The training of my dumb companions is never cruel,—less so, perhaps, when the difference of organization is considered, than the firmness exercised occasionally in the correction of an evilly disposed child. Kindness is the whip used to lead wild animals to obey. Without it none can be made to understand. With confidence, established and maintained by kindness and gentleness, the most savage beast may be transformed into a willing and even eager pupil. Of course, there are limitations to the intelligence of wild animals. These limitations are pretty clearly established. The pupils are invariably capable of greater understanding and achievement than they are ever called upon to display. It is quite probable that other generations will carry wild-animal training further, but at the stage at which I have stopped I am content. I understand my associates, and know they understand me. I should be sorry to learn that the thoughtful of the public denied to my devotion the instructive and humane incentives that have sustained it.
For some of the matter of the volume, incorporated from an article[†] on wild-animal training, written after an interview with me, I wish to express my thanks to Mr. S.H. Adams.
F. C. B.
[†] “The Training of Lions, Tigers, and other Great Cats,” by Samuel Hopkins Adams, “McClure’s Magazine,” September, 1900.
THE TRAINING
OF WILD ANIMALS
CHAPTER I
IN WHICH I BECOME “THE BOY TRAINER”—
A LION HUNT IN A SEWER
Although my family was one of animal trainers and exhibitors, my father did not wish me to follow so hazardous a profession, and decided that I should become a clergyman of the Church of England. My early education was carefully looked after, and having completed my preparatory course under private tutors, I finally went to Kelvedon College in Essex, England, where I did well. I was fond of study, had good masters,—who always impressed upon me the fact that “he who would hope to command must learn to obey,”—and gained some honors.
But during one vacation I went home and saw my father’s wild-animal exhibition, and there all the glamour and fascination of the show came upon me. There is no doubt I had inherited my father’s instincts. The lion-tamer my father had at that time was the great feature of the show. It struck me, however, that he was extremely cruel, and being very fond of animals myself, this aroused my indignation. I spoke to my father about it rather warmly, but he, evidently thinking it a boy’s impetuosity, laughed it off, saying the man was only protecting himself.