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- Sprache: Englisch
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
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BULLET AND SHOT IN INDIAN FOREST
C.E.M. Russell
WAXKEEP PUBLISHING
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This book is a work of nonfiction and is intended to be factually accurate.
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Copyright © 2015 by C.E.M. Russell
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Bullet and Shot in Indian Forest
By C.E.M. Russell
CHAPTER I.INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER II.THE INDIAN BISON (GAVAEUS GAURUS)
CHAPTER III.BISON SHOOTING
CHAPTER IV.REMINISCENCES OF BISON SHOOTING MY FIRST BISON
CHAPTER V.HINTS TO BEGINNERS IN BISON SHOOTING
CHAPTER VI.THE WILD BUFFALO, THE YAK AND THE TSINE THE WILD BUFFALO
CHAPTER VII.THE TIGER (FELIS TIGRIS)
CHAPTER VIII.TIGER SHOOTING IN SOUTHERN INDIA AND HINTS TO BEGINNERS
CHAPTER IX.INCIDENTS IN TIGER SHOOTING
CHAPTER X.THE PANTHER, THE LEOPARD, OR HUNTING CHEETAH, THE SNOW LEOPARD, THE CLOUDED LEOPARD AND THE INDIAN LION
CHAPTER XI.THE CHIEF BEARS OF INDIA
CHAPTER XII.THE INDIAN ELEPHANT AND ELEPHANT SHOOTING WITH NOTES FOR BEGINNERS
CHAPTER XIII.EPISODES IN ELEPHANT SHOOTING
CHAPTER XIV.THE DEER OF INDIA AND THE HIMALAYAS
CHAPTER XV.THE NEILGHERRY (OR NILGIRI) IREX
CHAPTER XVI.BRIEF NOTES ON THE WILD GOATS OF CASHMERE AND LADAK
CHAPTER XVII.SOME BRIEF NOTES ON THE WILD SHEEP OF INDIA AND THE HIMALAYAS
CHAPTER XVIII.THE INDIAN AND THE THIBETAN ANTELOPES AND GAZELLES
CHAPTER XIX.THE RHINOCEROTIDAE AND SUIDAE OF INDIA
CHAPTER XX.POACHERS AND NUISANCES
CHAPTER XXI.SOME SMALL INDIAN ANIMALS WORTH SHOOTING
CHAPTER XXII.INDIAN SNIPE SHOOTING
CHAPTER XXIII.BRIEF NOTES ON SOME OF THE GAME BIRDS AND WILD FOWL OF INDIA
CHAPTER XXIV.THE FORESTS, PLAINS, AND HILLS OF MYSORE, THEIR DENIZENS AND THE FAVORITE HAUNTS OF THE LATTER
CHAPTER XXV.HINTS ON CAMP EQUIPMENT, SERVANTS, TRAVELLING IN INDIA ETC
CHAPTER XXVI.RIFLES AND GUNS, AMMUNITION AND ACCESSORIES
CHAPTER XXVII.HINTS ON SKINNING AND ON THE PRESERVATION OF TROPHIES
BULLET AND SHOT IN INDIAN FOREST
BY C.E.M. RUSSELL
CHAPTER I.INTRODUCTION
SPORT, AS DISTINGUISHED FROM BUTCHERY, needs neither apology nor excuse; the former is the moderate and humane exercise of an inherent instinct worthy of a cultivated gentleman, the latter the revolting outcome of the undisciplined nature of the savage.
Amongst real sportsmen and the bravest soldiers will be found the most gentle and tender-hearted members of their sex, whilst the pursuit of large game in the spirit of true sport is an education in itself
Field-Marshal Lord Roberts, v.e, etc., when, as Sir F. Roberts, he was Commander-in-Chief in Madras, gave a very practical indication of his opinion of the value of such training in the case of young officers, by encouraging the latter to go out shooting whenever it was compatible with the exigencies of duty for them to do so.
Not only must the sportsman in pursuit of large game learn infinite patience during frequent periods of unrequited toil, but he must, in order to be really successful, often exercise much self-denial, more particularly when hill-shooting, or when working localities wherein the scarcity of means of transport circumscribes the amount of necessaries which can be taken with him. He must, moreover, be temperate in all things, if he is to attain the physical condition which alone will enable him to support severe exertion—often in great heat—under circumstances diametrically opposed to those of his usual life in his headquarters.
Then again, the sportsman who is in pursuit of dangerous game must learn to keep cool in moments of peril, and to strive to do always the right thing at the right moment, often with no time for deliberation.
As an incentive to exercise in climates which engender languor and a disinclination for exertion, the pursuit of both large and small game is invaluable; and the love of this form of sport, so common amongst our countrymen, is a potent factor in the preservation of the health of Europeans in India. It is not often that residents in the country, who are obliged to work for their living, have any opportunity of bagging more than a certain proportion of the long list of game animals inhabiting the vast continent of India, but there are at home many men with both leisure and ample means, who may go out there to shoot large game, and to such are open the endless hunting - grounds between Little Thibet and Cape Comorin. The collections of trophies which may be made by such are limited only by the amount of time and labor which these fortunate ones of the earth may devote to this pursuit. Let me briefly sketch the distribution of the various species of large game which inhabit this enormous peninsula.
In the extreme south we find the elephant, tiger, panther, bison, sloth bear, hunting cheetah (rare), sambur, spotted deer, muntjac, Indian antelope, Indian gazelle, four-horned antelope, wolf, wild dog, wild boar, neelghaie, and the Neilgherry ibex, all of which, with the exception of the two last, are also to be found in Mysore.
Further north than Mysore we come to the Nizam’s dominions, or the Deccan, which is one of the best tiger countries in India. Long before we reach these, however, the Neilgherry ibex, whose range is confined to the extreme south, has disappeared. Further north still, after the Nerbudda river has been crossed, the wild buffalo must be added to the list, and in Guzerat are to be found the very few specimens of the Indian lion still remaining in the empire. The Sunderbunds at the mouths of the Ganges afford shelter to the Javan rhinoceros, which also occurs in Burmah. The Salt range in the Punjab is the home of the Punjab wild sheep, or oorial; and Burmah contributes the tsine, and the thamine, as well as many of the animals already mentioned. On yet, and we come to the great Bikanir Desert, the home of the finest black buck in India; while in the Nepaul Terai, Assam, and the Bhootan doors, a further addition of the great Indian rhinoceros must be made. Once the Himalayas are reached most of the southern game animals disappear, though a few of them are found at comparatively low elevations on those hills. In the sub-Himalayan tracts, in addition to most of the game animals of the south, the swamp deer and hog deer occur, as well as the buffalo and rhinoceros. On the Himalayas, an entirely new set of fauna is met with, comprising at various altitudes, the markhor, Himalayan ibex, serow, gooral, ovis ammon, burhel, shapoo, Cashmere and Sikkim stags, musk deer, the red and black bears of the Himalayas, the snow leopard and the yak.
It will be observed from the above that the north of India offers a far greater variety of large game to the sportsman than does the south, for most of the game animals which inhabit the latter are found in some parts of the former also, while the north can boast in addition a large and exclusive game list of its own.
The difference in the size of the trophies of the same species obtainable in various parts of India is very marked, as also the methods which must, according to local conditions, be employed in reducing the game into possession, some of the latter being far more enjoyable than are others.
Speaking very generally and comprehensively, the south, the Central Provinces, and hill ranges everywhere are the fields wherein shooting on foot, i.e. shooting without the employment of tame elephants, is practiced. In Bengal, Assam, Nepaul, the Bhootan dooars, and Burmah, the sportsman who cannot command a number of elephants has but little chance of success.
The south appears on the whole to be more prolific in large elephant tusks and fine bison heads than is any other part of India, while, the forests admitting of shooting on foot, the game can be pursued under very pleasurable conditions.
In so vast a continent, the whole gamut of temperature is run through, from the fierce summer heat of the Deccan and the Punjab, the comparatively temperate climate of the Mysore plateau, the still cooler heights of the various hill ranges, up to the abode of eternal snow on the lofty Himalayas.
The best country for tiger shooting on foot is the Deccan, and the best season the hot weather—say from February 1st till the end of April. The most favorable season for the fine bison forests of Mysore is the early part of the southwest monsoon—say from June 15th to the middle of August. Oorial shooting on the Salt Range should be attempted only in November, December, and January, on account of the intense heat which prevails there. The best months for Cashmere are from April to the middle of June, after which the sportsman should move on to the comparatively small portion of Thibet which is open to him. From the middle of September to the end of December is the most favorable time in which to try for the Cashmere stag, who then facilitates the sportsman’s search for him by “calling.”
It is a sad fact that all over India game is rapidly decreasing in numbers, and this is due entirely to the destruction wrought amongst them by natives, not for sport, but as a means of gain.
The sportsman’s aim is to obtain the finest specimens which he can secure of each species, and he may, and often does, work hard for days together without firing his rifle. He in no appreciable way affects the numbers of the game, though, of course, in localities much frequented by his class, fine heads soon become scarce, the latter requiring time, and in many cases a long period thereof, to grow to first-class dimensions.
Day by day, and in every village, native poachers are at work, as if the sole aim and object of their existence were the extermination of every edible species. So loth is Government to interfere with what the poachers consider their vested rights and so timid is it in risking opposition on the part of native agitators, that the inevitable day when legislation must at last interpose to save many beautiful, interesting, and harmless species from total extinction, is being put off and off with terribly sad effects. Locking the stable door after the horse has been stolen is admittedly a somewhat futile procedure, and it believes the Indian Government to at once bestir itself, and, by a little highly necessary legislation, to stem the torrent which is fast sweeping away so many species of large game before it is too late.
For the native names in different Indian languages of the various species of game, as also in many cases for measurements, he is much indebted to the works of Mr. Sterndale and Dr. Jerdon, though he has occasionally seen fit to slightly modify their nomenclature.
During his long residence in the Mysore province as District Forest Officer, the author’s advice and assistance in large game shooting was constantly invoked by other sportsmen (chiefly military officers), and he has had very clearly put before him the difficulty which beginners find in the prosecution of this sport before they have had time to learn for themselves by occasionally bitter, and often dearly-bought personal experience, how best to proceed.
With a view to smoothing the path of the tyro in the Indian jungles, the author has been careful to go into all details which have occurred to him as likely to aid in attaining that object, and he trusts that his efforts in this direction may prove successful.
He closes this introduction wishing his brother sportsmen the best of good fortune and health in the enjoyment of large and small game shooting in India.
CHAPTER II.THE INDIAN BISON (GAVAEUS GAURUS)
THE INDIAN BISON—GAVAUS GAURUS—IS A magnificent animal, which may well be described as emperor of all the bovinae in the world. In point of size, his height, averaging in a big bull about six feet (or a few inches more) at the shoulder, is superior to that of any of the others, while he yields to none in activity, gameness, and symmetry of form.
The mature bull is black, with yellow-and-dirty white colored stockings. The cows are dark brown, while young animals vary in hue from reddish-brown to brown. The dorsal ridge, which rises between the shoulders and terminates over the loins, is a striking feature in the Indian bison. The horns of mature bulls vary in shape and size so much that it is not easy to describe them. Roughly speaking, however, they may be said to curve outwards, upwards, and inwards, and in the case of old specimens to be very much corrugated from the bases to a considerable portion of their length, while the tips are usually more or less worn down and blunted by use. In color they are very dark at the bases, greenish or yellowish above, and black at and near the tips. The horns of young bulls curve outwards much less than do those of bulls of mature age, and they are quite smooth. In size, the horns of old bulls vary enormously. Some exceedingly old heads which I have seen are quite small, with a very narrow sweep and a paltry girth measurement, while others are grand trophies. A bull with a sweep measurement of 33 inches, if the head is a fair one in other respects, is well worth shooting, and heads of 40 inches or above in sweep are uncommon.
My next best heads are two of 37 inches, and one of 35 inches respectively across sweep. These are all big measurements, yet I have known much larger heads bagged by other sportsmen, in each of three instances the bull being, I believe, the fortunate Nimrod’s first bison.
In Mysore Major L. (R.A.M.C.) bagged a bull with a sweep measurement of 42 inches, and horns measuring 21 inches in girth and in Canara, Mr. St. Q. (of the 19th Hussars) bagged another head, which beats my biggest in all its measurements. In each of these last two instances, the bull was the first one ever shot by the fortunate sportsman.
About a month before writing this, I saw a magnificent head which had been bagged on the higher Travancore hills by Mr. W. M , a planter there, the sweep measurement of which is either 42 or 41 inches.
The proper method by which to obtain the accurate sweep measurement is to place the head flat on a table, the forehead downwards, and with a knife to make a scratch round the outside edge of each of the horns at the widest part, and then, after removal of the head, to measure the distance between the scratches.
A fine bull bison’s head, well mounted, is a splendid trophy, and the pale blue eye of the animal is well imitated in the glass eyes made in America for the use of taxidermists. The operator, in mounting the head, should be careful to preserve the curve caused by the arched nasal bones in the original.
Bison are widely distributed throughout the large primeval forest tracts, and the secondary forest adjoining such, all over India, and they are to be found in hill ranges of great altitude, as well as in fiat forests at low elevations. Speaking generally, and with the reservation that Burmah has yielded some very fine heads, the further south one goes the finer bison heads become, though I have seen some very poor specimens which had been shot in the forests of South Canara, which also yields fine trophies.
Bison are impatient of disturbance by man, and many places in the hills, in which they used to be numerous, are now deserted by them owing to the opening up of tea, cinchona, and coffee estates. Bison are great travelers, and they wander over immense areas. When the grass in one part becomes too coarse to please them, they move to another locality in which it is later in springing. No hills appear too steep for them; on the contrary, they can gallop down so abrupt a declivity that anyone unacquainted with the powers of this most active animal would consider it negotiable by a beast of such a size only with due caution and at a slow pace. Comparatively recently, when in the Travancore hills, I came suddenly upon two bison while I was in the act of stalking an ibex, and upon getting our wind, the animals, without hesitation, crossed the steep ibex hill and gained the forest (from whence they had doubtless strayed in their search for tender grass) as if the formidable obstacle were not worthy of consideration. They could have reached the forest without much climbing by making a short detour, but they preferred the short cut—precipitous though it was.
Bison browse a good deal, and so vary their ordinary diet of grass. They are very fond of the young, tender, sprouting bamboos, from one foot to three or four feet in height. They feed and lie down alternately both by day and by night, always selecting the longest grass which they can find in the vicinity for their siesta, which lasts from about ten a.m. till two or three o’clock p.m. if the sun be hot, but, if the weather be moist and cool, they often graze between those hours, and lie down when they feel so inclined on their grazing ground. Their necessity for chewing the cud renders it imperative for them to occasionally repose, if only for that purpose.
Bison are very fond of salt, and they are, in common with deer, elephants, and tame cattle, in the habit of resorting, generally by night or at early dawn, to any places where salt earth may be exposed in the vicinity of their grazing grounds for the time being.
Bison are gregarious, and are generally found in herds of from ten, fifteen, to twenty or more animals. Usually each herd contains only one black bull, the other males with it being immature beasts. Occasionally two black bulls are found at the same time with a herd, but in such cases one of them is probably a visitor or an interloper, whose stay with the herd, unless indeed he should be able to vanquish and drive off the bull in possession, will be but a very brief one. But it is a very common thing to find a herd without even one black bull accompanying it, for the mature males of many species of animals prefer solitude at certain times; consequently it by no means follows, when a male bison is found alone, that he is a veritable “solitary bull.” The real solitary bull is an aged animal who is no longer able to hold his own with younger and stronger rivals, and who is therefore compelled by stern necessity to lead a life apart from the females. Frequently two single bulls meet and keep together for some time at least, the absence of the other sex preventing any reason for disagreement between them. Owing mainly to the fact that comparatively few natives will eat bison meat, this noble animal is still very plentiful in suitable localities. If the majority, or even a considerable minority, of the meat-eating sections of the people of the country were not imbued with this prejudice, the natives would long ere this have done their best to exterminate the bison, as they are doing in the case of deer, antelope, etc., which the carnivorous castes shoot down, snare, and destroy, irrespective of sex or age.
Bison calves, if captured, are exceedingly difficult to rear, and they usually die while quite young. A few have, however, been brought up in captivity, notably one belonging to Major R. (of the Royal Scots), who shipped it home at the age of two years as a present to Her Majesty the Queen Empress. This young bull most unfortunately died at Aden while on the voyage. So far as I am aware, but one specimen of the Indian bison has reached England alive, and that was a member of a herd captured by a Rajah in the Straits, who succeeded in driving a herd of the animals into a stockade. It subsequently died in the Regents’ Park Zoological Gardens.
Mr. M., a planter on the Travancore hills, conceived and actually carried out to completion the brilliant idea of capturing a full-grown bull bison in a pitfall, and then of surrounding the latter with a roomy and strong stockade, and of letting the bull loose within this enclosure. The success of his achievement was complete, and the bull soon became so tame that he would allow Mr. M. to handle him freely, though he would not permit a native to go near him. At last, to Mr. M.’s great disappointment, the bull succeeded one night in displacing the bars of the gate of the stockade, disappeared, and was never seen again.
The only bison calf which I have ever possessed died almost immediately after I received it, since it had been nearly starved for some days in a native village before it was brought to me, its captors being very ignorant and careless. I have seen a very young calf left behind, crouching like a hare in its form, after I had fired at and had killed a member of the herd, the rest of which, with the exception of the little calf, had rushed away at the shot. The tiny animal was, however, far too active to allow itself to be caught, and easily made good its escape.
Bison in southern India are exceedingly timid, inoffensive creatures, and it is only when one has been wounded and is being followed up, that the sportsman may possibly be charged. Even in such event, the bison usually contents himself with one rush and then goes on, though he may charge again and again if further followed up, but far more frequently he does not charge at all. The usual reason for a bison charging is that the animal, very probably struck through the lungs, or with a leg broken, betakes itself to the densest cover which it can find, and, when it feels itself unable to travel further, turns round and stands motionless, watching for its enemies. The sportsman and his gun-bearers following the blood trail are apparent to the bison’s keen sense of hearing, and if the wind be from them to him, they are also obvious to his very acute sense of smell; while, since the animal is standing silently in thick cover, they can neither hear nor see hinty till, with a premonitory snort, and “like an express train,” he is upon, or past them.
Usually he goes on, either having upset one or more of the party, or having missed them, as the case may be, but there have been instances in which a bull bison has stuck to his man with great pertinacity. One of these occurred in my own district to Mr. (now Colonel) N. C, who was at the time a member of Sir F. (now Lord) Roberts’ staff. Mr. N. C, having read in Sanderson’s book that one should always rapidly pursue bison immediately after firing at them—on account of a habit which they have when suddenly alarmed, or being fired at, of pulling up and facing round after they have run a short distance—ran forward after firing at a bull, trying as he went to reload his 8-bore which had rather a stiff action. He had only just reached the spot where the bull was standing at the shot, when, from behind a clump of bamboos, the bull came at him at speed. C. interposed a tree between himself and the bull, who cut a piece out of the bark with his horn as he rushed by, and then turned round and went at him again with the same result. C. then thought that he would try to reach a more distant tree, and ran to do so, but, being tripped up by a fallen branch, log, or bamboo hidden in the grass, he fell prone, upon which the bull came and did all that he could to horn him, but succeeded only in ripping his garments considerably, and at last, getting his horn round C, tossed him, and then came and stood over him again. C, a strong, athletic man, now did what was very unwise, viz., he sat up and hit the bison with his fists in the eyes, and kicked him on the nose, until, for some unexplained reason, the bull left him and went off. That the bull was but very slightly wounded was evident from the fact that, though C. followed him up for some miles, he never saw him again. C.’s knuckles were described to me, by a man who saw him soon after the adventure, as being terribly skinned, and he afterwards showed me a thick, plain gold ring, which he was wearing at the time, battered out of all shape.
In 1897 Colonel Syers was killed by a bison in the Malay Peninsula.
It is quite extraordinary how very few people have been hurt by bison, as compared with the great number who have been upset, or even tossed by them. I have known many men who have been knocked over by bison, several of them while shooting in my own district, but not one, with the single exception of Mr. M., was at all seriously injured.
The big bull mentioned above as having been bagged by Mr. St. Q., tossed that sportsman on to his back, and Mr. St. Q. fell off behind as the bull rushed on, having got rid of his very temporary jockey! Captain H., of the Bedfordshire Regiment, was shooting in my district, and fired at a bull bison. He followed the blood trail, and was charged furiously from the front by a cow. He fired at and dropped her, but the impetus of her rush carried her on, and she upset H., who fell with his leg under the expiring beast, and was unable to extricate it till the latter died. He then found a second blood trail, and following it up, came upon a bull standing, in a helpless state, with its throat cut by the bullet. H.’s ball had first cut the throat of the bull, and had then gone on into the cow beyond. As may well be imagined, his leg was very badly bruised. Curiously enough, his companion in this trip—Captain F, of the same regiment—was also upset by a wounded bull, who knocked him (a big, powerful man) clean over, although missing his aim, by a creeper, which he took with him in his rush, and which cut through F’s gaiter and stocking, and the skin of his leg. The bull then went on and lay down, and F. followed him up alone and killed him.
I have known several different sounds emitted by bison. The one most frequently heard is their snort of alarm when suddenly disturbed; I have also heard them give vent to a low “moo,” very like that of domestic cattle. In the Versinaad valley, in the Madura district, I heard bison making a noise which I mistook for one made by elephants; and I once heard a bison, which had been struck in the neck by a 500 Express (solid) bullet and was floundering forward on its knees, bellow plaintively. This last animal recovered itself without falling right over, and went off and
I did not see it again.
Bison are forest-loving animals, and on the hill ranges inhabited by them, where open grassy slopes and dense cover alternate, the hot hours of the day are spent in the latter, and they must be stalked and shot, like other hill game, when they are out on the grass in the mornings and afternoons.
The tail of a bison makes excellent soup, the tongue is a delicacy, the marrow-bones afford first rate material for marrow-toast, and the under-cut, though somewhat rich, is well-flavored and tender.
Although as a rule a bison has no dewlap, the first bull which I ever bagged had a well-defined one. Captain (now Colonel) W. (late of the 43rd O. L. I.), who was with me, and who had shot a very large number of bison, was greatly struck by the dewlap carried by this animal—a solitary bull with a very fair head—and he called my attention to it.
When close to bison, a strong smell as of the domestic cow is often very apparent, but this is not an unfailing guide to the proximity of the animals, as it remains in a place where the bison have been lying down for some time after they have moved off.
It is very curious how the natives inhabiting the Cossya hills in Assam fear bison. The late Major Cock—a great Assam sportsman, who was killed at the assault of Khonoma, in the Naga hills, some twenty years ago—stated that he had seen natives who had little fear of elephants or tigers, show signs of funk when called upon to follow bison. Possibly, just as the lion evinces a very different disposition in Eastern Africa from that characterizing the same animal when encountered in the south and in Somaliland—as is noticed in one of the Badminton Library volumes on big game shooting, by Mr. F. J. Jackson—the bison of Assam may be more prone to attack without provocation than are his congeners in the south of India.
Special localities for bison are numberless, and I can note only a few.
For fine heads, Mysore and Travancore, the Anaimalai hills and the Western Ghants are to be recommended, but, as elsewhere stated, I have seen a number of very poor, though mature heads, which have been shot in Canara just below the Western Ghants—a district which yields very fine heads also.
The best districts in the province of Mysore for bison are those of Mysore, Kadur, and Shimoga. The railway runs as far as the town of Mysore (and further in one direction), and an easy journey thence by bullock-coach will take the sportsman to bison ground.
From Bangalore, the bison grounds of the Kadur and Shimoga districts can be approached by rail (the railway extension from Birur to Shimoga, lately under construction, must be completed by this time), a short journey across country from the nearest railway station sufficing to place the sportsman upon the ground which he may intend to work. Travelling across country in Mysore is easy, since there are travelers’ bungalows at convenient intervals along all the main roads, and also because a letter addressed to the Amildar of any Taluq (division of a district) giving timely notice, will ensure relays of bullocks being posted at all stages along the road by which the sportsman may elect to travel. Using posted bullocks, an average rate of speed of four miles an hour by day, and three miles an hour by night (including halts for changing bullocks, and the delays and obstructions so dear to the native of India), may be counted upon.
Bullock-coach travelling is a lazy but comfortable means of progression, and, the conveyance itself being commodious, a good many necessaries can accompany the sportsman in his own carriage. His carts, which will travel at a rate while marching of only two miles per hour, will of course have preceded him. Bullock-coaches can be hired from Framjee, in Mysore, who also supplies soda-water and general stores, though I should recommend a visitor to purchase his tinned provisions and liquor in Bangalore. It is probable that, with the completion of the railway extension from Birur to Shimoga, coaches available for hire by the sportsman will be located at the principal stations.
Other good localities in southern India are parts of the Coimbatore district, the Wynaad, and the Travancore hills.
The vernacular names for the bison are—
Hindustani—Gaor or Gaori-gai, Bun-boda.
In Seonee and Mandla districts— Bunparra, Boda.
By Southern Gouds—Pera-maoo.
Mahrathi—Gaoiya.
Tamil—Kaluzeni,
By Mussalmen in Southern India—Jungli-Kulgha.
In Burmah—Pyoung.
CHAPTER III.BISON SHOOTING
THERE ARE FEW FORMS OF sport, with the grooved or smooth barrel, more exciting, and from every point of view more enjoyable, than the pursuit of this grand specimen of the genus Bos. Whether the forests of the low country, or one of the hill ranges be the scene of action, the sport is one which pre-eminently demands all the pursuer’s powers of endurance, and all his knowledge of the habits of the game; and, large though the animal be, and consequently easy to hit, hitting a bison in the wrong place is only useless cruelty, since the poor beast so often escapes—at the best to suffer great pain for a considerable time, and too often to die a lingering death in solitude.
In the low-country forests the modus operandi is as follows. An early start is made, and the sportsman, taking with him men enough to carry his luncheon, drinkables for the day, and his battery, usually proceeds towards any well-known salt-licks (or places in which salt earth is exposed) in the hope of finding fresh tracks made during the previous night or at early dawn. Possibly he may come upon such tracks, as he traverses alternately bamboo jungle, open tree forest, and dense thickets, while on his way to the lick, or he may find none until he has reached the latter—situated probably either in an open glade on flat ground, or in the bank of a deep nullah. The salt-lick will be found ploughed up by the tracks of bison, elephant, sambur, and spotted deer; and possibly the huge pugs of a tiger close by, made as he lay in ambush, will show how well aware the tyrant of the forest is of the habits of the animals upon which he preys.
These resorts are well known to the jungle men who act as the sportsman’s guides, and usually, if bison are anywhere in the vicinity, they visit a lick nightly during wet weather, in order to eat some of the salt earth.
It sometimes happens that there are several such licks only two or three miles apart, and it may be necessary to visit more than one of them before fresh tracks are found. It is generally worthwhile to follow a track made any time during the previous night, provided only that it be found fairly early in the day—say before 11 a.m.—and the jungle men are very expert in estimating the time which has elapsed since a track was made. This is a very much more difficult matter than might be supposed, and even the best trackers are occasionally at fault.
I remember a very striking instance of this. I was in camp in a forest lodge called Rampore (in the Ainurmarigudi forest in Mysore), situated close to the bank of the Noogoo river. It was in the south-west monsoon, and the weather was very wet. We left camp early one morning, and within about a mile came upon quite fresh tracks. After following these for some time, we came up with the bison, which were lying down in long grass, and disturbed them without getting a shot. I followed up this herd for the best part of the day (which was cold and dark, but without much rain) without getting a chance at the bull, and then gave up the pursuit and started back to camp. On the way, when at no great distance from the lodge, we came upon tracks which the men considered so very fresh that, late as it was, we followed them, thinking that we had found the tracks of another herd which had passed only just before we had come across their footprints. The tracks led to a salt-lick, and thence on through the forest, till we arrived at last at the spot at which we had found them in the early morning! We had, in the evening, been following tracks of the same herd made before the tracks which we had found in the early morning! So cool and damp was it, that blades of grass, cut by the hoofs of the bison, remained perfectly fresh and un-withered during the whole day! If there be any sun, the blades of grass so cut wither very quickly, and the tracks made by the same animal vary in appearance very greatly according to whether they are exposed to the sun or are in the shade.
Spiders often spin their webs in the deep tracks made by bison in soft ground; and in my experience an otherwise fresh-looking track, in which a spider’s web is found, had better be abandoned rather than followed.
The worst feature of tracking is that the sports man is entirely at the mercy of the wind. Where the tracks go, he must follow, whether up or down wind; and sometimes for several days together he will experience the disappointment of hearing the bison dash off, having got his wind, without obtaining a chance at them. This is a risk which must be run, and against which no skill or knowledge of woodcraft can protect anyone, and it is a very severe handicap.
It is essential in bison shooting (and, in fact, in all big-game shooting in the forest) that the sportsman’s movements should be as noiseless as possible, and, of course, he should never utter anything louder than a low whisper.
His boots should be made without heels and when he knows that the game is near, he should advance pointing his toes downwards as much as possible.
For choice, I consider the beginning of the southwest monsoon as the ideal time for bison shooting in Mysore. The grass then is (provided fire protection has been unsuccessful) short and of a very vivid emerald hue. The ground being soft, tracking is easy, while frequent rains usually render it practicable to judge correctly the length of time which has elapsed since any track which may be found was made. A further advantage is that, although there is at any time of the year no heat worthy of the name to complain of in Mysore, at this particular season cloudy skies and cold wet days often lighten the labor of a long day’s toil after bison. At this time, which corresponds to the early summer at home, forest nature looks her best, and each well-grown tree is an object of beauty to the lover of forest life and scenery.
The sportsman who is intent on bison shooting should rise before dawn, and make as good a meal as he can manage to cope with at so early an hour before going out. He should take with him food enough for the day, remembering that it may be late ere he can return to camp. He must also carry sufficient fluid to last him till his return—cold tea or soda-water, as he may prefer, since he must not drink a drop of jungle water unless it has been boiled, and thus rendered innocuous.
When a bison is shot in any forest in Mysore in which there are Kurrabas, these little nomads remove the whole of the flesh, cutting it into strips, which they then expose to the sun—on a rock if there should be one handy for the purpose—and so dry the meat for future consumption. The sportsman can feel, therefore, that he is not killing a large animal to waste. One caution, however, I must give him, viz., not to put his foot upon a slain bull, for, should he do so, owing to some superstition of their own, the Kurrabas will not eat its flesh.
Personally, I hate following herd bison if there are any single bulls about, for, let the sportsman be as careful and as experienced as possible, the fact that there are cows with the herd makes it incumbent upon him never to fire unless he is sure that the animal is a big bull. Now it follows that since in a herd of say ten, fifteen, or twenty bison, there is usually but one bull fit to shoot, the chances are nine, fourteen, or nineteen to one. respectively against the animal first seen—if the bison are come upon suddenly in cover—being the only one which he desires to kill.
In spite of all precautions, some cows are so dark in color, and carry such big heads, that a mistake may occur, and even the best sportsman may incur the shame and self-reproach of having accidentally shot a cow.
In order to be sure that a bison in a herd is a bull, the sportsman must either see the animals’ heads from the front—as may occur if he comes upon them in thick cover, hears a snort, and sees big heads with outstretched noses pointed in his direction—or he must see the herd in the open, and be able to form some comparison. A full grown cow bison looks a very big beast, and if an unusually dark specimen should be come upon when her head is hidden (and no other bison visible), when the sportsman is following the tracks of a single bull, the latter would shoot her without hesitation in the belief that she was the object of his pursuit.
It is sickening to a sportsman to shoot a cow by accident, and the danger of so doing inclined me latterly to practically confine myself to single bulls.
Very fine heads have occasionally been shot in herds, but the herd bull is generally an animal in the very prime of life, whose horns, however, bear no comparison in size to those of a veritable solitary bull.
In following a single bull, the sportsman has no chance of hitting a cow by mistake, unless he should happen to see one member only of a herd of the proximity of which he had no previous idea. This occurs so very rarely that this single risk he must run if shooting in a thick, low-country forest; for so acute are the senses of the animal, that he cannot delay firing should he come upon and see any vital portion or large limb of it—probably through intervening jungle, and usually at pretty close quarters. Should he delay till he could make out the animal properly, it would most likely detect him and vanish without giving him another chance.
If the sportsman should obtain a shot at a bull standing broadside on, a bullet placed just behind the shoulder, and a little below the center of the side, will be fatal. If he should fire more in front, and break the shoulder-blade, the animal will shortly be at his mercy; though he may travel a little way if the bone has only been perforated, until it breaks under the weight of the huge body. A shot fired at right angles with the body far back through the ribs is useless, and beyond inflicting a cruel wound, which may cause the subsequent lingering death of the animal, will have no effect in compassing the object of the sportsman, viz., the bagging of his trophy.
A shot high up through the loins, thus perforating the liver, is a certain one, but is not so rapid in effect as a bullet well placed behind the shoulder. The animal in the former case may travel, fight, and take some more lead ere he dies, if followed up at once. For this shot, the spot to be aimed at is about nine inches below the termination of the dorsal ridge.
If no better shot can be obtained—as for instance when the animal is standing broadside-on, with all its body, with the exception of one hind quarter, hidden by cover—the best plan is not to delay in the hope that it will afford a better chance, but to at once break the hip-joint, which done, the bull cannot escape.
Should the animal be standing facing the sportsman, a shot in the center of the chest is fatal, and is quite as rapid in effect as is one behind the shoulder. If, on the contrary, the bull be standing or moving away, with only his hind-quarters visible, the best shot is straight under the root of the tail. A bullet fired thus from a powerful weapon will rake the whole body and penetrate the vitals. Even should the aim be hardly true, one or other of the hip-joints or hind-legs will probably be broken. A bison with a broken leg cannot travel far, and will be soon recovered on following up. A shot fired diagonally behind the ribs in a line to the opposite shoulder is a deadly one.
If only the head of the animal be visible—poked up and staring at the sportsman with the nose well elevated—a shot in the cartilage of the nose, plumb center, and slightly above a line drawn between the nostrils, will penetrate the brain and drop the bull dead on the spot.
For finishing off a floored bull (which common humanity requires should be done at the earliest possible moment) I use a 500 express, a solid bullet from which, fired at the proper angle through the forehead between the eyes, behind the ear, or behind the horns, brains and kills him instantaneously.
In following a wounded bull, the one thing to avoid, if possible, is the coming upon him so suddenly, that, should the animal charge, the sportsman would have no time to use his rifle.
A bison charges at very high speed, and, unless he can be seen at some little distance, has the game all in his own hands so far as the sportsman’s ability to defend himself is concerned.
Considering that a wounded bison traverses the densest cover which it can find, and that its pursuers cannot possibly tell whether it is not travelling rapidly with the intention of holding on for a long distance; or whether, on the other hand, it is not hidden in some thicket close by, ready to rush down upon them with lowered horns the moment they shall have approached within a few yards, caution in following up a wounded beast is highly advisable.
If the forest be fairly open, so that the sportsman can see an animal at a distance of, say, twenty five yards, he can, and should, press on without loss of time; but when the tracks lead through places—such as thickets of young bamboo or long grass—in which even so large an animal as a bison would be invisible at a few yards’ distance, great circumspection is necessary, and the best plan is for the sportsman to keep causing his men to climb any trees met with on the track as he advances—of course in front of his men, for, as soon as there is any chance of danger, the armed man’s position should be the van, and that of the unarmed men the rear.
It may be that the portion of the forest in which the bull was wounded is open in the main, but with an occasional thicket interposing here and there. In such a case the track should be followed at a good pace in the open portions, two trackers (not encumbered by guns) being in advance, and as soon as the tracks enter a thicket, the sportsman should take the lead, rifle on full cock in hand, and further progress be noiseless and cautious.
If the thicket be one which is of small extent, the shortest way is to “ring” it by going round the outside and seeing whether the tracks lead out of it again on the other side. If they do not, it is obvious that the bull has pulled up in it, and in such a case, if approached judiciously, he may be slain; but if blundered in upon, will very probably knock over or toss one of his pursuers, and will once more retreat, when the following up process will have to be repeated.
Bison often take many bullets after having been wounded for the first time. It seems as if, when an animal has received a fairly severe, and yet not rapidly mortal wound, he can, in certain cases, support several other shocks, any one of which would be sufficient to place hors de combat an unwounded beast. I hope, and believe, that the reason for this is that after one very severe nervous shock, sensation is deadened, and so the poor beasts suffer far less pain than they would otherwise experience when subsequent wounds are inflicted upon them. I cannot pathologically explain this fact, but presume that the nervous system is responsible for it.
In the monsoon in Mysore, it is an exceedingly difficult matter to preserve a bison’s mask. Personally, I succeeded in saving but one head-skin of a bull shot at that time, and in this case it was owing entirely to my having bagged it at a distance of only some forty miles across country from the large town of Mysore, that I was able to save the head-skin. I effected this in the following manner. I had taken out men enough to carry in the head of a bull in case I should bag one (four men are required solely for this purpose), and the head was brought straight into camp directly after the bull had been shot. I kept men at work skinning it from about seven o’clock (when it reached camp) till midnight, supervising the operation myself to prevent any punctures being made in the skin round the eyes, nose, crest, and mouth; and I had two men kept ready to carry the mask, wound round a bamboo, through the night to Mysore, promising them a handsome reward if they should reach that town by a certain time. The head-skin thus reached the native worker in leather (chuckler), to whom it was consigned, in good order, and he put it into pickle at once; and after it had been thoroughly cured, I sent it, with the skull and horns, to a taxidermist on the Nilgiri hills, and a magnificent trophy (which is now at home) was the result.
In dry weather, when there is plenty of sun, drying a bison’s mask is an easy operation. Plentiful applications of arsenical soap and turpentine to the ears and mouth, and a good painting with these preservatives all over the hairy side, (the drugs being rubbed well into the skin), together with quantities of wood ashes in the first instance, and afterwards of arsenical soap followed by more wood ashes to the raw side, will, with full exposure to the Mysore sun, preserve the mask so that the hair will not slip before the very thick skin has had time to dry sufficiently to arrest all decay. In hotter climates than Mysore, exposure to the sun should be avoided. No doubt if the sportsman went out in the monsoon equipped with a barrel, the materials for making brine, and the necessary tools for coopering the former so as to exclude air, he might preserve his masks in the monsoon in the manner recommended by Mr. Rowland Ward, but it is seldom that he goes out so prepared, and unless he were invariably to do so, he might not get a head worth mounting when he had his barrel with him, for such heads are not to be picked up every day.
If it be the sportsman’s intention to preserve the head for mounting, the latter must be cut off so as to leave a very long neck. The proper way is for him, with his hunting knife, to personally make incisions through the epidermis where he wishes the skin to be cut, and then for his men to sever the thick skin along the lines so marked for them.
After this, the neck should be skinned right up to the head, and the carcass heaved over (six men can, after some labor, effect this), and the other side similarly dealt with. Having skinned the neck thus, the muscles should be cut through down to the spine at the junction of the atlas and the axis, after which the head can be severed from the body by means of an axe or a heavy chopper.
If, on the other hand, it is not required to preserve the mask for subsequent mounting, the head can be cut off short with only the skin covering itself, and the best plan in such event is to skin the head, and then to bury it up to the base of the horns in the mud of a forest pond or swamp, and so to allow the flesh to rot, after which the latter can be removed without difficulty. The brains should be scooped out with a rude spoon made of bamboo, and a solution of carbolic acid poured into the brain-pan will reduce the unpleasant smell.
Time, and constant exposure to the sun, will effect all that is thereafter required, with the exception of the measures necessary for the preservation of the horns, the bony cores of which soon become full of maggots. To prevent damage to the horns, the latter should be worked about by hand (after all the previous processes have been completed) until they have become loose, and then removed from the cores, and these, as well as the inside of the horns, should be well washed with a solution of carbolic acid.
In a country in which the processes of decay are so rapid as they are in India, it believes the sportsman to neglect no precaution which may enable him to successfully preserve a fine trophy.
The only other trophies yielded by the bison are the hoofs. These are easily detached from the feet, and require no special treatment. Out of these pin-cushions, inkstands, etc., can be made.
CHAPTER IV.REMINISCENCES OF BISON SHOOTING MY FIRST BISON
IT SEEMS A LONG TIME ago, that memorable day, on which, for the first time in my life, I beheld the mighty gaur in the flesh; still, though it is now many years since the occurrences which I am about to relate happened, every incident and each scene are as fresh and clear-cut in my mind’s eye as if but one month had elapsed since the eventful episodes impressed themselves indelibly upon my memory. I was a keen sportsman, but my experiences had been confined chiefly to small game, and, though I had made some attempts to bag large game on foot in a country on the northeast frontier of India, where high grass and loft reeds, matted and almost impenetrable tree jungles and deep swamps render shooting on foot well-nigh impossible, I had as yet bagged no single head thereof, with the exception of one spotted deer which had but very recently fallen to my rifle in Mysore.
In May, 1882, I was at the Travelers’ Bungalow of Goondulpet, in the Mysore district, detained by a heavy cold from proceeding into the forests for which I was bound. The south-west monsoon happened to be particularly early that year, since it burst during the latter end of May, and I was eagerly anticipating my first rencontre with a bison —an animal which as yet I had never seen.
While thus detained at the Travelers’ Bungalow, a bullock coach one day drew up at the door, and from it emerged a tall man with a thick, but evidently unaccustomed, growth of hair all round his face, from which projected far upon either side an enormous and very handsome moustache. He walked slowly and totteringly up the steps and entered the bungalow, and it was not long ere we became acquainted. My then new acquaintance, but afterwards valued friend, proved to be Captain (now Colonel) W., of the 43rd O.L.L, who was, without exception, the best sportsman, and best all-round shot, of the many good sportsmen and pleasant shooting companions with whom it has been my good fortune to meet and to shoot, while his unselfishness and generosity in sport equaled his proficiency therein. Captain W. had been encamped during the preceding six weeks in a very feverish locality, and was weak and much reduced after a bad attack of ague, and he was even then on his way up to the hill-station of Ootacamund, with a view to appearing before a medical board. He was out on six months’ leave, every day of which he had intended to spend in the jungles, but after the first six weeks—of perhaps the most unhealthy season of the year in those parts—it appeared as if he would be compelled to leave the forests, and to recruit his health in a favorable climate. After a few days with me, however, W. picked up again, lost his fever, and gave up all idea of the medical board, deciding instead to accompany me in my forest wanderings, and, as soon as I was well enough to do so, we started for a forest-lodge twenty-two miles off.
As a convenient travelers’ bungalow intervened at Maddur, nine miles from Goondulpet, and thirteen from the lodge of Molubollay for which we were bound, we broke the journey there.
Leaving the Maddur bungalow after dinner one night—W. in a country cart and myself in my bullock-coach, our baggage carts, my pony dogcart, and our retainers in procession—we set out to traverse the remaining thirteen miles during the night, while sleeping comfortably on our mattresses and pillows.
I am a sound sleeper—as my better half (who often says that she does not know what she should do if anything were to occur which might require my being suddenly aroused) can testify—but at about 2 a.m. on this march I was aware of W’s exhorting me to get up, and to get out my big rifle, as there was a brute of an elephant on the road, which—though the cart-men had been shouting at him—would not clear out. W. had his rifle in hand, and was ready for the fray, and it did not take me long to get my 8-bore rifle case from under my bed in the coach, put the weapon together, and load it.
The procession of vehicles had halted, and W. and I went on into the darkness ahead to look for the elephantine highwayman who had so unceremoniously disturbed our rest.
