Wild beasts

by J. Hampden Porter

In the Adelantado Pascual de Andagoya’s narrative of Pedrarias Davila’s expedition he says, “there are lions and tigers”—by which all the Spanish and Portuguese writers meant pumas and jaguars—“on the Isthmus of Panama, that do much harm to the people, so that on their account the houses are built very close to one another, and are secured at night.” Father José de Acosta (“Historia natural y moral de las Indias”) explains, however, that these beasts are not equally dangerous. “The tigers are fiercer and more cruel than the lions.” Likewise it is more perilous to come in their way “because they leap forth and assail men treasonably.”

Pedro Cieza de Leon, of whom Prescott remarks that “his testimony is always good,” gives an account of the state of affairs on the road between Cali and the port of Buenaventura. Here are “many great tigers, that kill numbers of Indians and Spaniards as they go to and fro every day.” Likewise in the mountainous portions of the district, these animals were so destructive that the Indian houses, which are “rather small, and roofed with palm leaves, ... are surrounded by stout and very long palisades, so as to form a wall; and this is put up as a defence against the tigers.” So far as the author’s acquaintance with the Spanish and Portuguese relations goes, all authorities of this class agree in giving these beasts the traits that those theoretical and practical considerations mentioned respecting the temper and habits of the large carnivora would lead us to look for.

The writer never saw a full-grown animal of this kind which had been domesticated to the extent of being harmless if left at large, and never succeeded in taming one completely himself. E. George Squier (“Adventures on the Mosquito Shore”) mentions an incident in which such was the case. He was summoned to an interview with “The Mother of the Tigers,” who, under this ominous title, proved to be a modest young Indian girl, and the high priestess of one of those secret semi-religious societies that gave Alvarado so much trouble in the days of the Spanish invasion. Her retreat lay in the darkest recesses of one of those gloomy forests where there is always twilight, even at the tropical noonday. He found that Sukia was only attended by one old woman, and guarded by an immense jaguar. This beast did not like the stranger’s appearance, but made no attack, and at once passed into the house and lay down when commanded to do so.

Perhaps it is unnecessary to bring, as might readily be done, proof of what might be assumed beforehand; namely, that an animal like the jaguar is certain to attack men wherever their possession of firearms has not in the course of time taught the sagacious beast that the contest is an unequal one. It happens, however, that the explorer C. Barrington Brown (“Canoe and Camp Life in British Guiana”) has given some quite explicit information concerning a point which has been rarely touched upon, that is to say the behavior of a wild beast that very probably never saw a man before, and certainly not a white man. Brown was in a country infested by jaguars, but while remaining in the peopled regions he does not say much about them. Once, however, he records the fact that he encountered an Indian whose neck was much distorted by a bite received from this animal. The man was accompanied by a friend armed with a gun when the jaguar sprang upon him, and was shot dead by his friend. Most of Brown’s explorations were made in boats, by the waterways of the Essequibo, Corentyne, and other rivers and their affluents. He penetrated into parts which were, so far as human beings are concerned, nearly or entirely uninhabited.

“On one occasion,” says this author, “when we had landed and were pursuing a herd of bush-hogs,”—peccaries, he means,—“two men were left in charge of the boat. We had not been away in the forest more than two or three minutes, when these men heard a heavy footfall on the bank above them, and looking up saw a large jaguar gazing down upon them from the very spot up which we had clambered.” In other words, neither the sense of smell, nor actual sight, taught him anything about those enemies whom he, in common with all other wild beasts, is so generally represented to fear instinctively. “They immediately pushed the boat off shore, fearing an attack from the tiger.” Afterwards his men told Brown “that this animal was one of those the Indians call ‘Masters of the herd,’ that it followed herds of swine wherever they went; and that whenever it was hungry, and found a pig at a little distance from the rest, pounced upon it, killing it with one blow of its huge paw. The squeak of the stricken one always brought down its companions to the spot, whereupon the jaguar climbed a tree for safety till the storm it had brewed was over, and the pigs left the spot; then it descended from its perch to feed on the flesh of its victim....

“In ascending that portion of the Corentyne below Tehmeri rocks, we saw a large jaguar standing on a granite rock close to the river bank, which immediately bolted into the forest as we paddled to the spot. Glancing up at the place where it had disappeared, I saw it sitting down and gazing intently at us, without showing the least sign of fear. I took aim behind the shoulder and fired a charge of large shot, which caused it to bound forward, fall and roll over. But at once regaining its feet it made off into the forest.” Although they followed the bloody trail, the animal was not seen again.

Brown had four other shots at jaguars—all of them close—and he wounded two, but never succeeded in bagging a single one. In every case observed by him there was an entire absence of that behavior which is said to be natural and instinctive. The animals he saw expressed only wonder at the sight and scent of man, as well as at the sound of his voice.

Father Acosta declares that the jaguar attacks “treasonably,” that is to say, being treacherous like all cats, and one of the laziest of animals besides, he springs upon his prey, as a rule, from an ambush, which may be above the creature seized or on a level with it, according to circumstances.

Like all large beasts of prey, these brutes kill in a variety of ways as existing conditions and the size and structure of the creature assaulted suggest,—they break its neck, tear open the blood-vessels in its throat, strike it dead with a blow from their powerful and massive forearms, crush its life out in their spring, drown it, and tear it to pieces while alive. This last is the way in which such vast numbers of the great river turtles are destroyed: they are turned upon their backs, the claws inserted beneath the breast plate, and these unfortunates are then torn asunder.

With reference to the act of overwhelming an animal, crushing it to death, or killing it by shock, Emmanuel Liais (“Climats, Géologie, Faune, du Brésil”), who gives a somewhat different etymology for the word jaguar from that before mentioned, remarks that this term may be translated in a way that refers directly to its method of taking life. “Le nom de Jaguâra peut alors se traduire en français par la périphrase: Carnassier qui écrase sa proie d’un seul bond.” This plan is, however, inapplicable to large game.