Africa is the chief seat of the lion, the part of the world where he appears to perfection with all the attributes of his peculiar strength and beauty. There he is found in the wilds of the Atlas, as in the high mountain-lands of Abyssinia, from the Cape to Senegal, and from Mozambique to Congo, and probably more than one species of the royal animal, not yet accurately distinguished by the naturalist, roams over this vast expanse.
While the lion reigns in Africa, the Tiger is lord and master of the Indian jungles. A splendid animal—elegantly striped with black on a white and golden ground; graceful in every movement, but of a most sanguinary and cruel nature. The lengthened body resting on short legs, wants the proud bearing of the lion, while the naked head, the wildly rolling eye, the scarlet tongue constantly lolling from the jaws, and the whole expression of the tiger’s physiognomy, indicate an insatiable thirst for blood, a pitiless ferocity, which he wreaks indiscriminately on every living thing that comes within his grasp. In the bamboo jungle on the banks of pools and rivers, he waits for the approaching herd; there he seeks his prey, or rather multiplies his murders, for he often leaves the carcase of the axis or the nylghau still writhing in the agony of death, to throw himself upon new victims, whose bodies he rends with his claws, and then plunges his head into the gaping wound to absorb with deep and luxurious draughts the blood whose fountains he has just laid open.
Nothing can be more delightful than the aspect of a Javanese savannah, to which clumps of noble trees, planted by Nature’s hand, impart a park-like character; yet even during the daytime, the traveller rarely ventures to cross these beautiful wilds without being accompanied by a numerous retinue. The horses frequently stand still, trembling all over, when their road leads them along some denser patch of the jungle, rising like an island from the grassy plain, for their acute scent informs them that a tiger lies concealed in the thicket, but a few paces from their path.
It is a remarkable fact that the peacock and the tiger are so frequently seen together. The voice of the bird is seldom heard during the daytime, but as soon as the shades of evening begin to veil the landscape, his loud and disagreeable screams awaken the echoes, announcing, as the Javanese say, that the tiger is setting forth on his murderous excursions. Then the traveller carefully bolts the door of his hut, and the solitary Javanese retreats to his palisadoed dwelling, for the tyrant of the wilderness is abroad. At night his dreadful roar is heard, sometimes accompanied by the peacock’s discordant voice. Even in the villages, thinly scattered among the grass or alang-wilds of Java, there is no security against his attacks, in spite of the strong fences with which they are enclosed, and the watch-fires carefully kept burning between these and the huts.
TIGER.
India, South China, Sumatra, and Java are the chief seats of the tiger, who is unknown both in Ceylon and Borneo, while to the north he ranges as far as Mandschuria and the Upper Obi, and Jennisei (55°—56° N. lat.). A species of tiger identical with that of Bengal is common in the neighbourhood of Lake Aral, near Sussac (45° N. lat.), and Tennent mentions that he is found among the snows of Mount Ararat in Armenia. As Hindostan is separated from these northern tiger haunts by the great mountain chains of Kuen-Lun (35° N.), and of Mouztagh (42° N. lat.), each covered with perpetual snows, mere summer excursions are quite out of the question, and it is evident that the animal is able to live in a much more rigorous climate than is commonly imagined. Even in India the tiger is by no means confined to the sultry jungle, for we learn from Mr. Hodgson’s account of the mammalia of Nepaul, that in the Himalayas he is sometimes found at the very edge of perpetual snow.
Tiger-hunting is a chief pleasure of the Indian rajahs and zemindars, who, anxious that their favourite amusement may suffer no diminution, forbid anyone else to chase on their domains, however much their poor vassals may have to suffer in consequence. But the delight they take in tiger-shooting never leads these cautious Nimrods so far as to endanger their precious persons. On some trees of the jungle a scaffolding is prepared, at a ludicrous height, for his Highness, who, at the appointed hour, makes his appearance with all the pomp of a petty Asiatic despot. The beating now begins, and is executed by a troop of miserable peasants, who most unwillingly submit to this forced and unpaid labour, which is the more dangerous for them as they are dispersed on a long line, instead of forming a troop, the only way to secure them against the attacks of the tiger. Thus they advance with a dreadful noise of drums, horns, and pistol-firing, driving the wild beasts of the jungle towards the scaffolding of their lord and master. At first the tigers, startled from their slumbers, retreat before them, but generally on approaching the scaffolding they guess the danger that awaits them and turn with a formidable growl upon the drivers. Sometimes, however, they summon resolution to rush with a few tremendous bounds through the perilous pass, and their flight is but rarely impeded by the ill-aimed shots of the ambuscade. Nevertheless, great compliments are paid to the noble sportsman for his ability and courage, and nobody says a word about the poor low-born wretches that may have been killed or mutilated by the infuriated brutes.
Our English tiger-hunters generally proceed on a very different plan. Provided with very excellent double-barrelled rifles, and accompanied by a troop of well-armed, well-paid drivers, and a number of courageous dogs, they boldly enter the jungle to rouse the tiger from his lair. In front of the party generally marches the shikarree, or chief driver, who attentively reconnoitring the traces of the animal, points out the direction that is to be followed. On his right and left hand walk the English sportsmen, fully prepared for action, and behind them the most trustworthy of their followers, with loaded rifles ready for an exchange with those that have been discharged. Then follows the music, consisting of four or five tambourins, a great drum, cymbals, horns, a bell, and the repeated firing of pistols, and convoyed by men armed with swords and long halberds. A few slingsmen make up the rear, who are constantly throwing stones into the jungle over the heads of the foremost of the party, and even more effectually than the noise of the music drive the tiger from his lair. From time to time, one of the men climbs upon the summit of a tree, to observe the movements of the grass. The whole troop constantly forms a close body. The tiger in cold blood is never able to attack a company that announces itself in so turbulent a manner. If he ventures, it is only with half a heart; he hesitates, stops at a short distance, and gives the hunter time to salute him with a bullet.
The tiger is particularly fond of dense willow or bamboo bushes on swampy ground, as he there finds the cool shade he requires for his rest during the heat of the day, after his nocturnal excursions. It is then very difficult to detect him, but the other inhabitants of the jungle, particularly the peacock and the monkey, betray his presence. The scream of the former is an infallible sign that the tiger is rising from his lair; and the monkeys, who during the night are frequently surprised by the panther or the boa, never allow their watchfulness to be at fault during the day. They are never deceived in the animal which slinks into the thicket. If it is a deer or a wild boar, they remain perfectly quiet, but if it is a tiger or a panther, they utter a cry designed to warn their comrades of the approach of danger. When, on examining a jungle, the traveller sees a monkey quietly seated on the branches, he may be perfectly sure that no dangerous animal is lurking in the thicket.