Gold, Sport, and Coffee Planting in Mysore / With chapters on coffee planting in Coorg, the Mysore representative assembly, the Indian congress, caste and the Indian silver question, being the 38 years' experiences of a Mysore planter

by Robert H. Elliot

I have often found in conversation that people are surprised to find that tigers eat tigers when a suitable opportunity for doing so presents itself, but considering that man still, in some parts of the world, eats his fellow man, it seems to me extremely natural that a tiger should eat a tiger. I have, however, only met with one instance which occurred in my neighbourhood, and in this case I am strongly inclined to think that the eaten tiger was first of all killed. The incident occurred in this way. Shortly before my arrival in India one winter, my manager wounded a tiger, but I do not think very severely, as the tiger not only travelled at least two miles, but ascended a mountain up to a considerable elevation. Along one side of the mountain is a rather long strip of forest, which is a favourite place for tigers either to pass through or lie up in, as it is quite out of any village-to-village route, and had the tiger been hard hit he would certainly have remained there. But not only did he not do so, but skirting the jungle, or passing through it, he climbed up a steep ascent, evidently with the view of going into the next valley, and near the top of the ascent his living history ends. Knowing from the direction taken by the wounded tiger that he would probably be in the jungle on the mountain side, my manager had it beaten on the day following, when a tiger came out which he took to be the wounded tiger, and which he killed. It then turned out that it was not the wounded tiger, but a fresh tiger with the wounded tiger, or nearly all the meat of it, inside him, and all that was recovered was the head and the skin of the chest, which I saw after my arrival, and which was sent in to Government for the reward, and by the size of the head it must have been a fine tiger. When I visited the jungle in 1891, I carefully cross-examined the natives in the matter, and they said that they could not say whether the tiger had died from wounds or whether he had been killed by the tiger that had carried off and eaten the body, but they were positive that it was a tiger that had eaten the body, from the tracks, for the body had been taken down to water, on the margin of which no other tracks but those of a tiger were visible, and these were clearly defined. They could also be distinctly traced from the place in the open grassland whence the body was carried. Taking all the circumstances into consideration—the distance travelled, the steepness of the ground, and the fact that the tiger passed a favourable jungle for lying in, I am strongly of opinion, in fact, I consider it almost certain, that the wounded tiger must have been dispatched by the other tiger, which was hungry and could not resist the smell of the blood. There is nothing remarkable in a tiger eating a tiger found dead, and I have read and heard of instances of this, and also of tigers fighting, and the vanquished tiger being eaten.

It is a common idea that tigers cannot climb trees, but this has arisen from the fact that they have seldom occasion to do so. Mr. Sanderson mentions the case of a tigress having been seen to climb a tree in a wood on the Nilgiri Hills, and though he has never seen a tiger in a tree himself, deprecates the idea of there being anything impossible in the matter, and if we come to consider that the large forest panther, which commonly ascends trees, is really often nearly as heavy as a small-sized tigress, there is nothing at all improbable in the tiger doing so. I myself have never seen a tiger in a tree, but one of my managers did, who once went out after a tiger which he had wounded. He then ran on to cut him off, and tried to get up into a tree, but not succeeding in the attempt, went and took a seat some way off on the hillside. The tiger presently emerged from the jungle, went to the tree and began roaring and scraping at the ground, and he must have either smelt traces of the manager or seen him trying to get up into it, and concluded he was there. However, he deliberately went up the tree paw over paw, and got into a cleft of it and looked about in the tree, and then came down backwards, and was shot in the act of descending. I sent and obtained measurements of this tree, the stem of which was 16½ feet up to the first branch. The tiger climbed up so far, and looked around in the tree. Another case was told me by Rama Gouda, to whom I have previously alluded, of a wounded tiger going up a tree to get at a beater, whom he nearly reached. In the case just mentioned, the tiger rose on its hind legs and deliberately went up paw over paw, but in the second, started with a spring up the stem of the tree, and then ascended in the same way as the first tiger did.

There is a common idea that jackals attach themselves to tigers, and are useful in warning them of danger, and I have been informed by an experienced sportsman that they always howl when they find a bait tied out for a tiger, and, it is supposed, with the view of informing any tiger within hearing that there is a bullock all ready for him. I have never heard but one confirmatory instance of the former, which was told me by a planter on the Nilgiri Hills, who was opening some new land in quarters occasionally visited by tigers. One evening, after the day's work was over, he went out accompanied by a kangaroo dog, and took a seat on the hillside to enjoy the view. Immediately below him ran a jungly ravine, and behind him the hill rose sharply. He had no gun with him, not expecting any game so close to his new abode, and now, to his dismay, a large tiger emerged from the shola at a point between him and his bungalow. As the grass was long at that season, the tiger did not perceive my friend (and, as I have previously shown, tigers, and I believe all animals, do not readily perceive any non-conspicuous object which is not in motion), who, as may be supposed, sat as close and still as possible, and beckoning to the dog, held him fast by the collar. The tiger lay down in the grass, and was presently followed by another tiger, which lay down in front of the first and rolled over on its back. This was pretty well for a beginning, but presently, one after the other, emerged three smaller tigers, which also took their seats in the grass. Here then was a nice family to have between one and one's dinner. The sun presently set, and the prospect of darkness was not encouraging. My friend naturally waited for the tigers to go, and no doubt devoutly hoped that they would not come his way, but time seemed to them to be of no importance, and they showed not the slightest disposition to move. Presently there came on to the ridge of the hill above a jackal, which looked down upon the party and then set up a most unearthly howl. The three smaller tigers, evidently young and inexperienced animals, took no notice of the protestations of the jackal, but the two larger tigers at once got up and took a long steady look at him, and the jackal moved restlessly about and seemed to redouble his efforts to attract the attention of the tigers. The larger tigers now seemed satisfied that some danger was at hand, and to the immense relief of my friend, walked down into the jungle, followed by the three smaller tigers. After waiting a little my friend got up and proceeded homewards, and, he said, "I am not ashamed to own that, after passing the place where the tigers had disappeared from view, I fairly ran for the house." The most interesting experiences one hears of tigers and other wild animals are, as may be supposed, not from sportsmen engaged on shooting expeditions, and who have killed much game, but from pioneer planters and others whose business lies in tigerish localities, and that is why Mr. Sanderson's book is so particularly interesting. My friend told me when I last met him that he had only killed two tigers, but that he had had occasionally some unexpected interviews with them. One of these was interesting as showing that a tiger does not like the rearing of a horse. My friend was riding across the country one morning when he came suddenly, at the edge of a shola, on a tiger, which at once crouched as if to spring. The horse, an Australian, wished to turn, but my friend, being afraid that the tiger might then spring on him, turned his horse's head towards the tiger and touched him with the spur. This caused the horse to rear, and the moment he did so the tiger turned tail and ran off. We have seen that man does not relish the roar of a tiger, and it may be interesting to record one instance where a single tiger was commoved and put to flight by the yell of a single man. He was a planter on the Nilgiris, and the brother of a friend of mine, and was in the habit of going out at the end of his day's work with a book and a gun, and seating himself on the hillside to look out for sambur deer. On one occasion he was thus sitting in the long grass when he heard something coming through it. This turned out to be a large tiger which came into view suddenly, and quite close, as may be supposed from the fact that the planter was sitting in long grass. The tiger at once crouched, and the planter was afraid to raise his gun, as it was probable that the animal might spring at him before he was ready to fire. Tiger and man thus looked at each other in silence. Mr. B. had heard of the effect of the human eye, and he threw into his the fiercest glare he could, but found that the tiger returned his glance quite unmoved. Then he thought he would try the effect of the human voice, and gathering himself together uttered the most awe-inspiring yell he could command. The tiger at once rose to his legs and turned his body half round. This was encouraging, and he emitted another yell, when the tiger went off.

There can be no doubt that tigers, like men, are often very undecided how to act, and it would be interesting if we could penetrate their state of mind. Shall I attack, or shall I do nothing? and in the end, after long deliberation, the tiger will determine on doing nothing, and walk off. Of his state of mind the following is an instance. On one occasion I left my pony on the side of a hill just outside the forest, and went for a stalk over the mountain above. I could see nothing, and thought it would be well to take a seat and wait in case any game might turn up. I had not been seated more than a few minutes when one of my people, pointing downward, said, "There is a tiger," and we could see him at the foot of the hill about quarter of a mile away, walking steadily across a piece of open land to the forest beyond. Just as he disappeared my horse-keeper came up alone, and evidently in a most agitated state, and no wonder, for we had no sooner got out of his sight when, a tiger appeared from the jungle and lay down on the ground just above the pony and crouched. The horse-keeper had another man with him, but he not unnaturally said that he was afraid to come and tell us, as he thought that there was safety in numbers, and that the tiger might attack the pony if it was left with only one man. The tiger must have thus remained in a state of low doubt for at least half an hour. Finally he got up and left them, and, from the direction he took, was evidently the identical tiger which we had seen from the hill top.

Tigers, like wolves and other animals, form plans, communicate them to their companions, and conjointly carry them out. A friend of mine was once the subject of an excellent instance of this. He was out stalking one day, and with his glass was scanning the country carefully, when he made out a long way off, in a piece of open grassland which was surrounded by forest, three tigers looking in his direction. They evidently saw that there was something on the hillside, but the distance was, for them, too great to make out what. After steadily looking at him some time the tigers evidently formed their plan of operations, and plunged into the forest towards him. The tigers had taken my friend and his man for game of some kind, and had determined on a united stalk and drive, and, when they appeared, two remained at the edge of the jungle, while the third made a circuit evidently with the view of coming upon the supposed game from above. But presently they discovered their mistake and went off.

These forest tigers are rarely dangerous to man unless attacked, and in my part of the country they never are so. However, there is no rule without an exception, and when making this assertion to some natives in my neighbourhood many years ago, one of them said, "I am not so sure about that. A tiger ate an aunt of mine not far from here some years ago." But that is the only instance I ever heard of in my neighbourhood, and even by tradition there were no instances of deaths from tigers, and it is also remarkable how in some cases tigers, when there is plenty of game, live for years near cattle without touching them. I was particularly struck with this in the case of a family who lived quite isolated at the crests of the Ghauts, and the head of it told me that, though tigers were often about they never touched his cattle. There is an amusing story told in "My Indian Journal"[^[20]] (a charming book which everyone should read who is interested in India) of a native who was ready enough it appears to track down tigers to be shot by others, but who by no means wished that any of his family should interfere. On one occasion Colonel Campbell found him belabouring his son with a stout bamboo, and on inquiry learned that the said son had killed a tiger. The father said it was all very well for people who lived in the open country, but with him the case was quite different, as he lived on sociable terms with the tigers in the jungle, had never injured them nor they him, and while there was peace between them he could go amongst them without fear, but now that his rascally son had picked a quarrel with them, there was no knowing where the feud might end.

I have mentioned a case of tigers not interfering with cattle when there was plenty of game, but I should add that this was many years ago, when the natives had not so many guns as they have now. The rice-fields have been abandoned and the house of course deserted, and of recent years the tigers have changed their ways, for, ten years ago, I killed a tigress close to the site of the abandoned house, in the neighbourhood of which it had been killing cattle.

I have said that forest tigers are rarely dangerous to man, and by that I mean the tigers inhabiting the long range of forests stretching along the south-western side of India at varying distances from the sea, but in the interior of Mysore very dangerous man-eaters have existed, and I have been shown places which people made up parties to cross. One man-eater, at least—for it was assumed that the deaths were the work of one animal—killed, I am informed on good authority, about 500 people. Two tigers were killed at one time, and after that the slaughter of human beings ceased, though it was never ascertained which was the culprit. There is no man-eater at present in Mysore. Mr. Sanderson says that bold man-eaters have been known to enter a village and carry off a victim from the first open hut. The boldest attempt I ever knew of was mentioned to me by my Nilgiri planter friend, and it occurred in this way. In the middle of the night there were loud cries of "Tiger!" from a hut near his house which was occupied by some of his people. He always kept a loaded gun near him at night, and at once rushed out and fired, when two men came up to the bungalow and declared that a tiger had begun to claw the thatch off the roof of the hut in order to get at them. This was alarming to the planter, as, if proved, many of his people might have left the place, and he told the men to sleep in his veranda, and that he would see in the morning if their story was true. He then went to bed and rose very early the following morning, before anyone was about, and found that the story was quite true, and saw the tracks of the tiger. These he carefully obliterated, and then went back to bed. Then when he rose at his usual time he roused the men and asked to be shown the track of the tiger. This of course they could not do, and he laughed off the whole story, and treated it as a fanciful illusion. I find many stories in sporting books of the great courage and determination often shown by natives in connection with tigers, but my Nilgiri planter friend told me one which was really astonishing. A tiger one day had carried off a Toda cattle herd, and his friend or relative was determined to recover the body, and was about to proceed single-handed and unarmed into the jungle with this view. My friend saw that he could not prevent him, and as he did not like to let him to go in alone, went with him. They went in accordingly, and presently heard the tiger crunching the bones of his unfortunate victim, but when the tiger heard them approaching he retired, and the Toda recovered what was left of the body. There can be no doubt, however, that the death of one of a party does exercise a chilling effect on the zeal of the natives, or at least on a considerable proportion of them, but after all this is not surprising, as I have found a similar coldness coming over my own proceedings when a tiger has retorted with effect on his pursuers. On the occasion I am now alluding to an unfortunate report had spread that a tiger I had wounded had left the jungle in which we found him, and whither he had retreated. I had wounded the tiger in the evening, and we went to look him up next morning, and the beaters, influenced no doubt by the report in question, went into the jungle in a body in a careless manner, and without sending men up trees to keep a look out ahead.

The tiger waited till the whole party was within springing distance, and then with a tremendous roar which I clearly heard at my post some way off, charged, and buried his deadly fangs in the back of an unfortunate Hindoo peasant who was leading the way. The poor fellow was carried out of the jungle in an evidently dying state, and a caste dispute arose over him, the particulars of which I have given in my chapter on caste. After doing what we could for him we placed him on a rough litter and he was carried to the rear. I confess that after such an exhibition of temper on the part of the tiger and the nature of the jungle I, being Europeanly speaking single-handed, was not so very comfortable at the idea of approaching him, but luckily a toddyman who had run up a tree (these men are wonderful climbers) when the tiger charged, and was afraid for some time to come down, now emerged from the jungle, and reported that he could see the tiger from the tree he had climbed into. This of course much simplified matters, and I at once proceeded into the jungle, but only about ten people, mostly my own followers, cared to accompany me. As it happened, we after all ran no risk whatever, as the tiger was dead, though he was lying with his head on his paws in such a life-like position that we fired a shot into him to make sure. When we were skinning him the poor man expired. In the same jungle, I think about a year afterwards, an English visitor at my house wounded a tiger, which went into one of those reedy and cactus-grown bottoms which make tiger shooting on foot so dangerous. I then declared that none of my people should go into this, and that they might return the next day and see if the tiger was dead (by no means an absolutely safe proceeding even then as we have seen). Much to my amusement a lean toddy drawer of mine, an excellent shikari, went a few yards into the swampy ground, got on to a small boulder of rock, squatted down, took out his betel bag, threw some betel into his mouth preparatory to chewing, and then held out his long skinny arm and forefinger and said, "Look! A tiger made a meal of a man close to this last year. Let everyone therefore be careful and get up into trees, and mind what they are about." The next day the tiger was found dead quite close to the rock he had been squatting on. A most remarkable instance of courage on the part of a native occurred when a brother planter of mine was out tiger shooting on the Ghauts to the north of my abode. A tiger flew at a Hindoo peasant—a first-rate plucky sportsman, and as the tiger charged, the man struck at it with his hacking knife (a formidable weapon in the hands of a man who knows how to use it, and used to cut underwood, and thick boughs of trees), with the result that the tiger's skull was split open and the animal killed on the spot. The native was thrown backwards with great force, and his head came in contact with a stone. He got up, and by this time was surrounded by the people, when, holding out his hand, he said, "Look here," and then paused. Everyone expected some remark about the tiger, but, amidst general laughter—for the natives have a keen sense of humour—he continued, "There will be a bump on my head to-morrow as big as a cocoanut." And now, as we have heard so much of the courage of man, it is time that the dogs should have their turn, and I will conclude these reminiscences with an account of how a dog saved the life of the brother planter to whom I have just alluded. I was so much interested in the story that I wrote down the particulars in my diary at the time and read them over to my informant to make sure they were right. I give the account verbatim as I took it down at the time.

Mr. A. told me that he once wounded a tiger which afterwards sprang on him, knocked him down, and seized him by the hand and arm. With Mr. A. was a large dog, half mastiff and half polygar (a savage and rare native breed), which at once attacked the tiger, and diverted its attention from Mr. A. After driving off the dog the tiger again returned to Mr. A. and commenced to worry him, but was again attacked by the dog. The dog was thus driven off about three or four times by the tiger. The tiger was all this time losing strength from his wounds, and the last time he returned to Mr. A., died on him. The dog was uninjured. Now comes the most curious and interesting part of the story.