The chaus, as will be seen from the above, wanders boldly down into the outskirts of large towns, cantonments, and bungalows, on the look-out for chickens and pigeons. Its favourite plan is to lie up at dawn in some piece of thick cover near to where the poultry wander out to scratch, feed, and bask. It then pounces on the nearest unhappy hen and rushes off with it into cover. An acquaintance of the writer once had a number of fine Indian game fowl, of which he was not a little proud. He noticed that one was missing every morning for three days, and, not being able to discover the robber, shut them up in a hen-house. Next morning he heard a great commotion outside, and one of his bearers came running in to say that a leopard was in the hen-house. As this was only built of bamboo or some such light material, it did not seem probable that a leopard would stay there. Getting his rifle, he went out into the compound, and cautiously approached the hen-house, in which the fowls were still making loud protests and cries of alarm. The door was shut; but some creature—certainly not a leopard—might have squeezed in through the small entrance used by the hens. He opened the door, and saw at the back of the hen-house a chaus sitting, with all its fur on end, looking almost as large as a small leopard. On the floor was one dead fowl. The impudent jungle-cat rushed for the door, but had the coolness to seize the hen as it passed, and with this in its mouth rushed past the owner of the hens, his servants and retainers, and reached a piece of thick scrub near with its prize.
As the chaus is common both in India and Africa, a comparison of its habits in both continents is somewhat interesting. Jerdon, the Indian naturalist, writes: "It is the common wild cat from the Himalaya to Cape Comorin, and from the level of the sea to 7,000 or 8,000 feet elevation. It frequents alike the jungles and the open country, and is very partial to long reeds, and grass, sugarcane-fields, and corn-fields. It does much damage to all game, especially to hares and partridges. Quite recently I shot a pea-fowl at the edge of a sugarcane-field. One of these cats sprang out, seized the pea-fowl, and after a short struggle—for the bird was not quite dead—carried it off before my astonished eyes, and, in spite of my running up, made his escape with his booty. It must have been stalking these very birds, so closely did its spring follow my shot. It is said to breed twice a year, and to have three or four young at a birth. I have very often had the young brought to me, but always failed in rearing them; and they always showed a savage and untamable disposition. I have seen numbers of cats about villages in various parts of the country that must have been hybrids between this cat and the tame ones."
The late Sir Oliver St. John was more fortunate with his jungle-cat kittens. He obtained three in Persia. These he reared till they were three months old, by which time they became so tame that they would climb on to his knees at breakfast-time, and behave like ordinary kittens. One was killed by a greyhound, and another by a scorpion—a curious fate for a kitten to meet. The survivor then became morose and ill-tempered, but grew to be a large and strong animal. "Two English bull-terriers of mine, which would make short work of the largest domestic cat, could do nothing against my wild cat," says the same writer. "In their almost daily battles the dogs always got the worst of it."
Photo by L. Medland, F.Z.S.] [North Finchley.
SERVAL.
This is a spotted cat, with long ears, but no tufts on them, as in the true lynxes.
In Africa the chaus haunts the thick cover bordering the rivers. There it catches not only water-fowl, but also fish. According to Messrs. Nicolls and Eglington, "its spoor may constantly be seen imprinted on the mud surrounding such pools in the periodical watercourses as are constantly being dried up, and in which fish may probably be imprisoned without chance of escape." The chaus has for neighbour in Africa the beautiful Serval, a larger wild cat. This species is reddish in colour, spotted on the body, and striped on the legs. The ears are long, but not tufted, like those of the lynx. The serval is more common in North and Central Africa than in the South. But it is also found south of the Tropic of Capricorn. Messrs. Nicolls and Eglington say of it: "Northward through South Central Africa it is fairly common. It frequents the thick bush in the vicinity of rivers. The karosses, or mantles, made from its skins are only worn by the chiefs and very high dignitaries amongst the native tribes, and are in consequence eagerly sought after, on which account the species runs a risk of rapid extermination. Its usual prey consists of the young of the smaller antelopes, francolins, and wild guinea-fowls, to the latter of which it is a most destructive enemy in the breeding-season. When obtained young, the serval can be tamed with little trouble; but it is difficult to rear, and always shows a singular and almost unaccountable aversion to black men. Its otherwise even temper is always aroused at the sight of a native. When in anger, it is by no means a despicable antagonist, and very few dogs would like to engage in a combat with one single-handed."
Photo by Ottomar Anschütz] [Berlin.