Though, as I have mentioned, the forests of Mid-Burma—and, indeed, generally throughout the country—abound in game, which ranges from elephant and rhinoceros down to the smallest deer, and while every tree and thicket is a home for birds, all forms of animal life appear to avoid the fever-infested highlands of North-East Burma. In some places, however, strange freaks of Nature occur. On the high plateau through which the Myit-nge River flows, though the forest and jungle is more or less deserted, scattered over the plain are conical limestone crags, which are alive with monkeys; and while the innumerable species of insects which infest the warmer forests are absent, nowhere in all Burma have I seen butterflies more numerous or more beautiful than here. It is singular, also, to notice how human habitations will attract certain forms of animal life, and in some mysterious manner, though the surrounding forest may be otherwise deserted, pigeons and doves and the various kinds of crow quickly install themselves in the neighbourhood of a newly-established settlement or camp.
It is impossible in two short chapters to describe the infinite variety and charm of these Burmese forests—the rushing mountain torrents, the sweeping rivers, and noble waterfalls; the sluggish streams, which reflect the glories of the surrounding forest; its teeming life, its solitude, and the wonderful effects of light and colour; but perhaps I have said enough to convey to you some idea of that wealth of exuberant beauty which has forced upon me the conclusion that nothing in all the world is quite so beautiful as a tropical forest.
So far I have not given you any example of the many adventures which may befall a traveller in such wilds, but they are naturally of frequent occurrence.
Often while painting, and quite unarmed, I have found myself in unpleasantly close proximity to wild beasts of many kinds, and on more than one occasion I have narrowly escaped the fatal bite of some deadly snake which I have killed. Every one has a natural horror of poisonous snakes, but sometimes an adventure with them has its element of amusement. I remember an instance where one of my companions, having come into camp from his work in the forest, lay down outside his tent to rest, and, the better to enjoy it, took off his riding-boots and loosened his breeches at the knee. While his "tiffin" was being prepared he went to sleep, but presently awoke with a horrible sensation of something lying cold against his thigh. To his alarm, he discovered this to be a large cobra, which had sought shelter from the sun. Remaining quite still, he called his native servant, and explained the position, and the snake was soon secured and dispatched, while my friend suffered nothing worse than a fright.
THE QUEEN'S GOLDEN MONASTERY, MANDALAY. [Page 79].
Though so docile as a rule when tamed, elephants in their wild state are most dangerous, and I have heard of many narrow escapes from them in Burma. Panthers, also, though shy of human beings, are fierce when at bay, and I have been told that a scratch from their claws nearly always results in fatal blood-poisoning.
It is the tiger, however, which is most to be feared. General throughout the country, a traveller through jungle or forest must be ever alert, so stealthy are its movements, and so audacious is it in its depredations. Its great strength, however, which is not so generally recognized, the following will serve to show. Close beside our lonely camp on the Nan-Tu River a tiger killed a sambur, upon which the natives saw him feeding. Being unarmed themselves, they ran for the "Sahib" to come and shoot him; but, on regaining the spot, they found that the tiger had gone, carrying the huge carcass with him. Following the trail, they came up with their quarry at the river's bank; but the tiger, still retaining its hold upon its prey, took to the water, and, although impeded by its heavy burden, succeeded in reaching the opposite shore. The sad part of the story is that a native, armed with a "dah," who had followed the tiger into the river, though an extremely powerful swimmer, was swept away by the current, and drowned in the rapids below.