More, when the time for the investigation came, it was found that Bon possessed a cavity in one of his big teeth almost large enough to admit two of the superintendent’s fingers, and so deep that it was quite evident that the nerve was exposed. A veterinary was called and given the biggest dental job he ever had tackled, that of killing the nerve of a hippopotamus tooth, extracting that nerve, filling the root canals and then plugging up the hole. Nearly three weeks was required for the task, as it was necessary to kill the nerve by degrees, with the hippopotamus lashed by a perfect network of chains, and his big mouth held open with blocks and tackles. But it was accomplished, and since then, Bon has been his old, amiable self again.
As to the indigestion and the headaches, sometimes they go together, and sometimes they don’t.
On the circus, life is a matter of constant travel. The show is here one day, a hundred miles farther on the next, while always a day in advance is an overworked individual called the “twenty-four man,” whose task it is to provide the circus with everything it needs, even to the meat which is fed the carnivorous animals. Naturally, with one town a metropolis and the next a village, there are various grades and conditions of meat. One day the food will be a cold-storage product, the next perfectly fresh, and perhaps on the third slightly tainted. The result is indigestion on the part of the cat animals, a headache, a bad appearance, dull eyes, and a mammoth grouch. Those are the times when the trainers look sharper than usual. A lion with indigestion and a headache doesn’t care much for consequences. He’s looking for trouble. As to the specific headache, have you ever noticed that a menagerie carries a peculiar odor all its own? That’s what brings the headache: too much “aroma.”
Every cat animal gives off this particular body-odor, which is saturated with the fumes of ammonia. The result is that unless there is plenty of ventilation, the ammonia so loads the air that the breathing of it clogs the brain and brings a terrific headache. I have seen everything, man and brute, suffering from this cause in menagerie houses poorly equipped for ventilation, and forced to be closed tightly because of extremely cold weather. In the summer, the beasts themselves suffer on “long runs” where the cages are “boarded up” for an unusual length of time; there is not sufficient air circulation to carry away the ammonia smell and the result is an ear-splitter of a headache. It’s often also the cause of some twenty or thirty encounters that may run all the way from a sharp spat between two caged animals to an actual murder! Which explains the fact that on hot days—if you’ve ever seen a circus on the move—the side boards often are let down from the cages, and a virtual menagerie display of cat animals is given by the show trains as it moves through the small cities along its route to the next show stand.
As to the other natural causes, the surest way to bring bad temper to an elephant is to neglect his feet. The great weight of the beast and the constant succession of pavements results in “corns” between the big toes, or great patches of callous on the ball of the foot, and unless these are carefully “chiropodized,” there is a bad elephant in the herd. An elephant weighs from two to three tons. You can imagine that weight pressing on a “corn!” He becomes fretful, irritable and dangerous. The result is that the feet of circus elephants are inspected regularly, and that every “bull-keeper,” as the superintendents of the herds are called, is an expert in elephantine chiropody!
The same, in a measure, is true of the cat animal keepers, except that their greatest care regarding the feet of the beast must concern the claws, lest they turn back into the flesh. A circus with which I once was connected possessed a big leopard, and one that was considered the most tractable of the whole group of performing “pards.” One morning when the cage was opened, it was to reveal a hissing, red-jawed brute, his body splotched with blood, and his mate dead in a corner of the den. An investigation brought the reason: he had been maddened by the pain of a claw which had turned back into his flesh, and which drove like a knife thrust with his every step! He hadn’t really desired to kill his mate; he merely had become so frantic with pain that his senses for the moment left him, and he murdered while under the influence of a thing he could not control. So the animal men chalked it up to mental aberration, and let it go at that. For even with animals they’ve encountered insanity in its true form, even hallucinations!
BABY WILD CATS, AND THEY LOOK THEIR PART.
It came in the being of Buddha, a great, beautifully striped Bengal tiger on one of the shows a few years ago. The beast belonged to a performing group and was trained to refuse to enter its den at the conclusion of the arena performance until the trainer, apparently at the end of his resources, would bring forth his revolver and fire twice at the recalcitrant brute. Then the tiger would turn, and with a rush seek its cage, making a leap of some ten feet at great speed, for the entrance. However, one afternoon, it misjudged, leaping slightly to the right, with the result that it struck its head with crashing force against one of the steel uprights of the arena. For a second it scrambled wildly, then dropped to the ground. The trainer, seeing that the beast was unconscious, hurriedly unstrapped the arena gate and allowed the entrance of assistants, who loaded the stricken tiger into the cage. Once out of the circus tent, the trainer worked over the beast until consciousness returned, then boarded the cage up for the day, believing that rest and darkness would repair the damage.
But the next morning the glare of insanity was in the great cat’s eyes when the side boards were removed. It hissed. It roared. Then it leaped, as the trainer sought to approach. In vain the friend of other days tried to soothe it; all to no purpose. And the queer thing was that the gaze of the striped brute was far above the head of the trainer, and when it leaped, it struck at the steel bars at the very top of the cage. A hurry call was sent for the owner-manager, and that wise old showman stood for a long time in thought. At last: