Chapter XI: Indian Shooting (1)

BY LIEUT.-COL. REGINALD HEBER PERCY

I. INTRODUCTORY.

In dealing with such a vast tract of country as India it is out of the question to describe any one class of outfit which will suit the traveller equally well among the snowy peaks and bitter winds of the Himalayas and Ladak and in the furnace-like heat of the plains. Snow is the great obstacle to travel in the former, whilst heat, rain, and malaria are the evils to be contended with in the latter. Nor is one class of weapon equally suitable everywhere. For all soft-skinned animals, such as tigers, and all varieties of sheep, goats, and deer (except sambur) there is no rifle, in the writer’s opinion, that is so satisfactory as a .500 Express with a charge of at least 5¾ drachms of powder. This weapon is sufficiently powerful for any beast to be met with in the Himalayas. Of course, yak may be found, but the chance is so remote that it is barely worth while taking a special rifle for their benefit, and a few cartridges with solid bullets for the .500 will probably meet all requirements. On the other hand, for thick-skinned animals, such as elephants, rhinoceros, gaur, buffalo, and sambur, the smallest bore of any practical use is a 12-bore, and the powder charge for this should be at least 6 drachms. The light bullet of an Express is so easily turned by a small twig that it is absolutely untrustworthy among heavy timber, and it is for this reason that the writer includes sambur with the larger animals. For the big dangerous beasts a still heavier weapon, such as an 8-bore with 8 drachms of powder, is desirable, though not absolutely necessary, as the superior accuracy and handiness of a 12-bore go far to counterbalance the extra power. For antelope and gazelles the writer prefers a light single-barrelled .400 Express, taking 3 drachms of powder, to any other rifle that he has ever used.

So far for rifles. A shot-gun is a necessity everywhere, and one of the best pot-hunting guns (the chief use of a gun on the trip after big game) is one of three barrels--two shot, 16-bore, and a .450 rifle underneath--which will meet all requirements on the march and near camp. As regards tents, the ordinary Cabul tent (part of every officer’s equipment in India), with a smaller one for the servants, is ample for the Himalayas and the plains in the cold weather, but a larger tent is required during the hot weather in the plains. Manifold are the instructions already published as to outfit--‘Large Game Shooting,’ by Colonel Kinloch, ‘The Sportsman’s Guide to Kashmir and Ladak,’ by Major Ward, and ‘The Sportsman’s Vade Mecum,’ by K. C. A. J., are among the best books to consult, as they are written by practical men. Among the points that the intending traveller must bear in mind are: That the unit of transport in the Himalayas is the coolie, and his load over a snow pass is only 50 lbs., though along an ordinary road he can carry 60 lbs. Pack animals can certainly be used over a large portion of the country, but every snow pass forces the traveller back to the unit, so that his baggage must be capable of being arranged in 50-lb. loads. Throughout the rest of India carts can generally travel, and, failing them, camels, oxen, or ponies can always be procured, so that the unit of transport being greater, the sportsman can travel with far greater comfort than he can in the Himalayas. Then, again, if the traveller requires more than sixteen coolies to carry his baggage in the Himalayas, he will be subjected to endless delays at every changing station. A dozen men or so can be collected at short notice almost anywhere, but over sixteen generally means delay till they can be summoned from outlying villages; and perpetual detentions of this class when one is racing for ground are extremely annoying, so that it should be the sportsman’s aim to combine lightness with efficiency in all articles of his outfit, and to travel with the smallest amount of state compatible with his standard of comfort--a standard which, in the writer’s experience, differs with every individual.

As regards expenses, the following may be taken as a rough guide throughout the Himalayas:--

Coolie, per march, 4a.

Coolie, monthly, Rs.6 (without rations if employed near his own village).

Coolie, monthly, Rs.5 (with rations).

Baggage pony, per march, 8a.

Riding pony, per march, R.1.

Baggage yak, per month, Rs.8 to Rs.12 (the drivers bring their own food and provide carriage for it).

Head shikari, in Cashmere, Rs.20 monthly (with rations).

Assistant shikari, in Cashmere, Rs.10 monthly (with rations).

Luncheon coolie, in Cashmere, Rs.7 monthly (with rations).

Head shikari in Gurwhal, Chumba, Lahoul, &c., being local men, Rs.12 to Rs.16 monthly (usually without rations).

Assistant shikari, Rs.8 to Rs.10 (without rations).

Luncheon coolie, Rs.7 (without rations).

Rations consist of 4 lbs. daily of flour or rice for head shikari, assistant shikari, luncheon coolie, and servants brought up from the plains; baggage coolies get 2 lbs. daily of the same. An estimate of Rs.300 a month should amply suffice for travelling in any part of the Himalayas: an old hand will do it for far less, but the Cashmere shikari so thoroughly understands the art of running up the bill, and is so plausible withal, that the majority of his employers will find themselves paying more than its market value for the pleasure of his company. When the sportsman has sufficient experience and sufficient knowledge of the language to employ shepherds and local shikaris to show him the ground near their own homes, he may dispense with the luxury of having a Cashmeree to rule over him, and find great advantage accrue both to his sport and to his purse. It is impossible to give an estimate for big game shooting in the plains, as the rates for transport and beaters vary in every district. As regards servants brought up from the plains, two should be enough, and they should be of the same religion and caste, so as to be able to cook for one another: the writer prefers Mussulmans, as they will eat meat, which Hindus of good caste will not do. In any case they will require extra pay in the hills (an additional Rs.2 or Rs.3 a month should suffice), warm clothing, an extra blanket apiece, and a waterproof bag to pack their things in. Also, as their work begins on arrival at camp, they should, if possible, be mounted for long marches. It is a good plan to hire milch goats from the village which supplies the coolies, and change them when one changes the men in the next district.

The generally accepted rule with regard to shooting grounds in the Himalayas is that the first comer has the right to any minor stream not being the main river of a district (except at its source, where it is considered a minor stream), and to all the land that drains into that stream; but he must occupy the ground in person, and cannot retain it by sending servants or tents there before his arrival, or by keeping servants or tents there during his absence.

In the plains the same rule, though not so accurately laid down, holds good in spirit, viz. that no sportsman should hunt over ground within reach of his neighbour’s camp, and in tiger shooting a beat belongs to the man whose shikaris are tying up for it.

Visitors from home should endeavour to bear in mind that the sport of India naturally and fairly belongs to those who spend the best years of their lives in administering and garrisoning it, and that the assistance they will, as a rule, so freely receive will be given by good sportsmen from sheer love of sport.

In conclusion, the writer begs to express his grateful thanks for the kindly assistance afforded him by the authorities of the Natural History Museum, the Cambridge Museum, and the Senckenburg Museum, Frankfort, and also to the numerous sportsmen and owners of private collections for the generous way in which they have, at no slight trouble to themselves, lightened his labours by contributing records of sport and measurements of horns and animals.

II. THE BEARS OF INDIA AND BURMAH

There are no fewer than five varieties of bears to be found in our Eastern Empire. The three most commonly met with are the Himalayan black bear, _Ursus torquatus_ (native name ‘Kala Bhalu’); the Himalayan snow bear, _Ursus Isabellinus_ (native names ‘Lal Bhalu’; Cashmere ‘Harput’); and the sloth bear of the plains, _Ursus labiatus_ (native names ‘Bhalu,’ ‘Reech,’ ‘Adam zad’).

The Himalayan black bear is common enough on the southern slopes of the Himalayas, but rarely crosses the main snow-line. Being chiefly a fruit and corn eater, in contradistinction to the snow bear, whose main food consists of grass and roots, it likes to live near villages, especially when the maize crops are ripening. Dense jungle is a necessity to it for shelter during the day and for the wild fruit and berries it lives on before the crops are ripe, and this jungle is non-existent on the northern side of the main range. The snow bear is found on both sides of the range, but does not extend to Ladak. Both black and snow bears will kill cattle and sheep if they get the chance, and neither variety is above eating carrion. The black bear with his short sturdy nails climbs readily, while the long digging claws of the snow bear prevent him doing much in that line, though he is said to be able to climb a little. The villagers in the Himalayas have to keep their bees inside their houses both for the sake of warmth in winter and also to prevent the hives being robbed by bears. Both varieties hibernate, but Colonel Kinloch points out, and all natives agree, that while the snow bear is never seen abroad in the winter, the black bear periodically wakes up and makes short excursions for food and water. As regards their comparative ferocity, the snow bear, being generally found and shot in the open, rarely has an opportunity of doing mischief, though he will occasionally show fight. The black bear, on the other hand, from living near villages has partly lost his fear of man, and though he rarely if ever goes out of his way to attack, he will charge freely if cornered, or suddenly disturbed in his midday siesta by anyone walking almost on to him. This is almost invariably the reason wood-cutters and herdsmen get mauled.

One of the best ways to shoot black bears is to have them marked down into ravines or patches of dense jungle on their return from feeding in the early morning, and to wait for them to draw out in the evening just before sunset. As a rule Mr. Bruin is pretty punctual. Shooting bears by moonlight when they are feeding in the fruit trees is generally unsatisfactory work, as so many escape wounded, and having the jungle driven usually ends in disappointment.

The snow bear is easily stalked on the open slopes he frequents, and provided that the wind is favourable, and that the sportsman remains absolutely motionless as long as the animal’s head is turned towards him, he can play almost any trick with a bear, even though standing in full view; but he must be careful not to let the sun shine on the barrels of his rifle, for that at once attracts attention. The best place to find a snow bear is one of those patches of bright green grass that mark the spots where sheep have been folded the year before. The writer knows several instances of black bears having been followed into their caves and shot there under circumstances of intense excitement. Colonel Howard, whose adventures with sloth bear are narrated below, had a sparkling time with a Himalayan black bear in a cave; but it is not everybody’s sport.

Few men, after they have procured a good specimen or two, care to shoot bears. Their skins require more attention than they are worth, and on good shooting ground where snow bears are most common, it is rarely worth the risk of disturbing a good ibex or markhor for the biggest bear in Asia.

Jerdon remarks of the black bear--and the natives of Chumba at all events thoroughly believe it--that when one is caught in a rope snare, if he cannot break it by the first effort he will not try again, but will remain on the spot moaning and looking at the imprisoned paw without attempting to bite the rope.

The sloth bear is the common black bear of Central and Southern India. It extends to the base of the Himalayas, but does not ascend them, its northern limit being about 31° N. Lat. Its long flexible snout and long claws distinguish it at once from its Himalayan cousin, and though it delights in a temperature more suggestive of the necessity of punkahs and ice than of greatcoats, its fur is longer and better. In spite of its long claws it climbs well, and as, like deer and natives, it delights in the nasty-tasting flowers of the ‘mhowa’ tree, a moonlight stroll in March or April, when the blossoms are falling, will often afford the chance of a shot. The best way of hunting these bears is to have them marked down in the early morning like _U. torquatus_, and then either to stalk or have them driven. Should the bears go into caves, they are easily dislodged by poking sticks or rolling stones through fissures above, or if the cave is shallow a bundle of rags or a turban dangled over the entrance and a few shouts will fetch them out. A firework thrown into or a shot fired down the mouth of the cave is a very effectual summons. Though _U. labiatus_ is both willing and able to do a good deal of mischief, if due precautions are taken few branches of sport afford such a succession of ludicrous episodes. Poor old ‘Adam zad,’ if he is not witty himself, is a fund of merriment to others. Forsyth’s and Sanderson’s books teem with comical situations. The companionship of a fellow-sportsman whose shooting can be relied upon is necessary if full enjoyment of the sport is desired, as tricks may then be played which would be a little too risky to attempt single-handed. Native fireworks, ‘Anar,’ are rather dangerous to use, as they are apt to explode in the hand. Never will the writer forget seeing a lot go off in a howdah during a tiger beat: the poor old elephant went streaking across country like a glorified comet. Two guns are ample for following up a wounded bear on foot in jungle; if there are more the party is apt to get separated, and then, if the bear shows sport, there are too many bullets flying about to be pleasant. Natives, except perhaps one tracker, are only encumbrances. The way a cub will ride on its mother’s back and keep its seat under the most trying circumstances is marvellous. The writer once rolled an old bear clean over without the cub letting go. Sterndale quotes a capital story about this. Rusty coloured bears are not uncommon: the writer saw two in Central India, but as in each case the bear passed under his tree before the tiger in the beat had been fired at, he had to spare them. Bears may occasionally be ridden down and speared, but they are not often found on ground that will admit of this, and the way they ‘_sling their chat_’ will prevent most horses from going up to them. This bear does not hibernate.

Colonel Howard gives the following account of his experiences in Central India in 1884:

L. and I were at Lulliapoora tying up for a tiger, and hearing
of some bears’ caves about two miles off, we rode out to look at
them. On arrival at the ground we dismounted and strolled along,
accompanied by a couple of villagers. Whenever we found a cave we
rolled rocks down into it to see whether it was occupied or not,
and having gone on in this way for some time without result, the
natives began to get careless and went ahead of us. Presently
we heard some growls and saw our Aryan brethren scuttling up
trees. L. and I ran forward and found a large crevice in the
rocky ground about four feet wide, eight or ten yards long, and
from fifteen to eighteen feet deep; at either end of this caves
seemed to run into the ground, and in the centre was a ragged
archway that formed a staircase for the bears to climb in and
out. Standing astride of the crevice I saw a bear’s head appear
at the entrance of one of the caves, and as L. was new to the
work, I signalled to him to come and shoot, while I stood a foot
or two back from the edge, ready for whatever might turn up. The
bear, noticing L., turned, and, on receiving a bullet in his seat
of honour, ran along the bottom of the crevice to the opposite
cave, acknowledging the second barrel with that peculiarly
plaintive moan which a bear so often gives when he has received
his death wound. L. then jumped aside, saying, ‘Look out’; a
second bear’s head and shoulders appeared just above the crevice.
I fired into her ear at about a yard’s distance, and she rolled
back to the bottom dead. Tying the ponies’ leading ropes together
I climbed down, put a noose round the bear’s neck, and steadied
her while the others hauled her out.

I now told L. that I was perfectly certain that his bear was dead
too, and that I would go down and see. I did not fancy going
down the archway, as that seemed to be the bears’ regular run,
so looked about for another entrance, and soon found one which
seemed to lead almost perpendicularly down into the back of the
cave. After removing a stone or two at the top in the vain hope
of being able to see without actually going down, I started on
my journey. As it was pitch dark and I had to use both hands in
climbing down, I left my rifle behind, intending to run and not
fight if I got into a scrape.

On reaching the bottom, I found myself on an underground
continuation of the crevice. On one side was a stone about
a couple of feet high on which I stood, and as my eyes got
accustomed to the darkness, I made out an overhanging rock just
in front of me, and protruding from beneath it, at my feet, a
mass of hair.

I did not like to put my hand on it, so climbed up again,
borrowed a stick from one of the natives, then jogged down again,
and jammed the end of the stick into the bear. To my horror he
jumped up with a growl, but luckily, being just as frightened as
I was, he bolted further up the cave, while I legged it up my
hole at about the best pace on record.

I then sent back to camp for a lantern, and with it in my hand
and my short single rifle slung across my back, journeyed down
for the third time, after posting L. at the top of the crevice,
warning him to let any bear that might turn up come well out into
the open before he fired, and on no account to let a wounded one
come back into the cave on me.

Arrived at the bottom, I placed the lantern on the ground,
unslung the rifle, and stepped on to the stones. There, just
sticking out from under the overhanging rock, was undoubtedly
the back of a bear, so I let drive into it. The smoke completely
concealed everything, then there was a prolonged growl,
afterwards a succession of short grunts, my lantern was put
out and sent flying by a bear who charged it, brushing past
me, probably with the idea that the lantern was the assailant.
I scuttled up the hole, and L., who, in the excitement of the
moment had forgotten my warning, fired at the bear and rolled him
back down into the crevice before I got out.

It was now evening, and getting very dark, so I lit a bunch of
grass, and, on throwing it down the crevice, could see a bear
lying at the bottom. I threw a stone down, at which he did not
growl, but, probably owing to the flickering light of the burning
grass, he seemed to move, so we agreed to leave him till next
morning. As we were starting home, my shikari noticed that the
dry leaves at the bottom of the crevice were burning, which meant
that by the morning the bear would have his coat singed off, so
I hardened my heart, and, taking the rope, climbed down again,
gave the bear a kick when I got just above him, and as he did not
move, went up to him, felt for his head, slipped a noose over
it, and the men above hauled him out. We started early next day,
taking L.’s lantern, as mine was in the cave, and, on arrival at
the place, to my infinite disgust, found fresh droppings at the
entrance. They were probably only those of cubs, but one could
not tell their size, and it made the idea of going down in cold
blood much less pleasant.

I fired a shot down the cave, listened, but could hear no sound,
so went to my old entrance and tried to lower L.’s lantern by a
string, which was cut against the rocks, so that the lantern fell
to the bottom.

We were now in a fix, for both our lanterns were down below, and
if we left them there we should have to spend our evenings in
darkness.

L., whose figure was not suited to climbing about in narrow
caves, did not like the idea of my going down again--no more did
I--but I could not well leave the lanterns there simply because I
was afraid of fetching them; so taking my double-barrelled rifle
with me, I started on my fifth journey. The length of the rifle
made the climbing very awkward; however, I reached the bottom
without damaging it, found my own lantern none the worse except
for a few dents and scratches, followed the bottom of the cave
until I reached the crevice, above which the others were standing
anxiously awaiting my reappearance. They lowered a rope and
hauled up the lantern, while I went back, found L.’s lantern in
two pieces, handed it up, and then proceeded in my search for the
bear.

I found him stone-dead under the overhanging ledge, but I could
hear something moving ahead of me the whole time; the cave was
pitch dark, was getting much lower and narrower, and turned two
sharp corners.

To get at the bear’s head I should have to crawl over him, and we
had no rope long enough to reach to where I was, besides which
the cave made so many zig-zags that it would in any case have
been impossible to haul the bear out without several of the party
coming down to assist; so pulling out some hair to show that I
had handled him, I returned, and offered to go on ahead of the
bear as a guard, with rifle and lantern, if some of the others
would bring the rope and do the hauling.

The noise ahead was probably made by cubs, but as I did not know
their size, and as it might have been a fourth bear, I did not
care to risk being attacked while I was tying up the quarry in a
place where I had no elbow-room.

L., I think wisely, decided that we had been very lucky in
recovering two bears and our lanterns without accident, and that
it would be folly to risk an almost certain mauling for the sake
of a third; so I came out, by no means unwillingly. I never
fancied the last part of the job--I could not have got the bear
out alone, and as two or three men on hands and knees in a narrow
cave must get in each other’s way in a scrimmage, a charge would
probably have ended badly.

I only escaped the first time through putting the lantern on one
side of me instead of at my feet, and through the cave at that
place being wide enough for the bear to pass by my side; very
likely also the fact of my standing on the stone, though it was
at the most two feet high, brought me a little above the level of
the bear’s eyes, and seeing the lantern he charged it.

The astonishing part of the whole thing was the rapidity with
which the bears came up the crevice. It was by no means an easy
climb for a man, and yet it hardly seemed to delay them at all.

There is a certain delicacy in this branch of sport that requires such exceptional temperament and nerve that the writer can hardly feel himself justified in recommending its practice, at all events to a novice in the art.

The remaining varieties of the bear family found in India are somewhat more rare than those already described. They are the Burmese bear (_Ursus malayanus_), the Beluchistan bear (_Ursus gedrosianus_), called by the natives ‘mamh,’ and a quaint looking piebald bear (_Ailuropus melanoleucos_), discovered in Eastern Thibet by the Abbé David. _U. malayanus_ resembles the Himalayan black bear but is smaller, the white horse-shoe mark upon the chest of the Himalayan bear being prolonged in a white stripe down the belly of _U. malayanus_. _U. gedrosianus_ also resembles, but is smaller than, the Himalayan, but in colour he is brownish instead of black.

_Measurements_

+------------------+----------+---------+-------+---------+-------+
| | Height | Length | | | |
| Authority | at | nose to | Girth | Forearm | Sex |
| | shoulder | tail | | | |
+------------------+----------+---------+-------+---------+-------|
| URSUS ISABELLINUS |
| | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | |
| Major FitzHerbert| 36 | 65 | 48 | 17 | Male |
| ” | .. | 57 | .. | .. | Female|
| Major Ward | .. | 82 | .. | .. | .. |
| | | | | | |
| URSUS TORQUATUS |
| Major Ward | .. | 78 | .. | .. | .. |
| Col. Howard | .. | 76½ | .. | .. | .. |
+------------------+----------+---------+-------+---------+-------+

+------------------+-----------+----------------+-----------+
| Authority | Height at | Length nose | Weight |
| | shoulder | to tail | |
+------------------+-----------+----------------+-----------|
| URSUS LABIATUS |
| | ins. | ins. | lbs. |
| Sanderson | 36 | about 72 | 280 |
| Sterndale | about 36 | 60 to 72 | 210 to 280|
| Major FitzHerbert| .. | 65 | .. |
| | | | |
| URSUS MALAYANUS |
| Sterndale | .. |not exceeding 54| .. |
| | | | |
| AILUROPUS MELANOLEUCOS |
| Sterndale | about 26 | about 58 | .. |
+------------------+-----------+----------------+-----------+

III. THE LION (_Felis leo_)

_Native names_: ‘_Sher-babbar_,’ ‘_Singh_,’ ‘_Unthia Bagh_’

The Indian lion differs little in appearance from the African variety, the males of both being furnished with manes, though a _black_ mane is unknown in India.

Lions are almost extinct in India, though there are still a few left in Guzerat and Kutch, and natives occasionally bring in reports of them in Central India; but the writer has not heard of one being shot in the last district for many years. The lion is a less active animal than the tiger, and apparently not so powerful; in every case of a fight between the two occurring in a menagerie the tiger has invariably killed his opponent.

Essentially a wanderer, the Indian lion avoids heavy forest as a rule, preferring sandy hills covered with thin scrub and grass, and may be tracked and shot on foot in a way that it would be foolhardiness to attempt with a tiger. There is a capital account of the sport given in the ‘Oriental Sporting Magazine,’ July 1876. The narrator came across four males, shot one that charged him brilliantly, wounded and lost a second, and missed a third.

Native shikaris declare that lions always put up for the day under the same bushes, and that consequently if there is a lion about he is generally easily found. It would be curious if African sportsmen could corroborate this story.

Unlike tigers, there is a large preponderance of males to females among full-grown lions, which is supposed to be attributable to the mortality among female cubs in teething.

_Measurements_

+---------------+--------+----+--------+-----+----------+-------------+
| Authority | Total |Tail|Height |Girth| Weight | |
| | length | |at |of | | Remarks |
| | | |shoulder|chest| | |
+---------------+--------+----+--------+-----+----------+-------------+
| |ft. ins.|ins.| ins. |ins. | lbs. | |
| |{8 6} |{30}| | | | |
|Sterndale |{ to } |{to}| 42 | .. | .. | |
| |{9 6} |{36}| | | | |
| | | | | | | |
| ” quoting }| 8 9½ | .. | .. | .. |{ 490[16]| |
| Captain }| | | | |{(cleaned)| |
| Smee }| | | | | | |
| | | | | | | |
|‘The Delhi }| | | | | | |
| Gazette’: }| 8 7 | 34 | 39 | 46 | .. | |
| a lion killed}| | | | | | |
| in Central }| | | | | | |
| India }| | | | | | |
| | | | | | | |
|‘Oriental }| | | | | | |
| Sporting }| | | | | | |
| Magazine,’ }| 9 3 | .. | .. | .. | .. | |
| July 1876 }| | | | | | |
| | | | | | | |
| | AFRICAN LION |
|Rowland Ward, }| | | | | { |F. C. |
|‘Horn }| .. | .. | .. | .. | 500 { |Selous, ‘A |
|Measurements’ }| | | | | { |Hunter’s |
| | | | | | { |Wanderings’ |
| | | | | | | |
| ” ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | 563 { |‘The Field,’ |
| | | | | | { |July 13, |
| | | | | | |1890 |
| | | | | | | |
| ” ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | 385 |J. S. Jameson|
+---------------+--------+----+--------+-----+----------+-------------+

IV. TIGER (_Felis tigris_)

The tiger is found throughout India wherever there is suitable jungle, and extends through Burmah to the Malayan Archipelago and China, but is not found in Ceylon. Sterndale says: ‘It has been found as far north as the island of Saghalien, which is bisected by N. L. 50°. This is its extreme north-eastern limit, the Caspian Sea[17] being its westerly boundary. From parallel 50° downwards it is found in many parts of the highlands of Central Asia.’

The biggest tigers the writer has heard of are one of 13 ft. that Sir Charles Reid quotes as having been shot by the late Sir Andrew Waugh,[18] and one of 12 ft. 4 ins. quoted in a letter by Mr. F. A. Shillingford to ‘The Asian’ as having been shot by Mr. C. A. Shillingford of Munshye in 1849; and Williamson, writing about the year 1805 of a tiger killed by Mr. Paul, the superintendent of the Elephant Establishment at Daudpore, says: ‘The tiger proved to be the largest ever killed on the Cossim Bazar island. The circumference of the joint at his wrist was 26 ins.; he was 13 ft. and a few inches from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail, and in a right line, taken as he lay, from the sole of his forepaw to the tip of his withers, between the shoulders, gave very nearly 4 ft. for his height.’ As the old gentleman afterwards states that ‘nine in ten do not measure 10 ft.,’ it seems only fair to conclude that the above extraordinary measurements were honestly taken of the beast as he lay before being skinned.

Captain Forsyth’s division of tigers into three classes has been generally accepted by sportsmen as a correct definition of their habits. They are, as Sanderson writes: ‘Those which habitually prey upon cattle; those which live upon game alone; and the few dreaded individuals of their race that frequently prey upon human beings.’ None of these classes absolutely restrict themselves to one diet. The cattle-lifter will kill game occasionally, the game-killer does not despise a juicy young buffalo, nor does a man-eater live entirely on human flesh; but in broad terms the game-killer, who is in reality one of the villagers’ best friends in that he preys upon the wild pigs and deer that ravage his crops, is an active wandering beast which is proportionately hard to bring to bag, being generally met with by chance.

The cattle-lifter is generally a stay-at-home old gentleman, averse to travel, who takes two or three villages under his protection, and lives, as far as they will allow him, on good terms with the people, simply taking a cow, or a donkey, as his _droit du seigneur_ every four or five days. Occasionally he may contract the wasteful habit of knocking over two or three animals at a time out of a herd; but this, as Sanderson points out, is the result of continual ill-judged interference on the part of the cowherds. Buffaloes in a herd he is too wary to meddle with, as he knows they will not hesitate to charge him, and the small boys who pretend to look after them traverse the tiger’s domain in perfect safety if mounted on the broad back of one of their charges. In reality the buffaloes are sent out to look after the children, and there is no better nursemaid than an old cow buffalo, who combines perambulator and guardian in one.

Seldom do these tigers attack a man wantonly, and though when they increase in numbers their system of taxation becomes oppressive, the damage they do is often overrated. Forsyth gives the alarming figures of 325_l._ to 650_l._ worth per annum for each tiger, but Sanderson more justly cuts the estimate down to about 70_l._ He adds, ‘The tiger might in turn justly present his little account for services rendered in keeping down wild animals which destroy crops,’ and gives many excellent arguments in favour of tigers.

The gravest charge against cattle-lifters is that they occasionally turn man-eaters; the game-killer, according to Sanderson, never does. As regards man-eaters, the crafty she-devils--they are generally tigresses--often bring up their cubs to the same way of living. They roam over a considerable tract of country, rarely staying long enough in one place to afford a chance of beating them out like ordinary tigers, killing perhaps on successive days at villages ten miles apart, rendering the whole district helpless from terror. These are the hardest brutes of all to destroy. The sportsman can get no help from the natives, he can gain no knowledge of the brute’s conduct to assist him in the pursuit; ceaseless hunting at all hours and in every method available, hoping that luck may favour him at last, is his only chance of ridding the country of its scourge. Even if he succeeds in killing every tiger he finds in the district, he can never be sure of having destroyed the real culprit; he may have driven it away only to return after his departure. There may be more than one man-eater at work, or it may very possibly be a panther that is doing the real damage, which he might refrain from firing at, like Sterndale, for fear of spoiling his chance of a tiger. Unless the beast is caught red-handed, time alone will prove its destruction.

Well may the unhappy villagers attribute to it supernatural powers, declaring that the spirits of its victims ride on its forehead, and that even, as Forsyth relates, a corpse raises its arm to warn the tiger of the hidden shikari. Well may they magnify its size, declaring it has a white moon on its forehead, and its belly sweeps the ground. Till all killing has ceased for some months no man dare pursue his usual avocation or travel to the nearest village alone.

Tiger shooting may be broadly divided into three classes, viz.: shooting from elephants; driving with beaters to guns posted in trees; sitting up over kills. The first method is that usually employed in the high grass jungles of the Terai. The ordinary plan, if a tiger is marked down into a particular patch of grass, is to send one or two guns ahead to prevent the creature slinking out, and these guns should, if possible, be posted in trees, as the restless movements of the elephants will almost invariably head the tiger back, and the elephant is better employed with the line. Of course, if it is considered desirable to hem the tiger in till the line gets up, elephants should be posted ahead, but a man in a tree will as a rule get a better chance than if he were on an elephant. The forward guns being posted, the line beats up to them with guns on the flanks and the pad elephants in the centre; if there are more than two guns with the line, the remainder distribute themselves along it. The elephants should not, if possible, be more than twelve yards apart at starting, and if a tiger is wounded should be closed up till they almost touch one another, as the elephants and their mahouts will gain confidence, and the formidable aspect of the close line will prevent most tigers from attempting to charge home; short half-hearted attacks he may make, but the line will stand firm, for the mahouts are under too close supervision and have hardly room to turn their elephants round; the guns on the flanks are also close enough to protect the whole line.

To hear of tigers making good their charges and springing on to elephants’ heads sounds very nice and exciting, but nothing is more demoralising to the elephants, especially at the beginning of a trip, and every precaution should be taken to save your elephants from getting mauled; for, if injured, many of them never recover confidence, and become absolutely worthless for tiger shooting afterwards. Forsyth mentions an instance of an elephant dying of wounds received from a tiger. It is all very fine for the sportsman to take a charge, standing in a howdah perched on the back of a large tusker; but it is a very different thing for the opium-sodden nerves of an unarmed mahout riding a small timid pad elephant. Close order is the only safe formation for pad elephants, and should invariably be adopted. If the tiger is marked into a particular bush, the line may be halted, and the howdah elephants alone be taken up to engage him; but until the mahouts have thorough confidence in the guns a fight is better avoided.

It is a good plan to reward all the mahouts engaged after a successful hunt, and the douceur should be bestowed on the spot, or at latest the same evening on return to camp; any mahout misconducting himself of course forfeits the reward. A wounded tiger rarely goes far before lying up, and there is really less chance of a close line missing him than an extended one, as with the latter he may crouch and be passed over.

Ringing tigers with a large number of elephants, as practised in the Nepal Terai, is merely a variation of the ordinary method, and is thus described by Sir E. Durand:

The usual method is to send men ahead the day before, to tie up
buffaloes in all the likely places round the place selected for
camp, then beat up the jungle with a long line of three or four
hundred elephants. If a kill is found, the flanks of the line
gradually get forward and wheel inwards, and on a tiger being
seen the flanks sweep round as rapidly as possible and form a
ring round the patch of jungle the tiger is supposed to be in.
If the tiger breaks out, fast elephants are sent in pursuit at
once to head him and try to detain him till a fresh ring can be
formed. On one occasion, when a kill had been found, both flanks
of the line of elephants had gradually been creeping forward till
they were almost at right angles to the centre, which still kept
steadily advancing. Suddenly, although apparently no news had
been passed up, a sort of electric current seemed to run through
the line; then bugles sounded right and left, and the movement
became hurried. The Maharajah (Bir Shumshir of Nepal) and I then
stopped to mount our howdah elephants (as we had hitherto been
riding pads), and, advancing on them, found ourselves outside
a ready-formed ring of elephants, some two hundred yards in
diameter, encircling a lovely glade in the forest, damp and
cool, with tall green reeds and scattered trees. A tiger had
been viewed, and the question now was, whether he was inside the
ring or not. Orders were now given for the ring to close very
slowly and steadily, till it had contracted to a circle of about
a hundred yards, and the elephants were in some places standing
two deep. A halt was now made to complete the formation; gaps had
to be filled up here and there, and big tuskers sent round to any
weak points where a number of small elephants had got together,
to give them confidence in case of a charge. The Maharajah and
I then entered the ring, and took up a position on our howdah
elephants, between where we thought the tiger was lying hid and
the heaviest cover. I have seen several tigers break the ring and
escape for the time when this precaution has not been observed.
Three big tuskers, which had accompanied us to rouse the tiger,
then began moving about very quietly, lifting up a tangle of
grass here, shaking a bush there; for tigers in these rings lie
very close, the elephants invariably making a masterly retreat
immediately pending the result of each special inquiry. Suddenly,
not fifty paces from us, a lovely tigress with a glitter of
gold on her flanks appeared, standing listening and motionless.
As we had detected no movement she must have been crouching in
the short grass and risen to her feet. We usually took it in
turn to fire first, and as it was the Maharajah’s shot, and our
elephants were standing side by side, I leant over my howdah and
touched his arm. He fired hurriedly, and with a whoop of anger
the lady answered the shot and sprang into a thick bed of high
reeds. Thinking she was hit, we went round and posted ourselves
again between the reeds and the line of elephants on the far
side. We had hardly settled ourselves when there was a deliberate
rush, beginning some thirty yards from us, and the charge came
straight and true. When within three yards of the tusks of the
Maharajah’s elephant she met her fate, and rolled over and over
like a rabbit, almost between the lowered tusks of the elephant,
with a bullet through the head, and never moved again. The
Maharajah’s elephant, usually impassive and unhysterical, had
actually been so far shaken by the decided nature of the charge
that he had moved and forced his rider to sit down just at the
critical moment. The noise of the charge and the shot roused up
her mate, a heavy, long tiger, who gave me a chance as he walked
quietly between two patches of cover about sixty yards off, and
I dropped him with an Express bullet through the shoulder. Now
began a performance that I never like, and for which the only
excuse is the fear--a very real one--that if the howdah elephants
get mauled they no longer remain absolutely staunch and reliable.
The game is, that when a tiger is wounded in thick cover, the
big tuskers are sent in to move him. It is often a very funny
sight as the tiger goes for them and they find pressing business
on the other side of the ring, whilst the careful way they hunt
for him or break down a tree to fall near him and stir him, and
then clear out, is quite a study. The mischief is that they are
often caught, and on this occasion three of them were caught by
the tiger, one after the other. The tiger once was swinging under
a big tusker’s head and getting his hind leg up; for a moment we
thought he would pull the elephant down, but the latter managed
to shake him off. The Maharajah and I then went in and killed the
tiger before he had time to get in a fair charge at us.

On some occasions we have had as many as three, four, or even
five tigers in one ring, and the excitement is of course
proportionate. Then, though a purist would object that the whole
thing is not real sport, it is most interesting from beginning
to end: the careful search for the tiger, always an excitement
in itself, the ringing, the doubt whether you have him inside
or not, his break, perhaps, before or after the ring is formed,
and the mad rush of shouting mahouts and crashing elephants
to head him and surround him again; the lesser life that goes
whirling up overhead when the tuskers search the ground--peacock,
jungle-fowl, partridge--or the blundering gallop round the ring
of a frightened boar, the rush of terrified hogdeer or chital;
and perhaps, at last, a circus performance on the part of the
tiger himself, who will gallop round the ring, his tail whirling
like that of an angry cat, trying the circle here and there with
a hoarse, grunting charge, which is met by a volley of abuse and
cudgels flung by the mahouts, and by shrill trumpetings on the
part of the elephants, backing with fright. All this tends to
make a Nepalese tiger ring an interesting and an exciting show,
even before the tiger charges the howdah elephants, which he
seems to recognise at once as the real enemies he has to fear.

The second way of hunting tigers by beating them out is that generally practised in Central India, Bombay, and Madras; here, though a few elephants may be employed as they are in Central India, their chief use is for following up wounded animals, and not for obtaining the first shots. The circumstances of tiger hunting in these two districts are entirely different.

Instead of the seas of high grass in which tigers are found in the Terai, the usual beats in Central and Southern India are densely wooded ravines, often with precipitous banks. The modes of hunting vary slightly in different districts, but the method perfected by the Central India Horse parties is the one generally adopted. It is as follows: a line of country for the party is decided upon, and the camp is preceded by three or four pairs of shikaris, who practically form a line of scouts ten or twelve miles ahead of the camp. These men visit all the known tiger nullahs, and on obtaining information from the villagers tie up young male buffaloes (the cheapest animals that can be bought, as they are of little use except to train as pack animals, and even then are not as good as bullocks for the purpose) as baits in all the likely spots within reach of the village; the baits are visited next morning, and reports of kills sent in to headquarters. The head of the party, after receiving the reports from all the country round, is then able to decide on his plan of operations, selects one or more beats for the day’s work, and orders the remainder of the shikaris to keep on tying up. The shikaris of the beat selected assemble the beaters, sixty or a hundred men being engaged according to the ground. Operations begin about noon, when the tigers are pretty sure to be lying up. The guns, usually four in number, as there is rarely room for more, draw lots for their trees (this is generally done for each beat), and take up their positions as quietly as possible. Each gun is accompanied by his gun-carrier, and is provided with a leather bottle of water and a stout leather cushion two feet square, with eyelet-holes at the corners and ropes to sling it.

The cushion is lashed up in the tree so that the sportsman’s left shoulder is towards the beat; loops of rope are arranged as stirrups to prevent an attack of pins and needles in his legs, and another loop should be passed loosely round his body and fastened to the trunk or to a strong bough, so that he can lean well over without fear of falling; the small boughs that would interfere with his shooting are cut away as noiselessly as possible with a green-wood saw. The gun-carrier is sent to another tree, about a hundred yards in rear; the sportsman takes a good pull at his water-bottle and sits, slowly frying in the sun, till the beat strikes up. He will now appreciate the precautions he has taken of wearing a good big hat, a thick cummerbund round his waist, and a cotton quilt down his back. In the meantime men have been posted as stops along the flanks of the beat and in places where the tiger may break out; these are of course either up trees or on high rocks, and their orders are merely to clap their hands if the tiger tries to break out. The slightest noise ahead will suffice to turn a tiger. As a rule the guns are not allowed to smoke, and this, not so much from fear lest he should wind the tobacco, as because, if he hears a match struck, he will perhaps crouch till the beaters come up to him, and then dash back through them. The beaters form line under the direction of all the available shikaris (the four or five elephants that may be out being distributed along the line), and advance towards the guns making all the noise they can with tomtoms, horns, rattles and their own sweet voices. If matters go smoothly the tiger will walk with long swinging strides close past one of the guns, and be either dropped on the spot, the point of the shoulder being the place to aim at, or will dash on with a loud ‘wough’ towards the gun-carrier in rear, who should be able to mark him down. He may, however, particularly if he has been driven before, creep on just ahead of the beaters, hide before he reaches the guns till the last moment, and then come out at a gallop. If he has to cross an open glade, he will almost invariably bound across, pulling up to a walk in the cover of the far side.

Probably the first things that the sportsman will see will be a herd of chital trooping quietly past his tree, or he will hear an irresolute tread among the dry leaves coming closer and closer, till the head of a peacock peers round a bush, instantly detects him--for no man ever yet hid from a peacock--and the bird scurries off with a squawk. A bear may come shambling by, or a panther walk right under his tree, but the first shot must be reserved for the tiger; when that is fired anyone may take his choice. The sure signs of either a tiger or panther being in the beat are when the monkeys begin swearing or peafowl get up with a peculiar ‘kok-kok.’ Monkeys running along the ground is a bad sign for sport, but not an absolute guide.

As soon as the first shot is fired the beaters are stopped, and either sent up trees or collected in masses on rocks or high ground. The elephants come up to the guns, and the head of the party details one or two guns to get round the wounded tiger and force him back up to the other guns, who remain in their trees--this is when the fun begins. The tiger’s every move will be probably observed by some of the men in the trees; he can hardly get away, and has every inducement to show fight.