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 FIRST STALK OF THE SEASON 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’). A FAIR CHANCE AT BLACK BEARS 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 | Authority | Height at shoulder | Length nose to tail | Girth | Forearm | Sex | | 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 shoulder | Length nose to tail | Weight | | 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 length | Tail | Height at shoulder | Girth of chest | Weight | Remarks | | ft.ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | lbs. | | | Sterndale | 86
to
96 | 30 to 36 | 42 | .. | .. | | | ” quoting Captain Smee | 89½ | .. | .. | .. | 490[16] (cleaned) | | | ‘The Delhi Gazette’: a lion killed in Central India | 87 | 34 | 39 | 46 | .. | | | ‘Oriental Sporting Magazine,’ July 1876 | 93 | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | African Lion | | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | .. | .. | .. | .. | 500 | F. C. Selous, ‘A 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 325l. to 650l. worth per annum for each tiger, but Sanderson more justly cuts the estimate down to about 70l. 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. If a tiger is killing near camp, there is a good deal of sport to be had by going round the baits in the morning oneself. If one of them is taken, a wide circuit should be made round the cover with a good tracker to ensure the tiger being at home. An inner circuit may be then made to determine his approximate position, and to do this well without disturbing him requires great care and skill; but the knowledge so gained is invaluable in beating for him afterwards. In Bombay and Madras elephants are not generally used, and, instead of the square cushions to sit on, light bamboo ladders are carried and set up against trees or clumps of bamboo where cushions could not be slung, the top of the ladder being lashed to the tree or bush, and the sportsman seating himself on one of the rungs. Many sportsmen praise these highly, as being easier to erect and giving more choice of position; but, on the other hand, they entail an extra man to accompany the sportsman to his tree, and are more conspicuous. Accidents of course happen equally to both; men have been taken out of their cushions, and ladders have been upset. The district in which the sportsman has received his training usually decides his choice of gear. The want of elephants, however, in Bombay and Madras obliges the guns to follow up their wounded tigers on foot. The orthodox procedure is to form a picked force of beaters and shikaris into a solid triangle, the apex and flanks being formed by the guns. Every man should provide himself before starting with all the stones he can carry; the wounded tiger is generally given a considerable time to stiffen—two hours if they can be spared may well be spent thus. The trail is then followed at a slow pace, every bush being well stoned before it is approached, far more passed; at every tree the party is halted and a man sent up to look, and if a tracker is necessary, he moves close under the guns of the two sportsmen who form the apex. If the natives can only be persuaded to keep together, with cool guns and fairly open ground like the bamboo jungles of Southern India, there is no excessive danger; but the writer’s experience of the work was that for the first hundred yards the men kept together pretty well, but would go too fast; then they became careless, and as the danger really increased began to straggle. Being single-handed, though there was another party working parallel to him at about fifty yards distance, the writer was unable to keep his men in order, and by the time the tiger was found, luckily dead, by the other party, his followers were all over the place. The subjoined account by Captain Lamb gives a good idea of what may be expected to take place without trained men: As soon as the beaters came up we [Major Mansel and himself] had awful trouble to prevent them scattering about in the jungle. We waited about twenty minutes, and then started to follow the tiger up. We took twenty men and formed them four deep, close up and shoulder to shoulder, M. and I going in front. We impressed upon the men that they were on no account to leave the square, and sent two men on each flank up trees to examine the ground in front. We could easily track the tiger by his blood, and in one place found what looked like a piece of his liver. We knew he could not go far, especially as he was full of cow. Some of the men began to wander a little, and we had to abuse them to make them keep their places. The trail led us through dry grass up to our knees, but not very thick, and growing under scattered young trees. After going about two hundred yards we heard the tiger growling, but he must have moved on. We could still follow him by his blood. Another hundred yards, and we could hear him distinctly. The square began to break, and several men started shinning up trees; M. shouted ‘Look out,’ and the words were not out of his mouth when the tiger came, his tail up, his mane on end, at a gallop, roaring and making straight for us. He was about twenty yards off when he first came out, and looked an awful devil, being almost black from rolling in the ashes where the jungle had been burnt. M. fired at him when he was about ten yards off, and he swerved a little to his right, passing M. within five yards. I was on M.’s right and could not fire before, but as the tiger passed I turned and fired behind M.’s back; there was a cloud of dust, and at first we only heard a thud, and could not see whether the tiger had gone on or not; as the dust cleared, we saw him lying stone-dead. It was a very lucky shot through the neck, as by this time the square was in full retreat, the men scattering all about and falling over each other. The front rank and part of the second alone stood firm, so if the tiger had gone on he would certainly have mauled one or two of the natives. He measured 9 ft. 9 ins. as he lay. The worst part of getting a native hurt is, that though it almost invariably happens through his own wilful disobedience of orders, the news spreads like wildfire through the district, and makes it very hard for the party to procure beaters. Rustum Ali, the villagers argue, was a brave man; he didn’t fear tigers, we have seen him throw stones at tigers, and he went out with those sahibs and got killed—the said Rustum having met with his death by getting out of his tree and going to get a drink of water while the guns were following up a wounded tiger, or some equally nonsensical breach of orders. Accidents of course do happen, even when all precautions are observed, but the majority of them are occasioned by the natives’ own carelessness. Natives are often very unwilling to give information about tigers, partly from fear of being turned out to beat, and partly from the universal idea that the tiger, if he escapes, or his mate, if he is killed, will take vengeance on them. They often also consider it unlucky to mention his name, and talk of him as a jackal, precisely as in Sweden a bear is never talked of as such. Sitting up for a tiger over a kill or bait is the least amusing and least certain of any method of hunting him, but often in large forests which cannot be beaten, or where the sportsman is single-handed and without elephants, it is the only way to get a shot. ‘THE FRONT RANK AND PART OF THE SECOND ALONE STOOD FIRM’ The erection of the platform, or ‘machan,’ too frequently disturbs the tiger and drives him away. If the sportsman can procure baits, a good plan is to select a good place for a machan before tying up; tether lightly so that the tiger may drag the carcase away. Make the machan when the first bait is taken, tie up again till he kills again in the same place, and about three days after the second kill tie up again and sit over it. The best machan is a cot with low rails round the edge, fitted with ropes to sling it in a tree. The sportsman’s blankets and pillows can be spread in it, he himself can lie comfortably at full length watching the bait or kill, there are no sticks to crackle and make a noise; and when the moon goes down or he has had his shot, he can turn round and sleep as one only sleeps in the open. The sportsman should be at his post by four o’clock in the afternoon, as if the tiger means coming he will probably come early. Sanderson says he enjoys the sport; it’s pleasant enough if the tiger comes soon, but if he puts off his visit to 3 a.m., as happened to the writer, who was at that hour peacefully sleeping and never woke up, the entertainment is mediocre. Allowing a native to perch on the same tree is ruination to sport: cough he must; besides, the jungle man is unsavoury, and the evening air seems to make him smell worse than usual. If a kill is found in the jungle and the sportsman decides to sit over it, General Macintyre’s plan is worth trying; i.e. take some men up to the tree, let them talk loudly, or shout while the machan is being prepared, and then retire talking or shouting, according as the tiger is supposed to be bold or timid. He will very likely come at once, as their voices die away, not to eat, but to see if they have removed the kill. This often succeeds where professional skinners are in the habit of saving what they can of the hides of kills. Lieutenant-Colonel Fife Cookson, in his book ‘Tiger Shooting in the Doon and Ulwar,’ gives a curious account of a tiger stalking a bait: Suddenly there emerged from underneath the trees a brownish-yellow object which appeared about the size of a monkey, and for a moment, in the failing light, I thought it was one. It darted rapidly along the bare ground for about twenty yards at a time, moving towards the bullock, and stopping at the end of each run behind one of the tufts of grass about two feet high, over which it peeped, then sinking down again and gliding forward as before. It was now nearer, and by this time I could see that it was not one of the monkeys; but still I could not clearly make out what it was. It reminded me of a very ugly, large, yellow and black mask at a pantomime. I could see no legs or body. Now it reached a tuft about forty yards from me, over which it also peeped, staring intently at the bullock. By this time I was convinced that it was the tiger, though it looked about the size and shape of a horse’s head. The curious appearance which the tiger had presented at a distance of about seventy yards, in shape like the head of a horse with the chin touching the ground, was no doubt owing to my seeing his forepaws underneath and part of his back foreshortened over the top of his head. What most particularly struck me was the small object which the tiger appeared during the stalk. It must be remembered that, although I perhaps saw a little of the back between his ears, I was looking down upon him from a much higher level, and that if I had been on the ground I should probably have seen nothing but his head. Thus the tiger was evidently able to hide himself behind any tuft of grass which was large enough to conceal his head. Another remarkable thing was the position in which he held his head. It was no longer in the usual attitude, with the nose in the air, as when the animal is walking about; but the face was held vertically, the chin being drawn in, and the forehead pressed forward, thus displaying its black stripes and markings, together with the intent stare of the large eyes. This greatly added to its sinister appearance. Williamson describes another variety of sitting up, the sportsman being enclosed in a strong bamboo cage and playing the part of bait himself, being armed with two or three spears: Being accompanied by a dog, which gives the alarm, or by a goat, which by its agitation answers the same purpose, the adventurer wraps himself up in his quilt, and very composedly goes to sleep in full confidence of his safety. When the tiger comes, and perhaps after smelling all round begins to rear against the cage, the man stabs him with one of the spears, through the interstices of the wickerwork, and rarely fails at destroying the tiger. The writer heard of an instance of this being tried by a European, with a cage made of iron. Unfortunately the bars were set too far apart, and the tiger got his paw through and slew that adventurer. Williamson also narrates the old story—possibly it was taken from his book—of tigers being caught by covering leaves with birdlime; it was told him by a Mahommedan gentleman of the Court of the Nabob Vizier of Oude. Sanderson gives a capital account of tiger-netting, as practised in Mysore, and describes the various traps occasionally used by natives. The late Maharajah of Patiala, about 1872, had a tiger that had been trapped in the hills turned out on the plain outside the town, he and his guests being mounted on elephants. Of course the whole of the populace assembled to see the fun, forming a large circle round the plain. The tiger, on being released where there was not sufficient cover for a quail, selected as his point of exit the buggy of a native gentleman, who sought refuge between the wheels; his groom, being unfortunately in the way as the tiger cleared the conveyance, was knocked over, but luckily more frightened than hurt. The tiger then took refuge in a garden, pursued by the elephants. On their arrival at the spot the gardener was found placidly pursuing his avocation, and, on being asked if he had seen the beast, imprudently pointed him out. The tiger at once sprang on the man, upset him and bolted; but as he was now heading for the English doctor’s stables he was considered to be becoming dangerous, and was cleverly shot by the Maharajah. Sanderson, in describing the way a tiger attacks and kills his prey, says that in attacking a bison his object is to get the latter to charge, and then, avoiding the rush, to follow on the instant and endeavour to emasculate the bull by striking him behind. In killing cattle he writes: The general method is for the tiger to slink up under cover of bushes or long grass, ahead of the cattle in the direction they are feeding, and to make a rush at the first cow or bullock that comes within five or six yards. The tiger does not spring upon his prey in the manner usually represented. Clutching the bullock’s fore-quarters with his paws, one being generally over the shoulder, he seizes the throat in his jaws from underneath, and turns it upwards and over, sometimes springing to the far side in doing so, to throw the bullock over, and give the wrench which dislocates its neck. Sir S. Baker writes that while lions and cheetahs (Felis jubata) use their paws in striking down their prey at the moment of capture, tigers apparently never do. Sanderson points out that Forsyth, as also Captain Baldwin in his ‘Large and Small Game of Bengal,’ agree that tigers seize by the back of the neck, and then give the dislocating wrench. The writer noticed the fang-marks on a good many kills in Central India, and certainly they appeared from their position rather low down, apparently too much so to have been inflicted by a bite on the back of the neck—a tiger’s jaw is not very long—to entirely support Sanderson’s description. As regards a tiger’s powers of springing, Sanderson says he has often measured the bounds of tigers that have pursued deer, and found 15 ft. to be about the distance they usually spring. The writer particularly noticed the way a tiger sprang at an elephant: he did not bound from a distance at all, but simply galloped up till he was just under the elephant’s ear-hole, and then sprang vertically upwards, placing his forepaws on the elephant’s head, and there he hung till the elephant shook him off. A tiger can with ease get his forepaws on to an object twelve to fifteen feet from the ground; but he seems clumsy in getting sufficient hold with his hind paws to enable him to proceed after his first spring. Sanderson says that tigresses do not breed at any fixed season. Sterndale states that they go with young for about fifteen weeks, and produce from two to five at a birth. Sanderson gives four as an unusually large number; the writer saw six taken out of a tigress, but probably these would not all have been born alive. He also saw a tigress with four cubs which must have been nearly a year old, one of them which was shot measuring 4 ft. 9 ins. Mr. Shillingford’s memorandum quoted by Sterndale is interesting: | Cubs one year old measure | {Males | 4½ ft. to 5½ ft. | | {Females | 4”5 ” | | ”two years” | {Males | 5½”7 ” | | {Females | 5”6½” | | ”three years” | {Males | 7”8½” | | {Females | 6½”7½” | When they reach three years of age they lose their ‘milk canines,’ which are replaced by permanent fangs, and at this period the mother leaves them to cater for themselves, the tigress breeding once in three years. Mr. Shillingford also notes that out of 53 cubs (18 mothers) 29 were males, and 22 females, the sex of two cubs not being given. This tends to prove that there are an equal number of each sex born,[19] the marked preponderance of adult tigresses over tigers being accounted for by most writers by the native story that the male tigers kill the young male cubs. The writer offers another suggestion: may not the young male tigers as soon as they leave their mothers avoid the domains of the heavy old cattle-lifters, and taking to the hills and forest form the game-killing class, till they are powerful enough to succeed to the estates of their sires, either by force or by inheritance, owing to their sire having met with an accident when entertaining a sahib, and so settle down and take wives? The writer has no proof to give in support of this suggestion, but merely offers it for sportsmen to consider. With respect to the common native story that the age of tigers may be told by the number of lobes in their livers, the writer made the following observations in Central India: Tigress, 6 lobes; tiger, 8 lobes; tigress, 7 lobes; cub (male), 6 lobes; male panther, 7 lobes; tigress, 7 lobes; tiger, 8 lobes; tigress, 7 lobes; tigress (a very old light-coloured one), 7 lobes; tiger, 7 lobes. Sanderson says he has shot tigers and panthers with from 9 to 15 lobes. An article on the age of tigers as shown by their length, written by Mr. F. A. Shillingford for ‘The Asian’ and copied in ‘Land and Water,’ August 30, 1890, appears to be worth quoting: It was the opinion of the late Mr. Joe Shillingford that in Bengal and the Nepal Terai, at all events, tigers, as distinguished from tigresses, did not attain full maturity until they attained a length of over 10 ft., measured ‘sportsman’s style,’ and that occasionally they attain a length of 11 ft., and that the 12 ft. tiger shot by the late Mr. C. A. Shillingford was an exceptional monster, like the exceptional tigress, 10 ft. 2 ins. in length, shot in 1867, and in these opinions I entirely concur. I have a collection of over a hundred tiger skulls, and in no case are the parietal sutures obliterated from old age of skulls of tigers below 10½ ft. in length. Tigers take to water readily, and swim higher out of the water than most animals. Elephants who take matters into their own hands and charge at tigers are exceedingly dangerous in the field, particularly after a tiger has been killed and men are dismounting to pad it. All the elephants in such a case, except the one destined to carry the beast, should be taken away from near the carcase; they are more or less in an excited state, and are apt to mistake a man in the grass for another tiger. The writer remembers being on an elephant that stood perfectly steady for the shot, but as soon as the tiger was killed—it was within a few feet of her—it was all the mahout could do to prevent her charging it. The elephant has a way of playing football with an animal which though diverting to a spectator is awkward for the man in the howdah. The elephant performs a kind of war dance over the carcase, kicking it about between his feet, lifting it with the front of the hindfoot and returning it from the back of the forefoot till tired, when he places one ponderous hindfoot upon it and squashes it flat. If an elephant has been mauled, it is not at all a bad plan to let it play with the carcase of its enemy; but everything should be taken out of the howdah, and the skin will not be worth much afterwards. Two other serious dangers that have to be guarded against in tiger shooting are bees and red ants. Bees generally hang their hives from boughs of trees or on the face of rocks, but often they have them in high grass, and an elephant pushing his way through disturbs them, rendering them exceedingly aggressive, whilst a shot fired near them is quite enough to make them attack. Deaths of men and animals from their stings have often been recorded; they almost always go at the head, and the best way of escaping is to cover the head with a blanket, which should invariably be placed in each howdah. The mahouts always sit on theirs. Oddly enough, if the head is covered the rest of the body, even of unclad natives, usually escapes their attentions. A nest of red ants, though not so dangerous, is quite enough to put anyone to flight, as they bite unmercifully and leave their nippers in. No one would ever think of climbing a tree with a bee’s nest in it, but equal care should be taken that red ants, which are hard to detect, are not in it also; an inspection of the trunk will usually decide the question, especially if the boughs touch nothing else. In selecting camping grounds particular attention to these points is also necessary; most servants do not take the trouble to look up into the trees, and will light their fires under a bee’s nest till they have been properly stung once; but their carelessness may result in the loss of ponies’ or even men’s lives. Sanderson remarks on the danger of firing at a tiger’s head except at very close ranges. The writer saw an instance of this in a tigress hit on the side of the head with an Express bullet; she dropped in her tracks, lying with her head underneath her for nearly a minute, when she recovered, went back into the jungle, and gave a good deal of trouble afterwards, charging the elephants freely. A shot through the shoulder is far more likely to be effective. A tiger seems rather a soft beast, and nearly always drops on receiving his first wound, though he picks himself up pretty quickly. Subsequent wounds have comparatively little effect on any animal, and another curious thing that the writer has noticed is that wounded animals nearly always lie down on their wounded side. Tigers do not seem to be very particular as to what they eat. Sterndale records an instance of their eating carrion; Sanderson gives a story of three tigers killing and eating a fourth, and of their eating bears; and Colonel Kinloch told the writer of his finding a snow bear killed by a tiger in Chumba, on barasingh ground. Tigers seem to be yearly penetrating deeper into the Himalayas; probably they follow the ever-increasing herds of cattle that come up from the plains in the summer to graze. Sterndale gives an ingenious formula for finding the length of a tiger from its skull. For details the reader is referred to his book. In the following list of measurements only tigers of 10 ft. or over are mentioned except where weights are given and of exceptionally large tigresses. The system of recording tigers’ weights as shot does not appear satisfactory. Those which scaled over 500 lbs. must surely have included a good deal of beef. [Pg 216]
[Pg 217] Measurements | Authority | Total length | Tail | Height at shoulder | Girth of chest | Girth of forearm | Girth of upper arm | Length of skull | Breadth of skull | Weight as shot | Remarks | | ft.ins. | ft.ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | lbs. | | | Gen. Sir C. Reid, K.C.B. | 122 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ (skin measured 13 ft. 5 in.) | | Lieut.-Col. Boileau, 1861 | 120 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Sterndale | | Col. Ramsay | 120 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Hon. R. Drummond, C.S. | 119 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Col. Shakespeare | 118 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Gen. Sir C. Reid, K.C.B. | 116 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Sterndale, ‘Meade Shell’ | 116 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Mr. F. A. Shillingford | 115 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Letter to ‘The Asian,’ ‘Land and Water’, Aug. 30, 1890 | | ” | 111 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | ” | 110 | 36¾ | 43 | .. | .. | .. | 15¼ | 10½ | .. | Ditto (skull quoted by Sterndale now in Calcutta Museum) | | ” | 110 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | ” | 110 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | ” | 110 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Sir G. Yule | 110 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | | Mr. Shillingford | 110 | 34 | 43 | 54 | 26 | .. | .. | .. | .. | Shot in Purneah | Quoted by Sterndale to compare the bulk of tigers in Bengal and S. India | | ” | 102 | 31 | 45 | 73 | 34 | .. | .. | .. | .. | Shot in S. India | | Mr. F. A. Shillingford | 1010 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Letter to ‘The Asian’ | | ” | 1010 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Mr. Shillingford | 109½ | 36½ | 43 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | | ” | 108½ | 35½ | 44½ | 55 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Sir J. Fayrer | 108 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Mr. F. A. Shillingford | 108 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Letter to ‘The Asian’ | | ” | 107 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | ” | 107 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | ” | 106 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | ” | 106 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Gen. Sir C. Reid, K.C.B. | 106 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | | Col. J. Macdonald | 104 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Maharajah of Kuch Behar | 102½ | 32½ | 39½ | 48½ | 20 | 26½ | .. | .. | 530 | Letter to ‘The Asian’ | | ” | 102½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 493 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. F. A. Shillingford | 102 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ‘The Asian,’ ‘Land and Water’, Aug. 30, 1890 | | Sir E. Durand, Bart. | 102[20] | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Nepal, Jan. 18, 1891 | | Maharajah of Kuch Behar | 101½ | 31 | 44¾ | 54 | 21 | 29 | 15¾ | .. | .. | ‘The Asian’ | | ” | 101 | 33½ | 41 | 56 | 19½ | 26 | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Forsyth, ‘Highlands Central India’ | 101 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | ” | 100 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Maharajah of Kuch Behar | 100 | 31 | 40 | 52 | 21 | 26 | .. | .. | 540 | ‘The Asian’ | | ” | 100 | 32 | 40 | 51 | 18¾ | 29 | .. | .. | .. | ” | | ” | 910 | 30 | 41½ | 47½ | 18½ | 26½ | .. | .. | 426 | ” | | ” | 96 | 31 | 38 | 52 | 19 | 29 | .. | .. | 481 | ” | | ” | 95 | 31 | 38¼ | 49 | 18 | 26 | .. | .. | 420 | ” | | ‘Deccan Ranger,’ ‘Oriental Sporting Magazine,’ 1876 | 910 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 432½ | Tiger | | ” | 910 | 31 | 46 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 425 | ” | | ” | 96 | 211 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 370 | ” | | ” | 96 | 32 | 45 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 447½ | ” | | ” | 92 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 330 | ” | | ” | 90 | 30 | 42 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 282 | Tigress | | ” | 811 | 29 | 39 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 245 | ” | | ” | 88 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 285 | Tiger | | ” | 85 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 256 | Tigress | | ” | 85 | 29 | 39 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 253 | ” | | Mr. H. L. Heber Percy | 910[20] | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” Nepal, Feb. 12, 1891 | | ” | 92½ [20] | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” ” Jan. 31, 1891 | | ” | 92 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” ” Jan. 21, 1891 | | The Writer | 91 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” Central India, May 23, 1876 | | Col. Gordon Cumming, ‘Wild Men and Wild Beasts’ | 91 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | ” | 90 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Capt. Lamb | 90 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” Central India | | Sir E. Durand, Bart. | 90[20] | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” Nepal, Jan. 17, 1891 | | Sanderson, ‘Thirteen Years among the Wild Beast’ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 349½ | | | Rowland Ward’s Collection | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 14½ | 10 | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Average of full-grown tiger | 96 | 31 | 42 | 48 | 18 | 26 | .. | .. | 420 | | | Average of full-grown tigress | 84 | 210 | 39 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 265 | |
V. PANTHER (Felis Pardus) Native names: generally, ‘Chita’; in the Himalayas, ‘LagÁ BagÁ’; in Central India, ‘TÉndwÁ’ The panther is common all over India, Burmah, and Ceylon, but does not cross the snow-line of the Himalayas, being replaced beyond the range by the ounce. Sterndale gives two varieties, the pard and the panther, describing the pard as being larger, the spots more clearly defined in rosettes, and the skull longer and more pointed than the panther’s. Sanderson also gives two varieties with the same distinctions, but calls Sterndale’s pard the panther, and Sterndale’s panther the leopard. This is in itself perplexing to the ordinary sportsman, and as the writer saw two beasts shot in the same beat, the male corresponding to Sterndale’s pard and the female to Sanderson’s leopard, the only solution he can offer of the difficulty is that the sportsman may call the beast he shoots either leopard or panther according to his own fancy, and not one man in a hundred will be able to contradict him. The panther is a nuisance wherever he is; he is perpetually prowling about villages at night picking up unconsidered trifles, such as dogs, goats, ponies and babies, in short anything. Occasionally panthers become regular man-eaters, and though far more plentiful than tigers, they are so cunning that they are far harder to shoot. A wounded panther is always a dangerous beast to follow up. He can hide, like a quail, in anything; his attack is always sudden, and being a quick, active beast, he more frequently makes good his charge than a tiger. More men get mauled by panthers than by tigers, but on the other hand fatal results are the exception, and stories are told of men having strangled panthers with their hands when they have been attacked. Many a pet dog has been carried off in broad daylight, in the middle of large hill stations, where the forest comes close up to the roads and houses. A dog of my own had the narrowest escape in Chamba, being chased by a panther almost up to my feet. The beast had almost got hold of him when I drove him off. Ward recommends trapping, and gives capital directions for making a cage-trap. When the writer was stationed at Chakrata a few panthers were caught in these traps, but more were shot over dogs tied up as baits. Panthers are often shot in this way, or by sitting over a kill. At night a very good plan is to strew chaff thickly all round the bait, and if it is dark arrange a lantern so as to throw its light on the bait; neither of these plans will scare a panther, though it might a tiger.[21] Sterndale recommends phosphorescent oil (one grain phosphorus to one drachm oil dissolved in a bath of warm water) for touching the sights at night. There is a magnesium wire lantern, a Hanoverian invention, which is made to fit on the sportsman’s shoulder, and on a string being pulled throws a broad search light down the barrels of the rifle lasting about thirty seconds; but this, if the sportsman was sitting on the ground, might lead to complications should the first shot fail to kill outright. If a panther’s cave is found, it is often worth while watching the entrance about 4 p.m., when the animal will come out and sun himself before starting on his evening ramble. In Central India panthers are often beaten out like tigers, but they are unsatisfactory beasts to try and drive, as they are so apt to hide and let the beaters pass by them. On one occasion a panther came within shot of one of the guns, who did not fire as a tiger was expected. The panther first amused himself by catching a hare that the beaters had driven up to him, then, as the men got near, he selected a plump youth and proceeded to stalk him, when the gunner thought it time to interfere. Sitting up over a bait at night is the poorest of all amusements. Often has the writer undergone it, and as often sworn he never would do it again, till the next absolute certainty has been offered him with the usual disappointing result. When a panther is in the habit of attacking flocks on their way home in the evening, a good plan is to select a place before the flock returns, and arrange with the shepherd that he shall drive the flock past your hiding-place and tether a kid as he passes; the apparent absence of pre-arrangement will probably induce the panther to show at once. Sanderson gives some stirring accounts of his adventures with panthers in which the following points are particularly noticeable, viz. the necessity of posting markers outside the cover beaten to watch the panther if he leaves it; that panthers will not charge out of caves even if poked up with bamboos; that, unlike most tigers, a panther charged home at a large party of men closed up, and used his paws, cuffing right and left instead of biting. Not that a panther never bites, as the beast referred to had bitten a man previously, but in nearly all cases of men being mauled the bulk of their injuries are claw wounds. Sterndale relates a curious legend about a well-known man-eating panther that killed over two hundred people in three years, and was supposed to be a kind of Wehr-wolf. Panthers have often been ridden down and speared, but two or three men are required for this amusement, as on the first horse overtaking it the panther will at once crouch and endeavour to spring on the horse’s back as he passes. The second horseman should, therefore, be close up ready to cut in at once; care should be taken to get the first spear home in a good place, and the panther should be held down if possible, till despatched by the spears of the rest of the party. It is foolhardiness for a single man to attempt it. Panthers climb readily, and many have been shot out of trees where they have taken refuge, or been found lying asleep on a branch. Forsyth considers that many panthers escape in drives by taking to trees, and mentions finding the body of a child, that had been killed by a panther, lodged in a forked bough. The troopers of the Central Indian Horse used often to kill panthers in the rainy season by tracking them into patches of sugar-cane, which they surrounded with men armed with spears and swords (guns were naturally not allowed), and then hunted the beast out with a pack of dogs. When panthers or bears were marked down in jungle too big to be surrounded, the guns were posted in trees, and the pack laid on to hunt the beasts up. Terriers were chiefly used, but it was necessary to employ a greyhound or two to prevent the beast galloping away from the little dogs; the greyhounds would not tackle, but by ranging up and snapping would impede the beast’s movements. Sanderson had great sport with his pack, hunting bears, bison, and even on one occasion a young elephant. He gives every instruction for getting together a pack, but does not mention the use of greyhounds, though they would evidently have saved his heavy seizers from long tiring runs. Sambur hunting with dogs in Ceylon is an old-established custom, but there apparently the whole pack is hunted together, while Sanderson appears to have kept his seizers up till the quarry came to bay and then slipped them. Black panthers are occasionally found, but they are merely instances of melanism, several cases of a single black cub in a litter being recorded. As a rule, these black specimens are only found in heavy forests, not in the more open ground, and they are more common in the south of India than the north. There is a lovely stuffed specimen in the British Museum, upon which the markings are just discernible in certain lights. VI. THE CLOUDED PANTHER (Felis Diardii vel Macrocelis) Native names: ‘Tungmar’ Lepcha; ‘Zik’ Bhotia; ‘Lamchitta’ of the Khas tribe (Sterndale) This panther seems to be entirely a forest animal. It extends from Nepal eastwards through Assam. Kinloch gives an instance of one having been shot, but specimens are very rarely obtained, though occasionally live cubs have been bought from natives. The chief peculiarities of this species are the extreme beauty of the colouring, and the fact that the upper canines are the longest in comparison of all living felines. VII. THE HUNTING LEOPARD (Felis jubata) Native names: ‘Chita’ generally; ‘Yuz’ of the Chita-catchers (Sterndale) This animal is generally found in Central or Southern India. The writer has never heard of it in the Punjab or North-West Provinces. According to Sterndale, it is most common in Jeypur in Upper India and Hyderabad in Southern India. In general colour it is like a panther, except that its nose is black instead of pinkish; it has a mane on the neck and long hair on the belly; its spots are single and not in rosettes. Its shape is quite different from that of the panther. Instead of having the muscular forearm, short legs and rounded body of that beast, it is a tall greyhound-like animal with thin long legs, and toes like a dog, the claws being only semi-retractile. It is not often shot, but most native princes have tame specimens for hunting antelopes. These have to be caught when nearly full grown, as cubs cannot be trained for the sport, and chita catching is a regular profession in certain districts. In Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia of India’ there is an interesting account of catching chitas quoted from ‘The Asian.’ As regards its habits when wild, the writer says: It is said by shikaries to feed only once every third day, when, after gorging itself, it retires to its den for the other two. On the morning of the third day he visits some particular tree, which the animals of his species in the neighbourhood are in the habit of frequenting. Such trees are easily to be recognised by the scoring of the bark, on which he whets his claws. From this meeting place, after having played about with such of his comrades as may be there, they go off on a hunting expedition. Here is evidently the tip for any sportsman wishing to shoot one: find a tree with tracks three days old, and sit up in it on the fourth morning. Sterndale says: Chita kittens are quite grey without any spots, but can always be recognised by the black stripe down the nose, and on cutting off a bit of the soft hair I noticed that the spots are quite distinct in the under fur. As a rule the young of all cats, even the large one-coloured species, such as the lion and puma, are spotted, but the hunting leopard is externally an exception, although the spots are there lying hid. Hunting antelope with chitas has been described ad nauseam, and is in the opinion of the writer very poor sport. It is worth witnessing once, if only to see how fast a chita can go. VIII. THE OUNCE, OR SNOW LEOPARD (Felis Uncia) Generally, ‘Safed Chita’; Thibet, ‘Stian’ The ounce is fairly common on the higher ranges; there are few ibex grounds on which its tracks will not occasionally be seen, but owing to its nocturnal habits it is very rarely met with. It preys chiefly on ibex and burrel, and rarely, if ever, descends to the forest line. It will kill sheep and goats. A farm in Lahoul, belonging to the Moravian missionaries, suffered considerably in 1884 from the depredations of a pair of ounces that lived in the valley behind Kielang. The male of this pair was killed by an officer of the Royal Artillery, who saw the ounce on his return from shooting late in the evening. The next day he went back up the nullah prepared to spend the night out, shot a young male ibex and dragged the carcase down to where he had seen the ounce the day before. Just at dusk the ounce came to the bait and was missed clean with the first barrel; however, the sportsman, being highly favoured by the gods, bagged him with a second shot, and next morning brought him in triumph down to Kielang. The skin was a beauty, very pale yellowish white with black spots and black rings on the thick furry tail. From the amount of slaughter ounces effect among ibex, it is probable that they hunt in pairs. In 1874 a sportsman in Pangi found a flock of five or six male ibex lying dead within a few yards of each other, killed by ounces; he had seen this particular flock some days before, had either disturbed them or was unable to get at them, and had given them a few days’ rest to settle down in. When he did go after them he found that they had all been slaughtered. IX. THE THIBETAN LYNX (Felis Isabellina) Thibetan, ‘Ee’ This beautiful animal is very rarely met with, but as the Tartars know it well by name, it is possible that it may be more plentiful than is commonly supposed; its nocturnal habits, as in the case of the ounce, shielding it from observation. The Tartars aver that it frequently kills sheep and goats; but though the lynx is quite powerful enough to do so, it is probable that the natives occasionally confound the lynx with the ounce. The lynx stands about 17 ins. at the shoulder, and is of enormously powerful make, with teeth and claws large enough for an animal of twice its size. The Thibetan lynx has the orthodox prominent whiskers which are absent in the red lynx of the plains, but it differs from the European variety in the pads of its feet being prominent and bare, with short close fur between them, whereas in the European lynx the long fur completely conceals the pads. The red lynx, Felis caracal, called by natives ‘Siagosh,’ is occasionally met with all over India. It is not common anywhere, or at least, possibly owing to its nocturnal habits, it is not often shot. A few are known to have been shot in Central India. It preys chiefly on hares, birds, and small deer. Sterndale gives the following measurements: Head and body, 26 to 30 ins.: tail, 9 or 10 ins.; height, 16 to 18 ins. Measurements | Authority | Total length | Tail | Height at shoulder | Remarks | | Felis Pardus | | ft.ins. | ins. | ins. | | | Col. Gordon Cumming (‘Wild Men and Wild Beasts’) | 710 | .. | .. | Male | | ” | 78 | .. | .. | ” | | Capt. A. G. Ferguson | 78 | .. | .. | | | Col. Howard | 74½ | .. | .. | Male | | Mr. H. L. Heber Percy | 74[22] | .. | .. | Nepal, Dec. 9, 1892 | | ” | 71[22] | .. | .. | ” Jan. 30, 1891 | | Sir E. Durand, Bart. | 71[22] | .. | .. | ” Jan. 17, 1891 | | Major FitzHerbert | 68½ | .. | 26½ | Male | | Col. Kinloch | 64 | .. | .. | Female | | Col. Howard | 60 | .. | .. | ” | | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | 70
to
88 | 30 to 38 | .. | Pard | | ” | 56
to
60 | 30 | 18 to 24 | Panther (female) | | Sanderson (‘Thirteen Years among the Wild Beasts’) | 68 | .. | .. | | | ” | 63½ | .. | 26 | ” | | ” | 610 | .. | .. | ” | | ” | 54 | .. | .. | Leopard (male) | | ” | 52 | .. | .. | ” (female) | | Felis diardii | | Sterndale | 64 | 36 | .. | Jerdon states that it grows to a larger size | | Felis jubata | | Sterndale | 70 | 30 | 30 to 33 | | | Felis Uncia | | Sterndale | 74 | 36 | 24 | Measurements apparently too big | | Major Ward (‘Sportsman’s Guide to Kashmir’) | 64 | 36 | .. | Male | | ” | 60 | 33 | .. | Female | | Capt. Dawkins (May 24, 1884.) | 511½ | 36 | 18 | Male | X. WOLVES AND WILD DOGS Space does not permit an exhaustive description of these vermin, and it must be briefly said that there are three kinds of wolves in India. First is the ordinary wolf of the plains (Canis pallipes) which is more destructive to children and cattle than to game, and is generally called ‘Bheria’ by the natives. Authenticated tales of its ravages among the infant population are only too common, an old bitch wolf with cubs laid up near a village naturally finding Indian baby the most easily procured and most succulent diet for her offspring. Wolves have occasionally been ridden down and speared, but only when found in the morning, and more or less gorged; a wolf in the evening, when empty, will lope along just ahead of good greyhounds till the latter lie down exhausted. They can occasionally be smoked out if their earths are found. Williamson describes a big bag made in this way near Allahabad in 1780; the earths were dug out, and at least ten pounds weight of children’s ornaments found in them. He also narrates a ghastly story of the way wolves attacked the starving natives during the famine of 1783 in broad daylight; as a rule, however, they seldom attack men. The next well-known varieties are the grey and black Thibetan wolves (Canis laniger and Canis niger), generally called ‘Chanko.’ These are very destructive to game as well as to flocks and herds, as they hunt in small packs. Both grey and black wolves are found together, and interbreed. The black wolf is said to be rather the larger, but it is an open question whether the varieties are distinct or not, in spite of the fact of the black specimens Colonel Kinloch presented to the Zoological Gardens only producing black cubs. A third variety of ‘Chanko,’ called the ‘golden wolf,’ has been mentioned by sportsmen, but this may possibly be the European wolf (Canis lupus), which extends to Turkestan. The chief points of distinction between the three varieties of wolves, i.e. European, Thibetan, and Indian, are as follows: in the European wolf the carnassial tooth is as long as the two molars together, which is not the case with the others; it has also a dark stripe on the forelegs, which the others have not; and, lastly, the European and Indian wolves have black tips to their tails, which the chanko has not. The remaining species of vermin is the Wild Dog (Cuon rutilans), generally called ‘Jungli-Kutta’: in Cashmere ‘Ram Hun.’ These veritable pests are found everywhere, and as they hunt in large packs are most destructive to all kinds of game, absolutely clearing out whole tracts of country, even being credited occasionally with killing tigers, which, as Sanderson points out, is by no means impossible if the tiger attempts to run away, and they get a chance of making their favourite attack from behind. He narrates two occasions on which he saw deer eviscerated by one or two snaps from wild dogs. They rarely, if ever, attack men, and are more like big red jackals than dogs. The cubs are quite untamable, and are the nastiest, most evil-smelling, vicious pets that heart could desire. Measurements | Authority | Total length | Tail | Height at shoulder | | Canis Lupus | | ins. | ins. | ins. | | Sterndale | 62 to 68 | 20 | 30 to 32 | | Canis pallipes | | Sterndale | 52 | 16 to 18 | 26 | | Canis laniger | | Sterndale | 68 | 20 | 30 | | Cuon rutilans | | Sterndale | 48 to 52 | 16 | 17 to 20 | | Major Ward | 60 | .. | .. | XI. THE STRIPED HYÆNA (HyÆna striata) Native names: ‘Lakhar baghar’ generally; ‘Rerha,’ Central India This is scarcely a sporting beast, but being destructive to dogs is generally saluted with a shot if found by daylight, a thing which does not often happen. The striped hyÆna is a large brute, with tremendous power of jaw, which lives principally on carrion, and will pick up a dog if found alone, though two or three dogs will easily beat it off. The hyÆna has often been ridden down and speared, and shows little or no fight in spite of its large teeth. HyÆnas are found all over the plains of India, but apparently neither in Burmah nor Ceylon. There were several which used to prowl about the barracks at Nowgong in Central India when the writer was quartered there, two or three of which were shot by the soldiers, and the jackals there paid them all the honours usually accorded to tigers, following them and uttering their peculiar note of warning which the natives call ‘kole baloo.’ The writer has often heard this cry, and as long as it continues no jackal within earshot will set up his ordinary howl. This hyÆna is the common species that is found throughout Persia, Asia Minor, and North Africa. Sterndale gives its length as 3½ ft., head and body; tail, about 1½ ft. The writer never measured one, but estimated the height of an old male as about 22 ins. XII. ELEPHANT (Elephas indicus) Native names: ‘Hati’ generally; ‘Anay,’ Canarese (Sanderson); ‘Allia,’ Singhalese (Sterndale). The elephant is found along the foot of the Himalayas, from Deyhra Doon through Assam and Burmah to Siam; also in some parts of Central and Southern India and Ceylon. The difference between the Indian and African elephant is well marked; the small ears, smooth trunk, and more intelligent head of the former being very conspicuous. The marks on the grinders are also different, being in the Indian elephant irregular loops, while in the African they form a string of decided lozenges joined by the corners. The African elephant has only three toes on the hind foot, while the Indian has four. The point of difference, however, which chiefly concerns the sportsman is that in the Indian elephant there is a cavity in the skull behind the bump on the top of the trunk which enables a bullet properly placed to reach the brain, while with the African variety this cavity is protected by the roots of the tusks, making the front shot ineffective. The main points to be considered by the sportsman may be shortly summarised as follows: The brain, which at most only presents a mark of about twelve inches in length by six inches in height, is situated low down and far back in the skull, the centre of it being nearly in the line between the two ear-holes. The three chief shots are the front shot, in the centre of the forehead towards the top of the bump at the base of the trunk, and about three inches higher than a line drawn between the eyes; the temple shot, the head of the elephant being at right angles to the sportsman, through the ear-hole in a line to pass through the opposite ear; the rear shot, behind the ear in the hollow just over the large bump at the junction of the jaw and neck. It must be taken at about an angle of 45° with the elephant’s course from behind. These are the shots to be tried for; if the elephant’s head is inclined at an angle, calculation has to be made to determine the line of the brain. If charging with the head carried high and trunk curled, it is almost impossible to kill him with a front shot, but heavy rifles will generally stop him. In head shots an elephant not killed on the spot generally escapes, so no time should be lost in finishing one that is floored. For weapon, a 4-smoothbore spherical ball with twelve drachms of powder is recommended. Indian elephants are seldom shot behind the shoulder, for as Sanderson says, ‘When an elephant can be approached to within a few yards, and dropped on the spot, it is hardly sportsmanlike to take a long shot, and risk wounding the animal uselessly.’ Females in a herd are always the first to charge. The tuskers are most likely to be found in the rear guard of a herd, and the animals should not be approached in cover unless they are feeding. A peculiar short, shrill trumpet is the sign that the hunter has been discovered; the herd stands perfectly still for some minutes and then closes up and moves rapidly off; or, if the elephant that perceives danger discovers that it is very near, it retires quickly without a sound, followed by the rest, so that the hunter may find the whole herd gone before he is aware that he has even been perceived. If a herd is attacked it stampedes, and if hard pressed the females with calves will charge. When a herd stampedes in cover, as it is impossible to tell the direction it will take, the best course the sportsman can adopt is to stand still against a tree or a bamboo clump, and not attempt to run. A tree eight inches in diameter is said to be about the largest that an elephant can overthrow. If circumstances ever occur to make a run unavoidable, the flight should always be down hill and the steepest places at hand chosen, as elephants fear to trust themselves on a rapid descent at any great pace; up hill or on the level a man would be speedily overtaken on rough ground. When a herd makes off it goes at a great pace for a short distance and then settles into a fast walk, which is often kept up for ten or fifteen miles if there is a wounded elephant and no young calves with it. The sportsman should pursue at once, as an ordinary runner can generally keep near for two or three hundred yards. When elephants are close at hand, standing in indecision, no one should shout to turn them, as a charge from one or more of them is almost sure to be the result. A friend of the writer’s told him that once when stalking an elephant he could not get a fair shot at his head, so he whistled to make him turn; the elephant simply swung round and charged, but a shot in the head, though it did not floor, turned him. The impression of the tusks in soft soil gives a good idea of their size. A groove that will admit five fingers means that the tusks will probably weigh over 60 lbs. the pair. Twice round the forefoot gives the height of the elephant at the shoulder. In shooting single elephants, after the first rush of a hundred yards or so all noise often ceases, as the elephant breaks into a walk, and a novice would suppose that he had stopped when in reality he is rapidly retreating. In following wounded elephants it is a good plan to send a couple of trackers ahead while the sportsman and his gun-carriers follow a hundred yards in rear, as the trackers, if alone, are not likely to be taken by surprise. Rogue elephants, though more liable to attack in the first place, are not more determined than others; a female with a young calf is much more likely to charge persistently, and the advantage of having only one animal to deal with is immense. The wild elephant’s attack is one of the noblest sights of the chase. A grander animated object than a wild elephant in full charge can hardly be imagined; the cocked ears and broad forehead present an immense frontage; the head is held high, with the trunk curled between the tusks to be uncoiled in the moment of attack; the massive forelegs come down with the force and regularity of ponderous machinery, and the whole figure is rapidly foreshortened, and appears to double in size with each advancing stride. The trunk being curled and unable to emit any sound, the attack is made in silence, after the usual premonitory shriek, which adds to its impressiveness. A tiger’s charge is an undignified display of arms, legs, and spluttering; the bison rushes blunderingly upon his foe; the bear’s attack is despicable; but the wild elephant’s onslaught is as dignified as it seems overwhelming; and a large tusker’s charge, when he has had sufficient distance to get into full swing, can only be compared to the steady and rapid advance of an engine on a line of rail. With all this, the sportsman who understands his game knows that there is a natural timidity in the elephant which often plays him tricks at the last moment. It is not difficult to turn or stop him with heavy metal, and if knocked down, he never, I believe, renews the attack. Thus Sanderson writes, and in conventional phraseology that is all very fine; but Sanderson seems to have let his feelings run away with him. I confess that a tiger charging never appeared undignified to me; his charge has always struck me as being a particularly neat, business-like performance, and the coughing roar that accompanied it did not at all detract from the show—spluttering indeed! Sanderson’s elephant does not roar because he is afraid of hurting his trunk. Then the poor bison a blunderer! The way an old bull will charge, dodge behind a bush till he sees someone following him or hears someone speak, and then charge back again, shows an amount of systematic ‘cussedness’ which deserves praise not ridicule. As for the bear, his best friends must admit that his natural grotesqueness is only enhanced by his efforts at retaliation; but he does his best. With a single exception, all those elephants which Sanderson shot behind the shoulder seem to have given him a long chase before he could bring them to bay, probably because the position of the heart is much harder to judge in the Indian than in the African species, the centre of the outside edge of the latter’s ear when thrown back marking the spot. It is not so with the Indian elephant, whose ear is smaller. A fight between two wild tuskers is said frequently to last for a day or more, a round being fought every now and then. The more powerful elephant occasionally keeps his foe in view till he perhaps kills him. Though elephant catching is of old date, shooting wild elephants seems to have been unheard of at the beginning of the century. Williamson, who wrote about the year 1805, remarks with reference to M. Vaillant’s exploits in South Africa: Without disparagement to M. Vaillant’s veracity, I should think I might with great safety venture a wager that no native of Bengal, nor any European resident there, would undertake such a piece of rashness as to go out shooting wild elephants; and that, in the event of anyone possessing such temerity, the sportsman would come off second best. M. Vaillant performed his miracles in a wilderness, without anyone to record his achievements; consequently he was obliged to be his own historian. Persons under such circumstances are in possession of one great advantage: namely, that of relating not only the facts as they would appear to any common observer, but of describing the wondrous coolness and presence of mind which pervades them throughout the perils of the enterprise. Sanderson says the largest elephant he has seen measured 9 ft. 10 ins. at the shoulder, and declares there is not a 10-ft. elephant in India. Colonel Kinloch measured one he shot 10 ft. 1 in., and the writer has seen a foot in Mr. Rowland Ward’s shop that measured 5 ft. in circumference, which should make the animal 10 ft. at the shoulder. Sterndale gives 10 ft. 7½ ins. as the largest authentic measurement on record, and oddly enough quotes Sanderson as authority for the measurement of this elephant, which belonged to the Sirmoor Rajah. As regards tusks, Sanderson’s biggest pair measured 4 ft. 11 ins. and 5 ft. respectively, with a girth of 16½ ins. at the gum, the pair weighing 74½ lbs. Sir Victor Brooke’s big tusker measured: Right tusk, 8 ft.; 5 ft. 9 ins. outside socket; girth 1 ft. 4?/10 ins.; weight, 90 lbs. Left tusk, 3 ft. 3 ins.; 1 ft. 2 ins. outside socket; girth, 1 ft. 8 ins.; weight, 49 lbs. The skeleton of the well-known Arcot rogue elephant, now in the Madras Museum, measures 10 ft. 6 ins. at the shoulder. Mr. Rowland Ward considers that when alive it must have stood 10 ft. 10 ins. ‘Jumbo,’ the African elephant in the Zoological Gardens, stood 11 ft., and Sir S. Baker says that African elephants measure 12 ft. or more. The three largest African tusks recorded in ‘Horn Measurements,’ by Rowland Ward, are: | Length | Greatest circumference | Weight | | ft.ins. | ins. | lbs. | | 95 | 22½ | 184 | | 94 | 20½ | 160 | | 94 | 18 | 110 | XIII. RHINOCEROS There are no fewer than four different kinds of rhinoceros to be found in India and Burmah; viz. Indicus, Sondaicus, Lasiotis and Sumatrensis. The first, which is the most generally known, extends from the Nepal Terai to Assam. The second is found in the Sunderbuns, and from Manipur through Burmah to the Malay Peninsula; the third is found in Arakan and Tenasserim; the fourth, from Tenasserim through Burmah to Siam and the Malay Peninsula; the two first varieties being one-horned, the two last two-horned. The Asiatic rhinoceros differs from the African in three particulars: the skin is divided into shields by well-marked folds; he has long upper cutting teeth (the African having none), and the nasal bones of the skull are produced and conical instead of broad and round (Sterndale). The chief difference between R. indicus and R. sondaicus is that the latter has a well-marked fold in front of the shoulders, the line running over the back of the neck, whilst in Indicus it dies away on the shoulder-blade; the head of Sondaicus is also somewhat slenderer, and the female has no horn. In Indicus both sexes have this horn, and the curious tesselated appearance of the hide in one is very different from the tuberculated armour of the other. Though Sondaicus has been described as the lesser Indian rhinoceros, there is little difference in the size between this and other Indian varieties. R. lasiotis and R. sumatrensis have more or less hairy hides instead of tubercles. Lasiotis is larger, lighter in colour, with wide-set ears, a short tufted tail, and a long fringe of hair on the back edge of the ear; Sumatrensis is smaller, darker, with close-set ears (which are filled with black hair but have no fringe), and tail long, tapering, and semi-nude. The native names of all four varieties seem much the same: ‘GaindÁ,’ ‘GairÁ,’ ‘Gonda,’ generally; ‘Gor’ Assam, ‘Khyenhsen’ Burmah, ‘Bodok’ Malay. The rhinoceros does not extend to Central and Southern India, being only found in the heavy grass swamps of the Terai, Assam, &c.; consequently the only way of hunting this beast is with elephants. The rhinoceros may be either tracked up to his lair on a single elephant, or the jungle may be beaten as for tigers. Measurements | Authority | Height at shoulder | Length head and body | Tail | Girth chest | Girth forearm | Length of horn | Girth at base | Remarks | | R. indicus | | ft.ins. | ft.ins. | ft.ins. | ft.ins. | ft.ins. | ins. | ins. | | | Col. Kinloch, ‘Large Game Shooting’ | 59 | 106 | 25 | 98 | 32 | 12 | .. | | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 19 | 20½ | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 38 | 26½ | Single horns—doubtful specimens | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 33½ | 27 | ” | | R. sondaicus | | Sterndale | 56 | 123 | 24½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | The length 12 ft. 3 ins. appears to include tail | | R. lasiotis | | No measurements procurable | | R. sumatrensis | | Sterndale | 38 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 27 | 17½ | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 32¼ | 17¼ | | | Mr. A. Manson, ‘Oriental Sporting Magazine,’ 1876 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 8½ | .. | Rear horn merely a knob |
In no branch of sport is it more necessary to have trustworthy men in charge of the mahouts of the pad elephants. A rhinoceros when roused makes such a noise crashing through the reeds and snorting, that, though he rarely charges home, and even then only bites instead of using his horn, he fairly terrifies both mahouts and their animals, and consequently, unless the line is under good control, the beating is carried out in a very half-hearted manner. The usual pace of a rhinoceros is a trot, but he will sometimes break into a gallop and gets over the ground with surprising speed. When shot they usually sink down on their knees and rarely roll over on to their sides. The flesh is said to be as good as, or better than, most Indian beef. The track is easily distinguished, as the foot has only three toes. There is a story of a fight having been witnessed between a rhinoceros and a wild male elephant, in which the latter was worsted. A rhinoceros is said to have wantonly attacked the camp of two officers from Dinapore, near Derriapore, in 1788. The brute killed their horses, which were picketed, treed the officers and their servants, and ‘after keeping them in dreadful suspense for some time, and using some efforts to dislodge them, seeing the sun rise, retreated to his haunt.’ Their habit of depositing their dropping on the same spot, which is shared by many deer and antelopes, has been noted by all writers on the subject. Native shikaris watch these large heaps and take poor rhino at a disadvantage. XIV. THE MALAY TAPIR (Tapirus malayanus) Native names: ‘Ta-ra-shu,’ Burmese; ‘Kuda-ayer,’ Malayan Sterndale says of it: Habitat: Tenasserim provinces, as high as 15° N. Lat., Lower Siam, the Malayan Peninsula, Sumatra, and Borneo. Description: General colour glossy black, but with the back, rump, and sides of the belly white; the young are beautifully variegated, being striped and spotted with yellow fawn on the upper parts of the body and with white below. Mr. Mason writes: ‘Though seen so rarely, the tapir is by no means uncommon in the interior of the Tavoy and Mergui provinces. I have frequently come upon its recent footmarks, but it avoids the inhabited parts of the country. It has never been heard of north of the valley of the Tavoy river.’ The tapir is naturally, all the world over, a very shy, retiring animal, but it is capable of being tamed when taken young, and of showing great attachment. It is not found in India proper, but is occasionally come across in Burmah. Measurements | Authority | Height | Length, head and body | Remarks | | British Museum | 36½ ins. | 75 ins. | A skeleton, tail with some vertebrÆ wanting | XV. WILD BOAR (Sus indicus) It is a maxim in India that the only sportsmanlike way of killing boar is with horse and spear, and therefore as these volumes treat principally of those beasts which fall or should fall to the rifle, this pluckiest of all beasts must be dismissed with a very brief notice. Occasionally there may be some justification for shooting boar, but as they travel great distances, none ought to be shot within forty miles of rideable ground. Several cases are on record in which an old boar has beaten off a tiger, and some in which the latter has been killed by a boar. The boar’s extraordinary activity and sharp tusks make him no mean adversary, and his short neck makes it difficult for a tiger to seize it and give it that fatal wrench with which he likes to polish off his victims. XVI. THE PIGMY HOG (Porcula salvania) Native names: ‘Sano-banel,’ Nepal; ‘Chota soor,’ Hindi This tiny little wild pig is found in the SÁl forests of Nepal and Sikkim. It has the reputation of going in herds like the peccary and attacking intruders in the same fearless way. In shape it only differs from the common wild pig in that its snout is comparatively shorter, and the eye consequently set midway between snout and ear. Its tail, too, is short and is hidden among the bristles on the rump. It has long bristles all over its back and sides, but no well-defined mane like an ordinary boar, whilst its ears are quite hairless and the under parts of the body and limbs almost so. Some stuffed specimens in the British Museum of apparently half-grown beasts are deep chestnut, a full-grown one being nearly black. Measurements | Authority | Length, head and body | Height | Weight | Remarks | | Sterndale | 18 to 20 ins. | 8 to 10 ins. | 7 to 10 lbs. | | | British Museum | 28 ins. | 11½ ins. | .. | A stuffed specimen tusks 1 in. | XVII. CROCODILES Native names: ‘Muggur,’ the snub-nosed variety; ‘Ghayal,’ the long-nosed variety The crocodile is a kind of vermin, of which there are two varieties in India—the flat-nosed and the long-nosed. Though not perhaps objects of the highest form of sport, still a good deal of fun may be had with them; and as they are awful brutes for robbing the sportsman of any birds that may be dropped on the water—will take down his dog if he sends it in to retrieve, and in many places will take human beings—their destruction should invariably be attempted. A few may be shot with a rifle, but they are uncommonly wary, and nineteen out of twenty that are hit will get back into the water and be lost. The most satisfactory way of dealing with them, besides being far the most sporting, is to bait a good large hook with a bird or small animal, and fasten it by a chain to a good long rope, the end of which is firmly picketed, the rope being coiled and the bait laid in shallow water. There must be lots of slack line, as the crocodile does not swallow anything at once, but seizes it and takes it into deep water to gorge. A number of lines may be laid and looked up in the morning or cool of the evening. When hooked it will take a good many men to haul a crocodile out, and as he resents the operation and can use his tail as well as his jaws, one or two sportsmen will find considerable entertainment in despatching him with spears. Some crocodiles grow to an enormous size, and their maws always contain round white stones, and often trinkets, the relics of inside passengers. The writer assisted at the death of a not extraordinarily large ‘snub-nose,’ which had six women’s rings in her. This beast was a female, and full of eggs. Another plan worth trying is to tie up a kid in the evening as a bait, just sufficiently far from the water to attract the crocodiles by its bleating on to dry land, so that the sportsman, lying well hidden about sixty yards off, should be able to make sure of shooting them through the back of the head. Measurements.—British Museum: a snub-nose, 17 ft. 4 ins.; a long-nose, 15 ft. 1 in. XVIII. GAUR (GavÆus Gaurus) Native names: ‘Gaor,’ ‘Gaori-gai’; generally, ‘Gail,’ Chota Nagpur; ‘Khulga,’ Western Ghauts; ‘Karti,’ Mysore; ‘Mithan,’ Bhootan. Gaur, or bison,[23] as they are usually called, are found in suitable localities, from the Terai, through Bhootan, Assam and Burmah, to the Malayan Peninsula and throughout Central and Southern India, but do not extend to Ceylon. The 28th degree of North latitude seems their extreme northern limit, otherwise it would be difficult to account for their absence in what appears to be such thoroughly suitable ground as the Sewalik range and the lower slopes of the Himalayas north of this limit, although elephants, whose food and requirements are almost identical with those of the gaur, are plentiful there. Hilly country, covered with extensive tracts of forest and bamboo jungle, is the likeliest ground for bison, though they occasionally visit the low ground at the foot of the hills, particularly when driven from the higher ridges by flies and the want of suitable pasture. Bison vary much in their habits according to locality; their migrations from high to low ground being mainly influenced by the rainfall (which regulates the growth of grass) and the prevalence of flies in their district. During the latter part of the rainy season, when the grass has grown high and coarse and flies are most numerous, Sanderson remarks that bison move into the thinner jungle at the foot of the hills. Forsyth says that in Central India bison retire to the tops of the hills at that season. The general colour of an old bull bison is a dark brown, almost black, with a light slaty patch on the forehead, a grey muzzle, and the legs, from above the knees and hocks downwards, a yellowish white, the inside of the forearms and thighs being chestnut; the head is particularly handsome, and well-bred-looking, the high frontal which rises above the base of the horns adding to, rather than detracting from, its beauty; the pupil of the eye is large, and of a pale blue colour. Jerdon says the eyes are small. They may be in actual measurement, but they certainly do not appear so. The muzzle is large, and the ears broad without being coarse. The ears of an old bull are often torn to ribbons from fighting. The horns of such animals are rather rugged at the base, and the points are chipped and worn; but they are massive, have a beautiful outward curve, and are light coloured. The neck is short and powerful, the skin rather loose, with curious wrinkles in it that give the appearance of a small dewlap, which the beast is really destitute of. Behind the neck the beauty of the bison vanishes. The high dorsal ridge towering above the insertion of the neck makes the shoulders look loaded and straight, and the neck itself put on too low; the ridge running down to the centre of the back and there ending abruptly gives the quarters a dwarfed and drooping appearance, though this is far from being really the case. The tail is rather short and fine; the legs are particularly fine and clean, the hoofs being marvellously small and neat for so large an animal. The cows, less heavily built than the bulls, are of a coffee-brown colour; the dorsal ridge is not so much developed, though it is still prominent; the legs are white instead of yellow—the writer heard an old bull described as looking as if he was wearing gaiters. The horns are thinner and more upright; young bulls are very like cows, and mistakes are frequently made when stalking herds, except by really experienced men. Old cows look enormous, they are often darker in colour than young bulls (in certain lights they look almost black), and are not unfrequently shot by mistake. Of course if there is an old bull in the herd to compare with them, there is little chance of error. The best bulls are those that have been driven from the herds by younger and more active rivals, and henceforward live alone. These solitary bulls are always the finest specimens, and are consequently the chief objects of the sportsman’s ambition. It is a very curious fact that bison appear to be the only animals which regularly resign, or are ousted from possession of, a herd when they attain their largest size and most powerful horns. Old stags will keep their hinds even when their horns are diminishing from age. Sanderson says solitary elephants are frequently young males waiting till they can appropriate a herd; but no sooner does a bison get really at his best to all appearances, than he at once gives way to a younger animal. The cream of bison shooting is naturally stalking them on foot. Sanderson describes hunting them on an elephant, a method which, of course, enabled him to bring heavy rifles into the field without fatigue, and was of enormous assistance in thick cover and in carrying the trophies; but his using the elephant to make the first approach must have considerably detracted from the sport, although he discarded his mount when following up a wounded beast. The writer has had bison driven to him, on ground where stalking was impracticable owing to the density of the forest, and where the dryness of the season rendered tracking impossible; but there the fun only began when a wounded beast had to be followed up, though it was pleasant listening to the avalanche-like rush of an approaching herd, and amusing to see cows come through an apparently impenetrable thicket of bamboos, like harlequin through a trapdoor, only to stand staring at a few yards distance with their noses poked out, an expression of puzzled funk in their eyes. A CHARGING GAUR But when the first few showers of the rainy season have moistened the dry crackling leaves, and softened the ground so that tracks can be followed, you should start in the early morning so as to catch the beast before he is down for the day (that is, before the sun gets hot, about 9 a.m. according to Sanderson), and getting on the fresh tracks of a solitary bull, follow him up. If your trackers are good, you should soon begin to find signs that you are getting near him (the droppings warm, &c.); you can then dismount from your pony which you have been riding in rear, and close on the trackers with your gun-carrier till they show you the beast. But whether your trackers are good or not, it is quite useless for you to interfere with them unless you have sufficient experience to do the tracking yourself and let the men follow behind. You must take it for granted they are doing their best; the fact of their being on a bison’s trail will ensure their running no undue risk from carelessness, and if you interfere you only confuse and put them out: therefore take Sanderson’s advice, unless they wish you to keep close to them, which they probably will not do, ride your pony comfortably about one hundred yards in rear, till they signal you up. You should then be either pretty close to or within sight of your game. It is assumed that you have two rifles, an 8-bore and a 12-bore, with round bullets; conical bullets are not to be relied on in jungle. Try to approach within sixty yards, and get your first shot in with the 8-bore. Should the bull bolt, run after him at once, whether you have fired or not. Very likely he will pull up after going a short distance and give you a chance. Aim well forward; if you break his shoulder you are more likely to get him than if you take him too far back; keep him in sight as long as you can; if he goes out of sight sit down and smoke a pipe or have breakfast. In any case give him half an hour, then follow up with your trackers, carrying the 12-bore yourself and your gun-carrier the 8-bore. If the track lead into thick stuff, send a man up the first tree you come to, and if he cannot see the animal, work carefully on to the next tree in the direction the track leads, though not necessarily on it. Work clean through the thick patch in this way from tree to tree, till you get to the far side; never mind the trail inside. Should you get through without seeing the beast, try to pick up the trail outside, and if you fail in this go back the way you came to where you lost the track, and try working through it from tree to tree in another direction. If your lines have formed a not too broad angle at the point you left the trail, and you cannot track him outside, the bull should be within the triangle, and if there are no more trees you must follow the trail. Should the jungle happen to be ‘Kharwee,’ the stems of which are about as thick as your finger, growing about six inches apart and eight feet high, you will find it exciting enough. The bull will probably turn short off at an angle just before he lies down, and if he means mischief will be watching his trail; you will then probably get within ten yards of him before you see him, in which case you will be able to realise the sensations of a valiant mouse hunting a man in a stubble-field. At this period in the chase you will naturally have the 8-bore in hand again. Presently the bull will either start up close to you, or you will perceive a black mass on the ground. Your only course then is to fire and lie down on the ground at once; the smoke will prevent your getting in a second barrel, and if the bull charges the smoke he will gallop over you without seeing you. It is not a bad plan to leave a man permanently up the first tree you reach to watch till you have quite done with the cover, as he will probably be able to see where the bull goes if he moves. If the bull is wounded again in thick stuff and again lies down in it, he is probably past doing harm; but still it is advisable to give him the time of another pipe. A man up a tree who can watch the exact place he is lying in is invaluable. Natives at this period of the chase, more particularly the inexperienced ones, invariably get excited and lose their heads, offering to go in and pull the bull out by the tail, and looking upon any precaution taken as a sign of faint-heartedness on the part of the sportsman. If the sportsman gives way to them and allows them to accompany him in the final stalk, he will probably get some fool hurt through disobedience of orders. The last approach to a wounded bull in thick cover should invariably be made alone, or with one gun-bearer, the rest of the men being put up trees. Solitary bulls, Sanderson declares, are not a bit more savage by disposition than herd bulls, and the instances of their attacking natives when unwounded are almost invariably due to the bull being approached unawares within striking distance in the midst of thick cover. He narrates a case of a gentleman being killed on the Putney Hills in 1874, but this was through incautiously following a wounded bison into thick cover. In this case the beast went on at once, after killing his victim in his rush. ‘Only in one instance that I know of has a wounded bison turned and gored his victim. I do not even think the solitary bull is more dangerous when wounded and followed up than a member of a herd. I have seen both die without resistance, and both give some trouble.’ An officer on the Head-Quarters Staff at Madras had a very narrow escape from a wounded bull a few years ago, getting knocked down and only escaping by kicking the bull in the face as he tried to gore. Several writers have noticed that a stag sambur or bull nylghao (apparently it is always a male) occasionally attaches himself to a herd of bison, and that this follower is invariably the wariest and most watchful beast in the herd. Forsyth mentions a bull nylghao in company with a herd of buffaloes. Sanderson states that the bison, after a sharp hunt, gives out an oily sweat, and in this peculiarity it differs from domestic cattle, which never sweat under any exertion. He also says that herd bison retreat at once if intruded upon by man, and never visit patches of cultivation in the jungle; later on, however, he enumerates three varieties of cattle disease to which they are liable, and states that they sometimes contract these diseases by feeding in jungles used by infected domestic cattle. Of course these two statements are not necessarily contradictory, but the writer when shooting in the Western Ghauts found both herd and solitary bison within a mile or two of villages, saw their tracks on patches of ground cleared for crops in the jungle, on one occasion found bison on the side of a hill overhanging a main road on which there was daily a certain amount of traffic and near enough to it to see and hear the passers-by; and there was a range of hills, the plateau on the summit of which was a kind of open down where the village cattle were daily brought to graze, and there were a good many bison in the densely wooded ravines and slopes. The writer had been studying Sanderson’s book before starting, as every sportsman should who desires success in the pursuit of bison, and was particularly struck by the tolerance these herds, at all events, showed to the vicinity of natives. [Pg 246]
[Pg 247] Measurements | Authority | Nose to root of tail | Tail | Height at shoulder | Height at rump | Length, dorsal ridge | Height, dorsal ridge | Girth chest | Girth neck | Muzzle to frontal ridge | Breadth forehead | Ear | Length of horn | Girth of horn | Splay at tips | Tip to tip across forehead | Widest span inside | Remarks | | GavÆus gaurus | | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | | Sterndale (‘Mammalia’) | 114½ | 34½ | 73½ | 63 | 40 | 4½ | .. | .. | 25¾ | 15½ | 10½ | .. | 19½ | 25 | .. | .. | Quoting Sir Walter Elliot | | ” | 104½ | 37¾ | 69 | .. | 29½ | .. | 104 | 48½ | 24 | .. | .. | .. | .. | 27¼ | .. | .. | Quoting Mr. Blyth | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 17 | 22½ | 83 | 38½ | ? Outside | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 19 | 19 | 74 | 33 | ?” | | Sanderson (‘Thirteen Years among Wild Beasts’) | .. | .. | 72 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 19 | 19 | 74 | 33 | ?” | | Mr. J. D. Goldingham, Bethnal Green Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 33¾ | 17¼ | 24 | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. T. W. H. Greenfield | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 33½ | 18½ | 25 | .. | 33¼ | ” | | Mr. J. Carr Saunders | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 13 | .. | 32 | 17¼ | 33½ | 79½ | 46 | Outside | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 31? | 17? | 21? | .. | 32½ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Bombay Nat. Hist. Soc. Proc. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 31½ | 18 | 29 | .. | 43 | Outside” | | Mr. J. D. Goldingham, Bethnal Green Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 31¼ | 16? | 12? | .. | 27½ | ” | | Madras Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | L:30¾
R:25½ | 20 | 36¼ | 70¾ | 44 | ? Outside. ‘Smoothbore’s Letter to the “Asian”’ | | Shot by General Cox | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 4 | ?” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 46 | ?” | | Lieut.-Col. Sandys | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 30½ | 16½ | 13½ | .. | 33¼ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. J. Carr Saunders | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 30? | 17? | 33? | .. | 40¼ | Outside” | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 29? | 18¼ | 30 | .. | 34 | ” | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 29¾ | 18? | 25¼ | .. | 30? | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 29? | 18½ | 16¼ | .. | 26½ | ” | | Mr. J. D. Inverarity | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 29½ | 18 | .. | .. | 33 | Outside” | | General Hardwicke, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 29¼ | 12? | .. | .. | 18 | ” | | Mr. B. H. Hodgson, Brit. Mus. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 29? | 16? | 20? | .. | 29¼ | ” | | Mr. O. Shaw | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 29 | 22 | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Major Greenaway | .. | .. | 65 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 29 | 22 | .. | .. | .. | ” | | The Writer | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 27 | 19?/10 | 194/10 | 69?/10 | .. | ” | | Col. Kinloch | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 69 | 36 | ? Outside. ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 17 | .. | 66½ | .. | ” | | Forsyth | .. | .. | 71 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ‘Highlands of Central India’ | | ” | .. | .. | 69 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 17 | .. | .. | 37½ | ? Outside” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 25½ | 15½ | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 27 | 18 | .. | .. | .. | |
In Assam, Chittagong and Burmah the natives own large numbers of domesticated animals called ‘mithun’ or ‘gayal,’ which are very similar to bison in appearance, but are without the characteristic frontal ridge, and are said to have a small dewlap. Sterndale distinguishes these under the name of GavÆus frontalis, and quotes Dr. F. Buchanan Hamilton and Professor Garrod’s account from Mr. Macrae to the effect that the natives recruit their tame herds by catching and taming wild animals. But both Sanderson and Kinloch, who have hunted in the districts where the tame gayal are numerous for the express purpose of bagging a wild one, declare that such an animal does not exist, that the wild animals in those parts are the same as bison anywhere else, and that the peculiarities of the tame ones are due to domestication and inter-breeding with domestic cattle. As regards measurements of heads, the same disappointing practice prevails with bison as with buffalo, viz.: measuring from tip to tip of the horns across the forehead, in addition to which (with bison) heads are frequently estimated only as regards the width of splay between the horns, without any reference to their length and girth. This latter measurement is the more misleading, as a deformed head with unnatural lateral sweep is more valued than one with long massive horns which grow closer together. The fairest measurement is length and girth at base of horn only. XIX. BURMESE WILD OX (GavÆus sondaicus) Native names: ‘Tsoing,’ Burmah; ‘Banteng,’ Java; (Sterndale). Habitat: Burmah, the Malayan Peninsula, Sumatra, Borneo and Java. Blyth says it is domesticated in the Island of Bali. This animal resembles the gaur in many respects, having the distinctive white stockings, but has no frontal or dorsal ridge. Its horns are more like those of the gayal, but it has not the dewlap of the latter, and it appears to be a much smaller and lighter built animal than either gaur or gayal. The old bull is black with white stockings and a white patch on each buttock, the cows and young bulls being bright chestnut. There is a stuffed specimen in the British Museum which shows the difference very plainly. The only measurements the writer has been able to obtain are those of the horns. Measurements | Authority | Length of horn | Girth of horn | Splay at tips | Widest span inside | Remarks | | GavÆus sondaicus | | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | | British Museum | 24¾ | 12¼ | 15¾ | 24¼ | From Java, Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. H. B. Low, British Museum | 21? | 12¼ | 13? | 19¼ | From Borneo ” | | Mr. J. Carr Saunders | 21 | 12 | .. | .. | ” | | Mr. H. B. Low, British Museum | 20? | 12¼ | 18? | 22? | ” Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | British Museum | 20 | 12 | .. | .. | | | Mr. H. B. Low, British Museum | 19¼ | 11¼ | 10? | 15¾ | From Borneo, Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | ” | 18¼ | 10? | 14½ | 18? | ” | | ” | 18 | 12¼ | 13? | 16? | ” | XX. YAK (Poephagus grunniens) Native names: ‘Donkh,’ ‘Dhong,’ Ladak; ‘Bunchowr,’ Hindi Wild yak are said to be plentiful throughout Thibet, but at present the Tartars watch their frontier so jealously that it is almost impossible for Europeans to cross with any chance of obtaining sport; particularly as the sportsman’s own Tartar attendants would be the first to endeavour to frustrate any ambitious schemes of exploration. It must be remembered that, not only would they be held responsible by the Leh authorities if anything happened to an Englishman, but, living on the frontier themselves, they naturally like to be on good terms with their neighbours. The valley of Chang Chenmo, north of the Pangong Lake, and the ground between the Niti Pass and the Sutlej, are the only two easily accessible places where yak may be met with. Beyond Chang Chenmo there is said to be good ground on the Karakash, but to cross the Linzinthung plains would require special arrangements, and ponies would have to be taken instead of the ordinary tame yaks on account of the scarcity of grass. An old wild bull yak is a magnificent beast; he is nearly jet black, with a little grey about the muzzle and forehead. Though fifteen hands in height, his legs are short and sturdy. The long shaggy hair which droops from his body reaches down to his knees, and sometimes almost to the ground; and his huge swab of a tail rather adds to than detracts from his beauty. The white tails which are brought for sale are those of tame yaks; a wild bull’s tail is such an unwieldy mass of hair that it is not at all the sort of thing to have flipping round one’s head on a hot evening. Tame yaks have often a good deal of white about them. Wild yaks with white patches have occasionally been shot, but only cows as far as the writer can learn; wild bulls appear always to be black. The Tartars say that these mottled wild yaks are hybrids between the tame bulls, which are turned out to graze on the hills in the summer, and wild cows. Captain Duff contributes the following interesting account of a successful stalk after yak: I was out one day after a couple of Thibetan antelope, and not being able to get near them, was looking about to see if there was any game farther up the nullah. Right away up the head of the valley we saw a large herd of dhong, about twenty or more, with a lot of young ones, and even at that distance we could distinguish one much bigger than the rest. The next day, a heavy fall of snow prevented my going out; but on the third day, I started to try for them. It was a long walk to get anywhere near the herd, and of course, just as I was beginning to go a bit carefully, and take advantage of cover, I put up three very fair Oves Ammon, but the dhong did not seem to notice them, and the wind all through was in my favour. A bit farther on I came across one of those beastly kyang, which would keep running on in front of me till I could get across the river at the bottom of the valley. When I got up to where I expected to find the dhong, I found they had moved a good bit higher up the nullah, and I could not possibly get nearer than some three hundred yards from them. Leaving my gun-carrier and a Tartar behind with strict orders not to stir till I fired, I tried to crawl on with my shikari, but had to return before getting any distance, the dhong meanwhile feeding farther away and going up the hillside, thus making the stalk more and more difficult. I had seen no signs of my big friend, and began to think I had been mistaken; but there was a fair-sized bull with the herd. I now had to retrace my way for some distance, and get down to the river again, so as to creep up under cover of the bank till I got a hill between the dhong and myself. On reaching this hill, I found I could not possibly get within shot, and could do nothing but hide behind a large stone and wait. I suppose I must have waited at least a couple of hours, when there was a bit of a commotion among the herd, the babies all running to the big ones, and I heard a funny noise which I could not account for. In a few minutes I saw the big bull appear from round the side of the hill, walk leisurely towards the herd, and lie down. Just then three chankos came past me, and I came to the conclusion that they had occasioned the scare, had been driven off by the big bull, and had made the noise I heard. I waited for another good half-hour, and had almost made up my mind to crawl towards the bull in the hope that he would mistake me for one of the chankos coming back, and so give me a shot, when up he got, but only to walk a few yards, and then go down again and roll. After a bit of this sort of play he got up again, and taking no notice of the rest of the herd, began walking towards me. There was a little stream at the foot of the hill I was on, and the bull was walking quietly down the opposite bank, coming on slowly, looking like a young elephant with his hair nearly touching the ground on each side of him. I waited and waited for him, till he got almost past me, and within about sixty or seventy yards, and then he stopped, looking down the nullah, and broadside on to me. I tried to get steady on him and fired; but he stood still, and my shikari said I had missed. The ground beyond him was softish, and I began to be afraid I had, and had not seen the bullet strike, so I fired again, and the bull dropped in his tracks. I found my first shot had hit him in the neck, and must have paralysed him, as he could not move his forelegs, though he could kick with his hind ones. My second shot was a wild one, and had only broken a hind fetlock. The rest of the herd ran in all directions at the shot, and then getting together, made for the top of the valley. As soon as I saw that the big bull could not get away, I started after them, and managed to get two more bulls. The big bull was really a very fine beast, his forehead covered with curly grey hair. He measured just over 15 hands 1¼ in. as he lay. I put a stick as upright as I could against his withers, and measured to his heel.
Measurements | Authority | Height at shoulder | Length, head and body | Tail | Girth at shoulder | Girth at belly | Girth at neck (thinnest part) | Length, horns | Girth at base | Splay, tip to tip | Widest span inside | Remarks | | Bos grunniens | | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 38¼ | 17 | 19 | 31½ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Col. E. Smyth, Leeds Museum | 72 | 130½ | 37 | 121 | 112 | 50 | 36 | 18 | .. | .. | Gen. Macintyre, ‘Hindu Koh’ | | Major FitzHerbert, Cambridge Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 35 | 15 | .. | .. | | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 34? | 15 | 16 | 27¾ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Hon. W. Rothschild | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 34 | 12 | 20½ | .. | ” | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 32? | 13? | 16½ | 26? | ” | | Mr. H. C. V. Hunter | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 32 | 13? | 15¼ | 22¼ | ” | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 31½ | .. | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 31 | .. | .. | .. | ” | | ” (quotes one) | 70 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | ” | 64 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | ” | 64 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Sir R. Harvey, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 30¾ | 13½ | 10½ | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Capt. Duff | 61½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Col. Kinloch | 60 or more | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | about 36 | about 14 | .. | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | Jerdon’s ‘Mammalia’ | 66 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 30 | 15 | .. | .. | | | Major FitzHerbert | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 21 | 8 | .. | .. | (A cow) | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 27 | 12 | .. | .. | | In 1866 another sportsman managed to evade the Tartars, and crossing the Sutlej beyond Niti, found a herd of eighty yak, out of which he shot a bull and three cows, one of the latter being piebald. There is a quaint story from Nepal, that, during the war between the Nepalese and the Thibetans, Jung Bahadur, finding his army very short of food, referred the case to the chief priests in Khatmandu, who decided that yak were deer, and not cattle at all, as their tails were different, and so might safely be killed and eaten by the pious Nepalese. XXI. BUFFALO (Bubalus arni) Native names generally: ‘Ban Bhains,’ ‘ArnÁ’ the male, ‘Arni’ the female; in Bengal, ‘Mains’ The buffalo is found in Nepal, and extends eastward through Assam to Burmah. It is plentiful in the Sunderbuns, in the Central Provinces, and in Ceylon, but is not found, according to Sanderson, in Southern India. Forsyth gives 80° as the extreme western limit of buffaloes in Central India, and says that they are not found north of the Nerbudda river. The wild buffalo only differs from the tame one in being slightly larger and more uniform in colour (tame ones are of many shades, and have often a good deal of white about them, in fact albinos are not uncommon), and in having regular white stockings, which the tame ones may or may not have. The horns are more symmetrical and larger. In the high grass jungles of the Terai and Assam, buffaloes are generally shot off elephants, and Kinloch notices ‘the strong sweet bovine scent’ emitted by a herd. In the Sunderbuns and parts of Lower Bengal they are occasionally shot out of boats when the country is flooded. The sport is described as magnificent, but requires a fever-proof constitution. In the Central Provinces, however, the ground is more open; there buffaloes can be stalked on foot, and Captain Forsyth gives an account of a sparkling episode when shooting buffaloes from horseback. When pursuing them on foot, the best time for sport is in April and May, when a good deal of the grass has been burnt and water is comparatively scarce. The best way of finding the animals is to look for fresh tracks near pools of water, and follow them up. The plan recommended for bison, of sending the trackers on ahead, should be adopted if possible. Captain Lamb gives the following interesting account of a stalk: I started up the river bed and found fresh tracks. After following the track for a good way we came on a single bull feeding on a grassy plain about half a mile in width, studded with a few trees. Leaving all the men behind, I crept up on my stomach to within about forty yards of him, and got behind a small pollard tree without the bull being aware of my presence. I fired at his shoulder with the 12-bore, and he fell over kicking on his back. Just as I was going to give him another shot, a second and larger bull rushed out from the long grass and attacked number one, who was still kicking on the ground. He gave him a tremendous punishing, bowling him over whenever he attempted to rise. I was so astonished at the whole thing, that I simply stood and watched. After a little while, number two seemed to think there was something wrong, and stopped to look round; whereupon, I took the opportunity of giving him a shot, which laid him on his back like his fellow. Both bulls then got up and went into the long grass. I followed number one, going very cautiously, as I was not quite sure of number two’s whereabouts. I came up with number one, who was still on his legs, knocked him over again and finished him with a shot behind the ear. I then went after number two and killed him without any difficulty. The fight had been quite knocked out of him. Buffaloes appear to charge much more readily when hunted with a line of elephants or from boats than when stalked on foot. In the first case at all events the buffalo is generally roused from his midday sleep, and attacked at close quarters, when his temper is ruffled, while when stalked on foot he gets such a severe wound when feeding (probably without seeing his enemy) that the fight is knocked out of him to start with. Still fatal instances have occurred, notably in the case of Mr. Chatterton, of the police, who was killed by a buffalo in 1886. ‘He gave him a tremendous punishing’ Measurements | Authority | Length, nose to root of tail | Tail | Girth of body | Girth of forearm | Height at shoulder | Length of horn | Girth of horn | Tip to tip across forehead | Splay at tips | Widest span inside | Sex | Remarks | | Bubalus arni | | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 78 | 17 | .. | .. | .. | Bull (?) | Pair of horns without skull | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 77? | 17? | .. | .. | .. | Bull | (Single horn) Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | R65½
L68¼ | 20¼ | 146¾ | 98 | .. | ” | | | Colonel J. Mathie, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 65¾ | 20¼ | .. | .. | .. | ” | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 58? | 12? | .. | .. | .. | Cow (?) | ” | | Mrs. Hannaford | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 58½ | 13¼ | .. | .. | .. | Cow | ” | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 58½ | 12¾ | .. | .. | .. | Cow (?) | ” | | Bethnal Green Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 58¼ | 18 | .. | 42¼ | .. | Bull | ” | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 58¼ | 13 | .. | .. | .. | Cow | | | Mr. J. D. Inverarity | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 57 | .. | .. | .. | .. | Bull | ” | | Mr. Eyre Coote | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 56 | 15½ | .. | 55½ | 58 | ” | ” | | Mr. J. Carr Saunders | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 55½ | 18½ | 124 | .. | .. | ” | | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 54½ | 18? | .. | 38¼ | 48? | ” | ” | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 53? | 12 | .. | .. | .. | Cow (?) | ” | | Baron de Nolde | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 53¼ | 21 | .. | 26? | .. | Bull | ” | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 53¼ | 12? | .. | .. | .. | ” | ” | | Mr. B. H. Hodgson, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 53? | 12½ | .. | .. | .. | ” | ” | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 53 | 12? | .. | .. | .. | ” | ” | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 52¾ | 18¼ | .. | 30½ | 44? | Bull | ” | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 52 | 16¾ | .. | .. | .. | ” | ” | | Colonel Kinloch | 115 | 47 | 99 | 20 | 60 | .. | .. | 99 | .. | .. | ” | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 122 | .. | .. | Cow | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 151 | .. | .. | Bull | Quoted ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | over 156 | .. | .. | Cow | Quoted ” | | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | 123 | .. | .. | .. | 76 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Captain Lamb | .. | .. | .. | .. | 64 | 48 | .. | .. | .. | .. | Bull | | | Averageof goodhead{ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 48 | 18 | .. | .. | .. | Bull | | | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 50 | 12 | .. | .. | .. | Cow | |
Kinloch gives an account of a bull charging elephants both before and after being wounded. When they have thoroughly made up their minds to fight, buffaloes will, as a rule, carry out their plans most resolutely; but wild ones, though in a less degree, have the same kind of slow-wittedness that is so remarkable in tame buffaloes. If a European rides past a herd of tame buffaloes in some rather out-of-the-way district where Europeans are scarce, some of the herd are sure to begin pondering on the advisability of charging him, but before they can make up their minds, the object of their attentions has got beyond reach and they give up the problem. The average size of a good bull’s horns is about 40 ins. in length by 16 ins. in girth, or about 8 ft., measuring from the tip of one horn round the curve across the forehead and up the other horn. It is somewhat unfortunate that sportsmen should have selected this style of measurement, as it gives a poor idea of the comparative size of horns. Forsyth and Kinloch both agree that a front shot is rarely successful against buffaloes, owing to the angle at which their heads are carried and the enormous thickness of their chests. Forsyth recommends hardened bullets, as he found two ounce bullets of soft lead propelled by eight drachms of powder flattened on their shoulders, pulverising the bone but not penetrating to the vital parts. Williamson describes shooting buffaloes out of boats in flood-time, and says that the point to aim at in this sport is to get the beast into such deep water that he cannot lower his head to use his horns. As for using dogs for buffalo, Forsyth’s experience with a wounded bull was not a happy one; he writes: ‘The dogs were now loosed, and bayed round him till he began to chase them all round the field; but as soon as our heads appeared over the fringe of grass, he left them and charged down at ourselves.’ In spite of one of the dogs pinning him by the nose, the bull made good his charge, knocking Forsyth’s rifle out of his hand and upsetting his companion. XXII. SAMBUR (Rusa Aristotelis) Generally, ‘Sambur’ or ‘Maha’; in Gurwhal, ‘Jerow’ or ‘Barasingh’ The sambur is found throughout the lower slopes of the Himalayas from the eastern bank of the Sutlej river (Kinloch points out that the Sutlej seems to be its boundary), and extends all over India and Ceylon to the south, and through Assam and Burmah as far as the Malay Peninsula to the south-east, wherever there are forest-clad hills. It does not ascend to any great elevation, being rarely found above an altitude of 5,000 or 6,000 ft. It seems to delight in heat, not, indeed, of the sun, as it is as careful of its complexion as a gooral, but of hot stony hills and stifling ravines covered with thick forest. Sambur appear to require very little water, drinking, according to Sterndale, only every third day—a fact which the writer’s experience entirely confirms. The general colour of the stag is dark sepia, the chin and inside of limbs yellowish-white, and an orange-yellow patch on the buttocks. The dirty yellow patch on the chin is sometimes very striking, and looks as if the stag had the skin of a pale orange in his mouth. The tail is large, the hair being coarse and very dark brown; and on the neck there is a shaggy coarse ruff. The ears are large and coarse, rounded in shape, nearly black, and almost hairless. Sterndale calls the sambur a noble creature, but compared with the Cashmere stag, red deer, or wapiti, he looks an ugly, coarse, underbred brute. The horns are massive, with a long brow antler and a bifurcated top, and in good specimens are about 40 ins. in length; longer horns are obtained occasionally, but not often. As the sambur is almost entirely nocturnal in its habits, it is most commonly shot in drives, and in many places it is almost impossible to obtain sambur otherwise; but where it can be managed, stalking is, of course, far better fun. The sportsman should be on his ground just before daylight, and work slowly through the forest at the edge of the feeding grounds, taking the bottom of the hill if there are crops on the plain below, or, failing these, the edges of the open glades in the forest. Presently, if there are any sambur about, he will hear their trumpet-like call, and, creeping on, see two or three dark forms moving among the trees. In the grey of the morning it is often very hard to distinguish a stag from a hind, and the writer has on several occasions had to wait after viewing the herd till there was light enough to pick his stag. Even in broad daylight it is difficult to judge the size of a stag’s horns as he stands motionless in the deep gloom of the forest, and what little can be seen of them makes them look three times their real size—the beam is so massive and the tines so long. The stag, too, is such a big beast, standing nearly a hand taller than a barasingh, that if seen in the open he looks as big as an Irish elk. If the sportsman fails to intercept any stags on their return from their feeding grounds by working along the base of the hill, he should next ascend the hill and try the cup-like basins which are so often found near the summits. Sambur are very fond of these spots, but a first-rate local shikari is necessary to show the way to them, as there is often no sign of the existence of such places from the foot of the hill, the trees appearing to grow taller in them on purpose to hide them from observation from below. The approach to them is often up a heartbreaking boulder-strewn slope, which apparently continues to the summit. Up this the sportsman toils, thinking his shikari must have lost his way, when suddenly he comes upon a dark cool glen, and in it there is pretty sure to be a herd. The above applies chiefly to the isolated hills which rise out of the plains in Central India; in ranges like the Sewaliks the best plan is to walk along the top of a ridge, examining the ravines below, and in the grass on the crest of these ridges will often be found places where sambur have been lying down under the trees, the form being carefully chosen so that the shade of the tree will be over it during the hottest part of the day. Many pleasant little incidents may occur during an early morning stroll in the Sewaliks; kakur, gooral, and chital afford tempting shots if the sportsman likes to vary his bag, and an occasional bear, leopard, or tiger may be met with. One sportsman met a tiger almost face to face just as he gained the crest of a ridge. The man only had a light single-barrel rifle, so he wisely refrained from attack under the circumstances, and, the tiger being a well-behaved deer-stalking beast, the two passed the time of day and parted. Wild elephants, too, are not uncommon in certain parts, so that altogether there is always a chance of finding amusement. What fun there must have been in the Sewaliks in the days of the Ganesa mammoth and the four-horned moose-like sivatherium! Their remains in the British Museum make one’s mouth water to think of them. Among the larger ranges of hills in Southern India, the best way of hunting is to send men in pairs before daybreak to well-chosen positions to watch the forest, the sportsman with one attendant taking a line of his own, and working on or watching his particular beat till the sun is beginning to get powerful and the animals have lain down for the day; then he should himself go round the different groups of watchers and collect their reports. It is important that the sportsman should go round himself and not depute the work to his shikari, as a stag or a bear may often have been marked down to an inch by the watchers and may be stalked forthwith, whilst if a drive be decided upon the sportsman has an opportunity of studying the ground and settling all the details with his head shikari on the spot. Having gone round his sentries and withdrawn the men, he should then return to camp for breakfast, order beaters for any drives he has decided on, and about 11 a.m., when the sun is really hot and the animals marked down are likely to be disinclined to move, and so enable the beaters and guns to get into position, he should begin operations. All driving should be done in the heat of the day, when the animals are lying down; trying to drive when beasts are naturally on the move generally results in the game leaving the beat before the men are in their places. Another great point to attend to in driving is for the sportsman, if possible, to get up into a tree. It may sound ridiculous for a man to climb up a tree in a sambur drive, but he is far more likely to get an easy shot in this position, as the deer will neither see nor wind him, he commands more ground, and he runs no risk of heading back the wary old hind which often leads the herd; the chances being that if he is rightly posted the herd will come right under his tree. Another advantage is that, his fire being plunging, he can shoot all round without danger to the beaters. If two or three guns are out, it is more than ever necessary to try to post them well up off the ground. Having settled himself in his tree, the sportsman should send his gun-carrier to some tree or rock at least a hundred yards behind him, so that the course taken by a wounded animal can be observed. Tracking in jungle is often very difficult work, and a sharp gun-carrier posted well to the rear will often save a lot of trouble. In some parts of the Himalayas native shikaris declare that they often shoot sambur by selecting a likely path and improvising a salt-lick, after the fashion of Laplanders when they want to catch their tame reindeer. General Macintyre describes the formation of a ‘kar’ and his adventures in watching one; he calls it a dirty way of killing ‘jurrow.’ Though sambur occasionally throw out abnormal tines, they usually carry only three antlers on each horn—a long brow antler and two on top. The horns are generally shed about the end of March, and are free from velvet about the beginning of November. Major Ward’s remarks about shooting small stags are well worth quoting: Remember that sambur are not prolific; they seldom have more than one fawn, and that it is four years before the young stag assumes his complete shape of horn, and that he has still three or four years to live before he can have a pair of antlers worth preserving. He has quite sufficient chances against his attaining an age of seven or eight years, without having to run the risk of being shot down by the rifle bullet whilst still in his immature state. Shooting hinds is quite unpardonable, the venison being not worth eating. XXIII. HOGDEER (Axis porcinus) Native name: generally ‘Para’ Kinloch aptly describes this deer as the rabbit of Indian battues. It is a long-bodied rather heavily built beast on short legs with horns like a small sambur, the brow antlers coming straight up from the burr at an acute angle without the handsome curve of those of the spotted deer. The stags are reddish brown, their hair coarse and thick, their tails rather long and exactly of the sambur type, their ears round, not pointed like a spotted deer. When galloping through the grass the hogdeer carries its head low, its horns laid back on the neck, and its rump high. It is found throughout the high grass swamps at the foot of the Himalayas and on the islands and banks of the big rivers. High grass and plenty of water are its chief requisites. It expends through Assam to Burmah, and is also found in Ceylon. It is usually shot when beating the large tracts of grass in the Doon and Terai with a line of elephants, and affords pretty snap shooting from a howdah when better game is not expected. The does will squat in the grass till the elephants almost kick them up, but the way to get the best stags is to go well ahead of the line on a flank, or, if possible, post yourself on foot so as to command a nullah leading from one patch of grass to another, or the dry sandy channel separating two islands. This, however, is a matter of some risk, as, if hogdeer are plentiful, the firing from the line becomes fast and furious, and unless you are on an elephant the guns in the line cannot see where you are. Shooting from a howdah is an art which requires practice, and many a good rifle-shot on foot finds himself missing hideously when he first tries shooting off an elephant. A very sound rule is, never to put your head down on the stock, but keep it well up, look hard at the beast’s shoulder and see as much of its body as possible over the muzzle of the rifle: the range is generally short and nearly all misses go high. Shooting hogdeer from elephant has been likened, with some confusion of ideas, to shooting rabbits from a pitching collier in a gale of wind in the Bay of Biscay. Hogdeer are often put up when pigsticking in grass, and give capital runs. Major FitzHerbert had a quaint bit of sport in 1874. He slipped a brace of dogs at a stag and rode after them; in his own words: The stag made for the river, and as the ground got more and more open the bitch caught sight of him, made a rush and soon got up to him; she laid hold and pulled him over, but as the dog would not help her, the stag shook her off and went away again. When she came up to him again, he stood at bay with head down and bristles raised like a miniature red deer of Landseer’s, but broke away when I came up. Once he charged the bitch and knocked her over: he stood at bay two or three times, but I never could get a spear into him for fear of hurting the dogs; at last one time as he was breaking bay I came up, and he charged me with such force as to break one of his horns clean off against the spear; however, I stuck him in the spine and rolled him over. The fawns are always spotted. The stags seem very irregular in shedding their horns, and deformed heads are not uncommon. XXIV. SPOTTED DEER (Axis maculatus) Native names: ‘Chital,’ ‘Chitra’; the Stag ‘Jhank’ About the beauty of the skin of this beast, the writer heard a story of a man who was taking such particular pains to preserve the hide of a stag he had shot that his companion asked him what he wanted it for, adding, ‘It’s only a chital.’ ‘Yes,’ returned the other, ‘it may be only a chital on the banks of the Nerbudda, but I am going to send it home, and it will be a leopard at Northampton.’ The horns are of the rusine type, but the brow antler has a more graceful forward curve than in the sambur, and the anterior terminal point is always longer than the posterior. Small false points are also frequently thrown out at the base of the brow antler. Chital are often shot off elephants, but the sport is not to be compared to stalking them; and as chital always seem to select the loveliest scenery in the forest for their abode, a morning or evening stroll after them is most enjoyable, or, if the heat is too great to render a long walk pleasant, a shot may often be obtained in the evening by watching a glade where the young grass is springing up after a forest fire. There must, however, be water in the vicinity, as chital are rarely found at any great distance from it. The peculiar call of the chital can be heard for a long distance, and is a common hunting signal among many jungle tribes. If a chital is heard repeatedly calling in one spot, it is generally a danger signal, and means that a tiger or panther is on foot. Unlike hogdeer, chital often go in large herds, each herd being owned by one big stag, though there may be many smaller stags in it. The horns are shed annually but very irregularly, stags without horns, in the velvet, and with matured horns, being often met with in the same day. This is attributable to the deer breeding all the year round instead of having a definite rutting season, the shedding of horns varying with the age of the stag. This is more noticeable in the forests along the foot of the Himalayas than in Central India, where, though still irregular, the bulk of the stags have their horns ripe in January and shed them about July. Jerdon was of opinion that there were two species of spotted deer, the smaller of the two being found in Southern India; but Sterndale quotes McMaster to the effect that the spotted deer found in Orissa are more than usually large. As far as the writer has been able to judge, the stags in Central India have finer heads than those in the Doon and Terai. When stalking in forest the sportsman should bear in mind that if he comes suddenly on game his best chance of avoiding detection is to stand motionless. If he attempts to crouch the movement will draw attention at once, whereas if he stands still, and his clothes are of the right colour, he may very likely be mistaken for the stump of a tree. XXV. SWAMP DEER (Rucervus Duvaucelli) Native names: ‘Gon,’ ‘Gond,’ ‘Barasingha,’ ‘Maha’; in Central India, ‘Goen’ or ‘Goenjak’ (male); ‘Gaoni’ (female) (Sterndale) This deer avoids heavy forest and is nearly always found in the swamps and open grassy plains near rivers. Colonel Erskine, the Commissioner of Kumaon, writes of it: I have shot numbers of these deer, but all in the swampy Terai country in the north of Oudh bordering on Nepal, and in that part of the Pilibhit district on the same frontier. I have never heard of it much to the west of the Pilibhit district. I should think Haldwani, at the foot of the Naini Tal hill, was well beyond the western limit of the tracts which it frequents; it is found in the swamps and high grass on the edges of the swamps and rivers, and on the islands in the rivers, along the forest country at the foot of the Himalayas, from the places I have mentioned, eastwards as far as Assam and Bhotan, and along the Barhamputra river down to the Sunderbands of Bengal. It is also known in the Central Provinces near Mundla and along the tributaries of the Nerbudda. Kinloch says that it used to be found on the islands in the Indus, but is now almost extinct there. By all accounts it seems to prefer the neighbourhood of SÁl forest. The antlers of the swamp deer are peculiar. The beam is rather slender, the brow antler very long, there is no median tine, and at the top the head becomes almost palmated. The full-grown stag carries three antlers on the top, two of which (the outside antlers generally) are bifurcated equally, as if the antler had been split and bent outwards; each horn having thus six points, including the brow antler. Colonel Erskine says that he has never seen a head with more than fourteen tines, but Jerdon speaks of seventeen. In Schomburgk’s deer (an allied form found in Siam), all three prongs on the top are bifurcated. The difference between the two varieties is very noticeable in the British Museum, where the horns are placed side by side. Sterndale says that in Schomburgk’s deer the trÈs and royal tines are equal, whilst in the swamp deer the trÈs tine is longer than the royal. In the high grass of the Terai and Assam, swamp deer are generally shot off elephants, but in some parts of Central India the ground is open enough to permit of their being stalked. Forsyth gives a capital account of the sport he enjoyed while hunting them in the SÁl forests of Central India. Swamp deer are gregarious, and Jerdon quotes from an article in ‘The Indian Sporting Review’ a case of three large herds being seen on one plain. The general colour of the beast is a light yellowish red, paler in the winter than in the summer; the under parts and below the tail are white. The hinds are lighter coloured than the stags, and the fawns are spotted. The stags appear to shed their horns about March or April, as, Forsyth says, they lose the velvet at the close of the rainy season; he also says that they shed their horns more regularly than the RusinÆ. The following quotation from his charming book gives an excellent account of their habits: This animal has been called in North-Eastern India the ‘swamp deer,’ but here (Central India) he is not observed to be particularly partial to swampy ground. These deer graze in the mornings and evenings in the open valley, chiefly along the smaller streams, and by springs where the grass is green, and rest during the day about the skirts of the SÁl forest. A favourite midday resort is in the shade of the clumps of SÁl dotted about the open plain, at some distance from the heavy forest. They are not nearly so nocturnal in habits as the sÁmbar, being often found out grazing late in the forenoon, and again early in the afternoon; and I do not think they wander about all night like the sÁmbar. Their midday rest is usually of a few hours only, but during that time they conceal themselves in the grass much after the manner of the sÁmbar. I have never heard of their visiting cultivated tracts like the latter; nor can I learn that their apparent adherence to the SÁl forest is due to their employing any part of that tree as food. XXVI. BROW-ANTLERED OR ELD’S DEER (Rucervus vel Panolia Eldii) Native names: ‘Thamin,’ ‘Sungrai’ This variety of swamp deer is found chiefly in Burmah, but extends from Munipur to the Malay Peninsula. Its habits are, as above noted, the same as those of the swamp deer, but it is rather differently coloured, being, according to Sterndale, ‘of a light rufous brown with a few faint indications of white spots, the under parts and insides of the ears nearly white, the tail short and black above. It is said to become darker in winter instead of lighter, as in the swamp deer.’ The horns, however, are very unlike the swamp deer’s. The brow antler and beam, instead of forming an angle, are in one continuous curve, like the section of a circle, the burr being small and hardly seen. In rear of the top of the beam there is a short snag, which Sterndale calls the royal tine, and on the front of the top of the beam, which is rather flattened, instead of regular tines like those on a swamp deer’s head, there is a collection of what look like false points. In a head in the British Museum the left horn has thirteen of these little snags and the right fourteen. In Upper Burmah, Eld’s deer are scarce, and the only way to obtain them is to drive for them with beaters. In Lower Burmah they are occasionally shot by lamplight, much in the same manner as that described in Colonel Rice’s book; the performance is said to be very interesting. The party (which usually consists of a lamp-bearer, a man with an arrangement of jingling bells and rings on a stick, the sportsman and his gun-carriers) having assembled after dark, a fire is lit, and a kind of incantation gone through, everyone but the speaker being forbidden to utter a word. When the incantation is over, each member of the party passes through the smoke of the fire in turn, the guns are handed through it also, the lamp is then lit, and the party starts, using the lamp, an earthenware pot with a hole in its side, as a search light, while the man with the frame of bells keeps up an incessant jingling. On a deer being discovered, the light is at once turned full on its eyes and kept steadily there, the jingling kept going, with the result that the deer is so dazed that it will often allow the party to go close up to it before the sportsman fires. Both Eld’s deer and sambur may be shot in this way, and the writer has been told that hares, and occasionally deer, will allow themselves to be approached till they can be speared or knocked on the head with sticks. This, of course, is not a very high class of sport, but in many of the coast districts stalking in the jungles is almost impossible. [Pg 270]
[Pg 271] Measurements | Authority | Height at shoulder | Total length | Weight as shot | Length of horn | Length of brow antler | Girth above brow antler | Girth above burr | Girth of burr | Girth of beam midway | Remarks | | Rusa Aristotelis | | ins. | ins. | lbs. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | | Mr A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 46½ | .. | 6? | .. | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Dr. Falconer, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 45? | .. | 6? | .. | .. | .. | ” | | ‘The Field,’ Dec. 22, 1866 | .. | .. | .. | 45, 44 | .. | .. | .. | 11 | 7½ | Weight of horns, without skull, 20 lbs. | | Sir J. Morris, K.C.S.I. | .. | .. | .. | 45 | .. | 7? | .. | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Maj.-Gen. A. Ellis, C.S.I. | .. | .. | .. | 45 | .. | 7¼ | .. | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | .. | .. | .. | 45, 43 | 18¼ | .. | 9 | .. | 7¼ | Has an abnormal snag 9 ins. long on right horn below the trÈs tine | | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | 56 | 72 to 78 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 44½ | .. | 7 | .. | .. | .. | | | Col. W. J. Morris | .. | .. | .. | 44? | .. | 7? | .. | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Major Ward | 53 | .. | .. | 44 | .. | 9 | .. | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Mr. J. D. Inverarity | .. | .. | .. | 44 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | The Earl of Ducie | .. | .. | .. | R 35
L 33 | R 14½
L 13 | 7½ | .. | .. | .. | A peculiar head with abnormal snags at the back of each beam. Terminal points: R. 11, L. 12½. Abnormal snags: R. 9¼, L. 13. Girth of snags: R. 5½, L. 7½. | | The Maharahjah of Kooch Behar, Letter to ‘The Asian’ | .. | .. | 717 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | C.A.S.W., ‘The Field,’ Oct. 25, 1890 | 44 | .. | 561 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Sir S. Baker, ‘Wild Beasts and their Ways’ | 54 | .. | about 600 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | 38 | .. | 7 | .. | .. | .. | | | Axis porcinus | | Major Ward quotes a head | .. | .. | .. | 21 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 19¼ | .. | 3? | .. | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 19? | .. | 3¼ | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Mr. H. C. V. Hunter | .. | .. | .. | 19? | .. | 3? | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Major FitzHerbert | 27 | 48 | 96 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | 96 | 16¾ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | ” | 25¾ | .. | 98 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | ” | 25½ | 51 | 93 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | ” | 25 | 52½ | 96 | 12 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Major Greenaway | 28 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | ” | 24½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | 27 to 28 | 50 to 52 | .. | 15 to 16 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | 16 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Axis maculatus | | Forsyth, ‘Highlands of Central India’ | .. | .. | .. | 38 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 37½ | .. | 4½ | .. | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 37? | .. | 4 | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 37¼ | .. | 4¼ | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Gen. Macintyre | .. | .. | .. | 37 | .. | 4 | .. | .. | .. | ‘Hindu Koh’ | | Mr. W. C. Oswell | .. | .. | .. | 36¾ | .. | 4? | .. | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. C. H. Seeley | .. | .. | .. | 36½ | .. | 4½ | .. | .. | .. | ” | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 36 | .. | 4¼ | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Capt. V. Couper | .. | .. | .. | 36 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Major FitzHerbert | 35¾ | 70¼ | .. | 32½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | ” (a hind) | 28 | 58 | 86 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Major Greenaway | 37 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | 36 to 38 | 54 to 60 | .. | Average 30 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | 30 | .. | 4 | .. | .. | .. | |
[Pg 272]
[Pg 273] Measurements | Authority | Height at shoulder | Total length | Weight as shot | Length of horn | Length of brow antler | Girth above brow antler | Girth above burr | Points | Remarks | | Rucervus Duvaucelli | | ins. | ins. | lbs. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | | Major C. S. Cumberland | .. | .. | .. | 41 | 5½ | .. | .. | 6×6 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 39¼ | 5 | .. | .. | 5×6 | ” | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | 37? | 5¼ | .. | .. | 7×6 | ” | | Col. Erskine | about 45 | .. | .. | 37 | 7 | 14 | .. | 7×7 | | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | 36½ | 5 | .. | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Mr. B. Hodgson | .. | .. | .. | 36 | 5 | .. | .. | 6×5 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 35? | 4? | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Mr. H. C. V. Hunter | .. | .. | .. | 35¼ | 5¾ | .. | .. | 7×6 | ” | | Major C. S. Cumberland | .. | .. | .. | 34¾ | 5? | .. | .. | 5×5 | ” | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 34 | 5½ | .. | .. | 5×5 | Head No. 694 A. | | Major C. S. Cumberland | .. | .. | .. | 33½ | 4¾ | .. | .. | 5×5 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 33? | 5½ | .. | .. | 5×5 | ” | | Rowland Ward | .. | .. | about 560 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Forsyth | .. | .. | .. | 33½ | .. | .. | .. | 6×6 | ‘Highlands of Central India’ | | Major FitzHerbert | 49 | 82 | .. | 30 | .. | 10? | .. | .. | | | ” | 47 | 81 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | 44 to 46 | .. | .. | about 36 | .. | .. | .. | 12 to 14 | | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | 30 | 5 | .. | .. | 6×6 | | | Rucervus Schomburgkii | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 30? | 5 | .. | .. | 10×10 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 29? | 5? | .. | .. | 9×8 | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 29¾ | 4¾ | .. | .. | 10×11 | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 28¾ | 5½ | .. | .. | 8×8 | Head No. 1463 A. | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 28½ | 5¼ | .. | .. | 11×9 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 27? | 5? | .. | .. | 9×8 | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 27¾ | 4? | .. | .. | 7×8 | ” | | Panolia Eldii | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | 39? | 5 | .. | .. | 20 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 38? | 6¼ | .. | .. | 16×19 | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 37½ | 5? | .. | .. | 5×5 | ” | | Rowland Ward | .. | .. | .. | 37 | 6? | 10½ | .. | .. | ” | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 36? | 5½ | .. | .. | 4×3 | ” | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 35¾ | 5? | .. | .. | 4×5 | ” | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 34? | 5½ | .. | .. | 6×6 | ” | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 34? | 6? | .. | .. | 5×6 | ” | | Hon. W. Rothschild | .. | .. | .. | 34? | 5 | .. | .. | 6×6 | ” | | Mr. J. Carr Saunders | .. | .. | .. | 34 | 5? | .. | .. | 10×10 | ” | The horns of Eld’s deer are very difficult to measure in the ordinary way, owing to the extreme smallness of the burr, the back of the beam in good specimens touching the skull, and because the brow antler does not form an angle with the beam, but is simply a prolongation of the curve of the horn. XXVII. THE CASHMERE STAG (Cervus cashmirianus)—Sterndale, Kinloch. (Cervus Wallichii)—Jerdon, Ward Cashmere: Hangal, Barasingh This is the stag par excellence of India. A sambur has a fine head and so has a swamp deer, but neither approaches in beauty to a barasingh. A good stag’s head is one of the trophies of the Himalayas, but unfortunately it is getting scarcer year by year. Sheep and cattle affect this deer but little, as they keep more or less to the open downs and glades; but the yearly increasing herds of buffaloes that come up from the plains to graze in Cashmere during the summer, at the very time that the stags are growing their horns, are the real mischief-makers. Buffaloes delight in plunging through dense forest, and they and their attendants will clear the deer out of any valley. Unfortunately for the sportsman, buffaloes pay for their feeding in taxes and produce, while deer do not. The best step as regards preservation that the Cashmere authorities have taken as yet is the creation of a Royal Preserve between the Sindh and Liddur rivers, and if they would only exclude buffaloes from this tract entirely it would form a real sanctuary, which would immensely improve the shooting all round. At present, by allowing buffaloes to graze on it, they are depriving it of half its value. In spite of all drawbacks stags are still to be got, but in no quantity. Two good heads in a month’s shooting are as many as any sportsman can reasonably hope to get, and if one of those measures 40 ins., whether with ten or twelve tines, he is to be congratulated. The general impression about barasingh seems to be that a full-grown stag always has twelve points, but this the writer believes to be entirely erroneous. I have hunted over some of the best ground in Cashmere on different occasions, and am of opinion that the number of points usually found in full-grown heads depends entirely upon the locality. The stags which do not leave the Cashmere Valley, i.e. harbour on the hills overlooking it, and those that live to the south-east, often run to twelve and sometimes more points; while the stags which harbour across the Kishengunga rarely run to more than ten points. These stags appear to develop ten points very early; the poorest head the writer ever shot was a 10-pointer. I shot a young stag with only six points once, under circumstances that gave no opportunity of previously judging its head, and it had far longer and better horns than the above-mentioned 10-pointer. Crummle and antelope heads are also rare. I once shot a very heavy old stag with a most curious antelope head, the horns having not a tine on them, and being twisted more like a markhor’s than a stag’s. The old fellow was absolute king of the valley, too, and not another stag dared answer his challenge. It was very puzzling at the time. While stalking another stag which had called once among some thick bushes but would not show, the old antelope head appeared far up the hill, sauntering leisurely down, and challenging as he came. Every deer within hearing seemed to hide from him at once. There was a small 6-point stag with a hind cowering behind some bushes about two hundred yards to my right, while the deer that he had originally started after were keeping hidden somewhere to his left, and the old chieftain was coming straight towards him, singing his war-song. Over and over again were the glasses laid on him, but nothing could be made out. The body was that of a royal, but the horns were short, with no antlers visible. Apparently he was a bad three-year-old. What did it mean? If he were a big royal the respect shown him by the other stags was intelligible enough; but why should they be afraid of a beast like that? Fairly puzzled, I crept back to look for the stag I had originally come down after, which there was every reason to believe was a 10-pointer. Not a sign of him could be seen, but while pottering about in some long grass a pair of straight horns suddenly appeared within forty yards of me. Confound this brocket! he has walked on top of me; perhaps he may just miss me! No! he comes straight on and looks me in the face. Now the brute will drive everything away, so here goes—and he drops in his tracks. A brocket? Not a bit of it; twenty years old if he’s a day, and his quaint old head is the pick of the bag. The general colour of barasingh is much the same as that of red deer, but is rather greyer, and the white patch on the rump appears a little larger. Sterndale says it has a white circle round the eyes, but the writer has never seen anything more distinct of this kind than a ring slightly paler than the rest of the head. The horns resemble those of the red deer, with the notable exception that with barasingh the bez antler appears to be the fighting one, and is always longer and bigger than the brow antler, while with red deer the reverse is the case. Sir Victor Brooke says its call is just like that of a wapiti, and quite different from that of a red stag. ‘In the former it is a loud squeal, ending in a more guttural tone; in the latter it is a distinct roar, resembling that of a panther.’ According to the writer’s experience, the full call is seldom heard till the rutting season is at its height. When the stags first begin roaring the call is comparatively short. Ward’s remarks on the subject are well worth quoting: ‘The noise a stag can make when “roaring” is much louder than would be imagined, and can be heard at a great distance; but very often, when the animal is lying down, he only utters a prolonged moaning sound, which is very deceptive, and unless frequently repeated, it is difficult to find out the exact direction to follow.’ In the winter nearly all the barasingh are congregated in the Cashmere Valley, but though the smaller stags come down and are pretty easily found, the big ones will not leave the high ground, where it is impossible to follow them (unless they are driven down by an early fall of snow), until the young grass begins to grow in March, which is the best month to get heads, though of course the deer are then in poor condition. Ward writes about winter shooting: If it could be done, the plan would be not to decide to enter the valley (i.e. Cashmere) until information of a really heavy fall in December or early in January had been obtained. The late falls of snow do not drive the deer down. The hazel buds are swelling, and they can graze on them; the sap is rising in various bushes and trees, and the deer can eat the smaller twigs, but an early fall forces the animals into the valleys.… In the spring, when the snow is melting, is, to my idea, far the best time, and I would sooner have from February 20 to March 20 after the stags than all the rest of the year. They are then down on the young green grass, and are busily devouring the crocuses. By the end of March all the big stags and most of the smaller ones have shed their horns, and the deer collect into large herds and begin moving off to their summer quarters, those in the western corner of the valley going to the banks of the Kishengunga river. The herds which strike the river at its nearest point below Gurais cross it, and retire to the range of hills on the southern border of Astor. Only a very few stags cross this range, the bulk of the deer remaining on the Cashmere side. The deer on the northern and eastern sides of the valley retire to the slopes of Haramook and the high ground south of the range which separates Cashmere from Dras and Sooroo, but do not appear to cross it. The farther east one goes from Srinugger the less the deer appear to migrate, merely retiring to the heads of the valleys. The altitude of the birch copses just above the limit of the pines is what they seek, and this they can find close at hand on the north and east of the valley, but they have to travel some distance to it on the west. About September 1 the horns should be nearly free from velvet, and as a delicious wild black currant ripens at the same time, the shikaris associate the two. Up to September 20 the old stags are either alone or accompanied by a youngster who acts as fag, and they are not easy to find; in fact, as a rule, shikaris declare that it is useless trying to find them. But when the sportsman knows, from seeing tracks, that there are big stags on the ground, and the heads of the valleys (not the calling grounds) are the places to look for them, then, by carefully watching some glen where tracks have been seen, particularly just about 8 a.m. when the sun is getting hot, a stag may often be discovered as he rises from where he had lain down shortly after sunrise. He is about to move to a more sheltered spot to spend the day—and it is so satisfactory to have a stag or two to one’s credit before they begin to call. Unfortunately it is not always possible. Some of the best valleys during the calling season do not hold stags before that season begins, as the deer move on to them just then, and very often leave immediately afterwards. Good local information is absolutely necessary, and a shikari who does not know every soiling pool, every deer-path, or likely copse for a stag to lie up in is useless. ‘A SNAP-SHOT IN THE FOREST’ The calling season generally begins about September 20, and varies according to the weather, and also according to the moon. Fine hot weather and a full moon about the 20th mean that every stag in the place will be calling freely. Wet cold weather and no moon mean the reverse, the weather having more effect than the moon. The idea of the stage of the moon having any effect may be considered fanciful, but if it is taken into consideration that the stags usually begin calling at night and almost invariably fight their battles for supremacy then, it follows that the light of the moon is a decided advantage. A good set-to between two old barasingh stags would be a grand sight. The writer once came across a battle-field, but too late to witness the fight, and the way the turf was ploughed up bore testimony to the severity of the struggle. The rutting season appears to be initiated by the hinds; at least I have observed that the short bark of the hinds is usually heard some days before the roar of the stags, and have seen a stag come best pace out of the forest in answer to a hind’s call in the early morning, before a stag’s challenge had been heard on the ground. It is most amusing to watch a young stag calling, the way he swaggers before his lady-love, tearing up the turf with feet and horns as if nothing could drive him from her, till his challenge is answered by a deeper note, when the youngster curls up at once, flees for his life to the thickest scrub he can find half a mile away and cowers among the bushes, while his mate in the most matter-of-fact way at once attaches herself to his lordly rival, who comes swaggering easily along the hillside with the sunbeams glancing from the burnished points of his glorious antlers. A small calling stag should never be disturbed, as he almost invariably draws out a better beast. Great care, too, should be taken not to frighten away unattached hinds anywhere near a calling ground. If left alone they will sooner or later be joined by stags, though occasionally hinds will run from a stag just as if they had scented a man. The writer on one occasion was watching a hind and calf feeding, when they suddenly galloped off, and presently an old stag came trotting down the hill grunting his displeasure and following their scent like a hound, till, coming within range, he paid the penalty. Probably owing to the scarcity of hinds, even the best stags appear never to be able to collect more than two or three, not counting calves, which seem always to run with their dams for a year. Old writers talk of stags calling all day long. This may have been so years ago; now-a-days they rarely call after 9 a.m., and do not begin again before 3 p.m. at the earliest. I once heard a grand chorus in the early morning. Five different stags were calling at the same time, but as they seemed to be more or less afraid of one another and kept perpetually on the move, I never got a chance at one of them. To be successful with stags during the calling season, the sportsman should be on his ground as soon as it is light. The stags are moving about all night, and soon after sunrise they retire into the forest, where, unless they keep on calling, it is almost impossible to find them. This, of course, refers to the open ground at the top of the hills. Ward prefers the lower ground in the pine forest, from 8,000 to 9,000 ft. above the sea level, as he says the stags there seem to settle down into certain spots and remain there for days together. The writer’s own experience is that the upper ground is best when the stags first begin calling, as they all seem to collect there, and that later on, about October 1, when there has often been a slight snowfall on the top of the hills, and the frost at night is beginning to tell, the stags should be followed down into the forest. But as different valleys vary so much, according to whether the deer remain in them during the winter or are merely passing through, no general rule applies to all. Hunting the upper ground as long as the stags are on it is undoubtedly far pleasanter than creeping about in the forest down below, and in the gloom of the pines the chances are very much against the stalker. Stags may occasionally be shot by waiting for them at some favourite soiling or drinking pool, and it is by no means a bad thing to try if the pool is in thick forest and some distance from other water. The most likely time to see anything is about 4 p.m., when the deer begin to draw out. Waiting over salt-licks and water at night is an abomination, like all other night shooting. As a rule, you do more harm than good by disturbing the ground, and if you do get a shot and hit (no certain matter even in the brightest moonlight), unless the stag is dropped on the spot you run a very great risk of losing him. Barasingh are very tough beasts, and an ill-placed bullet is not much use. It is very difficult to know what to do when (as often happens) the stags will not call till just before dark. If this happens among the pine forests, any attempt at night shooting is almost sure to end in failure; and even on the high open ground the chances are so much against the sportsman that it should only be tried if every other plan fails. Patient tracking and watching over likely glades for a stag to draw out on are far more effective in bringing eventual success. The two main points to be remembered during a stalk are, first, to try and get a clear chance at about sixty yards, and not creep up too close to the stag before firing; secondly, to avoid going straight downhill on to a stag. A stone dislodged, a pheasant or musk deer disturbed, will be sure to start him off. On the other hand, if the stalker is moving down sixty or seventy yards to one side, any slight contretemps does not necessarily spoil his chance of a shot. Every native shikari, if conducting a stalk, will try to land his master between the beast’s horns if possible. As soon as he sees a stag, he will begin to try to point him out, with the result that before his master can get his wind and take any aim to speak of, the beast is at full gallop down the hill. The second point never enters into a native’s calculations at all. Ward says that natives can imitate the call, and draw stags, but systematic calling as practised in the Tyrol is practically unknown in Cashmere, and a proficient in the art would undoubtedly have success. The point to aim at in calling is to pitch your note a little weaker than the answering stag, so as to give him confidence in accepting the challenge. The stags generally cease calling towards the end of October (Ward says 20th), and after that there is little chance of getting sport till the snow drives them down, or, failing an early fall, till the spring. Major Ward says a well-shaped 10-point head of 40 ins. should not be despised, but the majority of heads shot, according to the writer’s experience, do not average more than 37 ins.; 40 ins. and over being exceptional heads. XXVIII. THE SIKKIM STAG (Cervus affinis vel Wallichi) Native name: ‘Shou.’ Habitat: Eastern Himalayas; Thibet, in the Choombi Valley, on the Sikkim side of Thibet (Sterndale) None of the heads of this variety in the British Museum have more than ten points. Their colour, according to Jerdon, is a fine clear grey in winter, with a moderately large disc; pale rufous in summer, quite different from the rich mouse colour of the barasingh. Hodgson’s description of the horns is most accurate, the flatness of the brow antlers is very marked, ‘pedicles elevate; burrs rather small; two basal antlers, nearly straight, so forward in direction as to overshadow the face to the end of the nasal; larger than the royal antlers; median or royal antlers directed forwards and upwards; beam with a terminal fork, the prongs radiating laterally and equally, the inner one longest and thinnest.’ There is an enormous head in the British Museum, the two brow antlers of which bend downwards on each side. As in the case of the barasingh, the second brow antler, or bez, is always longer than the first. As regards the allied maral stag of Persia and Turkestan, Major Cumberland, in his letters published by ‘Land and Water,’ 1891, writes that the Turkestan name for the stag is ‘boghÈ,’ the hind being called ‘maral.’ This deer resembles the red stag, in that the brow antler is longer than the bez, and the crown is more of the wapiti type. Another variety, with horns also of the wapiti type, Cervus Eustephanus, was discovered by Mr. W. Blanford in the Thian Shan mountains. He describes this variety as also having the brow antler longer than the bez. XXIX. MUSK DEER (Moschus moschiferus) Generally ‘Kastura’; Garwhal and Kumaon, ‘Bena,’ ‘Masaknaba’; Cashmere, ‘Roos,’ ‘Rous’ This little deer is found all over the hills above an altitude of 7,000 or 8,000 ft., except in Ladak, though it is said to be plentiful in Thibet, beyond the frontier of Nepal. Cover of some sort, bushes or timber, seems necessary for it, and the want of this is probably the reason it does not extend to Ladak. Except that district, every shooting ground of the right elevation seems to hold musk deer; and as, particularly in the autumn, they are excellent eating, a chance with a light rifle is well worth taking advantage of, unless in too close proximity to better game. The musk deer has no horns, but the male has two delicate curved tushes, growing down from the upper jaw, which are often over three inches in length outside the gums; these tushes being the only distinguishing mark between the sexes, it is very hard to tell them apart at a distance. Measurements [Pg 284]
[Pg 285]
[Pg 286] | Authority | Height at shoulder | Length nose to tip of tail | Tail | Girth of body | Weight as shot | Length of horns | Girth above brow antler | Girth, beam midway | Burr | Length brow antler | Length bez antler | Girth bez antler | Length median antler | Splay at tips | Widest spread | Inside span | Points | Remarks | | Cervus cashmirianus | | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | lbs. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | | Dr. Leith Adams | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 48 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Sterndale, ‘Mammalia’ | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 47 | 7¾ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 29 | 56 | .. | 13 | ‘Sportsman’s Guide’ | | ” | 49½ | .. | .. | .. | 400 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 47 | 6¾ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 21¾ | .. | 36? | 5×5 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 46 | 8 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 32 | 50 | .. | 12 | ‘Sportsman’s Guide’ | | ‘Oriental Sporting Magazine,’ 1870 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 46 | .. | 7 | 10 | 18 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 45? | 6 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 25¾ | .. | 36 | 8×8 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 45? | 8 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 35 | .. | 41 | 6×6 | ” | | Hon. C. Ellis | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 43? | 5? | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 15? | .. | 32 | 5×5 | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 43? | 6½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 25? | .. | 36½ | .. | ” | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 43¼ | 6½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 18? | .. | 34½ | 5×5 | ” | | Dr. Falconer, Brit. Mus. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 43 | 5? | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 6¼ | .. | 27¾ | 5×5 | ” | | Mr. M. Kennard | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 43 | 5? | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 26? | .. | 37? | 6×5 | ” | | Gen. Macintyre | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 42 | .. | 7¼ | 10½ | .. | .. | 5½ | .. | .. | .. | 33 | 10 | ‘Hindu Koh’ | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 42 | 5? | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 29? | .. | 33½ | 6×5 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Major Greenaway | 52 | 81 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | The Writer | 47 | 85 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 10 | Showing normal difference between brow & bez antlers | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 36¾ | .. | .. | 8 | 11¼ | 14½ | .. | .. | 25 | 35 | .. | 10 | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 35½ | 5½ | .. | 8 | 10½ | 15½ | .. | .. | .. | 35 | .. | 10 | | Sterndale, ‘Mammalia’ | 48 to 52 | 84 to 90 | 5 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 37 | 6 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 6×6 | | | Cervus affinis | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 55¾ | 6½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 17¼ | .. | 40? | 7×6 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 55¼ | 8½ | 7¼ | 11 | 14 | 19¼ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 5×5 | | | Lord Northbrook | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 55 | 9? | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 6×7 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Dr. Campbell, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 54? | 6? | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 21? | .. | 37¼ | 5×5 | ” | | Dr. Jerdon quotes a head | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 54 | .. | .. | .. | .. | 12 | .. | 8 | .. | 47 | .. | .. | Sterndale, ‘Mammalia’ | | Mr. B. H. Hodgson, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 53¾ | 6? | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 26? | .. | 44 | 5×5 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 53¼ | 6? | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 30 | .. | 45¾ | 4×5 | ” | | Col. Tanner | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 53 | 9 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 40 | 5×5 | ” | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 52¼ | 10¼ | 6½ | 10? | 12 | 13 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 5×5 | ” | | Rowland Ward | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 52 | 8 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | ” | about 60 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Sterndale, ‘Mammalia’ | 54 to 60 | about 96 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Cervus maral | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 48? | 6? | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 38¼ | .. | 40? | 6×5 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 46½ | 8 | 7½ | 11¼ | 15½ | 14½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 5×5 | | | Mr. E. Buxton | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 43½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 38½ | .. | 14 | ‘Nineteenth Century,’ 1891 | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 40¼ | 5½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 23¾ | .. | 31¾ | 5×5 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 35? | 5½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 19¾ | .. | 26 | 5×5 | ” | | Major Cumberland | 55 | .. | .. | 57½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 10 | ‘Land & Water,’ 1891 | | Cervus Eustaphanus<
/span> | | Mr. Blanford, ‘Scientific Results, Second Yarkand Mission’ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 51 | 10???? | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Girth above burr 10½ ins. | | Red Deer from Tyrol, &c. | | Lord Powerscourt, ‘Pro. Zoo. Soc., 1862’ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 68 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 65 | .. | 44 | From Carpathians? Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Col. Howard | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 49¾ | .. | 7½ | 11¼ | 18¼ | .. | .. | .. | .. | 49¾ | .. | 14 | Vienna Exhibition | | H.R.H. Duke of Edinburgh | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 48½ | .. | 6 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 30 | 41½ | .. | 5×6 | (Crimea) Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Lord A. Hay, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 48? | .. | 7¼ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 12 | Single horn, Asia Minor, Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | St. George Littledale | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 47? | .. | 5½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 38 | .. | .. | 6×5 | Caucasus, Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Col. Howard | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 47¼ | .. | 7½ | 10¾ | 15 | .. | .. | .. | .. | 50 | .. | 16 | Vienna Exhibition | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 47? | .. | 7¼ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 34 | .. | 41? | 8×9 | Germany, Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | St. George Littledale | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 47 | .. | 7? | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 36 | .. | 37¾ | 6×7 | Caucasus, Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Col. Howard | .. | .. | .. | .. | 596 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Weight of best stags killed in last 8 or 10 years, from Perechinko | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | 564 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | The hair of the musk deer seems always loose, and comes out readily. A musk deer just grazed by a bullet (by no means an uncommon occurrence with so small a beast) seems to vanish in a cloud of hair. The male has an abdominal gland containing more or less musk according to the season, it being fullest during the rutting season in the winter; this pod is valuable (a good one is worth Rs. 5 in the jungle), and leads to the musk deer being so mercilessly snared and hunted by natives that in many districts they are almost extinct. Pine martens, wild dogs, leopards, eagles, all seem to prey upon the unhappy musk deer, and if it were not that they breed far more rapidly than other deer (according to Hodgson being able to procreate before they are a year old), they would have no chance of existence at all. When a musk deer has been killed the pod should be cut off in the presence of the sportsman, and hung up in his tent to dry; if the shikari is allowed to meddle with it, he will probably extract the musk, and fill up the pod with rubbish. Another very common trick is for the shikari to present his master with the buck’s scrotum, and keep the pod for himself. Musk deer are generally found alone or in pairs, and as they keep a great deal to their particular bit of ground, if one has been seen and not fired at the sportsman may nearly always rely upon finding it again near the same place. When startled this deer gives a low hiss, and as it seldom runs far without stopping to gaze, it generally affords an easy shot. Musk deer are occasionally a nuisance on barasingh ground, and the writer once lost a shot by putting up one of them just as he was getting up to a stag which was calling in the forest. Measurements.—Sterndale gives length about 36 ins., height about 22 ins. Major Ward, height about 22 ins., weight from 25 lbs. to 30 lbs. Colonel Kinloch says it does not stand more than 20 ins., Jerdon 22 or 23 ins. In Garwhal and Kumaon musk deer appear to be bigger and heavier than in Cashmere. XXX. BARKING, OR RIB-FACED DEER (Cervulus Aureus, vel Muntjac) ‘Kakur,’ generally throughout the Himalayas; ‘Ratwa,’ in Nepal and neighbouring states; ‘Jungli Bukra,’ in Central Provinces; ‘Muntjac,’ Sundanese This deerlet is found pretty generally throughout India, Burmah, Ceylon and the Malay Peninsula, wherever there are fairly high hills covered with forest. Thick cover and plenty of water seem essential to it. Kakur are not gregarious; they are generally found in pairs, each pair seeming to keep pretty much to its own particular ravine or patch of jungle. They will often live close to villages, and feed on the crops at the edge of the jungle; they rarely venture far into the open, and invariably live close to water. Their general colour is a bright golden bay, with the lower parts white; the tail is rather long, and as the deer when galloping carries his head low and cocks his tail up, he forcibly reminds one of an old buck rabbit. The buck has horns about five inches long, set on bony pedicles about three inches high, which are covered with longish hair. In good specimens there is a small brow antler of about one inch in length, and the tips of the horns should be curved back enough to permit of the head being suspended from a cord by the hooks. The V-shaped creases on the face, from which it derives its name of rib-faced, are dark brown, and there is a dark line up the front of each pedicle. The horns appear to be shed annually. The buck has a pair of sharp stout tushes in the upper jaw, of which he can make very good use. Ward laments the loss of a valuable terrier which was killed by a wounded buck, so that it is advisable to be careful in handling one. The kakur has a peculiar resonant call, like the hoarse bark of a dog, which can be heard for a long distance; and as the buck frequently keeps on barking for some time, it will often betray its locality to the sportsman—its locality certainly, but not much else. The stalk is enlivened with song till just the critical moment, when a glimpse of the performer would be so desirable; then usually comes a dead silence—possibly the buck is waiting for the applause you so ungraciously withhold—no sign of the songster, look as you will there is nothing to be seen but bushes and stems of trees! Suddenly out of emptiness appears a flash of red surmounted with a brilliant white scut, and a derisive bark, in answer to your snap-shot, proclaims your defeat. Moreover, it behoves one to be wary when stalking a barking kakur; he may very possibly be barking at a panther, or even in some localities at a tiger, and it is as well to be careful that you do not entertain—not quite an angel unawares. Jungle warnings, such as monkeys swearing and the alarm notes of peafowl and deer, should never be lightly disregarded. Occasionally kakur make a curious clicking noise, probably, as Kinloch suggests, with the tongue, which is very long. The writer has watched a kakur walking quietly down a sandy river-bed, clicking all the way at intervals; here certainly the hoofs could not have made the noise in sand. That buck was shot, and as the writer saw another single kakur several times afterwards not far from the same spot, it has struck him that the clicking noise might possibly be a low call from one of a pair to its mate. In Garwhal the natives occasionally call kakur, using a split ringal cane, and making a call very similar to that used in the Tyrol for roe deer; but the writer’s experience of this class of sport is that one may sit and pipe for a long time before anything comes. Having the covers driven is also poor fun if there is only one gun, as the deer will rarely come right, almost always breaking back; and by far the pleasantest and best way of getting kakur is by strolling through the forest in the early morning and evening when, if there are any about, the sportsman is pretty sure to see or hear them. | Authority | Height at shoulder | Length, head and body | Tail | Weight as shot | Length of horns | Girth of horns | Length of brow antler | Remarks | | Cervulus aureus | | ins. | ins. | ins. | lbs. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 8 | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | ” | 27 | .. | .. | 40 | 7½ | .. | .. | ” | | ” | 26 | .. | .. | 37 | 7½ | .. | .. | ” | | Capt. H. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | .. | 6½ | 3 | .. | | | Mr. B. H. Hodgson, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | 6½ | 2? | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | .. | 6½ | 3 | .. | ” | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | 6? | .. | 1½ | | | The Writer | .. | .. | .. | .. | 6 | .. | 1 | | | Major Ward | 27 | .. | .. | 44 | 6 | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | ” | 26 | .. | .. | 42 | 5½ | .. | .. | ” | | ” | 26 | .. | .. | 37 | 5½ | .. | .. | ” | | ” | 23 | .. | .. | 32 | .. | .. | .. | A doe ” | | Major FitzHerbert | 20 | 34 | 4½ | 32 | .. | .. | .. | | | Col. Kinloch | about 18 | .. | .. | .. | about 5 | .. | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | 26 to 28 | about 40 | 7 | .. | 2 to 5 | .. | .. | | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | .. | 5 | .. | 1 | |
(Oves Poli, Ammon, &c.) In Central and Northern Asia there were at one time no fewer than eight recognised varieties of giant wild sheep, viz. O. Poli, O. Karelini, O. Heinsi, O. nigrimontana, O. Ammon, O. Hodgsonii, O. Brookei, O. nivicola. Mr. W. T. Blanford, however, after inspecting a magnificent collection of heads, made by Hon. C. Ellis, which exhibit every gradation of curve between the two extreme types, declared in his paper to the Zoological Society in 1884 that he considered O. Poli and O. Karelini to be practically the same species, and the formidable list may be further reduced from a sportsman’s view by massing the varieties into three broad types, viz: 1. O. Poli with its little known varieties, O. Heinsi, and O. nigrimontana; for though these appear to differ somewhat in size (O. nigrimontana being a comparatively small animal), their horns are of the same wide-spreading type. 2. O. Ammon, O. Hodgsonii and O. Brookei; the difference between the first two is very trifling, and O. Brookei is considered by some authorities to be possibly a hybrid between O. Hodgsonii and O. Vignei (Shapoo). 3. O. nivicola, which more nearly resembles O. montana (the Bighorn of the Rocky Mountains). The first type is found, according to M. Severtzoff, only in Turkestan, from the Pamir through the Thian Shan range as far eastwards as Tengri Khan; its varieties being located as follows: O. Heinsi in the Tockmack district west of Tengri Khan; O. nigrimontana in Karatan, near Samarcand. The second type is not found in Turkestan. Its range is the Altai from Tengri Khan as far eastward as the sea of Baikal, and then southwards by the sources of the Hoang-ho and Yang-se-kiang rivers down to Ladak and the southern frontier of Thibet. The third type is found in Kamtchatka. No. 1, extreme type, Ovis Poli No. 3, extreme type, Ovis Karelini In colour all these sheep are much the same; generally a rather rich greyish brown fading to greyish white towards the tail and belly, with, in the ram, a greyish white ruff on the neck. This is the chief distinguishing mark of a ram Ovis Ammon at a distance, the ewe having a brown neck; in fact, the ram looks as if his thoughtful spouse had insisted on his wearing a white comforter for fear of catching cold. The horns of the ram, large as they are, are of such a pale colour as to be hardly distinguishable in certain lights at long distances. The Ovis Poli appears to have little or no ruff, but has a dark line down the back, which the Ovis Ammon has not, and has also a more clearly defined white anal disc. [Pg 294]
[Pg 295] Measurements | Authority | Height at shoulder | Length nose to tip of tail | Weight | Length of horns | Girth at base | Span between tips | Skull | Remarks | | Ovis Ammon | | ins. | ins. | lbs. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | | Proc. Zoo. Soc., 1875 | 43 | .. | .. | 49 | 18½ | 32 | 12 | From Siberia? | | ” | 46 | .. | .. | 48½ | 19 | 31 | .. | ” | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 48 | 18¾ | .. | .. | Specimen, No. 45-4-21-9. From Siberia | | Mr. O. Shaw | .. | .. | .. | 47 | .. | .. | .. | | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 46½ | 19¾ | 20 | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 45½ | 17½ | 24 | 14 | Proc. Zoo. Soc., 1875 | | H.R.H. Duke of Teck | .. | .. | .. | 45½ | 16½ | about 17 | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Major Ward (‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak and Cashmere’) | 46 to 48 | .. | 250 to 280 | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 45 | 20 | .. | .. | | | Proc. Zoo. Soc., 1875 | 44½ | .. | .. | 45 | 19½ | .. | .. | | | Col. Howard Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 44 | 18 | .. | .. | | | Mr. H. C. V. Hunter | .. | .. | .. | 43½ | 16? | loose horns | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 43 | 16¾ | .. | .. | | | Major Greenaway | .. | .. | .. | 42½ | 17 | .. | .. | | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 42½ | 16½ | 19 | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 42½ | 16 | about 18 | .. | ” | | Rowland Ward | .. | .. | .. | 42½ | 16 | 18 | .. | ” | | Mr. J. Carr Saunders | .. | .. | .. | 42½? | 15¼ | .. | .. | ” | | H.R.H. Duke of Edinburgh | .. | .. | .. | 42? | 16¼ | 20 | .. | ” | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 42? | 16¾ | 14¼ | .. | ” | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 42? | 16½ | 18 | .. | ” | | Capt. Ballantyne | .. | .. | .. | 42 | 18 | .. | .. | | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 42 | 17? | 17½ | 15 | | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 42 | 16¾ | about 17¼ | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 42 | 14 | .. | .. | | | Hon. Walter Rothschild | .. | .. | .. | 41? | 16 | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 41½ | 16¾ | .. | .. | | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 41¼ | 17½ | 16 | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Major Ward (‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’) | .. | .. | .. | 41 | 18½ | .. | .. | | | The Writer | 44 | .. | .. | 41 | 17 | .. | .. | | | St. George Littledale (British Museum) | .. | .. | .. | 40½? | 14½ | about 26¼ | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Hon. C. Ellis | .. | .. | .. | 40? | 17? | 20? | .. | ” | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 40¼ | 17¼ | 20 | .. | ” | | Col. Kinloch (‘Large Game Shooting’) | 48 to 49 | .. | .. | 40 | 17 | .. | .. | | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 40 | 16¾ | 19½ | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 40 | 16 | 18½ | .. | | | Major Greenaway | 45 | 76 | 212 | 36 | 15½ | .. | .. | Weighed in pieces. Estimated 240 lbs. as shot | | Gen. Macintyre (‘Hindu Koh’) | .. | .. | 350 | about 40 | 18 | .. | .. | Cleaned, including head | | Sterndale | 40 to 48 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Mr. K. Mackenzie | 48 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | ” | 49 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Jerdon quoting Colonel Markham | .. | .. | .. | .. | 24 | .. | .. | |
[Pg 296]
[Pg 297] Measurements (continued) | Authority | Height at shoulder | Length nose to tip of tail | Tail | Length of horns | Girth at base | Span between tips | Skull | Girth of chest | Remarks | | Ovis Poli | | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | | Gen. Lord Roberts | .. | .. | .. | 75 | 16 | 54½ | .. | .. | ‘Smoothbore,’ letter to the ‘Asian,’ November 13, 1891 | | Mr. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 75 | 14 | 48 | .. | .. | ” | | Col. Tanner | .. | .. | .. | 73 | 15 | 48 | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Sterndale, ‘Mammalia’ | .. | .. | .. | 73 | 14 | 48 | .. | .. | (Possibly the same head) | | Mr. L. Flower | .. | .. | .. | 68½ | 15 | 35¾ | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Col. R. Pole Carew | .. | .. | .. | 68 | 17 | 43 | .. | .. | ” | | Indian Museum, the ‘Asian,’ November 13, 1891 | .. | .. | .. | 68 | 16 | 52 | .. | .. | ” | | Col. R. Pole Carew | .. | .. | .. | 67 | 16½ | 42 | .. | .. | ” | | Sterndale, ‘Mammalia’ | .. | .. | .. | 67 | 16 | 53 | .. | .. | ” | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | 66? | 15? | 46 | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 66? | 13? | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 66 | 15¼ | 44 | .. | .. | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 65? | 16 | 48 | .. | .. | ” | | Col. T. E. Gordon, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 65½ | 16 | 53 | .. | .. | ” | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 65? | 16¼ | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Capt. Blane | .. | .. | .. | 65 | 16½ | 49½ | .. | .. | ” | | St. George Littledale | .. | .. | .. | 65 | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Rowland Ward | .. | .. | .. | 65 | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Hon. C. Ellis, quoted Proc. Zoo. Soc., 1884 | .. | .. | .. | 58 | .. | 51 | .. | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 58 | 15½ | 50½ | .. | .. | No. 1.—Extreme type (O. Poli) | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 57½ | .. | 47 | .. | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 62 | .. | 47½ | .. | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 63½ | .. | 48 | .. | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 61½ | .. | 46½ | .. | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 59½ | .. | 43¾ | .. | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 61 | .. | 43 | .. | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 55 | 17 | 37 | .. | .. | No. 2.—Intermediate type | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 60½ | .. | 39½ | .. | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 63½ | 16 | 39 | .. | .. | No. 3.—Extreme type (O. Karelini) | | M. Severtzoff | 46 | 79 | .. | 57 | .. | 42 | 14 | .. | Proc. Zoo. Soc., 1875 | | ” | 42.6 | 71 | .. | 44 | .. | 32 | 13.3 | .. | ” (O. Karelini) | | Major Biddulph | 41 | 67 | 3½ | 48 | 14 | .. | 11 | 49½ | Yarkand Mission | | Ovis Heinsi | | M. Severtzoff | .. | .. | .. | 33.2 | .. | 31.4 | 11.4 | .. | Proc. Zoo. Soc., 1875 | | Ovis nigrimontana | | M. Severtzoff | 34 | 57 | .. | 38 | .. | 29.6 | 10.8 | .. | ” | | Ovis nivicola | | Dr. Guillemard, ‘The Cruise of the Marchesa’ | 40 | 66 | .. | 38 | 13½ | 26 | 9¾ | 54 | | | ” | 41 | 65 | .. | 35½ | 14 | 26½ | 10¾ | .. | | | ” | 39 | 67 | .. | 35 | 13¼ | 25½ | .. | 55 | | | ” | 39½ | 64 | .. | 35 | 13¾ | 21 | 10½ | 54 | | | ” | 37 | 64 | .. | 34¾ | 14½ | 25 | 10½ | 55 | | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 34½ | 11? | 17¾ | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | M. Severtzoff | 37 | .. | .. | 33 | 12¾ | .. | .. | .. | Proc. Zoo. Soc., 1875 | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | 32¾ | 13½ | 23 | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Dr. Guillemard, ‘The Cruise of the Marchesa’ | .. | .. | .. | 32½ | 13¾ | 22½ | .. | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 32¼ | 14 | 21 | .. | .. | | | Ovis Brookei | | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | .. | .. | .. | 33½ | 13? | .. | 11 | .. | | Old rams of the Ovis Ammon are by no means easy to bring to bag. The bare open downs they live on afford little or no cover for a stalk; the wind in Ladak, piercingly cold as it is, seems to take a delight in blowing from all points of the compass in turn, especially if there are any clouds about; the rams themselves are particularly wary and keen-scented, and the least suspicion of danger will set them marching steadily across country for miles without stopping. In the summer, like most hill animals, the old rams leave the ewes and young ones and form small flocks by themselves, selecting favourite valleys to which they repair year after year, and being rarely found on the same ground as the ewes at that season, i.e. after the middle of June. I have, however, seen a flock of five rams and ten ewes together as late as June 11 and secured a big ram out of it. Ward’s remarks about hunting Ovis Ammon are worth quoting: Stalking in Ladak is very often a matter of time. Many of us will march for a month to get on to Ovis Ammon ground, and yet will not consent to wait a few days after the game is sighted. Naturally, in a country where the hills are devoid of cover, the game is often seen on spots where it is useless trying to approach it; but, if watched for a few hours, it is almost certain to graze its way into a more favourable position. Avoid going after game on gusty and cloudy days, and exercise patience, remembering that you have probably marched some hundreds of miles to obtain a few shots, and one or two days’ more or less work can make but little difference. Even supposing the sportsman to have everything in his favour, wind, cover, and the rest, there are pretty sure to be some kyang about, and these once disturbed, good-bye to the oves. The writer had once been watching two fine old rams from early morning till 2 p.m. before the wind would let him attempt the stalk; he had got within a quarter of a mile of the rams with absolutely nothing to do but walk straight on up to them, when suddenly a brute of a kyang jumped up from behind a rock where he had been lying hid, galloped straight up the valley past the oves, found seven devils worse than himself, brought them all back to show them the quaint manners of an infuriated man with a gun, and concluded the entertainment by galloping round and round him out of shot. The oves naturally took the hint, and not caring for an asinine circus, simply marched off to the next county. Large bags of ram oves are consequently seldom made. Mr. O. Shaw got nine in 1877, including one of 47 ins.; the rest of the bag was, one bull yak, eight or ten burrel, one of 27 ins., eleven Thibetan antelope and one shapoo; this was an exceptional bag by an exceptionally hard working sportsman. The native names for O. Poli are ‘Rass,’ ‘Roosh,’ ‘Goolga’ (the male), and for O. Ammon ‘Nyan.’ XXXII. BURREL (Ovis Nahura vel Burhel) Native names: ‘Baral,’ ‘Barut’; in Ladak ‘Napo’ the male, ‘Namoo’ the female; Zanskar, ‘Snapo,’ ‘Snamoo’; on the Sutlej ‘Wa’ Sterndale appears to have fallen into a curious mistake about this sheep. He says: ‘The name Ovis Nahura is not a felicitous one, as it was given under a mistake by Hodgson, the nahoor being quite another animal. I think Blyth’s name of Ovis Burhel should be adopted.’ On reference, however, to Blyth’s account in the ‘Proceedings Zoo. Soc. 1840,’ it will be found that he calls the animal generally known as burrel the ‘nahoor,’ and says of Ovis Burhel, ‘It is smaller and more robust than the nahoor, with shorter ears and very dark horns, having no white about it; and general colour dark and rich chestnut brown, with the ordinary black markings upon face, chest, and front of limbs very distinct.’ The specimen came from the Boorendo Pass, but as no more specimens have been obtained from that locality or elsewhere, it appears to be quite possible that Blyth was misled by a native-cured skin. Discoloration by curing is common. The burrel has a very extended range, reaching from Ladak on the west (it apparently does not extend into Baltistan) to East Thibet, as PÈre David found it in Moupin. Its southern limit is the line of the Himalayas; it extends up north to the Kuenluen ranges, and was obtained by Prejevalski on the Altyn-Tagh. It seems to require an altitude of at least 10,000 ft., and many of the shooting grounds are quite 17,000 ft. above the sea-level. Its general colour is a light slaty grey. The ram has black marks on the chest, side, and legs, and these are the points to look for in a distant flock to distinguish the sex; the ram’s horns being of a very pale colour, are often hardly distinguishable. The old rams in the summer generally live apart from the ewes, and on some grounds, notably about Chumatung on the Indus, the rams seem to take themselves off to separate valleys; usually they keep to another part of the same valley, and occasionally intermix. Burrel are quite the hardest animals to see on a hillside unless they are moving; their colour so exactly matches the blue shale of Ladak, that when they are lying down a flock may be easily overlooked by even a careful man with glasses. Being pretty plentiful where they are found at all, and as a rule, where not much shot at, fairly easy to approach, a visitor to Ladak, if he works at all, must indeed have been behind the door when the luck was served out if he cannot get a few burrel heads. Ordinarily they are found on fairly broken ground, and usually not very far away from rocky cliffs of some sort; they are capital climbers, no sheep better, and a wounded ram is by no means an easy beast to recover. If a burrel had only the horns of an ibex he would be the most charming beast to hunt in the whole of the Himalayas. An old ibex when he is shot stinks appallingly, and is practically uneatable. A burrel on the other hand, no matter how old a ram he may be, is always excellent; his head, pretty trophy as it is, is his weak point. The writer has seen burrel and ibex on the same ground, though never actually feeding together; a friend in 1866 saw burrel and ther feeding together between Joshimath and the Niti Pass, and General Macintyre also notices this on the same ground. As with ibex, several shots can generally be obtained at a flock of burrel before they get out of range, provided the stalker keeps hidden; but he should take pains to stop his cripples, if he does not want a stiffish task set him afterwards in recovering them. Major Ward recommends using Baltistan dogs, and if procurable, good dogs no doubt would be invaluable; but the mere fact of having dogs out, unless they are exceptionally good and led by a native of more than ordinary intelligence, generally so multiplies the chances against a successful stalk that one is better without them. English dogs, he says, are useless among rocks and cannot stand the rarefied air. I remember having a capital day with burrel. I sighted a flock of eight good rams in the morning, but could not attempt to close with them till the afternoon on account of four kyang who persistently kept in the way. At last the kyang fed away, and after a longish dÉtour the burrel, who were lying down, were approached by my sliding down the hillside on my back. Having got within fifty yards of one whose horns were just visible, the expedient of shuffling among the loose stones with the hand was tried to get him to stand up, but this only brought the tips of an ear in sight by the base of the horn. Another shuffle and the ram stood up, but only showed about a couple of inches of the top of his shoulder. Foolishly firing at this instead of at his neck, the shot missed, the whole flock bolted at once, and a running shot with the left barrel also missed. Reloading at once, the chase was carried on down the hillside, and the burrel were again found, standing looking at their pursuer about a hundred and fifty yards off. Picking out the biggest ram, a shot from the shoulder rolled him over, but a snap-shot at the hind-quarters of another disappearing down the hill missed. Another run of about three hundred yards afforded another chance, as when within one hundred and eighty yards of the flock it again halted, and a second ram fell to the shot. The rest went about three hundred yards and stood again. I still followed, and at two hundred and fifty yards broke the forearm of a third ram close to the body. By this time rest was the first necessity, but after a short pause the wounded ram was followed up and bagged with another shot. The first was ten years old, horns 25½ ins. by 14 ins. thick; second eight years, 23 ins. by 12 ins.; third eight years, 22 ins. by 10½ ins. Bad shooting but good fun. Amongst other varieties of burrel are the Barbary burrel (Ammotragus Tragelaphus), of which there is a skeleton in the British Museum which stands 33½ ins. at the shoulder, and a pair of horns measuring 26 ins. in length by 11 ins. in girth; also the Caucasian burrel (Capra Pallasi), of which there is a specimen in the same museum, whose horns are 29 ins. long by 12 ins. in girth; but the animal looks more like a goat than a sheep, having a rudimentary beard, and the horns are more like those of Capra pyrenaica than Ovis Nahura. XXXIII. SHAPOO (Ovis Vignei) Native names: ‘Shapoo’ the male, ‘Shamoo’ the female; in Astor, ‘Oorin’ Shapoo and oorin, though by some naturalists classed as separate varieties, may practically be considered identical; the writer has hunted both, and is unable to distinguish any difference in appearance or habits. The annual winter migration of oorin to the Boonji Plain is probably attributable to the snowfall in Astor being heavier than that of Ladak. The only other difference (giving the result of individual experience) is that oorin are not nearly so restless as shapoo, being pretty regular in their feeding hours, and lying down throughout the heat of the day. Shapoo, on the other hand, are perpetually on the fidget. In colour they appear identical, generally a pale reddish grey fading into white below. The profuse black beard of the Ovis cycloceros is entirely absent, the shapoo in his winter coat having only a short stubbly brown beard, and in summer a dark line on the throat. The different points of Ovis Vignei and Ovis Cycloceros are briefly as follows, according to Mr. Sclater (‘Pro. Zoo. Soc.’ 1860): | Ovis Vignei | Ovis cycloceros | | Horn rather compressed laterally. | Much compressed laterally. | | Rounded posteriorly. | Much compressed posteriorly. | | Curving outward and backward. | Curving outward and inward. | | Points divergent. | Points convergent. | | General colour, brownish grey. | General colour, rufous brown, with blotch on flanks, and lateral line blackish. | | Beard short, of stiffish brown hairs. | Beard profuse, reaching to knees, black intermixed with white hairs. | The two varieties are much of the same size, but are entirely different in colour and habits. The horns of the shapoo are generally more massive than those of Ovis cycloceros, but the horns of both so vary in type and so closely resemble those of Ovis Gmelini from Asia Minor, that it is almost impossible, except for a highly trained scientific eye, to decide from this point alone to which of the three varieties a specimen belongs. Shapoo seem only to be found in the valley of the Indus, from a few miles above Leh down to the junction of the Astor river. How far below that they extend the inhabitants of Chilas only know, and they are not famed for hospitality or for communicating their knowledge. There appears to be a gap in the continuity of the species about Shigar and Rondu, which separates the shapoo from the oorin. The writer has never heard of shapoo being obtained there, and it would be interesting to know how far below Leh they are found. Shapoo seem to be very fond of wild thyme, which almost invariably grows plentifully on the ground they frequent. The venison is inferior to that of either Ovis Ammon or burrel. The ram shapoo is a very game-looking beast, and the horns, standing well out from his head, show off to great advantage; but there is not an animal in the whole of the Himalayas so vexatious to hunt. Markhor are bad enough in all conscience, but even markhor are less heartbreaking to deal with than shapoo. The writer once met a real typical shapoo, a true son of Belial. The beast started out of a ravine, galloped as hard as he could lay legs to the ground for four hundred yards, and then calmly lay down to think. After about a quarter of an hour he rose, strolled leisurely over a ridge, and then cantered off to some rocks about three-quarters of a mile away, where he lay down again. This necessitated a climb to the top of the hill, whence, wind and cover being perfect, the stalk would be easy enough. He remained there just long enough to enable the pursuer to begin the easy part of the stalk, when up he got, cantered gracefully back across the valley, and lay down on the opposite hill, in another very tempting position. This move entailed a dÉtour, so as to cross the valley out of sight, and another climb up the far hill; half an hour was spent in reaching the desired spot: but though from there a magnificent view could be had of all the country round, there was not a sign of the shapoo, and the ground was too dry to show his tracks. Verily, shapoo are only shot when they give themselves away. Shapoo are very tough beasts. The writer once regularly raked a ram galloping straight from him at thirty yards; the bullet, from a .500 Express, caught him on the rump, and the base of it was afterwards cut out in front of the liver; yet the ram ran some two hundred and fifty yards, stopped for about a minute to look round, and then started off again at a gallop, but after going a hundred yards fell over dead. The writer remembers no other instance of an animal stopping to gaze in its death gallop. XXXIV. OORIAL (Ovis cycloceros) Generally ‘Oorial,’ ‘Kuch,’ in the Suleiman range This sheep is found in the Salt range near Jhelum, and wherever there are any suitable hills on both banks of the Indus from about Peshawur down to Beloochistan, where it is replaced by the next variety, Ovis Blanfordi. The ram has a long ruff of grizzled black hair which, flowing from his throat and chest down to his knees, emulates the grand beard of a markhor; this beard drops off in the summer, but begins growing again in August, and is at its full length during the rutting season late in September, which is about the best time for procuring good heads. [Pg 305]
[Pg 306]
[Pg 307] Measurements | Authority | Height at shoulder | Length, nose to tip of tail | Weight | Length of horns | Girth at base | Splay between tips | Remarks | | Ovis Nahura | | ins. | ins. | lbs. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | | Mr. B. H. Hodgson, ‘Proc. Zoo. Soc., 1840’ | .. | .. | .. | 32 | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 30? | 12¼ | 21? | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 30 | 12¼ | 22½ | ” | | H.R.H. Duke of Edinburgh | .. | .. | .. | 29½ | 11? | 25½ | ” | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | 29 | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 28 | 11 | 20¼ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Captain G. Campbell | .. | .. | .. | 27¾ | 10¼ | 10 | ” | | Mr. St. George Littledale, 1877 | .. | .. | .. | 27¼ | 11 | 21¼ | ” | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | 27 | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | ” | .. | .. | 150 | .. | .. | .. | ” | | ” | .. | .. | 119 | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Mr. O. Shaw | .. | .. | .. | 27 | .. | .. | ‘Hindu-Koh’ | | Gen. Macintyre | .. | .. | .. | 27 | .. | .. | | | Major Greenaway | .. | .. | .. | 26½ | 12½ | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 26½ | 10 | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | 97 cleaned | .. | .. | .. | | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 26¼ | 11? | 23 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Hon. W. Rothschild | .. | .. | .. | 26¼ | 12 | 21¼ | ” | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | 26¼ | 10¾ | 22 | ” | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 26? | 12? | 25 | ” | | Mr. Rowland Ward | .. | .. | .. | 26 | 12 | 20½ | ” | | Col. Kinloch | .. | .. | .. | 25½ | .. | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | The Writer, June 24, 1875 | .. | .. | .. | 25½ | 14 | .. | | | ” | 34 | .. | .. | 21 | 11 | .. | | | Sterndale, ‘Mammalia’ | 30 to 36 | 54 to 60 | .. | 24 to 30 | 12 to 13 | .. | | | Average (according to Major Ward) seems fair | 33 | 52 | 130 | 22 | 11 | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Ovis Vignei | | Mr. J. Carr Saunders | .. | .. | .. | 38? | 12¼ | 11¼ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 37½ | 10¼ | 11 | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 36? | 9? | about 17 | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 36¼ | 11¼ | .. | ” | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | 36¼ | 11¾ | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Dr. J. Aitchison, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 35½ | 10½ | 16 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. J. Carr Saunders | .. | .. | .. | 34 | 10 | .. | | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | 34 | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 33? | 9? | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | 33? | 11½ | 10? | ” | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | 33 | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Major Greenaway | 36 | 53 | 65 cleaned | .. | .. | .. | | | ” | 36 | 52 | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | The Writer | 38 | .. | .. | 22 | 10½ | .. | | | Captain H. Brooke | 38 | .. | .. | 28 | 12 | .. | | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | 26 | 10 | .. | | | Ovis cycloceros | | R. A. Mess, Attock | .. | .. | .. | 38½ | .. | .. | Sterndale, ‘Mammalia,’ Appendix C | | Captain W. Cotton, F.Z.S. | .. | .. | .. | 35½ | .. | .. | ” | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 32½ | 10 | 11½ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 31¾ | 9¼ | 5¼ | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 31¼ | 8½ | 16 | ” | | Col. Kinloch | .. | .. | .. | 31 | 10¼ | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | ” | about 36 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 30? | 9? | 20? | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 30 | 10½ | 10 | ” | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 30 | 9? | 11¼ | ” | | Major FitzHerbert | 36 | .. | .. | 30 | 9½ | .. | | | Capt. H. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 30 | 6 | .. | | | Major Greenaway | 34 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Sterndale, ‘Mammalia’ | about 36 | about 60 | .. | 29½ | 10 | .. | | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | 30 | 9½ | .. | | | Ovis Blanfordi | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 36½ | 9? | single horn | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 31? | 9? | 13¾ | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 23? | 9½ | 17¾ | ” | Oorial, like stags, seem to affect particular spots at that season, and certain hills which at other times of the year hold nothing but ewes and young ones will just then invariably have big rams on them. Oorial ground has hitherto been practically restricted to the Salt range, and a 30-in. ram there is now a rarity. The country on the right bank of the Indus is being yearly made more accessible, however, and there are large tracts of good oorial ground in that direction that are as yet practically unshot. Oorial shooting, however, is by no means a summer amusement, and there is little to be gained then except dysentery from bad water and sunstroke by hunting the deep stifling ravines and almost red-hot stony hills. In the cooler months it is most enjoyable. As a rule one gets a fair number of chances, the ground being so broken that stalking is by no means difficult. An old ram oorial is a fine game-looking animal, and though not to be compared to burrel, is still very fair eating. The best way of hunting them is by walking along the tops of the ridges and carefully examining the ground below; as there are often a good many bushes on the hillside, oorial are not always very easy to see, especially if they are lying down, so the pace should be slow. The natives of the salt range are generally expert trackers, and as a wounded oorial is by no means an easy beast to recover, their skill is doubly appreciable when following up a good ram with a broken leg. The way they will carry the trail through the marks of a flock of sheep or along stony nullahs and hillsides with perhaps only an occasional spot of blood to help them, is quite charming after the bungling attempts at the art one generally sees displayed by the natives of the Himalayas. As oorial are perpetually seeing shepherds and other natives they do not become alarmed at the sight of man at a distance; but as they are a good deal driven about, especially by the cultivators whose crops at the foot of the hills they feed on at night, no liberties can be taken during the stalk, and the sides of the ravines being often excessively steep, good noiseless stalking shoes are requisite. XXXV. OVIS BLANFORDI This variety is found in Khelat, and a few specimens have been procured near Quetta. Its horns are described as being longer and more slender than those of O. cycloceros or O. Vignei, and as having a second twist outwards at the ends. It has a white beard, unlike either shapoo or oorial. XXXVI. MARKHOR (Capra megaceros vel Falconeri) Native names: Cashmere, ‘Markhor’; Ladak, ‘Rache’; Aster, ‘Boom’ Whether this king among goats deserves his name of ‘snake-eater’ or not is hardly likely to be settled. Shikaris all believe that markhor do eat snakes, some going as far as to say that they suck the snakes out of their holes, and swallow them like macaroni; and Colonel Kinloch supports the theory. But though some hundreds of markhor have been shot by Europeans, the fact has hitherto not been proved; and the writer ventures in all humility to suggest that the tale is derived from some old legend, and refers, in spite of the Persian name which may have become corrupted, to the long snake-like horns. Be this as it may, an old markhor swaggering along a ledge on a precipitous hillside, with his long black beard and white mane floating down to his knees, showing off every inch of his beautiful horns—as no beast knows better how to do, except perhaps a really big stag in the rutting season—is one of the most glorious sights in the Himalayas. The beast looks such a gentleman with his lean head and small ears, his powerful back and quarters, and his dignified carriage. Alas! it is all looks! His smell is something fearful, and manners he has none. Ibex and burrel can be trusted, when they are lying down after their morning feed, at all events not to move far; but markhor, no. You may watch a flock feeding till late in the morning, and they will lie down comfortably, apparently for the day; you begin your stalk with everything in your favour; suddenly there is a clatter of stones and a cloud of dust, you peep over a spur, and see the whole flock galloping wildly down the hill. After going half a mile, they probably pull up, begin feeding again, and again stretch themselves out on the ground as if nothing had happened. This little manoeuvre probably necessitates your climbing painfully back to the top of the ridge, and starting your stalk afresh, the intervening ground being impracticable. Once more you try, leaving a man on the top of the hill to watch and signal what the beasts do. You stalk carefully on; the watcher makes no sign; you creep on the last hundred yards, to the exact spot you wish to reach, and there is nothing. You search the ground as far as you can get, and there are only a few footprints leading over impassable ground; you climb back again, probably the only way you can go, vowing vengeance on the watcher, and he tells you that the markhor lay quiet till you were beginning your last crawl in—every second he expected to hear the shot: suddenly they jumped up and disappeared, and owing to the steepness of the ground he could not tell which way they had gone. This sort of thing will happen over and over again, particularly in Astor. Perseverance combined with good management always brings luck in the end, but big bags of really fine markhor are not to be expected; one fair chance for each fortnight on the shooting ground is a good allowance. It is always a pretty sight seeing markhor move down to their feeding ground in the evening from the crags above where they have been lying during the afternoon. Full gallop they come, sending the stones whizzing in front of them, over the most breakneck ground as if it were a level plain; rearing up on their hind legs and butting at one another, a venerable old fifty-incher probably playing with his great-grandson, a young spark of only twenty; the whole lot of them thoroughly enjoying the frolic. Ibex will play, and prettily too, but no beast appears so thoroughly to enter into the fun of a good skylark as a markhor. The master buck of the flock, however, seems to keep the youngsters in pretty good order. The writer was much amused once, watching a flock coming down a particularly difficult cliff. The best buck led the way, the flock following in single file soberly enough, the ground apparently was not safe even for a markhor to frolic on; turning a corner, the old fellow came to a wall of rock that, after careful inspection, he did not think good enough to descend, and he turned back to take another route. Just as he made up his mind, one of the smaller bucks in rear evidently chaffed him. The old fellow went for him at once, drove him right up to the edge of the cliff with his horns, as nearly as possible pushed him over, and then, with an air of great importance, led the flock round his own way. Hitherto most writers have divided markhor into only two varieties, viz. the spiral and straight horned; but the type of horn obtained in Astor is so different from that in Cashmere, and again that in Afghanistan from that in the lower Trans-Indus ranges, that any sportsman can distinguish them at a glance. The writer has consequently adhered to Colonel Kinloch’s theory, that there are four distinct varieties of this goat, classifying the two spiral types under the name of Megaceros, and the two straight-horned types under that of Jerdoni. In the British Museum the name Falconeri is applied to all four. The first variety of Capra megaceros is that found in Cashmere on the Pir Punjal and Kajnag ranges; its horns make occasionally three complete spirals, whereas the horns of the second or Astor variety rarely have more than one; and as the horns are measured along the curve, it follows that a 40-in. horn from Astor is far bigger than one of the same length from Cashmere. The Astor markhor is also a larger animal than the Cashmere one, often measuring a couple of inches higher at the shoulder. As regards habits, the Cashmere markhor is a thoroughly forest-loving beast. He will come out to eat the young grass on the upper slopes of the hill, but his real home is among precipitous cliffs in the middle of forest, and well worth watching those cliffs are when the sun first comes out after heavy rain. If there are any markhor about, they are pretty sure to appear and sun themselves. The Astor variety, on the contrary, live almost entirely in the open, only taking to the strips of forest when driven there by the gadflies in the summer. In the winter they come down to the cliffs overhanging the main streams, working up about May, till they join the ibex, who never seem to leave the higher ground. In June both ibex and markhor may be seen feeding together. The writer saw a combined flock of nearly one hundred beasts, male and female, in the amphitheatre at the head of the Dashkat or Datchnar valley. Stalk them? Of course we tried, in spite of the long odds against one with a flock of that size. There was a ravine leading up towards them, which we reached all right by crawling on hands and knees through some thick low scrub; then we crept up the ravine till it died away into open ground and found ourselves planted within three hundred yards of the head of the flock, some dozen buck markhor and ibex. There we lay for nearly an hour and a half hoping they would feed towards us, and a capital opportunity we had of comparing the relative size of the beasts; the markhor with his superior height and length making the ibex look quite cobby in comparison. Of course an old buck markhor must needs feed ahead of the rest, well out of shot, get our wind, and lead the whole lot at a gallop back to the rocks on the far side of the basin. There the ibex stayed, but the markhor went clean away over the crest of the hill. In the evening, while we were watching the ibex in the vain hope they would come down again, behold on the very line the markhor had left by in the morning three male ibex and another flock of markhor appeared descending into the basin. As the markhor were coming down at a good pace we started to cut them off. On came the markhor, which we recognised as a flock we had been hunting all the previous week on another part of the ground. A stiff climb took us near where we had last seen them, and creeping on the shikari who was in front came almost face to face with one, upon which the alarm call began to sound furiously. A run forward only brought the writer within sight of a pair of horns moving off about eighty yards away, but while pushing on to get a shot, suddenly the buck that had convinced us as to the identity of the flock by his upright horns, came into full view broadside on at fifty yards. He rolled over stone-dead to the shot, and as he was lying doubled up with his head underneath him a gun-carrier was sent down to him, while I ran on fast to try for another shot. The rest of the flock, however, had vanished, and as the chase was abandoned a noise was heard: looking round, the spectacle presented itself of the beautiful 50-in. markhor (such was the first impression; in reality it was not quite forty) slipping from the clumsy Cashmeree’s hands, rolling down the slope over one precipice, then over another, and lodging by the greatest luck just on the top of a third; the horns were sadly scarred and chipped, but were fortunately not broken. Many heads of both markhor and ibex get utterly spoilt in Astor by the animals falling over cliffs when shot. As regards Capra Jerdoni, the straight-horned markhor, the first variety, with a perfectly straight axis to the horn, is found all over the low ranges that run parallel to the right bank of the Indus below Attock; it used to be found in fair numbers near Sheikh Budin, a small station near Dera Ismail Khan, and in the hills, or rather the steep ravines, in the plateau behind Dera Ghazi Khan. The country beyond these places belongs to more or less inhospitable tribes and, for the present at all events, is practically closed against the sportsman. Near Quetta markhor are reported to be obtainable, and in Beluchistan there should be a chance of getting Capra Ægagrus and Ovis Blanfordi as well as Capra Jerdoni. Hunting straight-horned markhor is scarcely a summer amusement, as the heat is terrific on the low hills, and drinkable water is extremely scarce. The second variety is found in Afghanistan, another practically closed shooting ground. It appears to be a link between the straight horn and the spiral, more generally approaching the spiral in size of body and general appearance. As the Astor variety probably extends some distance to the west of Gilgit, and this second variety is found in Northern Afghanistan, it seems possible that its corkscrew bend may be more pronounced towards its eastern limit and less so as it extends to the south-west. The illustration on p. 312 gives the four marked types. Kinloch notes that markhor horns twist the reverse way to those of domestic goats; and the writer, after looking at many hundreds of tame goats in India for the express purpose of studying their horns, and after inspecting the heads in the British Museum and other collections, is able to confirm the fact that the horns of all wild animals that twist at all do so outwards, while those of tame animals appear invariably to twist inwards. [Pg 316]
[Pg 317] Measurements | Authority | Height at shoulder | Weight as shot | Horns round curve | Straight | Girth at base | No. of spirals | Span at tips | Remarks | | Capra megaceros | | No. 1. Cashmere | | ins. | lbs. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | ins. | | | Col. Cuppage | .. | .. | 63 | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Major Ward | .. | .. | 59 | .. | .. | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | ” | .. | .. | 56 | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Major FitzHerbert | .. | .. | 55½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Major Ward | 42 | .. | 53 | .. | 9½ | 2½ | 26 | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | ” | .. | .. | 48½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Col. Kinloch | 44 | .. | 47½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | Major Ward | .. | .. | 47 | .. | .. | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Capt. H. Brooke | .. | .. | 45 | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Major Ward | .. | .. | 43 | .. | 11 | 2½ | 31 | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Col. Kinloch | .. | .. | 41 | .. | .. | .. | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | ” | .. | .. | 40 | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Average of good head | .. | .. | 40 | .. | 11 | .. | .. | | | Not classified | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. A | 54½ | .. | 10½ | .. | 26½ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. M. Kennard | .. | .. A | 54 | .. | 10? | .. | 33¾ | ” | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. B | 53¼ | 42½ | 11½ | .. | 52 | ” | | Mr. R. Ward | .. | .. B | 53½ | .. | .. | .. | 37½ | ” | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. A | 53 | 24¼ | 9¼ | .. | 30¼ | ” | | Mr. M. Kennard | .. | .. B | 52¾ | 39¾ | 12? | .. | 33¾ | ” | | A, probably Cashmere; B, Astor. | | No. 2. Astor | | Major Ward | 41 | 240 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | ” | .. | .. | 63 | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | ” | .. | .. | 61 | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | ” | .. | .. | 53 | .. | 11 | .. | 45 | ” | | ” | .. | .. | 52 | .. | 12½ | .. | 43 | ” | | Capt. H. Brooke | .. | .. | 49 | .. | .. | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Major Ward | .. | .. | 48 | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | The Writer | .. | .. | 39¼ | .. | 13 | .. | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | 38 | .. | 14 | .. | .. | | | Average of good head | .. | .. | 40 | .. | 13 | .. | .. | | | Capra Jerdoni | | No. 1. Trans-Indus | | H.R.H. Duke of Edinburgh | .. | .. | .. | 38½ | 10½ | 23? | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | 36 | .. | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | 47? | 33 | 9¼ | .. | 19¾ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 32¼ | 9¾ | .. | 28 | ” | | Col. Kinloch | .. | .. | .. | 32 | .. | .. | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | 45¼ | 30¾ | 8¾ | .. | 21½ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 30½ | 10¾ | .. | .. | Skull No. 120 | | Capt. H. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 29 | .. | .. | .. | | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | 39 | 27? | 8? | .. | 21½ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. G. Landseer, ‘The Field,’ 1873 | .. | .. | .. | 25½ | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 25? | 8? | .. | 21½ | ” | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | 24 | 10 | .. | .. | | | No. 2. Afghanistan | | Major FitzHerbert | .. | .. | 48 | 38 | 13 | .. | 27 | | | British Museum | .. | .. | 40 | 32½ | 12 | .. | .. | Skull No. 121 | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | 35 | .. | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Average of good head | .. | .. | 40 | 30 | 12 | .. | .. | | XXXVII. IBEX (Capra sibirica)
Cashmere, ‘Kale’; Ladak, ‘Skeen’; Pangi and Lahoul, ‘Tangrol’ Ibex vary very much in colour according to age, locality and the season. In their winter coats the old bucks, though looking almost white at a distance, and showing up conspicuously among the brown young bucks and females, are really very patchy looking at close quarters, the head and part of the neck being a sepia brown, the middle of the body generally yellowish white with a dark stripe on the back, and the quarters again brown, with legs of dark sepia. In the summer they are sepia-coloured all over, the head and neck often darker than the body—in fact, an old buck looks sometimes almost black at a distance; the beard is thick and very dark brown. Ibex are to be found pretty nearly everywhere in the higher ranges of hills from Gilgit to Spiti, though they do not appear to cross the Sutlej to the eastward of Spiti. To name a particular valley would be only misleading. Favourite districts soon get shot out as regards good heads, and the only trustworthy information to work on is that of the year previous. If you get a good nullah, there is no sport in the Himalayas more charming. Parts of the ground no doubt will test your nerve as a cragsman, but it does not entail the perpetual climbing of markhor and ther ground, and in April, May and June a fair number of good chances may be relied upon. As Ward says, ‘Patience and steady shooting are what are necessary; a man does not require to be a first-rate walker or a really brilliant shot during that season; but he does require to be enduring, and not too eager about getting up at once to his game.’ Of course, if the sportsman blazes away at indifferent heads he will not get the big ones; but if he sees a good head one day and cannot get it, if he does not disturb the beast, he will see him again next day somewhere near the same place, and sooner or later be able to close accounts with him; ten heads, all over thirty inches, which would probably include two or three over forty inches, would be a far better bag for two months’ work than twenty heads in the same time, including a lot of rubbishy little things about twenty-five inches. If you wish thoroughly to enjoy your stalk, and the ground is not too difficult, insist upon going first and making your shikari carry your rifle behind you. He will probably object, but be firm, and listen to none of his plausible arguments; carry out your own stalk without asking his advice, simply telling him what you mean to do. When you are within two hundred yards of where you expect to get your shot, make him lie down, take the rifle from him and go on alone. Warn him beforehand that if he moves till you tell him, you’ll fine him. When you reach your place, get your wind before you look over; you will see perhaps fifteen or twenty ibex in front of you; don’t be in a hurry; make sure that you have really selected the best head for your first shot, and take pains to get it home. When you fire, the smoke will hang in your eyes, and you will dimly see the flock scatter. Keep your head now—don’t show yourself; and if you are in about the right place, a little above, but nearly on a level with the flock, and about eighty yards off, not closer, you will probably see the flock walking up the hillside, occasionally turning round to gaze at the 40-incher lying dead below them. With cartridges handy, and steady shooting, you should add the next two or three best heads to your score. You have no shikari at your elbow nudging you, and whispering advice just as you are going to fire, starting off the flock by showing himself immediately after your first shot, and finally, when you have got all the heads you care for out of the flock, imploring you to shoot a worthless little brute for the coolies to eat. Call him up when you have finished, and let him cut the throats of the slain to make them lawful eating, low down the neck, so as not to spoil the skin for stuffing, and if he objects, tell him he may do without meat. One of the greatest mistakes that all shikaries make in stalking is trying to get too close to the game. It stands to reason, in a country infested by leopards or ounces, that if a beast catches sight of the top of one’s head within five and twenty yards, he will bolt at once, whereas at eighty yards distance he feels at all events safe from a sudden rush, and will stop to gaze. After the end of June it is practically waste of time trying for ibex. There is grass everywhere, and to escape the gadflies and be out of the way of the flocks of sheep and goats that are driven up into many of the best nullahs in summer, the ibex retire to the highest peaks in the neighbourhood, and rarely descend to ground where there is any chance of getting near them. XXXVIII.—THE IBEX OF PERSIA AND SINDH (Capra Ægagrus)
Native names: ‘Pasang,’ male; ‘Boz,’ female; generally Boz Pasang in Persia (Blanford); Kayeek in Asia Minor (Danford) This ibex extends from the Taurus mountains in Asia Minor, through the Caucasus range and Persia, to Afghanistan, Beluchistan and Sindh. It is a smaller animal than the Himalayan ibex, and does not ascend to the same altitude, preferring, according to Mr. Danford, elevations of 2,000 to 5,000 ft., while 8,000 ft. is about the lowest limit of the Himalayan variety. In Beluchistan and Afghanistan these ibex and O. Blanfordi are found on the same ground, just as Capra Jerdoni and Ovis cycloceros are in the Suleiman range; and this peculiar trait of preferring hot low hills is, in the writer’s estimation, the great point of difference between Capra Ægagrus, Capra Jerdoni and Ovis cycloceros on the one side, and Capra sibirica, Capra megaceros and Ovis Vignei on the other. The general colour of the buck Capra Ægagrus is brown with a dark line down the back, and a black beard, but the last is not so profuse as in Capra sibirica. The females are lighter in colour, and have small horns. The horns are quite different from those of any other species of ibex; instead of having a flat front and being thinner behind than in front, as most other ibex horns are, these horns have the edge in front, a scimitar-like ridge running up the front of the horn, wavy but unbroken for about one-third above the head, and then represented by knobs which spring up at some distance apart for about another third, when the ridge appears again, but rapidly dies away towards the point. The sides of the horn too are smooth, the outer side rounded and the inner flat, the knobs not running down the sides as in other ibex. In Persia and Afghanistan these ibex are generally shot in drives. The members of the Afghan Boundary Commission had a great day with them. In the Sinaitic Peninsula they are replaced by Capra sinaitica vel nubiana, which extends through Egypt. Few people looking at the hills that run down to Suez harbour would imagine that they hold ibex, but such is the case nevertheless. The horns of this type are more like Capra sibirica, being quite as long, but thinner and more curved. The European ibex, Capra Ibex of the Tyrol, has also horns like Capra sibirica, and nearly as thick, but shorter. His beard, however, is only rudimentary. The Spanish ibex, Capra pyrenaica, on the other hand, has a peculiar upward twist at the end of the horn that makes it look almost like a markhor. This type is described elsewhere. ‘WITH CARTRIDGES HANDY AND STEADY SHOOTING’ [Pg 323]
[Pg 324] Measurements | Authority | Height at shoulder | Length, head and body | Tail | Weight as shot | Length of horns | Girth of horns | Remarks | | Capra sibirica | | ins. | ins. | ins. | lbs. | ins. | ins. | | | Col. Kinloch | about 40 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | 54 | .. | ” | | Major Ward | 38 | 54 | 8 | 188 | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 208 | .. | .. | ” | | ” (a female) | 32 | .. | .. | 104 | .. | .. | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | 52 | .. | ” | | Mr. M. Kennard | .. | .. | .. | .. | 51½ | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. Blyth, ‘Proc. Zoo. Soc.,’ 1840 | .. | .. | .. | .. | 51¼ | 10½ | ” | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | .. | 51 | 9? | ” | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | .. | 51 | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | 50 | 11 | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | 50 | 10 | ” | | Capt. J. Brickley | .. | .. | .. | .. | 50 | 9 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 49¾ | 10? | ” | | Mr. M. Kennard, 1887 | .. | .. | .. | .. | 49½ | 10? | ” | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | .. | 49 | 11 | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | .. | 48½ | 9? | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | .. | 48 | 12 | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | 48 | 10 | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | 48 | 10 | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | 48 | 10 | ” | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | .. | 47? | 9? | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. Rowland Ward | .. | .. | .. | .. | 47½ | 10¼ | ” | | Mr. C. Hagenback | .. | .. | .. | .. | 47 | 11¾ | ” | | Mr. M. Kennard | .. | .. | .. | .. | 47 | 10½ | ” | | Mr. Manners Smith | .. | .. | .. | .. | 47 | 10 | ” | | Major Greenaway | 37½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Major FitzHerbert | 31 | 50 | 4 | .. | .. | .. | (A female) | | Sterndale, ‘Mammalia’ | about 44 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | .. | 40 | 10 | | | Capra Ægagrus | | Col. F. Marston | .. | .. | .. | .. | 53 | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | .. | 52? | 7? | ” | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | 48½ | 8½ | Skull No. 652 Ost. Cat. | | Mr. Danford | 33½ | 65½ | included | .. | 47½ | 9¾ | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | | Capt. Townley Parker | .. | .. | .. | .. | 45¼ | 9½ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | 44½ | 8? | ” | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | 44½ | 8? | ” | | Mr. J. Carr Saunders | .. | .. | .. | .. | 43½ | 9 | | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | .. | 43? | 8? | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 43 | 9 | ” | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | 43 | 9 | ” | | Capra Ibex (Tyrol) | | British Museum (skull No. 650a Ost. Cat.), a doubtful specimen | .. | .. | .. | .. | 43¾, 41¼ | 10½ | | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 31¾ | 9? | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Senckenberg Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | 30¼ | 9 | (Cord, base to tip, 21¾ inches) | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | 27½ | 8¼ | | | Senckenberg Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | 24 | 9 | (Cord, base to tip, 16½ inches) | | Capra sinaitica vel nubiana | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | .. | 51¼ | 7¼ | (Skull No. 651 Ost. Cat.) | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | 46 | 8 | | | Capt. Bartelott | .. | .. | .. | .. | 42¼ | 9¼ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Capt. W. H. Besant | .. | .. | .. | .. | 41¾ | 7? | ” | | Capra Wali | | Senckenberg Museum | | | .. | .. | 24 | 9¾ | (Cord, base to tip, 17 inches) | Mr. Sclater gives two other varieties of ibex, Capra caucasica and Capra Wali. The Senckenberg Museum of Frankfort is believed to possess the only known specimens of this last type. Of it Dr. F. Richters, in charge of the Museum, says: ‘The horns of Capra Wali differ from those of Capra sibirica in the following points: the outer surface in Capra Wali is curved (smooth?), while in Capra sibirica it is corrugated. The under side of Capra Wali is sharper than in Capra sibirica. The inner side of Capra Wali has between every two knobs (on the top of the horn) five or six grooves, which correspond with a similar number of notches of equal depth on the under side. C. sibirica, on the other hand, has a fairly smooth inner surface, and on the under side has under every two knobs (on the top of the horn) a deep notch, and between every two deep notches a shallower one. The tip of C. sibirica is more curved than that of C. Wali. The horn of our specimen of wali has eight knobs on it, that of C. sibirica (horns 36¼ ins. in length, girth at base 9½ ins., cord from base to tip 22 ins.) 17 knobs.’ The specimen came from Abyssinia, and its photograph shows the peculiar knob at the base of the horn on the forehead, its absence of beard, and its small size in comparison to C. sibirica, which is photographed with it. XXXIX. THER (Capra jemlaica) Gurwhal, ‘Ther,’ female ‘Theri,’ ‘Tahr,’ or ‘Jhula,’ female ‘Tharni’; Chamba and Pangi, ‘Kart’; Cashmere, ‘Jagla’; Khistwar, ‘Kras’; Nepal, ‘JharÁl’ Ther are found at high elevations, where the forest line begins to give way to the snow throughout the southern slopes of the Himalayas, from Cashmere to Bhutan. Its north-west limit appears to be where the Jhelum river separates the Kajnag from the Pir Punjal ranges; though fairly common in the latter, it is apparently unknown in the Kajnag, nor is it found in the ranges to the north of the Cashmere valley; from the Pir Punjal it extends south-eastwards through Kishtwar and Chamba, then leaving Lahoul and Spiti to the north on to the upper waters of the Jumna, Ganges, and Aleknanda rivers, and so by Nepal to Bhutan, being most plentiful perhaps in Chamba and Gurwhal. A dream of ther shooting An old buck ther is a fine beast in his winter coat; his head is long and lean, the face being nearly black; the ears are small; a long, light-coloured mane sweeps down from his neck, chest and shoulders, reaching below his knees and showing up well against his dark brown back and quarters, his long shaggy coat half hiding his short sturdy legs. The horns are his weak point, and the ground he frequents entails such a lot of climbing and hard work that one is always inclined to think, ‘If I must risk my neck, I would sooner do it after a 50-inch markhor than a 15-inch ther.’ Still, ther shooting is very enjoyable in the spring (in the autumn, when the beasts are in their summer coats, they are hardly better worth killing than bears at the same season), and a few days ther shooting, if it can be indulged in before proceeding after markhor or ibex, is the best possible tonic for one’s nerves. The ground—rocky slopes covered thinly with pines and bushes—always looks more dangerous than it really is. The rock is sound limestone, and does not give way under one’s foot; there is nearly always a friendly bush to hang to, and the very blades of grass are tough. The writer does not go quite so far as to confirm the statement of a merry sportsman—that he and two shikaris all hung on to one blade of grass while crossing a difficult bit; but it is wonderful how much weight that grass will support if only subjected to a steady strain. There is also generally a variety of game to be shot from the same camp—gooral, kakur, black and brown bears, musk deer, markhor in the Pir Punjal, and burrel may often, according to the district, be combined with ther shooting; besides, there is always the 100 to 1 chance of a serow or leopard, and the writer even once came across a tiger within a walk of ther ground. It had killed a buffalo out of a herd close by, and actually walked through the camp one night, passing within a few feet of the tents. Though ther are often found in large flocks, the big bucks are generally alone, and these solitary old males are particularly crafty and by no means easy beasts to come to terms with. Colonel Kinloch writes unkindly of the ther in respect of his high flavour; all wild goats smell, and whether it be markhor, ibex or ther, the stink of the last beast bagged always seems more appalling than any that one has experienced before, and is only surpassed by the next one. The ‘bouquet’ of ther and markhor, however, appears to fade after the head has been stuffed, but the scent of the ibex will cling to it still. The writer has some stuffed ibex heads that were obtained six years ago, and their aroma on damp days, though pleasing as a reminiscence of past sport, is hardly suited to the house. Female ther are smaller than the males, have no mane, insignificant horns, and vary a good deal in colour, some being reddish-brown, others a yellowish-drab. They and the bucks in their summer coats have a conspicuous mark on the back, where the hair of what is the mane in the buck parts from the hair on the back. This is particularly noticeable when looking down on the beast from above. XL. NEILGHERRY IBEX (Hemitragus hylocrius) Native Names: ‘Warra-adu,’ ‘Warri-atu’; Tamil (Sterndale) ‘KÁrd-ardoo’; Canarese (Sanderson) This wild goat is found in the Neilgherry range, and most of the higher hills in the south of India. It is not found in Mysore nor in Ceylon. The old buck is of a dark sepia colour, with a light, grizzled saddle mark, lower parts paler brown, legs and face dark, and a short stiff mane on the neck and withers; the young bucks and females being lighter in colour. The horns much resemble those of the ther, Hemitragus jemlaicus, except that they are more ringed and sheeplike, and do not taper so rapidly. There is much the same difference between them on a small scale as between the horns of Capra sibirica and Capra Ægagrus, the Neilgherry goat taking after the former and the ther the latter. The two beasts are much about the same size, and have, taking into consideration the different types of forest, much the same habits. In Madras the Neilgherry ibex, being the sole representative of the goat family, has an amount of importance attached to his pursuit which his Himalayan cousin does not enjoy, being crushed by the superior attractions of his mighty relatives the ibex and markhor. They are to be sought for in the same way, watching from above the grassy slopes among the cliffs at an elevation of 5,000 or 6,000 ft., and require the same careful stalking. XLI. GOORAL (NemorhÆdus Goral)
Generally, ‘Gooral’ or ‘Ban bakri’; Chumba, ‘Pij’; Cashmere, ‘Nain,’ ‘Norn’ This is quite the most sporting of the minor beasts of the chase. It is pretty generally distributed along the whole of the lower slopes of the Himalayas from the Indus river to the Kachin hills in Burmah; horns of both gooral and serow were found by the Phunkan column in 1889. In Cashmere they are scarce, a few only being found in the Kajnag and Pir Punjal ranges, but from Kishtwar to the south-east they are pretty plentiful, especially in Chumba, Gurwhal, the Sewalik range, and the valleys of the Ganges, Jumna, and Tonse rivers. They seem indifferent to heat, and abound among the hot precipitous cliffs formed by the big rivers cutting their way through the hills, the Tonse seeming to suit their requirements admirably. Wherever a landslip has occurred, wherever there is a steep rocky slope covered with long grass and occasional bushes and pines, there gooral are sure to be found. Higher up the hills, up to about 8,000 ft. above the sea level, they are often seen on the short turf at the tops of the ridges or in the pine forests, but rocks they must have close to, and the more precipitous the cliff the more likely it is to hold them. Wary as gooral are, they will often live close to villages, and do not mind the presence of flocks with their attendant shepherds, or hillmen cutting wood and grass near their haunts. They seem to trust to the steep broken ground they frequent for protection. Gooral, as a rule, are fairly easy animals to get a shot at, but they present by no means a large target, and are very tenacious of life; a wounded one will often tax the best nerves to follow. Gooral seem to become particularly attached to certain localities, and will stand a good deal of bullying and firing at before they leave the ground for good, and as they are to be found within easy reach from many of the hill-stations, they afford pretty shooting to sportsmen who are debarred from hunting better game. Few men go out of their way to hunt gooral, but it is very good fun all the same, and first-class practice both in climbing and shooting. Buck gooral are generally found alone or with one other companion; if four or five are seen together, they are almost invariably does and young ones. It is nearly impossible to distinguish the sexes at any distance, one rarely gets a fair view of the beast to begin with; the horns are well nigh invisible, except against the skyline, and even if seen are hardly any guide, as both sexes carry them, the buck’s horns being only longer and thicker; and it requires the experience of a Tyrolese keeper, accustomed to chamois, to judge the sex from the shape of a beast half hidden in long grass or bushes. Native shikaris certainly never know. Walking along a ridge or a hillside you hear a sharp hiss: up jumps a brown beast some fifty yards off, gallops twenty yards, and stands for a second to gaze; you fire, and it rolls down the hill; you climb down congratulating yourself—a clean kill!—a single beast—surely a real good head this time—but when you reach it, too often it is another luckless nanny. In chamois the buck is more heavily built than the doe, is darker in colour, and has a ruff of long black-brown hair along the back, but it takes years of practice to tell an old doe from a buck, especially in winter. The general colour of gooral is a rich brownish-yellow tipped with sepia, and there is a conspicuous white patch on the throat which is more recognisable in the buck than in the doe, and is really, if it can be seen, the best guide in distinguishing the sexes. General Macintyre mentions an albino gooral. Though gooral seem fond of heat, they do not like being out in the sun, and this fact is a decided convenience to the sportsmen, the shady side of the hill being both pleasanter and more profitable to work over. Gooral may occasionally be driven, but far the pleasantest and most sportsmanlike way of hunting them is to walk slowly along the top of a ridge, carefully examining every ravine and patch of likely ground. Where gooral are at all plentiful it is almost impossible to take too much pains. The beasts often lie down under overhanging boulders and turn up suddenly in the most unexpected fashion on ground where you thought you had examined every inch, and as surely as you become careless so surely will you hear a hiss and see a beast dash down the hill at whom you might have got an easy shot had you not relaxed your attention. The comparative measurements of European chamois are given by Colonel Howard as follows: Good bucks weigh from 45 lbs. to 60 lbs. broken up. Extraordinary ones reach 70 lbs. and over. | Length of horn | Perpendicular measurement | Girth | Splay | | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | 11¼ | 7¾ | 3½ | 6½ | | 10? | .. | 3½ | 4 | These two heads are exceptionally fine; the two next heads are good, but not extraordinary. | Length of horn | Perpendicular measurement | Girth | Splay | | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | 9¼ | .. | 3¼ | 6¼ | | 9¼ | 6½ | 3½ | 4 | There are two more varieties of gooral in the British Museum: the long-tailed gooral from China, which is about the same size as an Indian gooral, but rather more yellow in colour. It has a tail of long brown hair reaching to its hocks, that of the one in the British Museum measuring 17 ins. to the tips of the hair. The Japanese gooral is a delightful beast, and exactly what one would expect from such a quaint country. Its coat is like that of a Langour monkey, long, soft, grey hair, tipped with brown; it has a white ruff on its throat and cheeks, a brown face, and rather rounded brown ears—altogether it looks like a goat-monkey. The horns are the same shape as those of the Indian gooral. XLII. SEROW (NemorhÆdus bubalinus) Gurwhal, ‘Serow’; Sutlej Valley, ‘Imu’; Cashmere, ‘Ramoo,’ ‘Halj,’ ‘Salabhir’; Chamba, ‘Goa,’ ‘Jhangal’ The serow is a heavily built, awkward looking animal, intensely ugly, suggesting a cross between a donkey and a cow, with a wild-looking bristly black mane, large coarse ears, horns like those of a gooral, only bigger; its general colour is black on the back and head, the muzzle being dirty white; the sides, forearms and thighs are of bright red clay colour, the under parts and legs being white; when seen first, it looks all red and black, and its wild uncanny appearance accords well with the gloomy tangled precipitous ravines it frequents. It is found thinly scattered along the whole of the southern slopes of the Himalayas, from Cashmere down past Sikkim, to the Burmo-Chinese frontier, but apparently does not cross the snow-line, probably on account of absence of forest on the northern side. Precipitous rocks and their accompanying caves it likes, but forest it must have, and the thicker and more tangled the better. A gloomy damp ravine below a waterfall, the sides mere walls of rock and the bed choked with rank vegetation, is the place where its tracks are oftenest found. The beast itself is rarely seen. It appears to live generally alone; a female with a three-quarter-grown young one may be found together, but rarely two full-grown beasts. Major Greenaway saw three serow in one day, in the Sindh Valley in 1871, two of them together, and one alone, and got shots at all of them, but only bagged one. But this was exceptional luck. Most men who have shot for some years in the hills, have seen one or two serow, but rarely more, and getting a shot at one is generally looked upon as a lucky fluke. Besides being scarce, serow are uncommonly wary, and are said by natives to travel for miles if disturbed. The serow gallops down hill Colonel Kinloch is one of the very few people who have laid themselves out to hunt serow, and his experiences are scarcely encouraging, though Ward says that in the winter months serow can be found with comparative ease in the Sindh Valley, in Cashmere. The serow seems, like sambur, to be nocturnal in its habits, and its discordant scream is often to be heard after dark in Gurwhal, where it is comparatively plentiful. The serow’s chief accomplishment is the way that he can gallop down a steep hill, and as he invariably takes that course when disturbed, he can be easily driven, provided the ground is well known. All writers agree that a wounded one will charge. Kinloch mentions having heard of an unwounded male charging when its mate was shot, and Ward gives a graphic account of an adventure he had with one. Mr. O. Shaw shot a serow with a white mane in Cashmere. There are two more varieties of this capricorn described in Sterndale’s ‘Natural History of India.’ The first is the Arakanese capricorn, found in Arakan, Pegu, the Malayan Peninsula, and Sumatra. This is a brown beast with a yellow bay throat, black forelegs, and bay hind ones. The description is rather vague, and Blyth’s note—‘This species varies much in colour from red to black, and the black sometimes with a white nape, or the hairs of the nape may be white at the base only’—does not explain matters very clearly to an unscientific reader. The second variety is the Thibetan capricorn, discovered by AbbÉ David, in Eastern Thibet. This differs from the Indian serow by the uniform blackish brown of the upper parts, tending to ferruginous on the thighs, and the red colour in place of the grey on the lower parts of the legs. XLIII. TAKIN (Budorcas taxicolor) Native name: ‘Takin,’ ‘Takhon’ This curious animal, which is found just outside British limits in the Mishmi and Akha hills, north of Assam, and in Eastern Thibet, is a kind of large serow; but its horns, instead of being sharp upright spikes like those of the serow and gooral, are more of the bovine type, being rounded, smooth, and with the distinctive wrinkles and longitudinal marks of genus NemorhÆdus faintly defined. Their peculiar twist is best explained by the accompanying sketch. An article in Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia of India,’ signed ‘J. C.,’ thus describes the animal: The takin is a large, heavily built ruminant, about 3 ft. 6 ins. high at the shoulder, and 6 ft. in total length. The external peculiarities of the animal are: first, peculiar angularly curved horns in both sexes; second, the enormously arched chevron; third, the very great development of the spurious hoofs, which are obtusely conical, and about 1½ in. in length in a small specimen. Old bulls appear to become of an uniform brownish black at times, but the colour doubtless depends on the season, as each hair has the basal two-thirds yellow, and its apical third black, and the young its hair brown with a dark tint. The animal would appear to range from about 8,000 ft. to the Alpine region, which is stated to be its habitat. As this animal has been found by the AbbÉ David in Chinese Thibet, future explorations to the north of Burmah should furnish skeletons and details about its habits for the advancement of science. There are two skulls in the British Museum in which the prominent chevron is particularly noticeable; and there are also several stuffed specimens. XLIV. THIBETAN ANTELOPE (Pantholops Hodgsonii—Sterndale, Kinloch); (Kemas Hodgsonii—Ward) Cashmeree shikaris know it as ‘Heran.’ The Ladak name is ‘Chiru,’ or ‘Choos’ This rather curious antelope is pretty plentiful in the Changchmeno Valley, the only easily accessible place for European sportsmen where it is found. A few are said to have been shot in the neighbourhood of the MansarovÁrÁ Lake, near the North-Western frontier of Nepal, and they are also to be met with all over the lofty plateau which has to be crossed on the way to Yarkand. It appears, however, never to have been found in the district beyond the Niti Pass as far as Europeans have been able to penetrate, nor did Colonel Kinloch apparently meet with it when he crossed the frontier in the direction of GÁrtope. [Pg 336]
[Pg 337] Measurements | Authority | Height at shoulder | Total length | Weight as shot | Length of horn | Girth at base | Sex | Remarks | | Capra Jemlaica | | ins. | ins. | lbs. | ins. | ins. | | | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 14? | 8? | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Major Ward | .. | .. | 200 | 14 | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Mr. Gwynne Griffiths | .. | .. | .. | 13? | 9 | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | The Writer, 1884 | .. | .. | .. | 13? | .. | .. | | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 13¾ | 9 | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 13¾ | 8? | .. | ” | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 13? | 8 | .. | ” | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 13½ | 8? | .. | ” | | Mr. Rowland Ward | .. | .. | .. | 13½ | 8½ | .. | ” | | ” | .. | .. | about 200 | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Hon. W. Rothschild | .. | .. | .. | 13? | 9? | .. | ” | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 13¼ | 9½ | .. | ” | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 13¼ | 8? | .. | ” | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | 13¼ | 8¼ | .. | ” | | Mr. J. Carr Saunders | .. | .. | .. | 13? | 8? | .. | ” | | Capt. H. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 13 | .. | .. | | | Major Greenaway | 41 | 52 | .. | 12½ | .. | .. | | | ” | 36½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | 36 to 40 | about 54 | .. | 12 to 14 | .. | .. | | | Col. Kinloch | .. | .. | .. | about 15 | 10 to 11 | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | Average good head | .. | .. | .. | 12 | 9 | .. | | | Hemitragus hylocrius | | Gen. McMaster | .. | .. | .. | 17 | 9¾ | .. | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 16¾ | 8? | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. St. George Littledale | .. | .. | .. | 16½ | .. | .. | ” | | Gen. McMaster | .. | .. | .. | 16 | .. | .. | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | 15½ | 8? | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. M. Kennard | .. | .. | .. | 15¾ | 8¾ | .. | ” | | Mr. St. George Littledale, 1875 | .. | .. | .. | 15¾ | 8¼ | .. | ” | | Mr. M. Kennard | .. | .. | .. | 15? | 8? | .. | ” | | Mr. St. George Littledale, 1871 | .. | .. | .. | 15? | 8? | .. | ” | | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | 41 to 42 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | 12 | 8 | .. | | | NemorhÆdus Goral | | Major Ward | 28 | .. | 58 | 8½ | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | ” | 28 | .. | 63 | 8 | .. | .. | ” | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 7? | 3¾ | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Major Ward | 28 | .. | 59 | 7½ | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | ” | 26 | .. | .. | 7½ | .. | .. | ” | | Capt. J. A. Orr Ewing | .. | .. | .. | 7 | 3¾ | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. J. M. Nicolls | .. | .. | .. | 7 | 3½ | .. | ” | | Col. Kinloch | about 26 | .. | .. | up to 8 | .. | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | 28 to 30 | about 48 | .. | 6 to 9 | .. | .. | | | Major Greenaway | 26½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | Female | | | Average good head | .. | .. | .. | 6 | .. | .. | | | NemorhÆdus bubalinus | | Major Ward | 37 | .. | 190 | 12 | .. | Male | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Hon. C. Ellis | .. | .. | .. | 10½ | 5? | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Capt. H. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 10 | 5½ | Male | | | Major Ward | 38 | .. | 190 | 10 | .. | ” | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | ” | 33 | .. | 120 | 10 | .. | Female | ” | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 9? | 5? | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. R. Lydekker, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 9¾ | 5? | .. | ” | | Major Greenaway | .. | .. | .. | 9½ | .. | Male | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 7? | .. | Female | | | Major FitzHerbert | 42 | 71 | .. | 9¼ | 5½ | Male | | | The Writer | 40 | .. | .. | 8 | 5 | Female | | | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | about 36 | 60 to 66 | about 200 | 9 to 14 | .. | .. | | | Arakanese Capricorn | | British Museum, sex unknown, not full grown (the horns are of the ordinary serow type) | .. | .. | .. | 8¼ | 5½ | .. | |
| Authority | Height at shoulder | Total length | Weight as shot | Length of horn | Girth at base | Span at tips | Remarks | | Budorcas taxicolor | | ins. | ins. | lbs. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 22? | 10? | 14¾ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 20? | 11? | 11? | ” | | Mr A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 20¾ | 11? | 12½ | ” | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 20¾ | 9? | 13? | ” | | Mr. B. H. Hodgson, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 20½ | 10? | 12? | ” | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | 19? | 11 | 15 | ” | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 18 | 10¼ | 8 | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 16? | 8¾ | 10¾ | ” | | Mr. B. H. Hodgson, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 15¼ | 9? | 5¾ | ” | | Lieut.-Col. Graham | .. | .. | .. | 14? | 8¾ | 8? | ” | The bucks vary a good deal in colour; some of them are a beautiful golden red, some a light fawn, and others a dirty yellowish white. The colour of the hair seems always to fade after the skin is removed. As a rule the skins are useless in the summer as the antelope are changing their coats; the legs and face are dark brown, and the muzzle, instead of being neat and deer-like, is broad and puffy. The horns are peculiar, having a considerable bend forward at the tips, as if they were pliable, and the buck was standing with his back to a gale of wind. They have two greatly developed inguinal glands, the tubes of which run right up into the body, and the Tartars are said to believe that the antelope inflate these with air at will, to enable them to gallop faster. A curious point about this antelope is that though he can gallop, and very fast, he generally seems to prefer moving at a sharp trot. As they are wary and require careful stalking, and as they often lie up for the day in holes, which they have a curious habit of scratching for themselves on the hillsides just deep enough to conceal the whole of their bodies and necks when lying down, leaving the eyes just peeping over the top, the best time to hunt them is when they are feeding in the morning and evening. They are rather soft animals, and succumb to wounds that most deer would travel miles with; the writer once broke the foreleg of a buck who after going about half a mile lay down with his nose on the ground, and let himself be caught. There was a pretty free fight for a bit when he was laid hold of, his sharp horns necessitating a certain amount of caution; a judicious wrench towards his wounded side, however, at length upset him, and a knife-thrust finished him. A Tartar shikari, who was standing by, absolutely refused to lend any assistance during the struggle, contenting himself with applauding the combatants and seeing fair play. The does are smaller than the bucks, are of a light brown colour, and have no horns. Unlike other antelope, the bucks separate from the does in the summer, and walk about in herds together. They are much worried by the grubs of some fly, which seems to annoy them chiefly when lying down during the heat of the day, for it is a common thing to see one of a herd get up, go for a constitutional gallop—they always gallop then—return to the herd and lie down again with the others. They do not seem to be troubled so much when moving about feeding. The venison in July is excellent. XLV. THE SAIGA ANTELOPE (Saiga tartarica) This extraordinary animal, which hails from Central Asia, is said to be a relative of the Thibetan antelope, on account of the peculiar formation of the nose. In the stuffed specimens in the British Museum there is little or no resemblance between the two; the Thibetan antelope having there, as in its natural state, a broad puffy muzzle, while the saiga antelope has, at all events in the Museum, in addition to a very high chevron, an absurd-looking elongated snout like a tapir, projecting far beyond its lower lip. The hair is thick and long, particularly on the cheeks, where it almost resembles a wild boar. The ears are small and rounded in shape, utterly unlike any deer’s ears. The general colour is almost white (probably a very pale yellow in nature), and there is a dark stripe down the quarters and tail. The horns are annulated and of a very pale colour, the stuffed specimen having twelve rings; and though of the gazelle type, with a backward sweep, rising up again at the tips, they have also two curious outward bends, one near the base of the horn, and another near the tip, though the tips eventually incline inwards. A skeleton in the Museum measured 58 ins. in length along the spinal cord, and stood 31¾ ins. at the shoulder. The stuffed specimen stands 30 ins. at the shoulder. Three pairs of horns measured 13¾ ins., 13½ ins. and 13 ins. Saiga tartarica Sterndale remarks that the inflated nostrils ‘are so much lengthened as to necessitate the animal’s walking backwards when it feeds.’ The fortunate sportsman who comes across this rare variety should therefore remember to post himself astern of a herd should he wish it to feed up to him—though he may possibly find that nature has provided the animal with means of twitching its nose out of the way to obviate so uncomfortable a method of grazing. Gazella gutturosa This is another little known variety. It is found in Mongolia, and is the one Ward refers to as the ‘hwang yang, or yellow goat.’ There is a stuffed specimen in the British Museum, which stands 31 ins. at the shoulder, is of a pale yellowish white, with coarse hairs, and has horns 10½ ins. in length, of the regular gazelle type in shape and ribbing, much resembling those of the Gazella picticaudata. Gazella subgutturosa is a much smaller beast than the last. It is found in Persia,[24] and extends to Yarkand, where a specimen was shot by Major Biddulph when with the Yarkand Mission, between Maral Bashi and Kashgar. It is called by the natives ‘djÊrÂn,’ or ‘jairan.’ Its general colour is pale red, with dark facial marks, a dark band along the side where the white of the belly joins the red of the back, and above it a curious pale streak. The buck has long, annulated, lyrate horns, with the tips inclining inwards. It measures 27½ ins. in height, and the horns of a specimen quoted in the ‘Scientific Results, Second Yarkand Mission,’ measured 14 ins. in length by 5 ins. in girth. There is a coloured plate of one in the same publication. Major Cumberland, in his journal published by ‘Land and Water,’ mentions hawking these gazelles with trained eagles. He says that the doe is not much bigger than Gazella Bennetti, with short stumpy horns. XLVI. THE THIBETAN GAZELLE (Gazella picticaudata, Procapra picticaudata—Ward) Thibetan ‘Goa’ This lovely little animal is of a creamy fawn colour in its winter coat. It has a white anal disc of longish hair, and a black tail about four inches long, which, like the Indian gazelle, it keeps perpetually wagging. The summer coat is slaty grey. The horns are like those of the Indian gazelle, but are longer, of finer grain, and have a far bolder sweep backwards before turning up at the tips. The female has no horns. It frequents the high plateaux along the Chinese frontier, in Eastern Ladak, in the neighbourhood of the Tsomoriri Lake, but apparently does not extend north of the Indus, as far as Ladak is concerned, its limits in Chinese Thibet being at present unknown. [Pg 343]
[Pg 344] Measurements | Authority | Height at shoulder | Total length | Weight as shot | Length of horns | Girth at base | Span tip to tip | Remarks | | Pantholops Hodgsonii | | ins. | ins. | lbs. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | | Colonel Kinloch quotes a head | .. | .. | .. | 28½ | .. | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 27? | 5? | 13? | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Sir R. Harvey, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | 27? | 5½ | 11¼ | ” | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 27? | 5½ | 15? | ” | | Major Ward | 36 | .. | 85 | 26½ | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Hon. C. Ellis | .. | .. | .. | 26? | 5? | 13? | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | The Writer | .. | .. | .. | 26 | .. | .. | | | Capt. G. Campbell | .. | .. | .. | 25½ | 5½ | 12½ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 25? | 5? | 12½ | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 25¼ | 5¾ | 12¾ | ” | | Major Ward | 37 | .. | 85 | 24 | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | ” | 37 | .. | 90 | 24 | .. | .. | ” | | The Writer | 35 | .. | .. | 20½ | .. | .. | ” | | Major Ward puts the average length of a full-grown buck’s horns at 22 ins., which seems about right. | | Saiga tartarica | | Hon. W. Rothschild | .. | .. | .. | 14? | 5¼ | 3½ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | 13¾ | 5 | .. | ” | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 13¾ | 4? | 3½ | ” | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 13¾ | .. | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 13½ | .. | .. | | | Hon. W. Rothschild | .. | .. | .. | 13? | 5? | 4? | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 13 | .. | .. | | | Gazella gutturosa | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | 13? | 4? | 6¼ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. St. George Littledale | .. | .. | .. | 12¾ | 4? | 3? | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 12¼ | 4? | 4¾ | ” | | Mr. R. Beech | .. | .. | .. | 11½ | 4? | 3 | ” | | Mr. Rowland Ward | about 30 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Gazella subgutturosa | | Scientific Results, Second Yarkand Mission | 27½ | .. | .. | 14 | 5 | .. | | | Mr. Rowland Ward | about 26 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Dr. O. Finsch, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 13¾ | 4½ | 6 | ” | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 13? | 4¾ | 5½ | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 13 | 4½ | 5 | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 12¾ | 4¾ | 4? | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 12? | 4¾ | 5¼ | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 11¾ | 5 | 5? | ” | | Gazella picticaudata | | Major Greenaway | .. | .. | 37 cleaned | 13½ | .. | .. | | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 13½ | 3? | 5¼ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. H. C. V. Hunter | .. | .. | .. | 13? | 4 | 3? | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 13 | 3¾ | 3½ | ” | | Colonel Kinloch | about 24 | .. | .. | 13 | .. | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | 13 | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Major Greenaway | 23½ | 41 | 47 | 13 | .. | .. | | | ” (a doe) | 23 | 38½ | 40 | .. | .. | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 13 | .. | .. | | | Captain K. Mackenzie | .. | .. | .. | 13 | .. | .. | | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | 13 | .. | .. | | Goa do not appear to lie down much in the middle of the day, and in May and June, at all events, are constantly on the move. They appear to resort to particular spots for dropping their dung, and little heaps of it may be noticed wherever goa are at all plentiful. As they are generally found on the grass flats that fringe the streams, or on some almost level plateau, stalking them is by no means easy, though they are not generally very shy, will occasionally allow considerable liberties to be taken in approaching them, and will stop to look after a fallen companion. The Tartars say that they can be stalked down wind, but they say this also of the Thibetan antelope, and Major Ward’s advice on this point is sound: ‘Believe it, reader, if you like, but do not try it often.’ XLVII. INDIAN ANTELOPE (Antilope Bezoartica) Generally ‘Heran,’ or ‘Mirug,’ from the Sanscrit ‘Mirga’ This is the well-known black buck, which is found all over India at intervals from the extreme south to as far north as the Jhelum, following the southern bank of that river till (joined by the Chenab, Ravi and Sutlej) it flows into the Indus, which then becomes the black buck’s northern boundary. Essentially a plains-loving animal, it avoids hills and heavy forest, but is often found in the long grass which covers the islands and banks of many of the large rivers. Though considerable tracts of apparently suitable country do not seem to hold a single herd, special districts where antelope are always to be found seem to crop up unexpectedly all over India. In the North-West Provinces, and along the borders of the Bikanir Desert between Rajpootana and the Punjab, it appears to be more generally plentiful than in the rest of India, and the horns in these districts grow longer. Sanderson says, in ‘Thirteen Years among the Wild Beasts of India,’ that an 18-in. horn is a decided rarity in Mysore, whilst in the Bikanir Desert they are frequently obtained 24 ins., and occasionally 27 ins. or more, in length. A black buck in his best coat is a very handsome animal, but is too well known to require description. The buck usually changes his coat after the rutting season, which is in the spring, the season varying slightly according to locality. During the hot months he is generally more or less brown, regaining the black coat after the rainy season. Many full-grown bucks with good heads do not seem to turn black at all, but the master buck of a herd is almost invariably black at the proper season. Major FitzHerbert (a very careful observer of the habits of wild animals) is of opinion that it is usually the master buck of the herd who turns brown in the hot weather; he is then used up, and often leaves the herd to the possession of a younger buck, who has remained black. The herds, though more frequently consisting of ten or a dozen animals, are occasionally of immense size—indeed thousands are mentioned by some authorities. Antelope in herds are, as a rule, fairly easy to get within shot of; but a solitary old black buck takes precious good care of himself, and as there is rarely cover enough to stalk him without being seen, these wary old gentlemen generally escape. The natives have many methods of hunting antelope. Pursuing them with trained chitas has been so often described that any detailed account of it is unnecessary. It is interesting to see once, the chita’s speed being so amazing, but considered as sport it is poor fun. Black buck are occasionally snared by sending tame bucks among them with nooses attached to their horns. The wild buck attacks the intruder, and gets caught by the horn. This plan is also adopted for snaring ravine deer, but not often, as the gazelle is said to be harder to train than the black buck. The commonest way of snaring antelope is by covering about an acre of ground thickly with nooses and driving a herd over it. Trained bullocks are often used by native shikaris to enable them to get within the close range they love for a shot; and the writer has seen the following curious method practised in Central India. A trained buck and doe are taken out, each having a light cord about ten yards long attached to it, and the pair are led by an attendant, a light screen about three feet square made of grass and leaves with a small hole in the centre being carried by the shikari, and the whole party moves under cover of a third man on horseback to within about three hundred yards of a herd of antelope. The screen is then planted on a spot commanding a good view; the men on foot crouch behind it, and the horseman rides slowly off to a flank. The tame deer are then let out to the full extent of their lines on one side of the screen, and begin playing round one another. The master buck of the herd, seeing an impertinent intruder on his ground, trots out at once to do battle for the doe, but the screen puzzles him, so before coming close he generally circles round to try and see behind it. As he moves the screen is shifted round, the men scrambling round on hands and knees behind it, and if there are two Englishmen bursting with suppressed laughter in addition to the two natives, all scuffling round as the screen moves and trying to keep their legs out of sight, the business is most comical. Directly the wild buck stops, the screen and the men behind it must remain motionless. Having failed to discover what is behind the screen, the buck, though he is still suspicious, probably because he caught sight of a clumsy English leg, feels that he must try to capture that enticing doe, but decides on having a look from the other side of the screen first, so back he gallops to the other flank, and the scrambling process is repeated. Gradually he comes within range, the rifle is poked through the hole in the screen and he gets his quietus; after this the tame deer are given a handful of corn, and the party sets out to look for another herd. The tame buck employed in this manoeuvre should be a brown one, as if an old powerful-looking black one is used the wild buck will often decline the contest. In some districts the antelope are so wild that sportsmen have to approach them under cover of bullock-carts, and occasionally dress up as natives to get within range. The antelope are accustomed to see carts and natives, and will generally allow them to pass within about a hundred and fifty yards, while the sight of a European will start them off at once; but in most places in Central and Northern India these accessories are not needed. The pleasantest way of shooting is to ride a quiet horse, which will do for stalking if the antelope are wild or for riding down a wounded buck, taking a few coolies with you to carry game, luncheon, guns and cartridges. A shot-gun enables one to vary the bag pleasantly with small game, without interfering with the chance of getting antelope. If the sportsman is fond of coursing, greyhounds may be taken, the Rampore breed suiting the country best; but after many trials the writer has become unwillingly convinced that dogs do more harm than good. If there are any crops about they soon get unsighted, get on to fresh deer, and disturb the whole country. On the other hand, if the sportsman has dogs he can often enjoy a course after a fox or a hare to vary the entertainment, and a good course with a wounded buck is a very pretty sight. The usual proceeding is as follows: The sportsman rides till a herd is sighted; he approaches them as far as he thinks safe, probably within about six hundred yards; he then dismounts, and if he is going to use his horse for stalking, goes on with the horse and groom, leaving the coolies and dogs behind, with orders to follow him slowly, keeping as far back as possible without losing sight of him. If the antelope are feeding or moving slowly, the sportsman directs his course so as to cross their path about a hundred yards ahead of them. If the creatures are lying down or stationary, he must try to pass within a hundred yards of the flank which is to the leeward of the herd, walking on the far side of his horse, which is led by the groom on the same side. If he has no horse with him, he should hold his rifle so that the sun does not shine on the barrels. If two sportsmen are working together (a most killing plan with crafty men who play into one another’s hands), they should each take a flank and go rather wider than they would if hunting single-handed, so as to keep the herd between them. As long as that can be managed one or other of the guns is sure to get a chance at the best buck. The sportsman should show himself to the herd a long way off, and walk slowly, without any attempt at concealment; he must remember never to walk straight at them, but always as if he were going to pass them at about a hundred yards; if he finds he is lying too far out of his course, he should edge quietly towards them without turning, and he should never stop until he means to fire. He should never look direct at the herd; quiet side glances will give him all the information he requires. When he has approached to within two hundred yards, if the herd is lying down some of the does will get up; but the sportsman can go on safely till the buck he wants begins to stir. The old fellow will rise leisurely, stretch himself, and then turn to gaze. This is the time for the shot, and if it can be taken without sitting down or kneeling it is far more likely to be an easy one. An excellent rest[25] for firing standing can be made with a light bamboo having an iron crutch covered with leather on the top to hold the rifle barrels. The crutch should be the exact height of the top of the sportsman’s shoulder, and is held, when firing, with the left hand at arm’s length. The bottom of the stick should be shod, to prevent it wearing away when used as a walking-stick. The advantages of using this rest are particularly noticeable when shooting among low bushes, which so often interfere with a shot when sitting or kneeling. Frequently, just before the sportsman can get a fair chance at the buck he wants, the herd begins to move off; two or three does commence bucking high in the air, and to a novice it would appear that the whole herd are on the point of galloping away. This, however, by no means follows. The master buck often takes very little notice of their pranks, and follows slowly after them, in which case the does calm down, and though still continuing to move, will lead on slowly. The sportsman should follow them quietly, still keeping on their flanks, and heading so as to cut them off, if possible; sooner or later he will get a chance if he sticks to them quietly, though if he has followed them for some distance he will probably only get a running shot. Each herd has its own district as a rule, and sooner than be forced far over its boundary, it will turn and gallop back past the sportsman, often within fifty yards. This is even more noticeable with ravine deer, whose herd districts appear to be smaller than those of antelope, and who generally require a lot of following up and bullying before they give a chance. A good buck with a herd of either antelope or of ravine deer need never be given up as hopeless as long as it can be followed. In following a wounded buck the main point is just to keep it in sight without pressing it until it lies down, when it should be left for about half an hour before being restalked. If it is intended to ride, or course the buck, the attendants should be signalled up at once, as the half-hour’s rest will spoil the run, but the sportsman should be careful that the dogs are not slipped till the buck is well clear of the herd. The best way is for the sportsman to have the dogs brought up to him, then ride ahead, the slipper running after him with the dogs in leash till the buck begins to gallop; then have the dogs slipped and ride the buck, halloaing on the dogs till they are fairly laid on. If he has no dogs he will be able to get within three hundred yards of the buck before the latter really starts, and then he must send him along; after about half a mile he will find that he can get within twenty yards, but no nearer. A few hundred yards farther the buck will begin to falter and then suddenly throw himself down, and the sportsman can either spear him or dismount and knife him—the buck has run himself out. With Express rifles, unless a buck is hit in the leg, he will give no run at all; with a body wound he can’t gallop any distance, though he may give trouble if pursued on foot. The bucking bounds which antelope make are very peculiar (no wounded animal ever bucks). The distance covered may be only a few feet, the animal jumping apparently to get a good view, but when the deer are galloping, the distance covered in a bound, apparently made without effort, is extraordinary. Major FitzHerbert paced three successive bounds of a doe on softish sand; two measured eight yards and the third seven yards. A buck slightly wounded in the leg will occasionally give a grand run. In 1875 Major FitzHerbert shot a buck through the hock without breaking the bone. Mounted on a fast Arab, he rode this buck for a mile and a half without being able to get up to him, as the buck led over a succession of gram fields where he was able to keep along the narrow headlands while the horse had to plough through the clods. Finding that he was, if anything, losing ground, the rider pulled up, and the buck stopped and lay down in a patch of grass. The attendants then came up with a couple of deerhounds, which were slipped at the buck with a good start, but could not run into him till he had gone another mile and a quarter, and only then caught the buck when he dislocated his wounded hock. In 1876 the same sportsman had another brilliant gallop on the same horse after a buck wounded in the fleshy part of the thigh. A brace of dogs were slipped, but got away on to other deer early in the run, and the buck was ridden till he dropped and was despatched with a knife. This run was measured about five miles on the map from point to point, and must have been seven or eight miles as the buck went. Cases have been reported of unwounded black buck being run down by dogs in the Bombay Presidency, but in Northern India, though the writer knows of two instances of unwounded does being successfully coursed (one of these at all events was not in young, as it was examined by a medical officer to decide a bet), the bucks could always gallop away from the dogs. The biggest bag of black buck the writer knows of was sixty-four bucks in 1883, by two guns in five days and a half. Of these, ten bucks, whose horns were all over 22 in. in length, were shot by one of the sportsmen in a morning’s work. The biggest mixed bag by one gun in a day was two nylghai, five ravine deer, and three black buck in 1875. Black buck in their wild state are very pugnacious, and when two bucks are fighting they may often be approached without difficulty. I once walked up to within eighty yards of two who were desperately hard at it; sat down and watched the fight till they stood with their horns locked, and then shot the blacker buck of the pair through the lungs. He threw up his head and bolted, pursued by his antagonist, a brown buck with good horns, who seemed to have had rather the best of the battle while it lasted. They ran about one hundred yards, the brown buck driving and horning the other till the latter dropped dead; then, after making two or three attacks on the prostrate body, the brown buck began to swagger round it, head and tail in the air, as proud as could be. By this time I had again got well within range, and as the brown buck now apparently saw me for the first time (not having taking any notice of the shot), I dropped him with another bullet so that he fell over the carcase of his late rival. Writing of the height that antelope can jump, Williamson mentions a black buck leading a herd over a net which was propped up on poles 13 ft. long, and which must have been at least 11 ft. high. XLVIII. THE NYLGHAO (Portax pictus) Native names: ‘Nilghao,’ ‘Lilghao’; in the Punjab, ‘Roz’ This animal is found pretty nearly all over the plains of India. Jerdon says it is not known in the extreme south of India, but Sanderson mentions it as occurring in the Madras Presidency on the borders of Mysore. According to my own experience, it is most plentiful in Central India, though it is common enough in the North-West Provinces. An old male, usually called a blue bull, is a large beast with a lean head, surmounted by short cow-like horns, but with a curious rib along the base of the horn in front; the neck is long and carried high; the withers are high, and give him a horse-like appearance, but he falls away towards the hind-quarters; the tail is like a cow’s, with a tuft at the end, but only reaches to the hocks. His general colour is a dark iron grey; the chin, lips, and inside of the ears are white; the ears are rather large and cow-like; there is a white spot on each cheek, a large white patch on the throat, below which hangs a tuft of long black hair; the chest and stomach are white, there are white rings on the fetlocks, and he has a thin upright black mane. The female is fawn-coloured, and is without horns. Scrub jungle, composed of ‘babul’ trees, ‘dhak’ and ‘beyr’ bushes, is the ground on which to look for nylghai, and if there is a patch of sugar cane adjoining such a jungle, it is an almost certain find. The natives often enclose these patches of cane with grass fences nearly six feet high, but nylghai will always jump them. As a rule, natives object more or less strongly to nylghai being shot, regarding them as cattle; and as they afford poor sport with the rifle, most men spare them after having obtained a few specimens, especially if the ground is not rideable; but where they can be ridden it is quite another matter. A wounded bull will give a grand run, and even an unwounded one can be ridden down if well pressed at first. This is rather a difficult matter for a single horseman, but parties of three or four have frequently done it. Kinloch mentions an instance of its having been done single-handed, and gives some stirring accounts of his own adventures after nylghai. Cows, he says, it is almost impossible to catch, the only chance being with heavy old bulls. Blue bulls have frequently been tamed and trained to carry loads. Sterndale mentions one he used to ride, but they are as a rule dangerous in captivity. The writer owned one who would let him sit on his back when lying down, but he would always charge any pony that came near him, dropping suddenly on his knees to use his horns. He used to break loose, and hunt the native gardeners up trees, whilst he enjoyed the produce. As the bull would not consent to be led, he had to be left behind when the writer’s battalion left the station, and his last exploit was to hunt the portly native landlord of the house round and round the premises when he came to look at his property. The hide is very thick, especially on the shoulders, and is much prized by the boatmen on all the rivers for making up into the inflated skins they use. Sterndale remarks: ‘He sometimes even devours such quantities of the intensely acrid berries of the aoula (Phyllanthus emblica) that his flesh becomes saturated with the bitter elements of the fruit. This is most noticeable in soup, less so in a steak, which is at times not bad.’ The writer has never had the luck to taste any part of a blue bull that was worth eating except the tongue. XLIX. INDIAN GAZELLE (Gazella Bennetti)
Commonly called Ravine Deer; native name generally ‘Chikara’ The gazelle is found in suitable localities pretty nearly all over India, with the exception of Lower Bengal, the Western Ghauts, and the Malabar coast. Wherever there is sandy ground, low stony hills, or the network of ravines which fringes the banks of so many Indian streams near their sources, or where they cut their way through low hills, ravine deer are likely to be found. They avoid heavy forest or swamp covered with high grass, nor do they usually frequent closely cultivated ground unless there is scrub, jungle, or a ravine near to which they can retire when disturbed. They are fidgetty, restless little animals, and, like the Thibetan gazelles, are incessantly twitching their tails. Even where not much hunted they are generally pretty wild, but as they do not as a rule go far when disturbed, the sportsman can usually get a shot by perseveringly following up a herd. A steady shooting horse is of great assistance in stalking them, and on the edge of the Bikanir Desert, where they are very plentiful, the easiest way of approaching them is under cover of a riding camel. As black buck and ravine deer are often found on the same ground, the same tactics in the stalk are applicable to either. The stick-rest recommended for black buck shooting is of the greatest assistance when shooting ravine deer among bushes. The bucks are often seen alone, and herds rarely consist of more than a dozen animals. The does have thin horns, and occasionally, in bad light or jungle, pay the penalty of being mistaken for bucks. Ravine deer shooting with a light rifle is very good fun. Straight shooting is necessary for so small a mark, and as a rule the day’s amusement can be varied by shots at black buck or small game. Colonel Howard, in 1883, got one ravine buck, one bustard, two peafowl, one sand-grouse, one duck, in a day, all shot with a rifle. A ravine buck with a broken leg will give a good run to dogs if found in the open, but as a rule the ground these deer frequent is too broken for coursing. An unwounded doe was run down by three dogs belonging to officers of the Rifle Brigade in 1876, but on another occasion the writer saw a fawn run clean away from a good dog. Kinloch describes how the officers of the Guides used to hunt ravine deer with dogs and falcons. L. THE FOUR-HORNED ANTELOPE (Tetraceros quadricornis) Native names: generally ‘Charsingha,’ ‘Choka,’ ‘Doda’; in Chota Nagpur ‘ChÁorang’ (Kinloch) Four-horned antelopes are found thinly scattered all over India, but, according to Sterndale, not in Ceylon or Burmah. They are met with in Rajputana, but the writer has never heard of them in the Punjab. They generally live alone or in pairs, and frequent bamboo jungle, or the long grass and bushes near forests. Their colouring varies a good deal, but it is generally a reddish-brown, paler below the forelegs, and fetlocks dark; the latter being ringed with pale marks. The female is hornless. The male has two pairs of short, smooth black horns, the front pair, which is shorter than the other pair, growing almost above the eyes, while the rear pair rises just in front of the ears. The front pair are often mere knobs, and good specimen heads, with the four horns complete, are not easy to get; in fact, this antelope is such a small animal and sticks so persistently to cover, that the majority of those that are killed are bagged by lucky snap-shots. Sterndale quotes a letter in the ‘Asian,’ signed ‘Bheel,’ in which the writer remarks: ‘It is found in the thick jungles at the foot of the hills. It selects some secluded spot, which it does not desert when disturbed, returning invariably to its hiding-place when the coast is clear.’ This peculiarity might well be taken advantage of by any sportsman desirous of obtaining a specimen; on a four-horn being put up, his hiding-place might be noted, the attendants sent on a few hundred yards, and the sportsman remain behind to intercept the animal on its return. The writer has never tried this plan, but only offers the suggestion for what it is worth. Measurements | Authority | Height at shoulder | Total length | Weight as shot | Length of horns | Girth of horns | Span tip to tip | Remarks | | Antilope bezoartica | | ins. | ins. | lbs. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 28¼ | 5 | 17¾ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Mr. Rowland Ward | .. | .. | Average 85 | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Sterndale | 32 | 35 | .. | 28 | .. | .. | ‘Triangle’ in ‘The Asian’ | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | 27¾ | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Col. Kinloch | .. | .. | .. | 27 | .. | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 27 | .. | .. | ” | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 27 | 5 | 19½ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Captain Brooke | .. | .. | .. | 26¾ | .. | .. | | | Col. Kinloch | .. | .. | .. | 26¾ | .. | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 26? | 5 | 17? | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Col. Kinloch | .. | .. | .. | 26 | .. | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | Gordon Cumming | .. | .. | .. | 26 | .. | .. | ‘Wild Men and Wild Beasts’ | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 26 | .. | .. | (An albino) | | Captn. Hervey | .. | .. | .. | 25¾ | .. | .. | | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 25? | 4¾ | 20¾ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Col. Martin | .. | .. | .. | 25½ | .. | 15 | ” | | Sir J. Morris, K.C.S.I. | .. | .. | .. | 25? | 5? | 21¾ | ” | | Hume Collection, British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 25? | 5½ | 14½ | ” | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 25 | 4? | 19 | ” | | Colonel Howard | .. | .. | .. | 25 | .. | .. | | | Capt. H. Petre | .. | .. | .. | 25 | .. | .. | | | Gordon Cumming | .. | .. | .. | 25 | .. | .. | ‘Wild Men and Wild Beasts’ | | Major Greenaway | 33 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | ‘Spherical,’ ‘Oriental Sporting Magazine,’ 1870 | .. | .. | 83.4 | .. | .. | .. | Average weight of bucks in Allahabad district | | ” | .. | .. | 70.8 | .. | .. | .. | Average weight of bucks in Bundara district | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | 20 | .. | .. | | | Portax pictus | | Major FitzHerbert | 51 | .. | .. | 9½ | .. | .. | | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 9¼ | 6¾ | 4? | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Col. Kinloch | about 56 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | Mr. A. O. Hume | .. | .. | .. | 8? | 6? | 3½ | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | The Writer | .. | .. | .. | 8¾ | 7 | .. | | | ” | .. | .. | .. | 8¾ | 7? | .. | | | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | 52 to 58 | 96 to 106 | .. | 8 to 10 | .. | .. | | | Major FitzHerbert | 53 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Major Greenaway | 55 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | ” | 53 | .. | .. | 7½ | .. | .. | | | ” | 50 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | 8 | .. | .. | |
[Pg 358]
[Pg 359] | Authority | Height at shoulder | Total length | Weight as shot | Length rear horns | Length front horns | Length of horns | Girth of horns | Span tip to tip | Remarks | | Gazella Bennetti | | ins. | ins. | lbs. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | ins. | | | Capt. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 14¼ | .. | .. | Both shot the same evening near Ferozepore | | ” | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 14 | .. | .. | | Major Ward | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 14 | .. | .. | ‘Sportsman’s Guide to Ladak, &c.’ | | Sir V. Brooke | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 13¾ | 4½ | 7 | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Major FitzHerbert | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 13½ | .. | .. | | | Col. Kinloch | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 13¼ | .. | .. | ‘Large Game Shooting’ | | Major FitzHerbert | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 13 | .. | .. | | | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | 26 | 42 | .. | .. | .. | 12 | .. | .. | | | ‘Spherical,’ ‘Oriental Sporting Magazine,’ 1870 | .. | .. | 39½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Bucks | | ” | .. | .. | 38 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | ” | .. | .. | 36 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | ” | .. | .. | 33 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | ” | .. | .. | 30 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Does | | ” | .. | .. | 28½ | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | ” | .. | .. | 24 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | 12 | .. | .. | | | Tetraceros quadricornus | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 4½ | 2? | .. | .. | .. | | | Sir E. G. Loder, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | 4? | 2½ | .. | .. | .. | Rowland Ward, ‘Horn Measurements’ | | Col. J. Evans (British Museum) | .. | .. | .. | 4 | 2½ | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Sir R. Harvey, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | 3? | 1¾ | .. | .. | .. | ” | | H.R.H. Duke of Edinburgh | .. | .. | .. | 3½ | 2 | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Sir E. Durand, Bart. | .. | .. | .. | 3¼ | 1? | .. | .. | .. | | | British Museum | .. | .. | .. | 3? | ½ | .. | .. | .. | ” | | Sterndale’s ‘Mammalia’ | 24 to 26 | 40 to 42 | .. | about 5 | about 1½ | .. | .. | .. | | | Average of good head | .. | .. | .. | 3 | 1½ | .. | .. | .. | | | Memmina indica | | The Writer | 11 | 21½ | about 10 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | Other measurements of this buck for stuffing: Height at croup, 11¼; length of neck, 2¼; girth of neck, 78/10; girth behind shoulder, 13½; girth middle of body, 167/20; girth in front of stifle, 13½; forearm at elbow, 36/10; thigh close to body, 64/10 ins. | | Jerdon | 10 to 12 | 22 to 23 | 5 to 6 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | | Professor Garrod, ‘Cassells’ Nat. Hist.’ | 8 | 18 | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | .. | | The four-horn has the stilted action peculiar to deerlets, walking on the tips of its toes. Sterndale remarks that it is higher at the croup than the withers, and runs with its neck stuck out in a poky sort of way, making short leaps. LI. THE MOUSE DEER (Meminna indica) Native names: ‘Pisora,’ ‘Pisai’ Habitat, the large forests of India; but it is not known, according to Jerdon, in the countries eastward of the Bay of Bengal. It is common in the bamboo forests of the Central Provinces (Sterndale). The writer has never heard of it in Northern India, nor has he even seen it in Central India; in the Western Ghauts it is common enough. In colour it is an olive dun, with lines of pale yellow spots along the sides; the lower parts are white; the ears small and rounded; the legs fine and delicate, being scarcely thicker than an ordinary pencil; the tail is short. The male has delicate little tushes pendant from the upper jaw, like the Barking deer; the scrotum is hairless, and instead of being between the legs is behind them, like the ordinary little Indian ground squirrel, which it very much resembles in colour and markings. It is commonly found in bamboo jungle, and the writer got a good specimen in the Western Ghauts. Sterndale writes of some tame mouse deer which he had: ‘They trip about most daintily on the tips of their toes, and look as if a puff of wind would blow them away. They are said to rut in June and July, and bring forth two young about the end of the rainy season.’ LII. KYANG (Equus hemionus)
Thibet ‘Kyang’ The kyang was doubtless originally intended by Providence to fulfil some good purpose, but having turned out a failure was located in Thibet, where it was probably considered it would not be much in the way; or else it was designed to take the place of the insect life on the lower ranges and act as a blister on the temper of the sportsman. The shapoo, limb of the devil as it is, has some good points in its favour—e.g. a graceful carriage, fine horns, and it is a desirable acquisition to the bag. The kyang has nothing to recommend or excuse it. It is an ugly, donkeyfied, fiddle-headed brute, with straight shoulders. In colour it is a mealy bay with a dark-brown hog mane, dorsal stripe and tail. Its head and ears are coarse and large, and its screeching bray is as unpleasant as its general appearance. Being absolutely worthless to shoot, it is always trading on that fact, and on the utterly false pretence that it is deeply interested in the actions and habits of human beings, particularly Europeans, is for ever thrusting itself into society where it is not welcome, thereby spoiling the sportsman’s chance of a quiet interview with the animal of his choice. The one trait in its character that might be reckoned as a palliation by an unduly benevolent commentator is that it appears not to be selfish. As soon as it thinks it has got a sportsman’s temper well under way, it will scour the country round for all its friends and relations, and assemble them to enjoy together the interesting spectacle of an angry man armed with a rifle that he dare not discharge for fear of alarming something worth firing at. Hints and persuasion are thrown away, and nothing but a declaration of war has the smallest effect on kyang. A skilful diplomat may occasionally gain a temporary advantage by misleading kyang as to his intended route—getting the kyang, for instance, to believe that he wants to cross a particular pass, and then, by taking advantage of cover, escaping up a side ravine; but as a rule the sportsman has only the choice of two alternatives: either to take the first opportunity of hiding and remaining hidden till the disturbance is over, or else going to some other part of the ground. Measurements. | Authority | Height at shoulder | | | Col. Kinloch | About 14 hands | | | Sterndale | 12 to 14 hands | | | Major Greenaway | 5 year old female, 12½ hands | 5½ inches below the knee | | ” | male, 13 hands | | | The Writer | old male, 13½ hands | | Native names: ‘Ghor khur,’ Hindi; ‘Ghour,’ ‘Kherdecht,’ Persian; ‘Koulan,’ Kirghiz (Sterndale). The wild ass is common in Persia and extends through Beluchistan and Sind to the Bikaneer Desert and Kutch, its southern limit according to Jerdon being Deesa, and its eastern 75° E. longitude. It is closely allied to, if not identical with, the wild ass of Assyria, Equus hemippus. As south of the Indus the wild ass is by no means common, and is very shy and difficult to stalk in the open desert, comparatively few have been shot by Europeans. Sterndale, quoting Major Tytler, says that on the Bikaneer Desert the natives organise a hunt once a year to catch the foals for sale to native princes, and that a full-grown one has more than once been run down fairly and speared. The Beluchis also ride down and catch the foals, and shoot the full-grown ones for food, the ground there being favourable for stalking. A gallop after a wild ass should be exciting, but few sportsmen, the writer imagines, would care to shoot more than one specimen of a beast whose sole trophies are the hoofs. Sterndale says they stand eleven or twelve hands at the shoulder, which is considerably smaller than the kyang.
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