These fits of frenzy are sometimes periodic, and the elephant is then said to be must, or mad. The paroxysms vary in different animals. Some are lethargic, or sleepy; while others go mad, and endeavor to wreak vengeance upon any thing within reach. In the chapter on the anatomy of the elephant, reference is made to a pore in the temple of the animal; and, when expert elephant-men see an oily liquid exuding from this orifice, they accept it as a warning that the period of must is approaching; the elephant is immediately shackled, and keepers and strangers are warned to keep out of reach.
After this secretion has flowed for a while, the temples swell, and the animal is avoided by every one; its food being tossed at it, or pushed toward it on the end of a pole. If, during this time, the elephant escapes, destruction of human life is almost sure to follow. They attack every living creature, including their own kind. Sanderson says, “I once saw one of our tuskers, which was then only under suspicion of an approaching fit, break away from the control of his mahout, as he was being ridden to water, and, despite severe punishment, attack, knock down, another elephant near by; and, had his tusks not been cut, he would, without doubt, have killed her on the spot. He was at last driven off by spears thrown at his trunk and head. Then he stalked across the open plain with his mahout on his neck, fury in his eye, master of all he surveyed, and evidently courting battle from any created being. The men had a difficult and dangerous task to secure him. His hind-legs were at last tied from behind the trunk of a tree, near which he stood; and the mahout having drawn up a chain by a cord, and secured it around his neck, he was moored fore and aft. I shall never forget the mahout’s fervent ejaculation of ‘Allah! Allah!’ as he slipped over the elephant’s tail when he was made fast.” According to Mr. Sanderson, the flow of must is observed in both male and female elephants, but never in the tame females.
Besides the elephants which are supposed to have bad tempers, and occasionally exhibit them, there are certain animals which are by nature ugly, and more or less untrustworthy. These are called rogues, and by some, from their seeming love of a solitary life, “solitaries.” The rogue elephants, or solitaries, are popularly supposed to be soured individuals, who have been driven from a herd by rivals or companions; but this is a mistake, as investigation has shown that supposed solitaries were often old tuskers grazing some distance from a herd.
Certain elephants undoubtedly prefer a solitary life: but the so-called solitar is generally a young male who has not been able to assert his position in the herd, and is grazing along the outskirts; or is an old and bold tusker, who wanders about careless of its safety.
All seemingly isolated elephants are looked upon with suspicion, as, when met, they often rush to the attack, and prove dangerous enemies. The real rogue is usually a vicious tusker, such as Mandla, an elephant that was owned near Jubbulpore, Central Provinces. This brute was supposed to be mad, and, in 1875, suddenly developed a taste for human victims,—rushing at them at sight, attacking houses, or any object that excited its ire, and ultimately killing a large number of persons. This monster not only killed its victims, but is said to have eaten them, tearing the bodies limb from limb, and was known before its death as the man-eater. This is probably an exaggeration; the fact being, that the elephant took the victim in its mouth while it tore him in pieces, the demoralized natives thinking that it was eating him. An organized hunt was made for this elephant, and it was finally killed by two English officers.
A few years ago elephants in various parts of India, especially about Morlay, became so fearless, that they entered fields adjoining the towns, and did great damage; some, showing the disposition of the typical rogue, could hardly be driven away. In one case in India, a number of Oopligas drove a herd into the hills with their horns and tomtoms; and, a heavy rain coming on, they thought it hardly necessary to keep up the guard, so retired from the field. In the morning, they found that a valuable lot of the Indian maize (Sorghum vulgare) had been destroyed, the entire herd returning as soon as the noise had ceased. Mr. Sanderson caught this entire herd in 1874.
About thirty years before the man-eating elephant was heard of, a male rogue elephant created great devastation in the fields of the Morlayites. It was continually breaking into their rice; but one morning, being seen near a village, the entire population turned out, and with hue and cry gave chase. The rogue, who was also a coward, dashed away, rushing blindly into a marsh, or morass, and soon sank to its knees in soft mud, and was almost completely at the mercy of the pursuers. They surrounded it, and rained stones and other missiles upon it; and finally, one native, more revengeful and cruel than the others, threw some lighted straw upon the poor creature’s back. The terrible wounds seemed to spur it to greater exertions; and it finally escaped, and ultimately recovered, being often seen and recognized by its scars.
Sanderson mentions two tuskers which travelled about together, “twin solitaries.” They were extremely vicious, had killed people, and were finally proscribed by the government. One of the tuskers was killed by Mr. Sanderson in 1870. Referring to rogue elephants which he had observed, he says, “I had just finished dinner, and was enjoying a smoke before a blazing camp-fire, which lit to their topmost branches a pair of magnificent tamarind-trees, under which my tent was pitched, when I heard a distant shout of ‘Ánay!’ (elephants). At once, lights began to flit over the plain, moving towards one point; tomtoms were beaten, and rattles made from split bamboo sounded. An elephant trumpeted shrilly, the men yelled in defiance, till the intruders retreated to the jungle. The cover bordering on cultivation was so dense as to afford secure shelter to elephants close at hand, even during the day. After some little time, when the tomtomming and noise had ceased, a similar commotion took place at another point: again the Will-o’-the-wisp lights moved forward, with a repetition of the shouting and trumpeting. The villagers who were keeping up my camp-fire told me that it was only on occasional nights that the elephants visited cultivation. The watchers were evidently in for it now, and they became thoroughly alert at all points.
“Once the elephants came within two hundred yards of my camp; and, long after I went to bed, I heard the shouting and rattling of the watchers. These men were the Strolagas from the hills: they were hired annually for a month or two, at a fixed payment in grain, for watching their crops, by the low-country cultivators, who are themselves less able to stand the exposure on a rice-flat, and less bold in interfering with elephants. The watchers provide themselves with torches of light split bamboos in bundles, about eight feet long, and eight inches in diameter. These are lighted at one end, when required, and make a famous blaze. Armed with them, the men sally forth to the spot where the elephants are feeding. Some carry the torches; the others precede them, so as to have the light behind them. The elephants can be seen on open ground one hundred yards, should they wait to let the lights get so close. Some troublesome rogues get beyond caring for this; though the men are very bold, and approach within forty or fifty yards. Natives have often told me of particular elephants letting them get within a few yards, and then putting their trunks into their mouths, and withdrawing water, squirting it at the lights. I hardly need say that the latter part of the statement is purely imaginary; the idea doubtless arising from the attitude elephants often assume when in uncertainty or perplexity, putting the trunk into the mouth, and holding the tip gently between the lips.”