but, on the other hand, they entail an extra man to accompany the sportsman to his tree, and are more conspicuous. Accidents of course happen equally to both; men have been taken out of their cushions, and ladders have been upset. The district in which the sportsman has received his training usually decides his choice of gear. The want of elephants, however, in Bombay and Madras obliges the guns to follow up their wounded tigers on foot. The orthodox procedure is to form a picked force of beaters and shikaris into a solid triangle, the apex and flanks being formed by the guns. Every man should provide himself before starting with all the stones he can carry; the wounded tiger is generally given a considerable time to stiffen—two hours if they can be spared may well be spent thus. The trail is then followed at a slow pace, every bush being well stoned before it is approached, far more passed; at every tree the party is halted and a man sent up to look, and if a tracker is necessary, he moves close under the guns of the two sportsmen who form the apex. If the natives can only be persuaded to keep together, with cool guns and fairly open ground like the bamboo jungles of Southern India, there is no excessive danger; but the writer’s experience of the work was that for the first hundred yards the men kept together pretty well, but would go too fast; then they became careless, and as the danger really increased began to straggle. Being single-handed, though there was another party working parallel to him at about fifty yards distance, the writer was unable to keep his men in order, and by the time the tiger was found, luckily dead, by the other party, his followers were all over the place.
The subjoined account by Captain Lamb gives a good idea of what may be expected to take place without trained men:
As soon as the beaters came up we [Major Mansel and himself] had awful trouble to prevent them scattering about in the jungle. We waited about twenty minutes, and then started to follow the tiger up. We took twenty men and formed them four deep, close up and shoulder to shoulder, M. and I going in front. We impressed upon the men that they were on no account to leave the square, and sent two men on each flank up trees to examine the ground in front. We could easily track the tiger by his blood, and in one place found what looked like a piece of his liver. We knew he could not go far, especially as he was full of cow. Some of the men began to wander a little, and we had to abuse them to make them keep their places. The trail led us through dry grass up to our knees, but not very thick, and growing under scattered young trees. After going about two hundred yards we heard the tiger growling, but he must have moved on. We could still follow him by his blood. Another hundred yards, and we could hear him distinctly. The square began to break, and several men started shinning up trees; M. shouted ‘Look out,’ and the words were not out of his mouth when the tiger came, his tail up, his mane on end, at a gallop, roaring and making straight for us. He was about twenty yards off when he first came out, and looked an awful devil, being almost black from rolling in the ashes where the jungle had been burnt. M. fired at him when he was about ten yards off, and he swerved a little to his right, passing M. within five yards. I was on M.’s right and could not fire before, but as the tiger passed I turned and fired behind M.’s back; there was a cloud of dust, and at first we only heard a thud, and could not see whether the tiger had gone on or not; as the dust cleared, we saw him lying stone-dead. It was a very lucky shot through the neck, as by this time the square was in full retreat, the men scattering all about and falling over each other. The front rank and part of the second alone stood firm, so if the tiger had gone on he would certainly have mauled one or two of the natives. He measured 9 ft. 9 ins. as he lay.
The worst part of getting a native hurt is, that though it almost invariably happens through his own wilful disobedience of orders, the news spreads like wildfire through the district, and makes it very hard for the party to procure beaters. Rustum Ali, the villagers argue, was a brave man; he didn’t fear tigers, we have seen him throw stones at tigers, and he went out with those sahibs and got killed—the said Rustum having met with his death by getting out of his tree and going to get a drink of water while the guns were following up a wounded tiger, or some equally nonsensical breach of orders. Accidents of course do happen, even when all precautions are observed, but the majority of them are occasioned by the natives’ own carelessness.
Natives are often very unwilling to give information about tigers, partly from fear of being turned out to beat, and partly from the universal idea that the tiger, if he escapes, or his mate, if he is killed, will take vengeance on them. They often also consider it unlucky to mention his name, and talk of him as a jackal, precisely as in Sweden a bear is never talked of as such.
Sitting up for a tiger over a kill or bait is the least amusing and least certain of any method of hunting him, but often in large forests which cannot be beaten, or where the sportsman is single-handed and without elephants, it is the only way to get a shot.
‘THE FRONT RANK AND PART OF THE SECOND ALONE STOOD FIRM’
The erection of the platform, or ‘machan,’ too frequently disturbs the tiger and drives him away. If the sportsman can procure baits, a good plan is to select a good place for a machan before tying up; tether lightly so that the tiger may drag the carcase away. Make the machan when the first bait is taken, tie up again till he kills again in the same place, and about three days after the second kill tie up again and sit over it. The best machan is a cot with low rails round the edge, fitted with ropes to sling it in a tree. The sportsman’s blankets and pillows can be spread in it, he himself can lie comfortably at full length watching the bait or kill, there are no sticks to crackle and make a noise; and when the moon goes down or he has had his shot, he can turn round and sleep as one only sleeps in the open. The sportsman should be at his post by four o’clock in the afternoon, as if the tiger means coming he will probably come early. Sanderson says he enjoys the sport; it’s pleasant enough if the tiger comes soon, but if he puts off his visit to 3 a.m., as happened to the writer, who was at that hour peacefully sleeping and never woke up, the entertainment is mediocre. Allowing a native to perch on the same tree is ruination to sport: cough he must; besides, the jungle man is unsavoury, and the evening air seems to make him smell worse than usual. If a kill is found in the jungle and the sportsman decides to sit over it, General Macintyre’s plan is worth trying; i.e. take some men up to the tree, let them talk loudly, or shout while the machan is being prepared, and then retire talking or shouting, according as the tiger is supposed to be bold or timid. He will very likely come at once, as their voices die away, not to eat, but to see if they have removed the kill. This often succeeds where professional skinners are in the habit of saving what they can of the hides of kills. Lieutenant-Colonel Fife Cookson, in his book ‘Tiger Shooting in the Doon and Ulwar,’ gives a curious account of a tiger stalking a bait:
Suddenly there emerged from underneath the trees a brownish-yellow object which appeared about the size of a monkey, and for a moment, in the failing light, I thought it was one. It darted rapidly along the bare ground for about twenty yards at a time, moving towards the bullock, and stopping at the end of each run behind one of the tufts of grass about two feet high, over which it peeped, then sinking down again and gliding forward as before. It was now nearer, and by this time I could see that it was not one of the monkeys; but still I could not clearly make out what it was. It reminded me of a very ugly, large, yellow and black mask at a pantomime. I could see no legs or body. Now it reached a tuft about forty yards from me, over which it also peeped, staring intently at the bullock. By this time I was convinced that it was the tiger, though it looked about the size and shape of a horse’s head. The curious appearance which the tiger had presented at a distance of about seventy yards, in shape like the head of a horse with the chin touching the ground, was no doubt owing to my seeing his forepaws underneath and part of his back foreshortened over the top of his head. What most particularly struck me was the small object which the tiger appeared during the stalk. It must be remembered that, although I perhaps saw a little of the back between his ears, I was looking down upon him from a much higher level, and that if I had been on the ground I should probably have seen nothing but his head. Thus the tiger was evidently able to hide himself behind any tuft of grass which was large enough to conceal his head. Another remarkable thing was the position in which he held his head. It was no longer in the usual attitude, with the nose in the air, as when the animal is walking about; but the face was held vertically, the chin being drawn in, and the forehead pressed forward, thus displaying its black stripes and markings, together with the intent stare of the large eyes. This greatly added to its sinister appearance.
Williamson describes another variety of sitting up, the sportsman being enclosed in a strong bamboo cage and playing the part of bait himself, being armed with two or three spears:
Being accompanied by a dog, which gives the alarm, or by a goat, which by its agitation answers the same purpose, the adventurer wraps himself up in his quilt, and very composedly goes to sleep in full confidence of his safety. When the tiger comes, and perhaps after smelling all round begins to rear against the cage, the man stabs him with one of the spears, through the interstices of the wickerwork, and rarely fails at destroying the tiger.
The writer heard of an instance of this being tried by a European, with a cage made of iron. Unfortunately the bars were set too far apart, and the tiger got his paw through and slew that adventurer.
Williamson also narrates the old story—possibly it was taken from his book—of tigers being caught by covering leaves with birdlime; it was told him by a Mahommedan gentleman of the Court of the Nabob Vizier of Oude. Sanderson gives a capital account of tiger-netting, as practised in Mysore, and describes the various traps occasionally used by natives. The late Maharajah of Patiala, about 1872, had a tiger that had been trapped in the hills turned out on the plain outside the town, he and his guests being mounted on elephants. Of course the whole of the populace assembled to see the fun, forming a large circle round the plain. The tiger, on being released where there was not sufficient cover for a quail, selected as his point of exit the buggy of a native gentleman, who sought refuge between the wheels; his groom, being unfortunately in the way as the tiger cleared the conveyance, was knocked over, but luckily more frightened than hurt. The tiger then took refuge in a garden, pursued by the elephants. On their arrival at the spot the gardener was found placidly pursuing his avocation, and, on being asked if he had seen the beast, imprudently pointed him out. The tiger at once sprang on the man, upset him and bolted; but as he was now heading for the English doctor’s stables he was considered to be becoming dangerous, and was cleverly shot by the Maharajah.
Sanderson, in describing the way a tiger attacks and kills his prey, says that in attacking a bison his object is to get the latter to charge, and then, avoiding the rush, to follow on the instant and endeavour to emasculate the bull by striking him behind. In killing cattle he writes:
The general method is for the tiger to slink up under cover of bushes or long grass, ahead of the cattle in the direction they are feeding, and to make a rush at the first cow or bullock that comes within five or six yards. The tiger does not spring upon his prey in the manner usually represented. Clutching the bullock’s fore-quarters with his paws, one being generally over the shoulder, he seizes the throat in his jaws from underneath, and turns it upwards and over, sometimes springing to the far side in doing so, to throw the bullock over, and give the wrench which dislocates its neck.
Sir S. Baker writes that while lions and cheetahs (Felis jubata) use their paws in striking down their prey at the moment of capture, tigers apparently never do. Sanderson points out that Forsyth, as also Captain Baldwin in his ‘Large and Small Game of Bengal,’ agree that tigers seize by the back of the neck, and then give the dislocating wrench. The writer noticed the fang-marks on a good many kills in Central India, and certainly they appeared from their position rather low down, apparently too much so to have been inflicted by a bite on the back of the neck—a tiger’s jaw is not very long—to entirely support Sanderson’s description. As regards a tiger’s powers of springing, Sanderson says he has often measured the bounds of tigers that have pursued deer, and found 15 ft. to be about the distance they usually spring.
The writer particularly noticed the way a tiger sprang at an elephant: he did not bound from a distance at all, but simply galloped up till he was just under the elephant’s ear-hole, and then sprang vertically upwards, placing his forepaws on the elephant’s head, and there he hung till the elephant shook him off. A tiger can with ease get his forepaws on to an object twelve to fifteen feet from the ground; but he seems clumsy in getting sufficient hold with his hind paws to enable him to proceed after his first spring. Sanderson says that tigresses do not breed at any fixed season. Sterndale states that they go with young for about fifteen weeks, and produce from two to five at a birth. Sanderson gives four as an unusually large number; the writer saw six taken out of a tigress, but probably these would not all have been born alive. He also saw a tigress with four cubs which must have been nearly a year old, one of them which was shot measuring 4 ft. 9 ins. Mr. Shillingford’s memorandum quoted by Sterndale is interesting:
| Cubs one year old measure | {Males | 4½ ft. to 5½ ft. |
| {Females | 4”5 ” | |
| ”two years” | {Males | 5½”7 ” |
| {Females | 5”6½ ” | |
| ”three years” | {Males | 7”8½ ” |
| {Females | 6½”7½ ” |
When they reach three years of age they lose their ‘milk canines,’ which are replaced by permanent fangs, and at this period the mother leaves them to cater for themselves, the tigress breeding once in three years.
Mr. Shillingford also notes that out of 53 cubs (18 mothers) 29 were males, and 22 females, the sex of two cubs not being given. This tends to prove that there are an equal number of each sex born,[19] the marked preponderance of adult tigresses over tigers being accounted for by most writers by the native story that the male tigers kill the young male cubs. The writer offers another suggestion: may not the young male tigers as soon as they leave their mothers avoid the domains of the heavy old cattle-lifters, and taking to the hills and forest form the game-killing class, till they are powerful enough to succeed to the estates of their sires, either by force or by inheritance, owing to their sire having met with an accident when entertaining a sahib, and so settle down and take wives? The writer has no proof to give in support of this suggestion, but merely offers it for sportsmen to consider. With respect to the common native story that the age of tigers may be told by the number of lobes in their livers, the writer made the following observations in Central India: Tigress, 6 lobes; tiger, 8 lobes; tigress, 7 lobes; cub (male), 6 lobes; male panther, 7 lobes; tigress, 7 lobes; tiger, 8 lobes; tigress, 7 lobes; tigress (a very old light-coloured one), 7 lobes; tiger, 7 lobes.
Sanderson says he has shot tigers and panthers with from 9 to 15 lobes. An article on the age of tigers as shown by their length, written by Mr. F. A. Shillingford for ‘The Asian’ and copied in ‘Land and Water,’ August 30, 1890, appears to be worth quoting:
It was the opinion of the late Mr. Joe Shillingford that in Bengal and the Nepal Terai, at all events, tigers, as distinguished from tigresses, did not attain full maturity until they attained a length of over 10 ft., measured ‘sportsman’s style,’ and that occasionally they attain a length of 11 ft., and that the 12 ft. tiger shot by the late Mr. C. A. Shillingford was an exceptional monster, like the exceptional tigress, 10 ft. 2 ins. in length, shot in 1867, and in these opinions I entirely concur. I have a collection of over a hundred tiger skulls, and in no case are the parietal sutures obliterated from old age of skulls of tigers below 10½ ft. in length.
Tigers take to water readily, and swim higher out of the water than most animals.
Elephants who take matters into their own hands and charge at tigers are exceedingly dangerous in the field, particularly after a tiger has been killed and men are dismounting to pad it. All the elephants in such a case, except the one destined to carry the beast, should be taken away from near the carcase; they are more or less in an excited state, and are apt to mistake a man in the grass for another tiger. The writer remembers being on an elephant that stood perfectly steady for the shot, but as soon as the tiger was killed—it was within a few feet of her—it was all the mahout could do to prevent her charging it.
The elephant has a way of playing football with an animal which though diverting to a spectator is awkward for the man in the howdah. The elephant performs a kind of war dance over the carcase, kicking it about between his feet, lifting it with the front of the hindfoot and returning it from the back of the forefoot till tired, when he places one ponderous hindfoot upon it and squashes it flat. If an elephant has been mauled, it is not at all a bad plan to let it play with the carcase of its enemy; but everything should be taken out of the howdah, and the skin will not be worth much afterwards.
Two other serious dangers that have to be guarded against in tiger shooting are bees and red ants. Bees generally hang their hives from boughs of trees or on the face of rocks, but often they have them in high grass, and an elephant pushing his way through disturbs them, rendering them exceedingly aggressive, whilst a shot fired near them is quite enough to make them attack. Deaths of men and animals from their stings have often been recorded; they almost always go at the head, and the best way of escaping is to cover the head with a blanket, which should invariably be placed in each howdah. The mahouts always sit on theirs. Oddly enough, if the head is covered the rest of the body, even of unclad natives, usually escapes their attentions. A nest of red ants, though not so dangerous, is quite enough to put anyone to flight, as they bite unmercifully and leave their nippers in. No one would ever think of climbing a tree with a bee’s nest in it, but equal care should be taken that red ants, which are hard to detect, are not in it also; an inspection of the trunk will usually decide the question, especially if the boughs touch nothing else. In selecting camping grounds particular attention to these points is also necessary; most servants do not take the trouble to look up into the trees, and will light their fires under a bee’s nest till they have been properly stung once; but their carelessness may result in the loss of ponies’ or even men’s lives.
Sanderson remarks on the danger of firing at a tiger’s head except at very close ranges. The writer saw an instance of this in a tigress hit on the side of the head with an Express bullet; she dropped in her tracks, lying with her head underneath her for nearly a minute, when she recovered, went back into the jungle, and gave a good deal of trouble afterwards, charging the elephants freely. A shot through the shoulder is far more likely to be effective. A tiger seems rather a soft beast, and nearly always drops on receiving his first wound, though he picks himself up pretty quickly. Subsequent wounds have comparatively little effect on any animal, and another curious thing that the writer has noticed is that wounded animals nearly always lie down on their wounded side.
Tigers do not seem to be very particular as to what they eat. Sterndale records an instance of their eating carrion; Sanderson gives a story of three tigers killing and eating a fourth, and of their eating bears; and Colonel Kinloch told the writer of his finding a snow bear killed by a tiger in Chumba, on barasingh ground. Tigers seem to be yearly penetrating deeper into the Himalayas; probably they follow the ever-increasing herds of cattle that come up from the plains in the summer to graze.
Sterndale gives an ingenious formula for finding the length of a tiger from its skull. For details the reader is referred to his book.
In the following list of measurements only tigers of 10 ft. or over are mentioned except where weights are given and of exceptionally large tigresses. The system of recording tigers’ weights as shot does not appear satisfactory. Those which scaled over 500 lbs. must surely have included a good deal of beef.
Measurements
| Authority | Total length | Tail | Height at shoulder | Girth of chest | Girth of forearm | Girth of upper arm | Length of skull | Breadth of skull | Weight as shot | Remarks | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| ft. ins. | ft. ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | lbs. | |||
| Gen. Sir C. Reid, K.C.B. | 12 2 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ (skin measured 13 ft. 5 in.) | |
| Lieut.-Col. Boileau, 1861 | 12 0 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Sterndale | |
| Col. Ramsay | 12 0 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| Hon. R. Drummond, C.S. | 11 9 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| Col. Shakespeare | 11 8 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| Gen. Sir C. Reid, K.C.B. | 11 6 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| Sterndale, ‘Meade Shell’ | 11 6 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| Mr. F. A. Shillingford | 11 5 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Letter to ‘The Asian,’ ‘Land and Water’, Aug. 30, 1890 | |
| ” | 11 1 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| ” | 11 0 | 3 6¾ | 43 | .. | .. | .. | 15¼ | 10½ | .. | Ditto (skull quoted by Sterndale now in Calcutta Museum) | |
| ” | 11 0 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ||
| ” | 11 0 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ||
| ” | 11 0 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| Sir G. Yule | 11 0 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | |
| Mr. Shillingford | 11 0 | 3 4 | 43 | 54 | 26 | .. | .. | .. | .. | Shot in Purneah | Quoted by Sterndale to compare the bulk of tigers in Bengal and S. India |
| ” | 10 2 | 3 1 | 45 | 73 | 34 | .. | .. | .. | .. | Shot in S. India | |
| Mr. F. A. Shillingford | 10 10 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Letter to ‘The Asian’ | |
| ” | 10 10 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| Mr. Shillingford | 10 9½ | 3 6½ | 43 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | |
| ” | 10 8½ | 3 5½ | 44½ | 55 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| Sir J. Fayrer | 10 8 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| Mr. F. A. Shillingford | 10 8 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Letter to ‘The Asian’ | |
| ” | 10 7 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| ” | 10 7 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| ” | 10 6 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| ” | 10 6 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| Gen. Sir C. Reid, K.C.B. | 10 6 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | |
| Col. J. Macdonald | 10 4 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| Maharajah of Kuch Behar | 10 2½ | 3 2½ | 39½ | 48½ | 20 | 26½ | .. | .. | 530 | Letter to ‘The Asian’ | |
| ” | 10 2½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 493 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | |
| Mr. F. A. Shillingford | 10 2 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ‘The Asian,’ ‘Land and Water’, Aug. 30, 1890 | |
| Sir E. Durand, Bart. | 10 2[20] | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Nepal, Jan. 18, 1891 | |
| Maharajah of Kuch Behar | 10 1½ | 3 1 | 44¾ | 54 | 21 | 29 | 15¾ | .. | .. | ‘The Asian’ | |
| ” | 10 1 | 3 3½ | 41 | 56 | 19½ | 26 | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| Forsyth, ‘Highlands Central India’ | 10 1 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ||
| ” | 10 0 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ||
| Maharajah of Kuch Behar | 10 0 | 3 1 | 40 | 52 | 21 | 26 | .. | .. | 540 | ‘The Asian’ | |
| ” | 10 0 | 3 2 | 40 | 51 | 18¾ | 29 | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| ” | 9 10 | 3 0 | 41½ | 47½ | 18½ | 26½ | .. | .. | 426 | ” | |
| ” | 9 6 | 3 1 | 38 | 52 | 19 | 29 | .. | .. | 481 | ” | |
| ” | 9 5 | 3 1 | 38¼ | 49 | 18 | 26 | .. | .. | 420 | ” | |
| ‘Deccan Ranger,’ ‘Oriental Sporting Magazine,’ 1876 | 9 10 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 432½ | Tiger | |
| ” | 9 10 | 3 1 | 46 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 425 | ” | |
| ” | 9 6 | 2 11 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 370 | ” | |
| ” | 9 6 | 3 2 | 45 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 447½ | ” | |
| ” | 9 2 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 330 | ” | |
| ” | 9 0 | 3 0 | 42 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 282 | Tigress | |
| ” | 8 11 | 2 9 | 39 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 245 | ” | |
| ” | 8 8 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 285 | Tiger | |
| ” | 8 5 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 256 | Tigress | |
| ” | 8 5 | 2 9 | 39 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 253 | ” | |
| Mr. H. L. Heber Percy | 9 10[20] | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” Nepal, Feb. 12, 1891 | |
| ” | 9 2½ [20] | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” ” Jan. 31, 1891 | |
| ” | 9 2 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” ” Jan. 21, 1891 | |
| The Writer | 9 1 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” Central India, May 23, 1876 | |
| Col. Gordon Cumming, ‘Wild Men and Wild Beasts’ | 9 1 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| ” | 9 0 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | |
| Capt. Lamb | 9 0 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” Central India | |
| Sir E. Durand, Bart. | 9 0[20] | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” Nepal, Jan. 17, 1891 | |
| Sanderson, ‘Thirteen Years among the Wild Beast’ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 349½ | ||
| Rowland Ward’s Collection | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 14½ | 10 | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | |
| Average of full-grown tiger | 9 6 | 3 1 | 42 | 48 | 18 | 26 | .. | .. | 420 | ||
| Average of full-grown tigress | 8 4 | 2 10 | 39 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 265 | ||
V. PANTHER (Felis Pardus)
Native names: generally, ‘Chita’; in the Himalayas, ‘Lagá Bagá’; in Central India, ‘Téndwá’
The panther is common all over India, Burmah, and Ceylon, but does not cross the snow-line of the Himalayas, being replaced beyond the range by the ounce. Sterndale gives two varieties, the pard and the panther, describing the pard as being larger, the spots more clearly defined in rosettes, and the skull longer and more pointed than the panther’s. Sanderson also gives two varieties with the same distinctions, but calls Sterndale’s pard the panther, and Sterndale’s panther the leopard.
This is in itself perplexing to the ordinary sportsman, and as the writer saw two beasts shot in the same beat, the male corresponding to Sterndale’s pard and the female to Sanderson’s leopard, the only solution he can offer of the difficulty is that the sportsman may call the beast he shoots either leopard or panther according to his own fancy, and not one man in a hundred will be able to contradict him.
The panther is a nuisance wherever he is; he is perpetually prowling about villages at night picking up unconsidered trifles, such as dogs, goats, ponies and babies, in short anything. Occasionally panthers become regular man-eaters, and though far more plentiful than tigers, they are so cunning that they are far harder to shoot. A wounded panther is always a dangerous beast to follow up. He can hide, like a quail, in anything; his attack is always sudden, and being a quick, active beast, he more frequently makes good his charge than a tiger. More men get mauled by panthers than by tigers, but on the other hand fatal results are the exception, and stories are told of men having strangled panthers with their hands when they have been attacked.
Many a pet dog has been carried off in broad daylight, in the middle of large hill stations, where the forest comes close up to the roads and houses. A dog of my own had the narrowest escape in Chamba, being chased by a panther almost up to my feet. The beast had almost got hold of him when I drove him off. Ward recommends trapping, and gives capital directions for making a cage-trap. When the writer was stationed at Chakrata a few panthers were caught in these traps, but more were shot over dogs tied up as baits. Panthers are often shot in this way, or by sitting over a kill. At night a very good plan is to strew chaff thickly all round the bait, and if it is dark arrange a lantern so as to throw its light on the bait; neither of these plans will scare a panther, though it might a tiger.[21] Sterndale recommends phosphorescent oil (one grain phosphorus to one drachm oil dissolved in a bath of warm water) for touching the sights at night. There is a magnesium wire lantern, a Hanoverian invention, which is made to fit on the sportsman’s shoulder, and on a string being pulled throws a broad search light down the barrels of the rifle lasting about thirty seconds; but this, if the sportsman was sitting on the ground, might lead to complications should the first shot fail to kill outright. If a panther’s cave is found, it is often worth while watching the entrance about 4 p.m., when the animal will come out and sun himself before starting on his evening ramble. In Central India panthers are often beaten out like tigers, but they are unsatisfactory beasts to try and drive, as they are so apt to hide and let the beaters pass by them. On one occasion a panther came within shot of one of the guns, who did not fire as a tiger was expected. The panther first amused himself by catching a hare that the beaters had driven up to him, then, as the men got near, he selected a plump youth and proceeded to stalk him, when the gunner thought it time to interfere.
Sitting up over a bait at night is the poorest of all amusements. Often has the writer undergone it, and as often sworn he never would do it again, till the next absolute certainty has been offered him with the usual disappointing result.
When a panther is in the habit of attacking flocks on their way home in the evening, a good plan is to select a place before the flock returns, and arrange with the shepherd that he shall drive the flock past your hiding-place and tether a kid as he passes; the apparent absence of pre-arrangement will probably induce the panther to show at once.
Sanderson gives some stirring accounts of his adventures with panthers in which the following points are particularly noticeable, viz. the necessity of posting markers outside the cover beaten to watch the panther if he leaves it; that panthers will not charge out of caves even if poked up with bamboos; that, unlike most tigers, a panther charged home at a large party of men closed up, and used his paws, cuffing right and left instead of biting. Not that a panther never bites, as the beast referred to had bitten a man previously, but in nearly all cases of men being mauled the bulk of their injuries are claw wounds.
Sterndale relates a curious legend about a well-known man-eating panther that killed over two hundred people in three years, and was supposed to be a kind of Wehr-wolf. Panthers have often been ridden down and speared, but two or three men are required for this amusement, as on the first horse overtaking it the panther will at once crouch and endeavour to spring on the horse’s back as he passes. The second horseman should, therefore, be close up ready to cut in at once; care should be taken to get the first spear home in a good place, and the panther should be held down if possible, till despatched by the spears of the rest of the party. It is foolhardiness for a single man to attempt it. Panthers climb readily, and many have been shot out of trees where they have taken refuge, or been found lying asleep on a branch. Forsyth considers that many panthers escape in drives by taking to trees, and mentions finding the body of a child, that had been killed by a panther, lodged in a forked bough.
The troopers of the Central Indian Horse used often to kill panthers in the rainy season by tracking them into patches of sugar-cane, which they surrounded with men armed with spears and swords (guns were naturally not allowed), and then hunted the beast out with a pack of dogs. When panthers or bears were marked down in jungle too big to be surrounded, the guns were posted in trees, and the pack laid on to hunt the beasts up.
Terriers were chiefly used, but it was necessary to employ a greyhound or two to prevent the beast galloping away from the little dogs; the greyhounds would not tackle, but by ranging up and snapping would impede the beast’s movements. Sanderson had great sport with his pack, hunting bears, bison, and even on one occasion a young elephant. He gives every instruction for getting together a pack, but does not mention the use of greyhounds, though they would evidently have saved his heavy seizers from long tiring runs. Sambur hunting with dogs in Ceylon is an old-established custom, but there apparently the whole pack is hunted together, while Sanderson appears to have kept his seizers up till the quarry came to bay and then slipped them.
Black panthers are occasionally found, but they are merely instances of melanism, several cases of a single black cub in a litter being recorded. As a rule, these black specimens are only found in heavy forests, not in the more open ground, and they are more common in the south of India than the north. There is a lovely stuffed specimen in the British Museum, upon which the markings are just discernible in certain lights.
VI. THE CLOUDED PANTHER (Felis Diardii vel Macrocelis)
Native names: ‘Tungmar’ Lepcha; ‘Zik’ Bhotia; ‘Lamchitta’ of the Khas tribe (Sterndale)
This panther seems to be entirely a forest animal. It extends from Nepal eastwards through Assam.
Kinloch gives an instance of one having been shot, but specimens are very rarely obtained, though occasionally live cubs have been bought from natives.
The chief peculiarities of this species are the extreme beauty of the colouring, and the fact that the upper canines are the longest in comparison of all living felines.
VII. THE HUNTING LEOPARD (Felis jubata)
Native names: ‘Chita’ generally; ‘Yuz’ of the Chita-catchers (Sterndale)
This animal is generally found in Central or Southern India. The writer has never heard of it in the Punjab or North-West Provinces. According to Sterndale, it is most common in Jeypur in Upper India and Hyderabad in Southern India.
In general colour it is like a panther, except that its nose is black instead of pinkish; it has a mane on the neck and long hair on the belly; its spots are single and not in rosettes. Its shape is quite different from that of the panther. Instead of having the muscular forearm, short legs and rounded body of that beast, it is a tall greyhound-like animal with thin long legs, and toes like a dog, the claws being only semi-retractile.
It is not often shot, but most native princes have tame specimens for hunting antelopes. These have to be caught when nearly full grown, as cubs cannot be trained for the sport, and chita catching is a regular profession in certain districts. In Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia of India’ there is an interesting account of catching chitas quoted from ‘The Asian.’ As regards its habits when wild, the writer says:
It is said by shikaries to feed only once every third day, when, after gorging itself, it retires to its den for the other two. On the morning of the third day he visits some particular tree, which the animals of his species in the neighbourhood are in the habit of frequenting. Such trees are easily to be recognised by the scoring of the bark, on which he whets his claws. From this meeting place, after having played about with such of his comrades as may be there, they go off on a hunting expedition.
Here is evidently the tip for any sportsman wishing to shoot one: find a tree with tracks three days old, and sit up in it on the fourth morning.
Sterndale says:
Chita kittens are quite grey without any spots, but can always be recognised by the black stripe down the nose, and on cutting off a bit of the soft hair I noticed that the spots are quite distinct in the under fur. As a rule the young of all cats, even the large one-coloured species, such as the lion and puma, are spotted, but the hunting leopard is externally an exception, although the spots are there lying hid.
Hunting antelope with chitas has been described ad nauseam, and is in the opinion of the writer very poor sport. It is worth witnessing once, if only to see how fast a chita can go.
VIII. THE OUNCE, OR SNOW LEOPARD (Felis Uncia)
Generally, ‘Safed Chita’; Thibet, ‘Stian’
The ounce is fairly common on the higher ranges; there are few ibex grounds on which its tracks will not occasionally be seen, but owing to its nocturnal habits it is very rarely met with. It preys chiefly on ibex and burrel, and rarely, if ever, descends to the forest line. It will kill sheep and goats. A farm in Lahoul, belonging to the Moravian missionaries, suffered considerably in 1884 from the depredations of a pair of ounces that lived in the valley behind Kielang. The male of this pair was killed by an officer of the Royal Artillery, who saw the ounce on his return from shooting late in the evening. The next day he went back up the nullah prepared to spend the night out, shot a young male ibex and dragged the carcase down to where he had seen the ounce the day before. Just at dusk the ounce came to the bait and was missed clean with the first barrel; however, the sportsman, being highly favoured by the gods, bagged him with a second shot, and next morning brought him in triumph down to Kielang. The skin was a beauty, very pale yellowish white with black spots and black rings on the thick furry tail.
From the amount of slaughter ounces effect among ibex, it is probable that they hunt in pairs. In 1874 a sportsman in Pangi found a flock of five or six male ibex lying dead within a few yards of each other, killed by ounces; he had seen this particular flock some days before, had either disturbed them or was unable to get at them, and had given them a few days’ rest to settle down in. When he did go after them he found that they had all been slaughtered.
IX. THE THIBETAN LYNX (Felis Isabellina)
Thibetan, ‘Ee’
This beautiful animal is very rarely met with, but as the Tartars know it well by name, it is possible that it may be more plentiful than is commonly supposed; its nocturnal habits, as in the case of the ounce, shielding it from observation. The Tartars aver that it frequently kills sheep and goats; but though the lynx is quite powerful enough to do so, it is probable that the natives occasionally confound the lynx with the ounce. The lynx stands about 17 ins. at the shoulder, and is of enormously powerful make, with teeth and claws large enough for an animal of twice its size.
The Thibetan lynx has the orthodox prominent whiskers which are absent in the red lynx of the plains, but it differs from the European variety in the pads of its feet being prominent and bare, with short close fur between them, whereas in the European lynx the long fur completely conceals the pads.
The red lynx, Felis caracal, called by natives ‘Siagosh,’ is occasionally met with all over India. It is not common anywhere, or at least, possibly owing to its nocturnal habits, it is not often shot. A few are known to have been shot in Central India. It preys chiefly on hares, birds, and small deer. Sterndale gives the following measurements: Head and body, 26 to 30 ins.: tail, 9 or 10 ins.; height, 16 to 18 ins.
Measurements
| Authority | Total length | Tail | Height at shoulder | Remarks |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Felis Pardus | ||||
| ft. ins. | ins. | ins. | ||
| Col. Gordon Cumming (‘Wild Men and Wild Beasts’) | 7 10 | .. | .. | Male |
| ” | 7 8 | .. | .. | ” |
| Capt. A. G. Ferguson | 7 8 | .. | .. | |
| Col. Howard | 7 4½ | .. | .. | Male |
| Mr. H. L. Heber Percy | 7 4[22] | .. | .. | Nepal, Dec. 9, 1892 |
| ” | 7 1[22] | .. | .. | ” Jan. 30, 1891 |
| Sir E. Durand, Bart. | 7 1[22] | .. | .. | ” Jan. 17, 1891 |
| Major FitzHerbert | 6 8½ | .. | 26½ | Male |
| Col. Kinloch | 6 4 | .. | .. | Female |
| Col. Howard | 6 0 | .. | .. | ” |
| Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | 7 0 to 8 8 | 30 to 38 | .. | Pard |
| ” | 5 6 to 6 0 | 30 | 18 to 24 | Panther (female) |
| Sanderson (‘Thirteen Years among the Wild Beasts’) | 6 8 | .. | .. | |
| ” | 6 3½ | .. | 26 | ” |
| ” | 6 10 | .. | .. | ” |
| ” | 5 4 | .. | .. | Leopard (male) |
| ” | 5 2 | .. | .. | ” (female) |
| Felis diardii | ||||
| Sterndale | 6 4 | 36 | .. | Jerdon states that it grows to a larger size |
| Felis jubata | ||||
| Sterndale | 7 0 | 30 | 30 to 33 | |
| Felis Uncia | ||||
| Sterndale | 7 4 | 36 | 24 | Measurements apparently too big |
| Major Ward (‘Sportsman’s Guide to Kashmir’) | 6 4 | 36 | .. | Male |
| ” | 6 0 | 33 | .. | Female |
| Capt. Dawkins (May 24, 1884.) | 5 11½ | 36 | 18 | Male |