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

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.

It is difficult to describe the limit of an elephant's swimming powers; this must depend upon many circumstances, whether it is following the stream or otherwise, but the animal can remain afloat for several hours without undue fatigue. The displacement of an elephant's carcase is less than the weight of water, although it swims so deeply immersed that it would appear to float with difficulty. An elephant shot dead within the water will float immediately, with a considerable portion of one flank raised so high above the surface that several men could be supported, as though upon a raft. The body of a hippopotamus will sink like a stone, and will not reappear upon the surface for about two hours, until the gas has to a certain degree distended the carcase: thus the hippopotamus is of a denser and heavier material than the elephant, although it is an aquatic animal.

When tame elephants cross a river they are conducted by their drivers, who stand upon their backs, either balancing themselves without assistance, or supported by holding a cord attached to the animal's neck. It is very interesting to watch the passage of a large river by a herd of these creatures, who to a stranger's eye would appear to be in danger of drowning, although in reality they are merely gamboling in the element which is their delight. I have seen them cross the Brahmaputra when the channel was about a mile in width. Forty elephants scrambled down the precipitous bank of alluvial deposit and river sand: this, although about thirty-five feet high, crumbled at once beneath the fore-foot of the leading elephant, and many tons detached from the surface quickly formed a steep incline. Squatting upon its hind-quarters, and tucking its hinder knees beneath its belly, while it supported its head upon its trunk and outstretched fore legs, it slid and scrambled to the bottom, accompanied by an avalanche of earth and dust, thus forming a good track for the following herd.

It is surprising to see in how few minutes a large herd of elephants descending a steep place will form a road. I have frequently seen them break down an alluvial cliff in the manner described, where at first sight I should have thought it impossible for an elephant to descend. Once within the river the fun began in earnest. After a march in the hot sun, it was delightful to bathe in the deep stream of the Brahmaputra, and the mighty forms splashed and disported themselves, sometimes totally submerged, with the drivers standing ankle-deep upon their hidden backs, which gave them the appearance of walking upon the surface. A tip of the trunk was always above water, and occasionally the animal would protrude the entire head, but only to plunge once more beneath the stream. In this way, swimming at great speed, and at the same time playing along their voyage, the herd crossed the broad river, and we saw their dusky forms glittering in the sunlight as they rose wetted from their bath, and waded majestically along the shallows to reach an island; from which they again started upon a similar journey to cross another channel of the river.

The first impression of a stranger when observing the conduct of a mahout or driver is sympathy for the animal, which is governed through the severe authority of the iron spike. This instrument is about twenty inches long, and resembles somewhat an old-fashioned boat-hook, being a sharp spike at the extremity beyond the keen-pointed hook; it can thus be used either to drive the elephant forward by digging the point into its head, or to pull it back by hooking on to the tender base of the ears. These driving-hooks weigh from about 4 to 6 lbs., and are formidable weapons; some are exceedingly ancient, and have been preserved for a couple of centuries or more, such specimens being highly artistic, and first-rate examples of the blacksmith's work. Although we may commence our experience by pitying the animal that is subjected to such harsh treatment, we quickly discover that without the hook the elephant is like the donkey without the stick. The fact of his knowing that you possess the power, or propeller, is sufficient to ensure comparative obedience, but it would be impossible to direct the movements of an elephant by simple kindness without the power to inflict punishment. This fact alone will prove that the elephant does not serve man through affection, but that it is compelled through fear. It is curious to witness the absurd subjection of this mighty animal even by a child. I have frequently seen a small boy threaten a large elephant with a stick, and the animal has at once winced; and, curling the trunk between the legs, it has closed its eyes and exhibited every symptom of extreme terror when struck repeatedly upon the trunk and face. The male is generally more uncertain than the female. It would at first sight appear that for shooting purposes the bull elephant would be preferred for its greater strength and courage. There can be no doubt that a pair of long tusks is an important protection, and not only forms a defence against the attack of a tiger or other animal, but is valuable for offensive purposes; yet, notwithstanding this advantage, the female is generally preferred to the male, as being more docile and obedient.

The males differ in character, but they are mostly uncertain in temper during a period varying from two to four months every year. At such occurrences of disturbance the animal requires careful treatment, and the chains which shackle the fore legs should be of undoubted quality. Some elephants remain passive throughout the year, while others appear to be thoroughly demented, and, although at other seasons harmless, would, when "must," destroy their own attendant and wreak the direst mischief. At such a crisis the mahout must always be held responsible for accidents, as the animal, if properly watched and restrained, would be incapable of active movements, and would of course be comparatively harmless. Upon many occasions, through the neglect of the attendant, an elephant has been left unchained, or perhaps secured with an old chain that has been nearly worn through a link; the escape of the animal under such circumstances has led to frightful casualties, usually commencing with the destruction of the mahout, who may have attempted a recapture. The approach of the "must" period is immediately perceived by a peculiar exudation of an oily nature from a small duct upon either temple; this somewhat resembles coal-tar in consistence, and it occupies an area of about four inches square upon the surface of the skin. There is a decided odour in this secretion somewhat similar to the same exudation from the neck of the male camel.

I have known male elephants which were remarkably docile throughout all seasons, but even these had to be specially regarded during the period of "must," as there was no means of foretelling a sudden and unexpected outbreak of temper. Many males are at all times fretful, and these expend their ill-nature in various ways; if chained, they kick up the earth, and scatter the dust in all directions; they are never quiet for one moment throughout the day, but continue to swing their heads to and fro, and prick forward their ears, exhibiting a restlessness of spirit that is a sufficient warning to any stranger. Such elephants should always be approached with caution, and never directly in front, but at the side.

An elephant is frequently treacherous, and if the person should stand unheedingly before it, a sudden slap with the trunk might be the consequence. For the same reason, it would be dangerous to approach the heels of such an animal, as a kick from an elephant is rather an extensive movement, and it is extraordinary that so colossal a limb as the hind leg can be projected with such velocity, equalling that of a small pony.

Discussions have frequently arisen concerning the maximum speed of an elephant; this is difficult to decide exactly, as there can be no question that the animal in a wild state will exert a greater speed than can be obtained from it when domesticated. The African variety is decidedly faster than the Asiatic; the legs being longer, the stride is in proportion; and as the habits of the African lead it to wander over large tracts of open country instead of confining its rambles to secluded forests, this peculiarity would naturally render the animal more active, and tend to accelerate its movements. I consider that the African elephant is capable of a speed of fifteen miles an hour, which it could keep up for two or three hundred yards, after which it would travel at about ten miles an hour, and actually accomplish the distance within that period. The Asiatic elephant might likewise attain a speed of fifteen miles for perhaps a couple of hundred yards, but it would not travel far at a greater pace than eight miles an hour, and it would reduce that pace to six after the first five miles.

The proof of an elephant's power of great speed for a short distance is seldom seen except in cases where the animal is infuriated, and gives chase to some unfortunate victim, who seldom escapes his fate by flight. For a short burst of fifty or one hundred yards an elephant might occasionally attain a pace exceeding fifteen miles an hour, as I have frequently, when among rough ground, experienced a difficulty in escaping when on horseback; and in my young days, when a good runner, I have been almost caught when racing along a level plain as smooth as a lawn with a savage elephant in full pursuit. An active man upon good ground can run for a short distance at the rate of eighteen miles an hour; this should clear him from the attack of most elephants; but unfortunately the good ground is scarce, and the elephant is generally discovered in a position peculiarly favourable to itself, where the roughness of the surface and the tangled herbage render it impossible for a man to run at full speed without falling.

We have recently seen a distressing example in the death of the lamented Mr. Ingram in Somaliland, who, although well mounted, was overtaken by an infuriated wild elephant and killed. This was a female, and it appears that Mr. Ingram, having followed her on horseback, had fired repeatedly with a rifle only .450. The animal charged, and owing to the impediments of the ground, which was covered with prickly aloes, the horse could not escape, and Mr. Ingram was swept off the saddle and impaled upon the elephant's tusks.

The African differs from the Asiatic in the formation of ivory, the tusks of the former being both thicker and heavier; the females also possess tusks, whereas those of the Asiatic variety have merely embryo tusks, which do not project more than two or three inches beyond the lips. I had a tusk of an African elephant that weighed 149 lbs. I have seen in Khartoum a pair that weighed 300 lbs., and I saw a single tusk of 172 lbs. In 1874 a tusk was sold at the ivory sale in London that weighed 188 lbs. These specimens are exceptions to the general rule, as the average weight in a full-grown African male would be about 140 lbs. the pair, or 75 lbs. for one tusk and 65 lbs. for the fellow, which is specially employed for digging.

The African variety is an industrious digger, as it feeds upon the succulent roots of many trees, especially those of the mimosa family. The right tusk is generally used in these operations more than the left; accordingly it is lighter from continual wear, and it is known by the Arabs as the "hadam" or servant. As the African elephant is a root-eater it is far more destructive than the Asiatic. It is astonishing to observe the waste of trees that are upturned by a large herd of these animals, sometimes out of sheer wantonness, during their passage through a forest. The dense tops of mimosas are a great attraction, and there can be no doubt that elephants work collectively to dig out and to overthrow the trees that would be too large for the strength of a single animal. I have seen trees between two and three feet in diameter that have been felled for the sake of the roots and tender heads; these have shown unmistakable signs of an attack by several elephants, as the ground has been ploughed by tusks of different sizes to tear up the long straggling roots which were near the surface, and the deep marks of feet around the centre of operations, of various diameters, have proved the co-operation of members of the herd.

I once saw an elephant strike a large timber tree with its forehead to shake down the fruit. This was a peculiar example of the immense power that can be exerted when required. We were waiting near the margin of the White Nile, about half an hour before sunset, expecting the arrival of waterbuck, when a rumbling sound and a suppressed roar in the jungle were accompanied by the breaking of a branch, which denoted the approach of elephants. Presently they emerged from the forest in several directions, and one, which appeared to be the largest I had ever seen, advanced to within 120 yards of our position without perceiving us, as we were concealed behind a bush upon some rising ground close to the river's bank. This elephant had enormous tusks, but as we had only small-bore rifles, I was contented to watch, without disturbing the magnificent animal before me.

There was a very large and lofty tree quite three feet in diameter; upon the upper branches grew the much-loved fruit, similar in appearance to good-sized dates, and equally sweet and aromatic (Balanites Egyptiaca). Elephants will travel great distances to arrive at a forest where such fruit is produced in quantity, and they appear to know the season when the crop will be thoroughly ripe. Upon this occasion, the elephant, having picked up the single fruits which lay scattered upon the ground, presently looked up, and being satisfied with the appearance of the higher boughs, he determined to shake down a plentiful supply. Retiring for a few feet, he deliberately rammed his forehead against the stem, with such force as to shake the tree from top to bottom, causing a most successful shower of the coveted fruit, which he immediately commenced to eat.

Commander R. N. J. Baker was my companion, and we agreed that any person who might have taken refuge in the branches of that large tree must have held on exceedingly tight to have avoided a fall, so severe was the concussion.

When it is considered that a large bull elephant weighs between six and seven tons, which weight is set in movement by the muscular exertion of the animal, there is at once an explanation of the force against a tree, which, although large, would hardly exceed that weight.

The memory of elephants must be peculiarly keen, as they remember the seasons for visiting certain districts where some particular food is produced in attractive quantities. In the southern district of Ceylon, between Yalle river and the sea-coast, there are great numbers of the Bael tree, the fruit of which resembles a large cricket-ball. The shell is hard, and when ripe it becomes brown, and can only be broken by a sharp blow with some hard substance. The contents are highly aromatic, consisting of a brownish substance exceedingly sweet, and mixed with small seeds resembling those inside a pear. There is a strong flavour of medlar in this fruit, and it is much esteemed for medicinal properties, especially in cases of diarrhoea. Although elephants refuse the Bael fruit unless quite ripe, they will invariably arrive in great numbers during the favourable season in the southern districts of Ceylon. The question arises, "How can an animal remember the month without an almanack?"

There is no doubt that animals possess in many instances a far greater degree of reason than is generally admitted, with which the exercise of memory is so closely allied that it is difficult to separate or define the attributes. An elephant will remember those who have shown kindness, perhaps for a longer period than it will others who may have offended. After seven months' absence in England, an elephant that I had from the Commissariat on my previous visit to India recognised me at once upon my return. I had been in the habit of feeding this animal with sugar-canes and other choice food almost daily during several months' companionship in the jungle; this was not forgotten, and "cupboard love" was harboured in its memory with the expectation that the feeding would be repeated.

In the same manner, but perhaps in a lesser degree, the elephant will remember those whom it dislikes, and during the season of "must" it would be exceedingly dangerous for such persons to venture within reach of the animal's trunk. Stories are numerous concerning the animosity of elephants against their mahouts or other attendants who have cruelly treated them; but, on the other hand, the animals frequently exhibit a wild ferocity towards those who have been innocent of harshness. As characters vary among human beings, and some persons when intoxicated become suddenly brutal, although when sober they have been mild in reputation, so also we find conflicting natures among elephants, and the insane excitement of the "must" period varies in intensity in different animals.

There was a well-known elephant some years ago in the Balaghat district of the Central Provinces which became historical through the extraordinary malignity of its disposition. Having escaped from the fetters, it killed the mahout, and at once made off towards the forests. It is a curious example of nature that creatures (ferae naturae) have a tendency to return to their original state of savagedom when the opportunity is offered. If an elephant is seized with a panic when upon open ground, it will rush for the nearest jungle, probably with the intention of concealment. The animal in question returned to its wild state directly it had escaped from confinement, but the domestication of many years appears to have sharpened its intellect, and to have exaggerated its powers for mischief and cunning. It became the scourge, not only of the immediate neighbourhood, but of a considerable portion of a district which included an area of a hundred miles in length by forty or fifty in width.

No village was safe from the attack of this infuriated beast. It would travel great distances, and appear at unexpected intervals, suddenly presenting itself to the horrified villagers, who fled in all directions, leaving their homes and their supplies of grain to be demolished by the omnipotent intruder, who tore down their dwellings, ransacked their stores of corn, and killed any unfortunate person who came within its reach.

There was a cruel love of homicide in this animal that has rarely been recorded. Not only would it attack villages in pursuit of forage, but it was particularly addicted to the destruction of the lofty watching-places in the fields, occupied nightly by the villagers to scare wild animals from their crops. These watch-houses are generally constructed upon strong poles secured by cross-pieces, on the top of which, about sixteen feet from the ground, is a small hut upon a platform. This is thatched to protect the occupant from the heavy dew or rain. From such elevated posts the watchers yell and scream throughout the night to frighten the wild beasts. To attack and tear down such posts was the delight of this bloodthirsty elephant. Instead of being scared by the shouts of the inmates, it was attracted by their cries, and, unseen in the dark, it was upon them almost before they were aware of its presence. The strong posts upon which the constructions had been raised offered no resistance to the attack, and the miserable watchers found themselves hurled to the ground together with the ruins of their upturned shelter. In another moment they were either caught and stamped to death, or chased through the darkness by the pursuing elephant, and when captured they were torn limb from limb, as the brute exhibited a cruel satisfaction in placing one foot upon the victim, and then tearing with its trunk an arm, a leg, or the head from the mangled body.

In this manner the elephant killed upwards of twenty people throughout the district, and it became absolutely necessary, if possible, to destroy it.

This was at last effected by Colonel Bloomfield and a friend, who determined at all hazards to hunt it down by following through the jungles, guided by the reports of the natives, who were on the lookout in all directions. The animal showed peculiar cunning, as it never remained in the same place, but travelled a considerable distance immediately after the committal of some atrocity, and concealed itself within the jungles until prompted to another raid in some new direction. I am indebted to Colonel Bloomfield for an interesting description of the manner in which, after many days of great fatigue and patience, he at length succeeded, with the assistance of native trackers, in discovering this formidable opponent, asleep within a dense mass of thorns and grass in the heart of an extensive jungle. The elephant awoke before they could distinctly see its form, owing to the extreme thickness of the covert, but the fight commenced. There was a considerable difference between the attack upon defenceless villagers, who fled before it in hopeless panic, and a stand-up fight with two experienced European shikaris armed with the best rifles; the terror of the district quickly showed its appreciation of discretion, and, badly wounded, it retreated through the forest, well followed by the determined hunters. Again and again it was overtaken, and a shot was taken whenever the dense jungle afforded an opportunity. At length, maddened by pursuit and wounds, it turned to charge, thereby exposing itself in an open place, and both bullets crashed into its brain, the shot from Colonel Bloomfield's rifle passing completely through its head.

It would be impossible to determine whether such an elephant could have been subdued and re-domesticated had its capture been effected. There are many cases on record where a "must" elephant has committed grievous depredations, after killing those who were its ordinary attendants, but when re-captured, the temporary excitement has passed away, and the animal has become as harmless as it was before the period of insanity. Mr. G. P. Sanderson, the superintendent of the Government keddahs in Assam, gives a vivid description of an elephant that escaped after killing its mahout and several villagers in the neighbourhood. This animal, like Colonel Bloomfield's elephant, already described, became the terror of the district, and destroyed many villagers, until it was decided by the authorities to attempt its destruction.

Mr. Sanderson was of opinion that it was too valuable to be heedlessly sacrificed; he therefore determined to capture it alive, if possible, through the aid of certain clever elephants belonging to the keddah establishment.

The police of the district were ordered to obtain the necessary information, and the malefactor was reported after a few days to have destroyed another village, where it remained, devouring the rice and grain in the absence of the panic-stricken villagers.

No time was lost in repairing to the spot with three highly-trained elephants, two of which were females; the third was a well-known fighting male, a tusker named Moota Gutche, who was usually employed to dominate the obstreperous wild elephants when refractory in the keddah enclosures. The necessary ropes and chains were prepared, and the small but experienced party started, Mr. Sanderson being armed only with a long spear, and riding on the pad, well girthed upon the back of Moota Gutche.

A short hour's march brought them in sight of a ruined village on a level plain, which skirted a dense forest. When within a quarter of a mile, a large male elephant was discovered restlessly walking to and fro as though keeping guard over the ruins he had made. This was the culprit taken in the act.

Leaving the two females in the rear, with instructions to follow upon a given signal, Mr. Sanderson on Moota Gutche advanced slowly to the encounter. The rogue elephant did not appear to notice them until within about 200 yards; it then suddenly halted, and turning round, it faced them as though in astonishment at being disturbed. This attitude did not last very long, as Moota Gutche still advanced until within ninety or a hundred paces. The elephants now faced each other, and Moota Gutche began to lower his head when he observed his antagonist backing a few paces, which he well knew was the customary preparation for a charge. "Reculez pour mieux sauter" was well exemplified when in another moment the vagrant elephant dashed forward at great speed to the attack, trumpeting and screaming with mad fury. In the meantime Moota Gutche coolly advanced at a moderate pace. The shock of the encounter was tremendous. The spear flew out of the rider's hands with the collision, but Moota Gutche was a trained fighter, and having lowered his head, which had for the moment exposed his mahout, he quickly caught his opponent under the throat with its neck between his tusks, and then bearing upwards, he forced the head of his adversary high in the air; now driving forwards with all his strength, he hurled the other backwards, and with a dexterous twist he threw it upon its side and pinned it to the ground. In an instant Mr. Sanderson slipped off and secured the hind legs with a strong rope. The two females quickly arrived, and within a few minutes the late terror of the neighbourhood was helplessly fettered, and was led captive between the females towards the camp from which it had escaped, assisted, when obstreperous, by the tusks of Moota Gutche applied behind.

This elephant completely recovered from its temporary madness, and became a useful animal, affording a striking example of the passing insanity of the male passion, and the power of careful management in subduing a brute of such stupendous force.

After this incident Moota Gutche, with about forty of the keddah elephants, was kindly lent to me by Mr. Sanderson during a shooting excursion of twenty-five days upon the "churs" or islands of the Brahmaputra river south of Dhubri. In India the tiger is so commonly associated with the elephant that in describing one it is impossible to avoid a connection with the other.

Moota Gutche was a peculiar character, not altogether amiable, but it was as well to have him upon your own side. During the trip my friend Sanderson was ill with fever, and could not accompany me. I was therefore at the disadvantage of being the only gun in a long line of elephants, which would on ordinary occasions have been manned by at least four guns. At first I imagined that my trip would be a failure, as I knew a mere nothing of the language, and the elephants and their mahouts were alike strangers to me, but I soon discovered that their excellent training as keddah servants constantly employed in the capture of wild elephants under their indefatigable superintendent, Mr. Sanderson, rendered them capable almost instinctively of understanding all my ways, and we became excellent friends, both man and beast.

I arranged my long line of elephants according to their paces and dispositions, and each day they preserved the same positions, so that every mahout knew his place, and the elephants were accustomed to the animals upon the right and left. In the centre were the slowest, and upon either flank were the fastest elephants, while two exceedingly speedy animals, with intelligent mahouts, invariably acted as scouts, generally a quarter of a mile ahead on either flank.

My own elephant was accompanied on one side by Moota Gutche, on the other by a rough but dependable character whose name I have forgotten. I kept these always with me, as they were useful in the event of a tiger that would not bolt from the dense wild-rose thickets, in which case our three elephants could push him out.

This arrangement was perfect, and after a few days' experience our line worked with the precision of well-drilled cavalry; sometimes, with extra elephants, I had as many as fifty in the field. The result of this discipline was that no tiger or leopard ever escaped if once on foot; although hunted in some instances for hours, the animal was invariably killed. A remarkable instance of this occurred at the large island of Bargh Chur, which includes several thousand acres, the greater portion being covered with enormous grass and dense thickets of tamarisk, which, in the hot season, is the cool and loved resort of tigers. There were also extensive jungles in swampy portions of the island, so intermixed with reeds and marsh grass of twelve or fourteen feet high, that it was difficult to penetrate, even upon an elephant.

I was out at the usual early hour, shortly after sunrise, the shikaris having returned to camp with the news that none of the bullocks tied up for baits during the preceding night had been killed; it therefore remained to try our fortune by simply beating the high grass jungle in line, on speculation, and in the same manner to drive the occasional dense coverts of feathery tamarisk.