Of course Tiger-hunting is, par excellence, the “royal sport of India;” the game calling forth more courage and address from the sportsman than any other, and the “spice of danger” so necessary to the true sportsman being at its maximum. Usually, a hunt is made up of a considerable number of sportsmen, accompanied by a crowd of beaters. The Elephant upon which each hunter rides is provided with a houdah of light wood and basket work, and consisting of two compartments, a front one in which the sportsman himself sits, and a hinder one occupied by his servant, who is in readiness with spare guns. The driver, or mahout, sits on a cushion on the Elephant’s neck, armed with a pointed iron rod, or gujbag, to every touch of which the docile animal answers.
On arriving at a portion of the jungle where Tigers are known to exist, the sportsmen hold themselves in readiness with loaded rifles, while the beaters, on foot, encircle the jungle, and endeavour, with shouts and gesticulations, to drive the game from their lurking-place to the destruction which awaits them. As soon as a Tiger appears every piece is levelled at him, and, in many cases, he is despatched at once; but often he is either entirely missed, or only slightly wounded, and then he at once makes for the nearest Elephant, and often succeeds in making Elephant, or mahout, or even sportsman, feel his cruel teeth and claws, before the coup de grace is given. A Tiger is at no time the easiest thing to kill; like its humble kinsman, the Cat, it has “nine lives” to part with, and these lives are much more tenacious than in the case of poor puss. A Tiger, holding on with tooth and claw to a writhing Elephant, in such a position that a mis-directed shot may kill man or Elephant instead of Tiger, is an extremely awkward beast indeed to deal with, and is often enabled to sell his life very dearly. When the day’s sport is over, the Tigers are either carried into camp on pad Elephants, or skinned where they lie; the natives possessing themselves of the flesh, and everything else of which they can lay hold.
TIGER HUNT.
The foregoing is the legitimate method of keeping down the Tiger race, but many others are employed. “They are snared in pitfalls and traps, shot by spring-guns and arrows, occasionally poisoned, and it is said that bird-lime has been used in their destruction. I have read of this, but know of no authenticated case in which it has been practised. The bird-lime, it is said, is spread on the fallen leaves; these adhering to the Tiger’s paws are soon plastered all over him, including his face and eyes. Blinded and stupefied by rage and fear, he falls an easy prey to the villagers, who then either shoot or stab him to death with spears. Another mode of effecting his death is to lay a bait, by tying up a Cow or Goat in some spot the Tiger is wont to frequent. Near this, on a machan, or on the branch of a tree, or from behind some extemporised screen, the shikarie waits his approach at night, and when the bait is seized takes aim, and often succeeds in destroying him, though it not unfrequently happens that in the uncertain light he misses altogether, or only wounds, in which case a second chance is seldom obtained.”
The perils of Tiger-hunting are great and varied. In the following instance related by Sir Joseph Fayrer a large comic element was introduced, although the fun is probably more striking to us to read of than it was to the hunter and his mahout who took part in it:—
“A rather curious Tiger-hunt, in which the Tiger seemed to think that he should have his share of the sport as well as the ‘shikarie,’ occurred some short time ago in the Dhoon. A gentleman, well known in Dehra, an enthusiastic though rather inexperienced sportsman, they say, went out about a month ago, into the Eastern Dhoon, for a day or two’s shooting. Arrived on the ground, he was seated in his houdah on the Elephant, looking out anxiously for game of some sort, when the mahout suddenly cried, ‘Shér, Sahib; burra, Shér!’ for a Tiger had made his appearance unexpectedly close to the Elephant. The gentleman hurriedly fired, and planted a ball from his rifle, not in the Tiger’s shoulder, but in his abdomen. This mistake must have been due to surprise at the Tiger’s sudden advent on the scene, and the consequently hurried shot; otherwise such a want of knowledge of anatomy as was evinced in seeking a vital spot in the abdomen would be unpardonable. The consequences of the mistake were serious; for the Tiger, resenting the sudden disturbance in the region where the remains of his last kill were peacefully reposing, charged the Elephant, and, by a spring, succeeded in planting his fore-paws on her head, while his hind legs clawed and scratched vigorously for a footing on her trunk.
“Imagine the feelings of the mahout, with a Tiger within six inches of his nose! the Elephant trumpeting, shaking, and rolling with rage and pain, till he was barely able to maintain his seat on her neck at all; and the occupant of the houdah, too, tumbled from top to bottom, and from side to side of it, as if he were a solitary pill in a pillbox too large for him. Of course, in this predicament, he was utterly unable to use his rifle to rid the Elephant of the unwelcome head-dress she was, perforce, wearing. The attempt to fire, in all that shaking, would probably have resulted in his blowing out the mahout’s brains instead of the Tiger’s, or in his shooting himself. Meanwhile the mahout, with the courage of despair, slipped out of the gaddela, or cushion, on which he sat, and, rolling it round his left arm, and taking the iron gujbag in his right, assailed the Tiger manfully about the ears. But, being thick-headed, he did not seem to mind the gujbag at all; for, after taking a bite at the Elephant’s forehead, he calmly continued his struggles for a footing on the reluctant and ever-dodging trunk, heedless of the rain of blows on his thick skull, and, no doubt, promising himself to square accounts presently by swallowing the mahout, gujbag, and all. But the Elephant was beginning to see that she couldn’t shake the Tiger off, so she tried another plan; and, making an extempore battering-ram of herself, with the Tiger as a buffer, she charged straight at a sal-tree, thinking to make a Tiger-pancake on the spot. But the sal-tree, alas! was a small one, and gave way under the shock, and away went tree, Tiger, and Elephant into an old and half filled-up obi, or Elephant pit, which happened to be conveniently placed to receive them just on the other side of the fallen tree. The Tiger and the mahout were both knocked off by the shock and fall; but the latter, luckily for himself, fell out of the pit, the former into it, under the Elephant. The Elephant now had her share of the sport, and gave the Tiger such a kicking while he lay under her, making a kind of shuttlecock of him between her fore and hind legs, that the breath must have been almost kicked out of him; then deeming she had done enough for honour and glory, and that she couldn’t eat the Tiger if she did kill him, she commenced climbing out of the pit, whose crumbled and sloping sides luckily made the scramble out practicable. The mahout, who had by this time picked himself and his scattered wits up, rushed round and caught her by the ear just as she reached the level, and was preparing for a bolt, and scrambling rapidly up to his perch on her neck, succeeded in stopping her and turning her face to the foe once more. The Elephant being now under command, our sportsman at length resumed his proper share in the proceedings, and the Tiger being still at the bottom of the pit, breathless, if not senseless, from the kicking he had undergone, by a well-directed shot put him finally hors de combat, and had the satisfaction of carrying him into the station in triumph, where his skin is preserved as a witness of this strange Tiger-hunt. The Elephant, though it got one nasty bite, and was badly scratched about the trunk and fore-legs, is now none the worse for its single combat with the monarch of the Indian forests.”
We mentioned above that the Tiger rarely attacks man unless provoked. When, however, he is hard pressed for a meal, he will often visit inhabited spots, and then is as likely to choose human as bovine food. Imagine the sensation likely to arise in a small village, inhabited only by a few unarmed, or at least but poorly armed men, with their wives and children, by such an occurrence as the following, related by an English traveller:—