[21] "Jungle Life in India, or the Journeys and Journals of an Indian Geologist," by V. Ball, M.A. London, Thos. De La Rue and Co., 1880.
[22] "My Indian Journal," by Colonel Walter Campbell. Edinburgh, Edmonston and Douglas, 1864.
[23] In Jerdon's "Mammals of India" it is stated that in Nepaul the wild dogs, whose urine is said to be peculiarly acrid, sprinkle it over bushes through which an animal will probably move with the view of blinding their victim. Jerdon certainly disbelieves the native story of their capturing their prey through the acridity of their urine. It seems to me not improbable that the wild dogs may have become aware of the offensive character of their urine, and in passing near a tiger might discharge some of it with the view of annoying the tiger and driving him away, and also perhaps as a mark of contempt, and that this probably was the origin of the widely spread story I have alluded to in the text.
CHAPTER VI.
THE INDIAN BISON.
Though at the risk of being thought sentimental, I cannot say that I approach the subject of bison shooting with much satisfaction, except, perhaps, in the thought that what I am about to write may be the means of prolonging in some degree, however infinitesimal, the existence of the race of these splendid animals, for I am afraid that nothing that anyone could write would prevent their numbers from being steadily diminished, and diminished, too, in some cases even by people who call themselves sportsmen; for one rather well-known writer has not only killed cow bisons, but actually published the fact—a thing that he certainly would not have done had the custom of shooting them not been common in some parts of India. I am happy to say that I never saw a dead cow bison, and in my part of Mysore, in the course of upwards of thirty-seven years' experience, I have never heard of more than two or three cows having been killed. Anything more foolish and barbarous than the killing of cow bisons cannot be conceived, for there is not a more harmless and inoffensive animal in the jungle than the bison—harmless because it seldom attacks[[24]] crops (I have never known of more than one instance of their doing so), and inoffensive because, if not molested, it never attacks man; and Mr. Sanderson, in his admirable work entitled "Thirteen Years amongst the Wild Beasts of India," declares that even solitary bulls, which are supposed to be dangerous, even if not molested, are not really so, though in the event of a native coming suddenly on a bull in the long grass, he admits the bison may spring suddenly up and dash at the intruder to clear him from his path. He has a most sympathetic chapter on these noble animals, and has enjoyed from an elephant's back the best opportunities of observing them, as the bison does not fear the elephant, in whose company indeed it is often found to be, and after having thus observed a herd of bison grazing, he says that he has "often left the poor animals undisturbed." Laterly he never thought of attacking herd bison, as it is often difficult to get a shot at the bull of the herd, and confined his shooting to those old solitary bulls which have been turned out of the herds by younger and more vigorous animals. These ought alone, indeed, to be the object of pursuit, and it is one usually carried on under such circumstances and amidst such splendid scenes that the sport is very attractive, and the pursuit of the solitary bull, writes Mr. Sanderson, can never, he imagines, pall on the most successful hunter. Perhaps this is true, but after having killed, say six solitary bulls, I think that a sportsman ought to be content for the rest of his life. A young forest officer lately told me that, having killed about that number, he had announced to his friends his intention of not killing any more. Shortly afterwards he fell in with two bulls who were engaged in a fierce battle with each other, and he might easily have shot one or perhaps both of them, but he had strength of mind to resist the temptation, a fact which, if known, would certainly entitle him to advancement in the service.
I have said that the bison, unless molested, will never attack man, and I was so confident of this that I once sent a highly valued European in my employ, to photograph a solitary bull, merely sending with him a native with a gun, and with instructions to fire in the event of the photographer being attacked. I selected a small piece of open swampy grass ground in a detached piece of jungle through which solitary bulls often passed, and knowing the direction of the wind at that season of the year, had no difficulty in avoiding any chance of the bull winding the photographer. The camera was placed on the edge of the jungle, and presently a bull came slowly grazing along the swamp, when he unluckily looked up to find the photographer just taking the cap off, within about ten paces. Never was there anything more annoying, and the thing would have been a magnificent success had my man been provided with the instantaneous process. But he was not, and the bull turned and fled through the mud with a most tremendous rush, having, I suppose, taken the lens for the glare of the eye of some new kind of tiger. The sudden change in the appearance of the bull was described to me as being most remarkable, for as he grazed quietly along he appeared to be one of the most harmless and domestic of animals, while the moment the sight of the camera fell on his astonished vision he was at once transformed into the wildest looking animal conceivable.
It is difficult to believe that big game in remote spots can perceive whether a man means to harm them or not, but it is remarkable that when on his way to the jungle alluded to, the photographer passed two sambur deer in the long grass, and at no great distance away, and saw them still lying there on his return. A bear was also rolling and grunting in the jungle close to him as he was waiting for the bull. On his return to the hut (put up for the occasion about a mile away) he was amused to find the native servant I had sent with him seated between two roasting fires which he imagined, and perhaps not without reason, would prevent his being attacked by a tiger. During the absence of my amateur photographer either a tiger or panther had passed close to the hut.
The photographer returned to the swamp on the following morning, but no bull arrived, and I gave up the attempt to obtain a photograph of a bison. But it is time now to describe the bison.