Wild beasts

by J. Hampden Porter

Baker’s story of the lion that met a Nubian sheik with two companions, and tore the leader to pieces, is one of a great number of instances that might be brought forward to show that wherever these animals are not conscious of being put entirely at a disadvantage by superiority of arms, they display little of that fear of man which is commonly attributed to them. Poorly-armed tribes are under no such delusion. The Ouled Meloul, or Ouled Cassi Arabs whose douars were attacked would have been as difficult to persuade of the lion’s timidity towards mankind, as those Makubas on the Ghobe, or “the miserable Bakorus,” whom he devoured at his good pleasure. Dr. Schweinfurth (“The Heart of Africa”) was at an Egyptian garrison where the soldiers were carried off from within their own lines night after night. Moffat, Delgorgue, Livingstone, Cumming, all record incidents of what they call his “desperate attacks.” Still, and as if to show what it is possible for men to commit themselves to when writing about wild beasts, we have Burchell’s opinion (“Travels in the Interior of Southern Africa”).

This author, according to his own account, spent four years in a lion country, and saw but one during the whole of this time. That one was accidentally encountered on a journey, and they succeeded in shooting it through the body, upon which it drew off into the bushes and disappeared. Yet it is on the strength of an experience like this that Burchell says he has “no very high opinion of the lion’s courage.” Of course the reference has an appearance of being overstated, but whoever reads the bulky quartos in which these travels are written will find that such is not the case.

So much in the way of a review of Buffon’s general description.

It is easier, however, and safer to decide as to what lions are not, than to say what they are. Almost everything written upon this subject deals nearly to exclusion with the animal’s habits, and leaves its character untouched. Even in this respect also our information is not complete.

C. J. Andersson (“The Lion and the Elephant”) remarks that “the modes of life” belonging to “the Lord of the African Wilds” are not at all thoroughly known, and he expresses an opinion fully justified by facts to the effect that he has himself been able to bring together much information in this connection that “may not have been noticed by other travellers and sportsmen.” In making up a summary of what has gone before, the writer is much indebted to this valuable work.

We have no psychological scheme for lions, and must take their characteristics as they happen to present themselves, without any pretence at arrangement, based either upon their natural order or real importance. There is an account given in MS. to Lloyd, the editor of Andersson’s posthumous papers, that shows the character of the Indian lion in much the same light that his African congener has been placed by Baker, Drummond, etc.

“This beast was believed to have his lair in a patch of copse-wood where, from the jungle having been some years previously cut away by the natives for stakes and the like, the young trees had grown up again so close and tangled as to be almost impenetrable. But this patch was of no great extent, its area, perhaps, not exceeding that of Grosvenor Square. The other parts of the wood surrounding the tank were in a state of nature, consisting of bushes and timber trees.

“On reaching the ground, the natives were stationed in the trees thereabouts as markers. But it was not till the party had beaten the patch with their elephants for a considerable time that the lion was discovered to be on foot, and some further time elapsed before he was viewed as he was stealing away from the brake, along a sort of hedge-row, for the more open country beyond. Captain Delamaine, who was some forty or fifty paces from the beast, then fired, and wounded him severely in the body.

“On receiving the ball, the lion immediately faced about, and charged my elephant, but the nerves of the latter having been recently shaken by wounds received from a royal tiger, turned tail, and regularly bolted. In the scurry through the jungle, one of the guns, having been caught by a tree, fell from the howdah and was broken, a loss, as the sequel proved, that might have been attended with very disastrous consequences.”

But the lion soon gave up the chase, and retraced his steps to the patch whence he had been started. Here he was followed by Captain Harris alone, Delamaine’s elephant, from its late fright, having become too unsteady to be taken into thick cover.