In disposition the Tiger differs but little from the other wild Felidæ. Although possessed of such immense strength and ferocity, he often shows himself a very coward. Like most animals he scarcely ever attacks an armed man unless provoked, that is, unless he (or she) be a confirmed “man-eater,” although often seizing upon women and children. He shares with our Domestic Cat a love of cruelty for its own sake. The author of “Rambles in the Mirzapore District” says of this essentially feline character:—“It is sometimes an interesting sight to witness the demeanour of a Tiger towards his terrified prey (i.e., when a victim is tied up for him, and the sportsman waits to shoot him in the tree above it). When not raging with hunger, he appears to derive the same pleasure from playing with his victim as a Cat in tormenting a Mouse. He gambols around the Buffalo as if enjoying his alarm; and when the affrighted animal, in mad despair, feebly attempts to butt at his remorseless foe, the Tiger bounds lightly over his head, and recommences his gambols at the other side. At last, as if he had succeeded in creating an appetite for dinner, he crushes the skull of his victim with one blow of his powerful fore-paw, and soon commences his bloody meal.”
Another point in which the Tiger resembles the Cat is the devotion of the female to her offspring, and the remarkably lively and skittish disposition of the “kittens,” of which from two to five are usually produced at a birth. These are at first about half the size of our Domestic Cat. The mother goes with young about 105 days, the breeding season being in the early part of the year, but varying slightly according to locality. She is a most affectionate and attached mother, and generally guards and trains her young with the most watchful solicitude. They remain with her until nearly full grown, or about the second year, when they are able to cater for themselves. Whilst they remain with her she is peculiarly vicious and aggressive, defending them with the greatest courage and energy, and when robbed of them is terrible in her rage; she has nevertheless been known to desert them when pressed, and even to eat them when starved.
As soon as they begin to require other food than her milk she kills for them, and teaches them to do so for themselves by practising on small animals, such as Deer, and young Calves and Pigs. At these times she is wanton and extravagant in her cruelty, killing apparently for the gratification of her ferocious and bloodthirsty nature, and, perhaps, to excite and instruct the young ones, and it is not until they are thoroughly capable of providing their own food that she separates from them.
The young Tigers are far more destructive than the old. They will kill three or four Cows at a time, whilst the elder and more experienced rarely kill more than one, and this at intervals of from three or four days to a week. For this purpose the Tiger will leave its retreat in the dense jungle, proceed to the neighbourhood of a village, and during the night will steal towards the herds and strike down a Bullock, drag it into a secluded place, and then remain near the “murrie,” or kill, for several days, until it has eaten it, when it will proceed in search of a further supply. When it has once found good hunting-ground in the vicinity of a village, it continues its ravages, destroying one or two Cows or Buffaloes a week. It is very fond of the ordinary domestic cattle which, in the plains of India, are generally weak, half-starved, under-sized creatures. One of these is easily struck down and carried or dragged off. The smaller Buffaloes are also easily disposed of, but the Buffalo Bulls, and especially the wild ones, are formidable antagonists, and have often been known to beat the Tiger off, and even to wound him seriously with their horns.
Some notion of the fearful damages committed by Tigers in India will be gained from the following extract:—“Cattle killed in my district are numberless. As regards human beings, one Tiger in 1867–8–9, killed, respectively, twenty-seven, thirty-four, forty-seven people. I have known it attack a party and kill four or five at a time. Once it killed a father, mother, and three children; and the week before it was shot it killed seven people. It wandered over a tract of twenty miles, never remaining in the same spot two consecutive days, and at last was destroyed by a bullet from a spring gun, when returning to feed on the body of one of its victims—a woman. At Nynee Tal, in Kumaon, in 1856–7–8, there was a Tiger that prowled about within a circle, say, of twenty miles, and it killed, on an average, about eighty men per annum. The haunts were well known at all seasons.... This Tiger was afterwards shot while devouring the body of an aged person it had killed.” It is also stated in a Government report that “in one instance, in the Central Provinces, a single Tigress caused the desertion of thirteen villages, and two hundred and fifty square miles of country were thrown out of cultivation. This state of things would, undoubtedly, have continued, but for the timely arrival of a gentleman who, happily, was fortunate enough, with the aid of his gun, to put an end to her eventful career.” Again, it is reported, “that one Tigress, in 1869, killed 127 people, and stopped a public road for many weeks, and was finally killed by the opportune arrival of an English sportsman.”
As might naturally be expected, an enemy so dreadful is sure to have supernatural power ascribed to it by the credulous natives, whose property is destroyed, and whose lives are endangered by the ravages of this terrible beast. People in the state of civilisation of the ordinary Indian villages are sure to think there is something more than natural in an animal capable of such wholesale destruction, so wantonly cruel, of such fearful strength and such terrible beauty; and the following passages will give some idea of the prowess ascribed to the Tiger by those who are the greatest sufferers from his bloody disposition:—
“The natives of India, especially the Hindoos, hold the Tiger, as they do the Cobra, in superstitious awe. Many would not kill him if they could, for they fear that he will haunt them or do them mischief after death. Some they regard as being the tenement of a spirit, which not only renders them immortal, but confers increased powers of mischief. In many parts of India the peasants will hardly mention the Tiger by name. They either call him, as in Purneah, Giahur (Jackal), Janwar (the beast), or they will not name him at all; and it is the same in the case of the Wolf. But though they will not always themselves destroy him, they are quite willing that others should do so, for they will point out his whereabouts, and be present at his death; and the delight evinced thereat is intense, for it often relieves a whole village from an incubus of no slight weight, and saves the herdsman from his weekly loss of cattle. The conversation and remarks made by these villagers round the fallen Tiger are often very amusing and characteristic.
“All kinds of power and influence are ascribed to portions of him when dead; the fangs, the claws, the whiskers, are potent charms, medicines, love-philtres, or prophylactics against disease, the evil eye, or magic. They are in such demand that the natives will take them; and we have known whiskers, claws, and even fangs, extracted and carried away during the night, even when the dead Tiger has been placed under the surveillance of a guard. The fat, also, is in great demand, for its many potent virtues in relieving rheumatism and other ailments. The liver, the heart, and the flesh are taken away and dried, to be eaten as tonics or invigorating remedies that give strength and courage. There is also a popular delusion that a new lobe is added to the liver every year of his life. A Tiger’s skin with its whiskers preserved is a rarity; you cannot keep them. The domestic, who would preserve any other valuable as a most sacred trust, will fail under this temptation! The whiskers, besides other wonderful powers, are said to possess that of being a slow poison when administered with the food. Such is the belief, which you may try in vain to disturb! The clavicles, too—little curved bones like tiny ribs—are also much valued; but they are generally lost or overlooked when the Tiger is cut up, lying buried in the powerful muscles near the shoulders.”
It is a very common opinion that the wounds made by a Tiger’s claw or teeth are poisonous, and consequently highly dangerous. It is, however, hardly necessary to state that the Tiger’s venom is of quite the same nature as that of the Frog and Newt, which so many country people believe in devoutly to this day. The huge jagged canines, and the carefully sharpened claws make wounds which are certainly ugly enough, but their danger arises merely from their depth, and from their liability to fester in a hot climate.