“The next scene partook of the ridiculous. The herd dispersed, and regained its position. The little albino calf, seeing P., screamed wildly, and with ears extended, and tail aloft, chased him. He, wishing to save it, darted around the trees, but was near coming to grief, as he tripped and fell. The result might have been disastrous had I not given the pertinacious youngster a telling butt in the head with my eight-bore. His attention was next turned to a native, who took to his heels when he found that three sharp blows with a club on the head had little effect. After some severe struggles, in which a few natives were floored, the calf was at last secured to a tree by a native’s waist-cloth and a jungle-creeper.
“While all this took place, the beat became thoroughly disorganized. When the elephant had charged P. and me, our men had given way; and the herd regained its original position, at the extreme east end of the cover. After a short delay, we beat it up again to the spot near the gate from which it had broken back. The elephants had formed a dense mob, and began moving round and round in a circle, hesitating to cross the newly filled-in trench, which had reached from the channel to the river, but which was now refilled to allow them to pass on into the kheddah. At length they were forced to proceed by the shots fired, and by the firebrands carried through the paths in the thicket. The bright eyes of the fair watchers near the gate were at length gratified by seeing one great elephant after another pass the Rubicon. After a short pause, owing to a stand being made by some of the most refractory, the last of the herd passed in with a rush, closely followed into the inner enclosure by a frantic beater, waving a firebrand. P. and I came up third, in time to save any accident from the fall of the barrier. C., who was perched on a light branch of the gate-post, cut the rope; and, amidst the cheers of all, the valuable prize of fifty-three elephants was secured to the Mysore Government. I often think of the rapture of that moment. How warmly we sahibs shook hands! How my trackers hugged my legs, and prostrated themselves before P. and B.! An hour of such varied excitement as elephant-catching is surely worth a lifetime of uneventful routine in town.”
Such is the account of an enthusiastic hunter, one of the best living authorities on these elephants; and few men have enjoyed his privileges. To complete the capture of this herd, seventeen tame elephants were employed; and finally they were all tamed and ready for use. They consisted of sixteen male elephants, the largest being eight feet five inches at the shoulder; three mucknas, or tuskless males; thirty females, and nine young ones. Nine were given to the Mahárájah’s stud, ten to the Madras Commissariat Department, while twenty-five were sold at public auction when they were tame enough to be used by purchasers. The latter realized about $415 apiece, or in a bulk $10,425; and the amount realized from the entire catch, deducting the deaths, was $18,770. Deducting from this the total sum of expenditures from Mr. Sanderson’s first attempt at their capture in 1873, or $7,780, a profit to the government remained of $10,995. Mr. Sanderson was congratulated by the chief commissioner of Mysore, and his excellency the viceroy and governor-general in council, and has since continued to capture elephants on this plan, always with marked success. His last catch that I have record of, that of 1882, was two hundred and fifty-one, and that only up to March. The first drive yielded sixty-five, and the second fifty-five, elephants. These animals were taken in the Garrow Hills.
A second method of taking wild elephants in India is by following them with females trained for the purpose. This plan is usually more successful in the capture of large tuskers than the kheddah, as the latter are often away from the herd, and do not become entrapped. The hunt is generally composed of four or five well-trained female elephants ridden by mahouts, who sit upon their necks, and are hidden by cloths or blankets of the same color as the elephant’s skin. In some works, these elephants are called decoys; but this is an entirely mistaken idea. The tame elephants use no arts to attract the wild ones, in the sense of a decoy, merely obeying the commands or signs of the keeper.
When the location of a single male is determined, the tame elephants approach the spot in a leisurely manner, feeding as they move. Sometimes the wild elephant scents the mahouts, and moves off; but, as often, they do not seem to notice them; and, if not, the tame ones gradually surround him, and endeavor by command of their mahouts, who direct them by signs, to keep its attention. Generally there is an elephant in the near vicinity, loaded with ropes and other material; and, as several days are occupied, the men are relieved every day, the elephants drawing off one by one, and returning with fresh men.
This surveillance is kept up day and night; and, during the latter, the wild elephant goes into the fields to feed, being closely followed by the seemingly treacherous females with their concealed drivers. When he returns to the forest as the day approaches, they follow: and as he lies down, and tries to go to sleep, they close in about him, and, at the command of the mahouts, keep him awake by various devices; all this performance resulting in thoroughly fatiguing the old fellow, and making him sleep very soundly when he does take a nap. Sometimes an elephant is fed with sugar-cane loaded with opium, to make him sleep; and, as soon as he has fallen into a deep slumber, the mahouts slip off behind, and securely tie his legs. Then the men in the rear come up, and rudely awaken him, slapping him on his haunches, and telling him facetiously to be of “good cheer.”
The struggles of the trapped elephant are terrific, and they often injure themselves fatally. The tame elephants follow them up until they are thoroughly subdued, when they are securely bound, and led to the place where their training commences; and a few months later, they are carrying their human owners about, or working in the timber district, as if they had not been wild elephants so short a time before.
A third method of taking elephants here is by the pitfall,—a barbarous custom, not now in general practice, as it always resulted in the loss by death of a large proportion of the catch. The plan was to dig pitfalls in the well-known and beaten tracts of elephants in the jungle, or under certain trees where they were known to congregate to feed. These traps, or holes, were generally ten and a half feet long by seven and a half broad, and fifteen feet deep, being purposely small, so that the imprisoned animals could not dig down the earth with their tusks, which they often did. In former years, there was, according to the government official, a perfect network of these pits in Mysore, and kept in order by the Mahárájah, the Forest Department, and others. The natives, as the Strolagas and Kurrabas, also made pits; and when an elephant was trapped, and they had no way of getting it out, the poor creatures often died before a tame elephant could be secured to give the required assistance. Through the endeavors of Sanderson, this inhuman practice has been given up; and all elephants caught are treated as humanely as possible.
PLATE IX.