Many ingenious theories have been advanced to explain this lack of development. The most feasible explanation would seem to be, that, in Ceylon, the elephants had less use for weapons of defence than on the main-land.
The Ceylon elephant leads a quiet, pastoral life compared to its ally of Africa, who, if not attacked, is menaced by rhinoceros and lion; while the tiger, though not the master of the Asiatic elephant, infuses it with a wholesome dread, and will attack it if the true king of beasts is at a disadvantage.
In the chapter on Continental Asiatic Elephants, the distinguishing points of elephants are given. In Ceylon, they differ again; and in a Singhalese work, the “Hastisilpe,” which treats of the management of these animals, the author says an inferior elephant (one that corresponds probably to the Meerga caste) has “eyes restless like those of a crow, the hair of the head mixed shades, the nails short and green, the ears small, the neck thin, the skin freckled, the tail without a tuft, and the fore-quarters lean and low.” The perfect type, corresponding to the Koomeriah grade of India, is characterized by “softness of the skin, the red color of the mouth and tongue, the forehead expanded and hollow, the ears broad and rectangular, the trunk broad at the root, and blotched with pink in front, the eyes bright and kindly, the cheeks large, the neck full, the back level, the chest square, the fore-legs short, and convex in front, the hindquarter plump, and five nails on each foot, all smooth, polished, and round.” An elephant with these perfections, says the same author, “will impart glory and magnificence to the king: but he cannot be discovered among thousands; yea, there shall never be found an elephant clothed at once with all the excellences here described.”
The noises which Ceylon elephants utter, while undoubtedly identical with those of India and Bengal, seem to have a rather different meaning imputed to them. The shrill cry uttered through the trunk is indicative of rage, and is generally given when the animal is rushing upon its adversary. When the attention of an individual elephant of a herd is attracted by any unusual object, the intelligence is conveyed to the others by a low, suppressed sound, uttered by the lips, and compared by hunters to the word “prut,” or the twittering of a bird. Major Macready, military secretary of Ceylon, describes a sound that he heard made by a wild elephant as “a sort of a banging noise, like a cooper hammering a cask,” produced, he believes, by the animal striking its sides rapidly with its trunk. It may have been made, as has been previously described, by striking the tip of the trunk against the ground.
In size the Ceylon elephants average about the same as the continental animals, about nine feet. Wolf, a chaplain, who resided in Ceylon many years, states that he saw one that was taken near Jaffna which was twelve feet in height. Perhaps this animal was measured by throwing a rope over its back, and accepting one-half as the height, which would be at least twelve inches in excess of what it should be. The herds in Ceylon are generally families, and, as a rule, greatly resemble each other. The most powerful tusker is the leader, though a strong-minded female is often implicitly obeyed. Tennent considers that a herd recognizes the tusker-in-chief as a leader, and will support him in danger. He cites an instance where a tusker was wounded, and the rest of the herd crowded about him, covering his retreat to the forest. I am inclined to think, however, that the observers misinterpreted the actions of the herd, and that the tusker’s presence in the centre was accidental, or the result of his superior strength.
PLATE XII.
HERD OF ELEPHANTS, CEYLON.
That elephants have a method of communication, no one can doubt. An interesting instance of this was reported to Sir Emerson Tennent by Major Skinner of the British army, who spent many years in the jungle, and was a competent and intelligent observer. He says, “The case you refer to struck me as exhibiting something more than ordinary brute instinct, and approached nearer to reasoning powers than any other instance I can now remember. I cannot do justice to the scene; although it appeared to me at the time to be so remarkable, that it left a deep impression in my mind. In the dry season in Nenera-Kalawa, you know the streams are all dried up, and the tanks nearly so. All animals are then sorely pressed for water; and they congregate in the vicinity of those tanks, in which there may remain ever so little of the precious element. During one of these seasons, I was encamped on the bund, or embankment, of a very small tank, the water in which was so dried that its surface could not have exceeded five hundred square yards. It was the only pond within many miles, and I knew that of necessity a very large herd of elephants which had been in the neighborhood all day must resort to it at night. On the lower side of the tank, and on a line with the embankment, was a thick forest, in which the elephants sheltered themselves during the day. On the upper side, and all about the tank, there was considerable margin of open ground. It was one of those beautiful, bright, clear, moonlight nights, when objects could be seen almost as distinctly as by day; and I determined to avail myself of the opportunity to observe the movements of the herd, which had already manifested some uneasiness at our presence. The locality was very favorable for my purpose, and an enormous tree projecting over the tank afforded me a secure lodgement in its branches. Having ordered the fires of my camp to be extinguished at an early hour, and all my followers to retire to rest, I took up my post of observation on the overhanging bough; but I had to remain for upwards of two hours before any thing was to be seen or heard of the elephants, although I knew they were within five hundred yards of me. At length, about the distance of three hundred feet from the water, an immensely large elephant issued from the dense cover, and advanced cautiously across the open ground to within one hundred yards of the tank, where he stood perfectly motionless. So quiet had the elephants become, although they had been roaring, and beating the jungle, throughout the day and evening, that not a movement was now heard.