There are two varieties of the wild dog, one a large nondescript, with a canine head, the body of a wolf, and a brush instead of a tail: the other is a smaller beast of similar appearance. They generally hunt in large packs, and the skill with which they follow up the game is admirable. When pressed by hunger they are very ferocious. It is at no time a pleasant sight to see fifty or a hundred of their ill-omened faces glaring at you and your horse as you ride by them: especially after you have heard certain well-authenticated anecdotes of their cannibal propensities. When such rencontre does occur, the best way is to put a bold face upon the matter, ride up to them, and use your heavy horsewhip as well as you can: if you endeavour to get away they will generally feel inclined to follow you, and as for escaping from them on horseback, it is morally impossible.
Another animal—though not a wild one—of which we bid you beware, is the Neilgherry buffalo, especially the fine fawn-coloured beasts, belonging to the Todas. Occasionally, as you are passing along the base of some remote hill, you will be unpleasantly surprised by a sudden and impetuous charge of a whole herd. Unless you have a gun with you, you must ride for it. And how you must ride will probably surprise you. We well recollect a kind of adventure which once occurred to ourselves, when quietly excursionizing in the vicinity of Ooty. Excited by the appearance of our nag’s red saddle-cloth, some twenty huge beasts resolved to dispute with us the right of passage through one of the long smooth lawns, which run down the centre of the woodlands. At first they looked up curiously, then fiercely. Presently they advanced, snorting rabidly, in a rude line, a huge black bull the leader of the movement. The walk soon broke into a trot, the trot became a gallop, the intention of the gallop, was clearly a charge, and the consequences of a charge might have been serious. We found little difficulty in escaping the general rush of our assailants, by means of a sharp touch with the spur: one by one they tailed off, stood looking at our decreasing form in angry disgust, and returned to their normal occupation. But Taurus, the ringleader, seemed determined upon mischief. He pursued us with the dogged determination of a lyme hound: he had speed as well as bottom. Whenever we attempted to breathe the pony, the rapidity with which our friend gained ground upon us, was a warning not to try that trick too long. Close upon our quarters followed the big beast with his curved horns duly prepared: his eyes flashing fire, and his grunting snorts indicative of extreme rage. We could scarcely help laughing at the agility with which the monstrous body, on its four little legs, bowled away over the level turf, or at the same time wishing that our holsters contained the means of chastising his impudence.
How long the recreation might have lasted, or how it might have ended had not a long mud wall got between Taurus and ourselves, we cannot say. He followed us for at least a mile, and seemed by no means tired of the occupation. We were beginning to anticipate the pleasure of entering Ootacamund at the top of our nag’s speed, with a huge buffalo at his heels, and though we might have enjoyed seeing a friend in such novel predicament, the thing lost all its charms, when we ourselves expected to afford such spectacle to our friends.
We should strongly advise all public spirited individuals immediately after suffering from such a nuisance to find out the herdsman, and persuade him by a judicious application of the cravache, to teach his cattle better manners. He will be much more careful the next time he sees a stranger ride by.
Among the feathered tribes, the woodcock, probably on account of its comparative rarity, is the favourite sport. Three or four brace are considered an excellent bag, even with the assistance of good dogs, and a thorough knowledge of their covers. Cock shooting lasts from November to March. Partridges are rare, not being natives of the hills. Snipe, and solitary snipe, abound in the swamps. Quails of both species, red and grey,—the former especially—are found in the warmer localities, and when properly tamed and trained, they are as game birds as those of the low country. Our list concludes with peacocks, jungle[176] and spur fowl.
After perusing our brief sketch of Neilgherry sport, you will easily understand that to some ardent minds it offers irresistible attractions. Officers have been known to quit the service, or to invalid solely with the view of devoting themselves wholly to the pleasures of the chase. They separate themselves from their kind, inhabit the jungles for weeks together, and never enter a station except for the purpose of laying in a fresh store of powder and shot, calomel and quinine. Attended by a servant or two, they wander about, rifle in hand, shooting their meals—some curried bird—sleeping away the rabid hours of noontide heat under some thick brake, and starting with renewed vigour as soon as the slanting rays of the sun diffuse a little activity throughout the animal creation. Sometimes breakfast is rudely interrupted by an angry old tusker, who, in spite of his race’s proverbial purblindness, detects the presence of an enemy, and rushes on trumpeting to do a deed of violence. A “striped skin” will occasionally invite himself to partake of the dinner, and when not treated with all possible ceremony walks off with a raw joint in the shape of some unhappy black. There is little to be gained by such a life. Government gives, it is true, a reward of 7l.[177] for every slaughtered elephant, and tiger-skins, as well as ivory, find a ready sale: but no one can become a Crœsus by the favour of Diana. Not much, however, do our adventurous sportsmen think of lucre: they go on shooting through existence, only pausing at times when the bites of the tree-leeches,[178] scorpions, centipedes, and musquitoes, or a low fever, which they have vainly endeavoured to master by means of quinine administered in doses sufficient to turn an average head, imperiously compel them to lay up, till assailed by a Foe against whom the dose and the rifle are equally unefficacious. Many are almost blinded by the terrible glare and damp heat of the jungles: the fetid swamps breed brain fevers as well as snipe, bisons have horns, and cheetahs claws: so that such career, though bright enough in its own way, is generally speaking at least as brief as it is brilliant.
Before the monsoon sets in, we will “get through,” as our Irish cousin expressed himself at the Vatican, “the sight-seeing” in the neighbourhood of Ooty.
Maleemund, or, as others write it, Meyni, a favourite spot for pic-nics, is a Toda village lying about three miles north of the grand station: it affords you a pleasant ride through pretty woodlands, and a very inferior view. Beyond it is Billicul, a little Berger settlement surrounded by cultivation: here a resident on the hills has built a bungalow, and the locality is often visited for the pleasure of contemplating the reeking flats of Mysore. Striking across country into the Seegoor Pass, you may, if you have any curiosity, inspect the Kulhutty Falls, certain cataracts upon a very diminutive scale indeed. You must see the Pykarry river, a deep and irregular stream flowing down a winding bed full of rocks, rapids, and sand-banks: it supplies your curries with a shrunken specimen of the finny tribe—alas! how different from certain fishes which you may connect in memory with certain mountain streams in the old country. The surrounding hills are celebrated for containing abundance of game. An indefatigable excursionist would ride seven miles further on the Goodalore road for the sake of the coups-d’œil, and to be able to say that he has seen Neddiwuttun. All the pleasure he derives from this extra stage along a vile path, is a sense of intense satisfaction that he is not compelled to pass a night in the damp, dreary, moss-clad bungalow, where unhappy travellers must at times perforce abide. Three miles from Ooty, in the direction of the Koondah hills, you pass Fair Lawn, the bit of turf which Terpsichore loves. Finally, after a long and dreary stretch over a tiresome series of little eminences, after fording the Porthy river, and crossing its sister stream, the Avalanche, by an unsafe bridge, you arrive at the Wooden House,[179] whence sportsmen issue to disturb the innocent enjoyments of elk and ibex, bison and elephant.