Lions 'n' tigers 'n' everything

by Courtney Ryley Cooper

“And weak in the hind quarters, and with poor hearts, excitable natures; all wrong on the digestion and a half a dozen other things. Same way as with human kids that’ve piled into the world too fast. Always yelping for the doctor.”

Which brought up the subject of menagerie kids in general, and a good many comparisons. For, after all, the child of the gilded cage isn’t so much different from the human baby.

There are the same trials and tribulations, the same squawks resultant from a bumped head, the same curiosity and mischievousness, and the same troublous times in becoming acquainted with the world and its manners, even to the extent of kindergarten. More than that, there are the personalities, the family traits; the children who are bright, the ones who are dullards; there is family pride, the don’t-care attitude; the mother who neglects her children and the father——

But fathers seem to run a bit short on family affairs in the animal kingdom, with the exception of one beast, the lion. The King of Beasts is the original home-lover, believes, according to his nature, that he has the finest little girl in the world for a wife, and stays with the children when their mother has other things to think about. What’s more, he is willing to protect them. In fact, he often is too good a protector; sometimes he actually kills them with kindness.

It is a menagerie rule that all animal mothers and their children shall be granted seclusion until the baby is accustomed to the circus world with its attendant bawling of ticket sellers, surging of the crowds, and the general excitement of circus day. Hence, ten days before the advent of children, the boards are placed about the cage and the mother is left in solitude. In this seclusion the babies arrive, to crawl and whine in darkness until their eyes open, then to live in the quiet and peace for a week more, until the nervous fears of the mother are over and the babies themselves are stronger and not so easily frightened by the throngs of onlookers about the cages. But sometimes the menagerie attendants make mistakes or are ignorant; the superintendent himself is a busy man. He cannot look after everything.

Thus it was that on a show with which I once traveled, Queen brought into the world three fuzzy little cubs. The menagerie superintendent had fastened the door tight and given his instructions that the side boards were not to be removed until he had given the command. In one half of the cage was the mother and her babies, while in the other compartment was Prince, the proud father, growling gruffly through the bars at his offspring. Parade time came and the menagerie superintendent went forth with the elephant herd, always a source of worry to a circus because of their temperamental natures and the danger of a stampede. Only a new man, hired that morning and not conversant with the details of the care of the cage inmates, was left in the big tent, and in his work he decided, like many another new man, and some new brooms, to be thorough.

Evidently, to his mind, some careless attendant had forgotten to take the side boards from the cage which housed Queen, Prince and their babies. The new man took them down; then, in his efforts to be thorough, decided to sweep out the cage. Queen was docile and made no objections to his interference, although nervous regarding her cubs. But Prince was plainly hostile; the lion father is ever ready to battle for his young. The result was that the new attendant raised the partition separating Prince from his family, and once the male had gone through the opening, the man sprang within to sweep out the cage. This done, he again raised the partition, and by the use of a feeding fork, sought to make Prince return to his own home. The efforts were useless.

The great lion became enraged to a point of fury. He fought the fork, clawing at it and seeking to bite the steel. He lunged against the bars, the great tent echoing with his roars—then suddenly appeared to consider that the attack was not against him, but against his offspring.

Queen, in the meanwhile, had picked up two of the cubs, carried them to a corner and was returning for the third when Prince saw it. A lunge and he had grasped the little ball of fur by the scruff of the neck, and with quick, pacing steps, had begun to carry it, seeking in his ignorant way for some place to hide it and keep it safe from harm. Into his side of the den he went at last and the attendant dropped the partition. But the great Nubian still paced; still the cub dangled from his tremendous jaws. The attendant strove to make him free the cub by harassing him; it only made matters worse. Prince offered no resistance; he only quickened his frightened, maddened pacing, and still carried the cub. When the parade returned and the menagerie superintendent entered the tent, he found the new man facing him with the announcement that Prince had taken one of his cubs and would not release it.

There was little time for reprimands. The superintendent affixed the side boards to the den as quickly as possible, hoping against hope. It was in vain. Prince, faithful, protective old Prince, had killed when he had sought to aid. The baby was dead, choked through the tightening of the throat skin as old Prince had carried it aimlessly to and fro, seeking a spot where it might be safe! That night, when the circus left town, it left also a somewhat bewildered man, still hazy from the volleys of epithets which had flown in his direction from the menagerie superintendent, and a little mound of earth out behind the big top, where slept a lion cub, dead because of a father’s instinctive desire for its protection.