Wild Beasts and Their Ways, Sir Samuel White Baker [books successful people read TXT] 📗

of elephantine life continued for at least 2 miles in length as we rode parallel with the groups at about a quarter of a mile distant. It would have been impossible to guess the number, as there was no regularity in their arrangement, neither could I form any idea of the breadth of the area that was occupied. I have often looked back upon that extraordinary scene, and it occurred to me forcibly in after years, when I had 3200 elephants' tusks in one station of Central Africa, which must have represented 1600 animals slain for their fatal ivory.

The day must arrive when ivory will be a production of the past, as it is impossible that the enormous demand can be supplied. I have already explained that the African savage never tames a wild animal, neither does he exhibit any sympathy or pity, his desire being, like the gunner of the nineteenth century, to exterminate. It may be readily imagined that wholesale destruction is the result whenever some favourable opportunity delivers a large herd of elephants into the native hands.

There are various methods employed for trapping, or otherwise destroying. Pitfalls are the most common, as they are simple, and generally fatal. Elephants are thirsty creatures, and when in large herds they make considerable roads in their passage towards a river. They are nearly always to be found upon the same track when nightly approaching the usual spot for drinking or for a bath. It is therefore a simple affair to intercept their route by a series of deep pitfalls dug exactly in the line of their advance. These holes vary in shape; the circular are, I believe, the most effective, as the elephant falls head downwards, but I have seen them made of different shapes and proportions according to the individual opinions of the trappers.

It is exceedingly dangerous, when approaching a river, to march in advance of a party without first sending forward a few natives to examine the route in front. The pits are usually about 12 or 14 feet in depth. These are covered over with light wood, and crossed with slight branches or reeds, upon which is laid some long dry grass; this is covered lightly with soil, upon which some elephant's dung is scattered, as though the animal had dropped it during the action of walking. A little broken grass is carelessly distributed upon the surface, and the illusion is complete. The night arrives, and the unsuspecting elephants, having travelled many miles of thirsty wilderness, hurry down the incline towards the welcome river. Crash goes a leading elephant into a well-concealed pitfall! To the right and left the frightened members of the herd rush at the unlooked-for accident, but there are many other pitfalls cunningly arranged to meet this sudden panic, and several more casualties may arise, which add to the captures on the following morning, when the trappers arrive to examine the position of their pits. The elephants are then attacked with spears while in their helpless position, until they at length succumb through loss of blood.

There is another terrible method of destroying elephants in Central Africa. During the dry season, when the withered herbage from 10 to 14 feet in height is most inflammable, a large herd of elephants may be found in the middle of such high grass that they can only be perceived should a person be looking down from some elevated point. If they should be espied by some native hunter, he would immediately give due notice to the neighbourhood, and in a short time the whole population would assemble for the hunt. This would be arranged by forming a circle of perhaps 2 miles in diameter, and simultaneously firing the grass so as to create a ring of flames around the centre. An elephant is naturally afraid of fire, and it has an instinctive horror of the crackling of flames when the grass has been ignited. As the circle of fire contracts in approaching the encircled herd, they at first attempt retreat until they become assured of their hopeless position; they at length become desperate, being maddened by fear, and panic-stricken by the wild shouts of the thousands who have surrounded them. At length, half-suffocated by the dense smoke, and terrified by the close approach of the roaring flames, the unfortunate animals charge recklessly through the fire, burnt and blinded, to be ruthlessly speared by the bloodthirsty crowd awaiting this last stampede. Sometimes a hundred or more elephants are simultaneously destroyed in this wholesale slaughter. The flesh is then cut into long strips and dried, every portion of the animal being smoked upon frames of green wood, and the harvest of meat is divided among the villages which have contributed to the hunt. The tusks are also shared, a certain portion belonging by right to the various headmen and the chief.

When man determines to commence war with the animal kingdom the result must be disastrous to the beasts, if the human destroyers are in sufficient numbers to ensure success. Although fire-arms may not be employed, the human intelligence must always overpower the brute creation, but man must exist in numerical superiority if the wild beasts are to be fairly vanquished by a forced retreat from the locality. From my own observation I have concluded that wild animals of all kinds will withstand the dangers of traps, pitfalls, fire, and the usual methods for their destruction employed by savages, but they will be rapidly cleared out of an extensive district by the use of fire-arms. There is a peculiar effect in the report of guns which appears to excite the apprehension of danger in the minds of all animals. This is an extraordinary instance of the general intelligence of wild creatures, as they must be accustomed to the reports of thunder since the day of their birth. Nevertheless they draw a special distinction between the loud peal of thunder and the comparatively innocent explosion of a fire-arm.

Many years ago in Ceylon I devoted particular attention to this subject, especially as it affects the character of elephants. How those creatures manage to communicate with each other it is impossible to determine, but the fact remains that a very few days' shooting will clear out an extensive district, although the area may comprise a variation of open prairie with a large amount of forest. I have frequently observed, in the portion of Ceylon known as the Park country, the tracks of elephants in great numbers which have evidently been considerable herds that have joined together in a general retreat from ground which they considered insecure. In that district I have arrived at the proper season, when the grass after burning has grown to the height of about 2 feet, and it has literally been alive with elephants. In a week my late brother General Valentine Baker and myself shot thirty-two, and I sent a messenger to invite a friend to join us, in the expectation of extraordinary sport. Upon his arrival after five or six days, there was not an elephant in the country, excepting two or three old single bulls which always infested certain spots.

The reports of so many heavy rifles, which of necessity were fired every evening at dusk in the days of muzzle-loaders, for the sake of cleaning, must have widely alarmed the country, but independently of this special cause there can be no doubt that after a few days' heavy shooting, the elephants will combine in some mysterious manner and disappear from an extensive district. In many ways these creatures are perplexing to the student of natural history. It would occur to most people that in countries where elephants abound we should frequently meet with those that are sick, or so aged that they cannot accompany the herd. Although for very many years I have hunted both in Asia and Africa I have never seen a sick elephant in a wild state, neither have I ever come across an example of imbecility through age. It is rarely we discover a dead elephant that has not met with a violent death, and only once in my life have I by accident found the remains of a tusker with the large tusks intact. This animal had been killed in a fight, as there were unmistakable signs of a fearful struggle, the ground being trodden deeply in all directions.

It is supposed by the natives that when an elephant is mortally sick it conceals itself in the thickest and most secluded portion of the jungle, to die in solitude. Most animals have the same instinct, which induces them to seek the shelter of some spot remote from all disturbance; and should we find their remains, it will be near water, where the thirst of disease has been assuaged at the last moment. The ox tribe are subject to violent epidemics, and I have not only found the bodies of buffaloes in great numbers upon occasions during some malignant murrain, but they have been scattered throughout the country in all directions, causing a frightful stench, and probably extending the infection. A few years ago there was an epidemic among the bisons in the Reipore district of India; this spread into neighbouring districts over a large extent of country, and caused fearful ravages, but none of the deer tribe were attacked, the disease being confined specially to the genus Bos. There are interesting proofs of the specific poison of certain maladies which are limited in their action to a particular class of animal. We find the same in vegetable diseases, where a peculiar insect will attack a distinct family of plants, or where a special variety of fungoid growth exerts a similar baneful influence.

Wounded elephants have a marvellous power of recovery when in their wild state, although they have no gift of surgical knowledge, their simple system being confined to plastering their wounds with mud, or blowing dust upon the surface. Dust and mud comprise the entire pharmacopoeia of the elephant, and this is applied upon the most trivial as well as upon the most serious occasion. If an elephant has a very slight sore back, it will quickly point out the tender part by blowing dust with its trunk upon the spot which it cannot reach. Should the mahout have seriously punished the crown with the cruel driving-hook, the elephant applies dust at the earliest opportunity. I have seen them, when in a tank, plaster up a bullet-wound with mud taken from the bottom. This application is beneficial in protecting the wound from the attack of flies. The effect of these disgusting insects is quite shocking when an unfortunate animal becomes fly-blown, and is literally consumed by maggots. An elephant possesses a wonderful superiority over all other animals in the trunk, which can either reach the desired spot directly, or can blow dust upon it when required. All shepherds in England appreciate the difficulty when their sheep are attacked by flies, but they can be relieved by the human hand; a wild animal, on the contrary, has no alleviation, and it must eventually succumb to its misery. There is a peculiar fly in most tropical climates, but more especially in Ceylon, which lays live maggots, instead of eggs that require some time to hatch. These are the most dreadful pests, as the lively young maggots exhibit a horrible activity in commencing their work the instant they see the light; they burrow almost immediately into the flesh, and grow to a large size within twenty-four hours, occasioning the most loathsome sores. The best cure for any wound thus attacked, and swarming with live maggots, is a teaspoonful of calomel applied and rubbed into the deep sore.

I have seen the Arabs in the Soudan adopt a most torturing remedy when a camel has suffered from a fly-blown sore back. Upon one occasion I saw a camel