Trainers whose patience is limited never last long. There comes a day when, through hasty temper or a sudden loss of patience, the trainer says or does some foolish thing, which he always has reason to regret, and bitterly, too.
In one case, one of the animals would not respond to his cue, in spite of being spoken to several times. The trainer kept his patience for some time, but the fact that the audience was getting restless made him nervous, and in a foolish moment he shouted at the lion. The shout was so unusual and so unexpected that every lion in the cage started, and the next moment there was a scene of the wildest confusion.
The animals roared, jumped from their pedestals, and soon pinned the man to the floor. By a supreme effort he raised himself, and being near the door, the attendants were able to keep the lions back by firing blank cartridges until he could get out. But he was terribly mauled, and it was a long and tedious illness which followed. To show what a disturbing effect that shout had on the lions, it was hours before they could be quieted, and even when they were fed, two hours afterward, they were still restless and excited, and left their meat every few minutes to roar and growl.
That was the last time the trainer ever entered the cage. He lost his nerve completely. Unless a man has absolute self-control, he can never be sure of what may happen to him as a lion-trainer. This trainer’s sudden loss of patience proved that he was unable to control his feelings, in itself a weakness, and animals recognize all weaknesses immediately.
CAPTAIN JACK BONAVITA
Among other things, physical agility is a prime requisite. It is better if it is the agility of reserve rather than the agility of aggression, for aggression arouses a like quality in the animal, and develops an appreciation of his brute strength, which sooner or later may be used against the trainer. But the equipoise and power existing only in those of good personal habits and judgment give an animal trainer the needed ability to escape an otherwise unavoidable danger.
Another quality is nerve—and plenty of it. Without nerve no man can do anything with a wild animal; it is the secret of the animal trainer’s success, while ceaseless vigilance means the safety of his life. A man may be nervous and yet have plenty of nerve. I have known trainers who would start at the slightest noise or a sudden sound, and who would rather walk ten miles out of their way than meet a stranger, or attract attention in any way; and yet in times of danger, when their lives hung in the balance, would exhibit the utmost nerve and daring, mixed with a calm assurance that was astonishing.
These personal qualities are more or less apparent to all close observers of animal training, but there is one which is even more essential than any of the others, and for which the trainer seldom gets credit, yet it is one which places his profession on a par with that of the school-teacher, the preacher, the writer, or any of the students of men, because the study is more difficult and more complex.
This is a knowledge of animal nature, as diversified and peculiar, and as subject to varying conditions and environment, as human nature. Some may say that it is not as complex as human nature, because it is not as highly organized, but it furnishes the same food for thought, with the added element that upon the trainer’s knowledge of the idiosyncrasies of his charges depends his success, and very often his life.