Wild Beasts and Their Ways, Reminiscences of Europe, Asia, Africa and America — Volume 1

by Sir Samuel White Baker

An elephant, if well trained, would be sufficiently sagacious to appreciate this protection should it find itself unharmed after a home charge by a tiger or other dangerous beast; and such a quality of armour would add immensely to its confidence and steadiness.

Although the elephant is of enormous strength it is more or less a delicate animal, and is subject to a variety of ailments. A common disease is a swelling in the throat, which in bad cases prevents it from feeding. Another complaint resembles gout in the legs, which swell to a distressing size, and give exquisite pain, especially when touched. This attack is frequently occasioned by allowing elephants, after a long march under a hot sun, to wade belly-deep in cool water in order to graze upon the aquatic vegetation.

Few animals suffer more from the sun's rays than the elephant, whose nature prompts it to seek the deepest shade. Its dark colour and immense surface attract an amount of heat which becomes almost insupportable to the unfortunate creature when forced to carry a heavy load during the hot season in India. Even without a greater weight than its rider, the elephant exhibits signs of distress when marching after 9 a.m. At such times it is disagreeable, as the animal has a peculiar habit of sucking water through the trunk from a supply contained within the stomach, and this it syringes with great force between its fore legs, and against its flanks to cool its sides with the ejected spray. The rider receives a portion of the fluid in his face, and as the action is repeated every five minutes, or less, the operation is annoying.

It is a curious peculiarity in the elephant that it is enabled to suck up water at discretion simply by doubling the trunk far down the throat, and the fluid thus procured has no disagreeable smell, although taken direct from the creature's stomach. In every way the elephant is superior to most animals in the freedom from any unpleasant odour. Its skin is sweet, and the hand retains no smell whatever, although you may have caressed the trunk or any other portion of the body. It is well known that a horse is exceedingly strong in odour, and that nothing is more objectionable than the close proximity of a stable, or even of a large number of horses picqueted in the open,—I have frequently been camped where fifty or sixty elephants were for several days in the same position within a hundred yards of the tents, and still there was no offensive scent.

The food of an elephant is always fresh and clean, and the digestive functions are extremely rapid. The mastication is a rough system of grinding, and the single stomach and exceedingly short intestines simplify the process of assimilation. The rapidity of the food passage necessitates a consumption of a large amount, and no less than six hundred pounds of fodder is the proper daily allowance for an elephant.

There have been frequent discussions upon the important subject of elephant-feeding. Mr. G. P. Sanderson, the superintendent of the keddah department in Assam, has declared against the necessity of allowing a ration of grain in addition to the usual fodder. This must naturally depend upon the quality of the green food. If the locality abounds in plantains, the stems of those plants are eagerly devoured, and every portion except the outside rind is nourishing. Even then the waste is excessive should the stems be heedlessly thrown down before the animal. It will immediately proceed to strip long fibrous ribbons from the stem by placing one foot upon the extremity, and then tearing off the alternate layers like the skin of an onion. These it converts into playthings, throwing them over its back and neck until it is dressed in dangling necklaces, which by degrees, after serving as toys, are ultimately devoured. The proper method of feeding an elephant with plantains where an allowance of rice is added, is by splitting the entire stem through the centre, and then cutting it into transverse sections about two feet in length. As each layer is detached, it resembles a delicately coloured trough, nearly white; this is doubled up in the centre and it at once forms a hollow tube, similar to a very thick drain tile. A handful of rice is placed within, and it is secured by tying with a fibrous strip from the plantain stem. A large pile of these neat packages is prepared for every elephant, and, when ready, the mahout sits by the heap and hands the parcels one by one to the ever-expectant trunk.

The delicacy of an elephant's palate is extraordinary, and the whims of the creature are absurd in the selection or rejection of morsels which it prefers or dislikes. I once saw a peculiar instance of this in an elephant that belonged to the police at Dhubri on the Brahmaputra. This animal had a large allowance of rice, therefore about three-quarters of a pound were placed within each tube of plantain stem. A lady offered the elephant, when being fed, a very small sweet biscuit, about an inch and a half in diameter. This was accepted in the trunk, but almost immediately rejected and thrown upon the ground. The mahout, fearing that his elephant had behaved rudely in thus refusing a present from a lady's hand, picked up the biscuit and inserted it in the next parcel of rice and plantain stem. This was placed within the elephant's mouth. At the first crunch the animal showed evident signs of disgust, and at once spat out the whole of the contents. There lay a complete ruin of the neat package, which had been burst by the power of the great jaws; but among the scattered rice that had been ejected we perceived the biscuit which had caused the second instance of bad behaviour. So utterly disgusted was the elephant with this tiny foreign substance that it endeavoured to cleanse its mouth from every grain of rice, as though polluted by the contact, and for several minutes it continued to insert its trunk and rake out each atom from its tongue and throat.

The adaptation of the trunk to many purposes is very interesting. I had an elephant who would eat every particle of rice in a round bamboo basket by sucking it up the trunk and then blowing it into its mouth. The basket was close-grained and smooth inside, but although brimful at the commencement of operations, it was emptied by the elephant as though it had been cleansed with a dry sponge.

A distinct rule for feeding elephants cannot be laid down without exceptions rendered necessary by peculiarities of localities and the amount of hard work required from the animal. If the elephant is simply turned out to grass for a season, it will thrive upon such natural herbage as bamboos, the foliage of the banyan, peepul, and other varieties of the Ficus family; but if it is expected to travel and perform good work, it is usual in the Commissariat department to allow each elephant seven and a half seers of flour, equal to 15 lbs. avoirdupois. In addition to this, 600 lbs. of green fodder are given, and about 1 lb. of ghee (buffalo butter), with salt and jaggery (native sugar). During a jungle expedition I have always doubled the allowance of flour to 30 lbs. daily for each animal. This is made into large flat cakes like Scotch "scones," weighing 2 lbs. each. The elephants are fed at about an hour before sunset, and then taken to drink water before actual night. Cleanliness is indispensable to the good health and condition of the elephant. It should bathe daily, and the entire body should be well scoured with a piece of brick or a soft quality of sandstone. This operation is much enjoyed, and the huge animal, obeying the command, lies down upon its side and accommodates its carcase to the scrubbing process by adapting its position to the requirements of the operator. It will frequently bury its head completely beneath the water, and merely protrude the extremity of its trunk to breathe above the surface. The coolie is most particular in scrubbing every portion of the animal, after which it will usually stand within the tank or river and shower volumes of water from its trunk over its back and flanks. When well washed, it appears a thoroughly clean black mass, but in a few minutes it proceeds to destroy its personal beauty by throwing clouds of dust upon its back, which, adhering to the moisture occasioned by its recent bath, converts the late clean animal into a brown mound of earth.

There is no quadruped not absolutely amphibious that is so thoroughly at home in the water as the elephant. In a wild state it will swim the largest rivers, and it delights in morasses, where it rolls in the deep mud like a pig or buffalo, and thus coats its hide with a covering of slime, which protects it from the attacks of flies and the worry of mosquitoes. When in a domestic state, the elephant is shy of trusting itself upon unsound earth or quicksands, as it appears to have lost the confidence resulting from an independent freedom among the jungles, and marshy valleys teeming with aquatic vegetation. It will also refuse to cross a bridge unless of solid masonry, and it is curious to observe the extreme care with which it sounds the structure, either by striking with the coiled extremity of the trunk or by experimenting with the pressure of one foot, before it ventures to trust its whole weight upon the suspected floor.