Wild beasts

by J. Hampden Porter

A field naturalist coming from Africa to India, or any other part of Asia, would be at once struck by the inferior size, darker color, smaller ears, less massive tusks (rudimentary in the female), and other structural differences presented by Elephas Indicus. Likewise, with the forest life, browsing habits, and nocturnal ways of this species, “there is little doubt that there is not an elephant ten feet high at the shoulder in India,” says Sanderson. If a stranger took to elephant-hunting, his opinion of their character in that country would probably depend upon the escapes he made from being killed. There is, however, something yet to be said upon the subject of Asiatic rogues that, so far as the author is aware, has escaped the attention of those who have described them. Such creatures as those of Kakánkōta, Balaghat, Jubbulpūr, and the Begapore canal, are extremely exceptional, if what they actually did be alone considered, but there is nothing to show that they were very extraordinary in temper or traits of character. The first seems to have been undoubtedly insane; the others, however, gave no indications of mental alienation. They were simply vicious like great numbers of their kind, and the accidents of life enabled them to show it more conspicuously than is often the case. Whatever may be thought of the influence of descent in these instances, it is certain that a criminal class cannot develop itself among elephants, and that those murderous brutes referred to, do not stand alone.

Colonel Pollok (“Natural History Notes”) gives a report extracted from the records in the Adjutant General’s Office, that brings out several points relating to the character of vicious elephants. The statements made seem to be incredible, but those who have made a study of the subject will recall many examples of desperation, tenacity of life, and ferocity in elephants, that may serve to modify doubt; more especially in connection with the effects of wounds in the head, which is so formed that half of it might be shot away without an animal suffering otherwise than from shock and loss of blood.

To C. Sealy, Magistrate, etc.

Sir:—I have the honor to state that on the 24th instant, at midnight, I received information that two elephants of very uncommon size had made their appearance within a few hundred yards of the cantonment and close to the village, the inhabitants of which were in the greatest alarm. I lost no time in despatching to the place all the public and private elephants we had in pursuit of them, and at daybreak on the 25th, was informed that their very superior size and apparent fierceness had rendered all attempts at their seizure unavailing; and that the most experienced mahout I had was dangerously hurt—the elephant he rode having been struck to the ground by one of the wild ones, which, with its companion, had then adjourned to a large sugar-cane field adjoining the village. I immediately ordered the guns (a section of a light battery) to this place, but wishing in the first place, to try every means for catching the animals, I assembled the inhabitants of the neighborhood, and with the assistance of the resident Rajah caused two deep pits to be prepared at the edge of the cane field in which our elephants and the people contrived, with the utmost dexterity, to retain the wild ones during the day. When these pits were reported ready, we repaired to the spot, and they were cleverly driven into them. But, unfortunately, one of the pits did not prove to be sufficiently deep, and the one who escaped from it, in the presence of many witnesses, assisted his companion out of the other pit with his trunk. Both were, however, with much exertion, brought back into the cane, and as no particular symptoms of vice or fierceness had appeared in the course of the day, I was anxious to make another effort to capture them. The beldars, therefore, were set to work to deepen the old and prepare new pits against daybreak, when I proposed to make the final attempt. About four o’clock yesterday, however, they burst through all my guards, and making for a village about three miles distant, reached it with such rapidity that the horsemen who galloped before them, had not time to apprise the inhabitants of their danger, and I regret to say that one poor man was torn limb from limb, a child trodden to death, and two women hurt. Their destruction now became absolutely necessary, and as they showed no disposition to quit the village where their mischief had been done, we had time to bring up the four-pound pieces of artillery [these events took place in 1809] from which they received several rounds, both ball and abundance of grape. The larger of the two was soon brought to the ground by a round shot in the head; but after remaining there about a quarter of an hour, apparently lifeless, he got up again as vigorous as ever, and the desperation of both at this period exceeds all description. They made repeated charges on the guns, and if it had not been for the uncommon bravery and steadiness of the artillery-men, who more than once turned them off with shots in the head and body when within a very few paces of them, many dreadful casualties must have occurred. We were obliged to desist for want of ammunition, and before a fresh supply could be obtained, the animals quitted the village, and though streaming with blood from a hundred wounds, proceeded with a rapidity I had no idea of towards Hazarebaugh. They were at length brought up by the horsemen and our elephants, within a short distance of a crowded bazaar, and ultimately, after many renewals of most formidable and ferocious attacks on the guns, gave up the contest with their lives.

The western half of those central Indian highlands called locally the Mykal, Máhádeo, and Sátpúra hills, is a famous haunt for elephants. In this wild birthplace of the streams that pour themselves into the Bay of Bengal and the Arabian Gulf, these creatures wander in comparative security. The Gónd, Kól, and Sántál aborigines furnish the best trackers extant, except, perhaps, those mysterious Bygá or Bhúmiá, whose knowledge of woodcraft is unequalled. These small, dark, silent men have no sort of respect for an elephant’s mind or character, but they worship it from fear; they adore the animal because they know enough of its disposition to be always apprehensive of its doing more than it generally does.

Most of these great timber districts are under the supervision of officers, and the camps of their parties are widely scattered through large and lonely tracts of woodland. If one of these is come upon by a herd of elephants while its occupants are absent, a striking trait in this creature’s character will almost surely be exhibited. No monkey is more mischievous than one of these big brutes, and when the men return they probably find that nothing which could be displaced, marred, or broken, has escaped their attention. Elephants are also very curious; anything unusual is apt to attract them, and if they do not become alarmed at it, the gravity with which a novel object is examined, and the queer, awkward way in which these beasts manifest interest or amusement, is singular enough. Sometimes their performances under the incitement of curiosity or malicious mischief are decidedly unpleasant. A wild elephant came out of the woods one night and pawed a hole in the side of Sanderson’s tent. Hornaday says he made a little door in the wall at the head of his bed, so that he could bolt at once in case of a visitation like this. People living in such places, and in frail houses, are exposed to another contingency. Elephants are very subject to panics, and as they often arise from causes that should not disturb such a creature at all, no one can tell when a herd may not rush off together, and go screaming through the wood, breaking down everything but the big trees before them.

Sooner or later, a hunting party’s progress will be arrested by the halt of their guide: he crouches down in his tracks and looks intently, as it appears, at nothing. What he sees would be nothing to eyes less practised, but it is an elephant’s spoor. If one were in Africa, the trackers would now smooth off a little spot of ground, make a few incantations, and throw magic dice to find out all about this animal. But here nothing of that kind is done, and yet the guide will follow the trail unerringly, and the hunter may count upon being brought to his game. “When you know,” says Captain A. W. Drayson, “that the giant of the forest is not inferior in the senses of hearing and smell to any creature in creation, and has besides intelligence enough to know that you are his enemy, and also for what purpose you have come, it becomes a matter of great moment how, when, and where you approach him.”

Elephants, unless they have some definite end in view, stroll about in the most desultory, and, if one is following them, the most exasperating manner. Their big round footprints go up hill and down dale in utterly aimless and devious meanderings. Here the brute stops to dig a tuber or break a branch, there for the purpose of tearing down a clump of bamboos, in another place with no object in view except to drive its tusks into a bank. Sportsmen often spend a day and night upon their trail.

No one can foresee the issue of a contest with an elephant. It may fall to a single shot, but no matter how brave and cool and well instructed the hunter may be, how stanch are his gun-bearers, how perfect his weapons and the skill with which they are used, when that wavering trunk becomes fixed in his direction, and the huge head turns toward him, his breath is in his nostrils. More than likely the animal, whose form is almost invisible in the half-lights of these forests, is aware of his pursuer’s presence before the latter sees him, and if he has remained, it is because he means mischief. Then it may well happen with the sportsman as it did with Arlett, Wedderburn, Krieger, McLane, Wahlberg, and many another.

It stands to reason that a herd is harder to approach without being discovered than a single elephant would be. The chances that the hunter will be seen are greater, and their scattered positions make it more probable that some of them will get his wind.