The Training of Wild Animals

by Frank Charles Bostock

Apart from all these physical variations, the peculiarities of temperament also must be studied and watched. Each animal is so different from its fellows and so subject to sudden changes of temper, that this requires the most careful observation; nor can any reason often be found for their different actions.

There is a very famous lion now performing who fears but one thing: a stick in the left hand. The trainer may have a club, a whip, a knife, a pistol, or even a firebrand in his right hand, and the lion will spring for him fearlessly, but the smallest thing in the left hand will keep the animal perfectly tractable. No satisfactory explanation of this individual peculiarity has ever been offered, and one trainer limps for life simply because he did not make the discovery in time.

Lions have no affection; they become used to and tolerant of their trainers, and their obedience and docility is partly, if not wholly, due to ignorance and to the dread of anything they do not comprehend. They seemingly do not understand why the trainers are not afraid of them, and do not appear to realize that one little blow could put them out of existence. It is only when they lose respect for their trainer—either because he has contracted bad habits, or because he has been foolish or unguarded enough at some time to let them see that he was nervous—that they realize that he is only a small thing compared to themselves, and turn on him.

The great majority of cases of defense of a trainer by an animal have little foundation, other than the minds of the ingenious press agent. But there have been rare cases where animals have conceived a real affection for a trainer, and fawned upon him like a dog, and even protected him from others when they attacked him.

One such case concerned Mme. Pianka. During a rehearsal at St. Louis several years ago, she was suddenly attacked by a young lion and thrown to the floor. Instantly, a smaller lioness, of whom she was particularly fond and who had appeared to return the affection, leaped upon the lion and gave him so much to attend to that the trainer got to her feet, and was then able to whip the offending lion back to his corner. No trainer, however, depends on such interference; in fact, he knows and takes it for granted that if he is attacked and thrown, the other beasts in the cage will join in only too quickly.

The fellowship of animal for animal in the bonds of slavery is stronger than that of animal for man. Once in the cage, the trainer is alone among vastly superior forces that at any moment may become hostile, and his wisest plan is always to mistrust and look out, and not to expect anything but united hostility should he slip or be attacked.

An animal seldom, if ever, attacks a trainer for blood or a desire for meat. The danger lies in the instinct of ferocity; and many experiments made in this direction undoubtedly prove that animals attack from inherent fierceness and savagery alone. A tiger will occasionally show a desire for blood, but other animals very seldom.

I made an experiment some years ago in order to see whether civilized food would make any difference in the nature of a wild animal. I had a fine, well-grown young lion, which I reared for two years on cooked food—boiled meat and vegetables. He had never tasted blood or raw meat, and yet when he was a little over two and a half years old he broke out and killed a fine young buck which was loose in the runway behind the cage; and when in the arena afterward, proved to be no different in any way from the other animals who had been brought up on raw steaks and other fresh meat.

It is doubtful whether lions, tigers, and their kin have minds developed in a wild state to anything like the degree attained by those of the smaller fur-bearing animals, such as ermine, fox, wolverene, or a number of the smaller rodents. They are endowed with so much agility, strength, and endurance that they need hardly exercise much thought in securing their livelihood; while the caution and ingenuity required of the weaker species, in order not only to get food, but also to escape from their enemies, tend to sharpen their faculties daily.