The red book of animal stories/Elephant Shooting
ELEPHANT SHOOTING
It was early in the month of November that Baker went down to the last cataracts of the White Nile, about six miles to the south of his camp.
The country was everywhere very rich, and covered with villages, and the people were very friendly, and ready to give the new comers all they wanted in the way of food.
One day a troop of Baker’s soldiers had been sent to some distance to fetch corn, and while their commander was quietly sitting smoking on the deck of the boat the leader of the party came galloping back to say that a herd of elephants was coming up from the west of the river.
Baker did not pay much attention to this news, as he expected that the moment the herd caught sight of the people, who had from curiosity climbed on the rocks or squatted on the roofs of the huts, they would turn off in some other direction. But the elephants did nothing of the sort.
On they came, eleven in number, swinging their trunks and napping their ears, not seeing or not heeding the crowd of boats and people.
When they arrived within about four hundred yards of the river, Baker mounted his horse—Greedy Gray—first telling his servant Suleiman to send on his two elephant rifles, with plenty of powder and ball. He then posted some of his men, dressed in red shirts, on the low hills close by, with orders to come down behind the elephants so as to prevent their turning. This done he galloped up the slope, taking care to keep well above the herd.
By this time the elephants had reached the river bank, and at sight of the grey horse they stopped suspiciously and stood closer together. While they were standing thus the men came down from the slopes and formed a long line, surrounding them on that side. The elephants remained quiet, though they still nicked their ears, with the boats in front and the river behind them. Here the stream was broken, about a hundred yards from the shore, by an island, with a steep bank of hard earth. Before a shot could be fired they had swum across and gained the island, but then their progress was stopped. The banks were fully six feet high, and the river was too deep below to give them a footing. The only thing they could do was to pull down the bank with their trunks and tusks, so as to form a slope for them to pass up, and they at once set about it.
Hard as the whole eleven worked, it took some time; and Baker, standing on the shore, watched closely for the moment when one of them should turn round, for it was difficult to shoot with any certainty from such a distance. However, he did fire a few bullets in among them, which, though they did no real damage, bothered the elephants a good deal, and caused them, in their confusion, to tumble over each other. But by this time part of the bank had given way under their hard labour, and they were enabled to get some sort of footing above the water, so that more of their bodies were exposed to view. At last, with a prodigious amount of tumbling and struggling, one large animal reared itself half out of the river, and received a ball behind its shoulder. It fell over into the stream, which swept it quite near to where Baker was standing, so that it was easy to put a ball right into the brain.
When his rifle was loaded for the second shot an elephant had scrambled right to the top of the bank, and gave an excellent mark, which Baker did not fail to take advantage of. This animal was killed on the spot, and like the other rolled into the river, and boats were sent at once down the stream to tow them both back.
But luckily for the rest of the herd there was no more ammunition left, so the elephants were allowed to climb up the bank without any more disturbance. They took counsel together as to what was best to be done, and at length agreed it was safer to cross to the further side. A few stray shots from a field gun hastened their movements, though the shells burst without touching them, and the whole nine were soon out of reach on the eastern shore.
As for the two which had been killed, the current was so strong that the boats sent after their bodies had to go two miles before they came up with them. Unlike a hippopotamus, which sinks for two hours after he is dead, the elephant always floats, for he is like a great football, on which two or three people can stand. The hippopotamus, on the other hand, is solid all through, and his skin is far thicker and heavier than the elephant’s.
The two heads and the tusks were all that Baker wanted, so he was pleased to gratify the villagers who crowded round begging for the meat, which they are very fond of. Hundreds of them came flocking, while some of the tribesmen, who had shown themselves unfriendly, looked on in disgust, watching the preparations for the feast. They were very much awed, too, by the way in which the animals had been killed, and dreading, like all savages, anything they did not understand, they at once sent messengers to beg for peace, which was cheerfully granted them.
Elephants are very particular what they eat, and prefer roots, bulbs, or the branches of trees containing sweet, gummy juice—like mimosa—to anything else. In their turn their flesh is much prized by the people, partly on account of the fat, which is not only eaten but
BAKER SHOOTING THE ELEPHANTS AT THE ISLAND
smeared over their bodies. The ivory tusks are, of course, used as an article of trade.
Along the course of the Zambesi river elephants are to be found in vast herds, or were to be found, sixty years ago, when Livingstone explored that country. One way of killing them is to make platforms high up in the trees, under which the elephants must pass. As soon as the animal is right under the trees a man aims a spear, measuring four or five feet, with a sharp blade twenty inches long, straight at the elephant’s ribs, and a welldirected blow causes death very soon. Sometimes they use instead of this a spear fixed to a beam of wood and hung on a dangling cord tied to a tree. The head of the spear is poisoned, and when the animal treads on the cord the spear wounds him in the foot, and he dies in a few hours.
In these regions men are forced to do their hunting on foot, for horses fall victims to the terrible tsetse fly, from whose bite neither ox, horse, nor dog ever recovers, though it never touches either wild animals or men. It is, therefore, very difficult to kill an elephant with one shot placed in the brain, as is done in countries where horses can be used, and, besides, the climate makes hunting a very tiring sport, and only fit for very strong men.
In 1850 a friend of Livingstone’s, named Oswell, was tracking an elephant along the banks of a river, and saw him with disgust take refuge in a thicket of thorny bushes, which did not hurt his hard skin, but were very unpleasant to a white man. Here the country was comparatively free from tsetse, so Oswell was riding, and at once put his horse into the narrow path, forcing his way as well as he could through the dense branches. When he was well into the midst of the tangle, keeping his eye steadily fixed on the elephant’s tail, the creature turned suddenly round and charged. Oswell tried to break away in another direction, but found it was hopeless, and in leaping from his horse caught his foot in a branch and fell to the ground, touching in his fall his horse’s side with his spur. The animal plunged and bolted, and before Oswell could rise the elephant was upon him. He expected every second to be crushed by the weight of its enormous feet, but the elephant, in its wild rush, had not seen his fall, and passed him by, positively placing his foot between Oswell’s legs, which he had instinctively parted. Few men have had such a narrow escape, and indeed he had been saved from more than he knew, for these thorn bushes cut like knives, and few horses will face them.
It is the custom of the Bechuanas to dig pits for the animals to fall into, after the manner of the Scotch at Bannockburn. The shape they have found to answer their purpose best is a kind of long square, seven or eight feet deep, but only one foot wide at the bottom, while the breadth at the top is at least three or four feet. When finished the pits are carefully covered up, and all traces of disturbance removed by a sort of framework of reeds and grass, held together by sand. In leaving the banks of a river, where they often go at night to drink and wash themselves, an old elephant will be placed in front so as to examine the ground, lest pitfalls should beset their track. And if sometimes, in spite of all the care of the leader, a young and foolish creature blunders into a hole, the strongest among them will join together and by means of their tusks and trunks will drag him out of his death trap.
Indeed, elephants, like many other animals, have strong affections, and will often attach themselves to one of their own herd, defending it from all dangers, as the following story will show.
Colonel Gordon Cumming was hunting elephants in the country north of the Limpopo river, and they frequently led him a long dance, for if they suspect a man’s presence in their neighbourhood they will go miles to get out of his way. They even seem somehow to tell one another, for if one has been shot all the herds in the district hear about it, and in a day or two there is not an elephant to be found anywhere. When the sun is hot they will shelter during the day in dense jungles of ‘wait-a-bit’ thorns, only coming out every third or fourth day to drink and wash in some pool or river, very often thirty or
OSWELL’S NARROW ESCAPE
forty miles away. This done they go back to a sheltered place and lie comfortably down to sleep, with their backs to an ant-hill, which shows an odd taste in beds.
Well, early one morning Colonel Gordon Cumming left the hole in which he had been sleeping, and climbed up a high rock to see if there was any chance of an elephant. Yes, sure enough, there were nine or ten huge creatures having their breakfast not a quarter of a mile away. It seems strange that so many people can see no animal, however harmless, without wishing to kill it; but Colonel Gordon Cumming had travelled thousands of miles for no other reason, and his heart beat high. He quickly clambered down from his rock to warn his men to keep quiet and out of sight, and sent back to the camp for a fresh horse, his dogs, and his big rifle. Then he returned to his watch-tower to make out the lie of the land.
The first herd he knew, from the size of the beasts, to be made up entirely of females, with some young ones following closely at their heels; but further away was another troop, consisting of five males, also grazing quietly. These he resolved to leave till the horses and dogs came up, and to hunt the others on foot.
Very cautiously he moved along the rocky ridge where the females were feeding on the young branches of the trees, till he got within a hundred yards of them. As the wind was blowing straight at him the elephants scented nothing, but continued to approach, munching as they walked. The sportsman picked out the largest and fired. The elephant uttered a cry of surprise more than of pain, and turned sharp round, receiving as she did so a second ball in the shoulder. Growling and muttering, the whole herd set off at a sharp trot northward, flapping their huge dangling ears as they went, the wounded female bringing up the rear with a friend by its side. When they reached a clump of trees they stopped, and not having scented man they thought they were safe. Meantime the horses and dogs had come up, and the hunters rode slowly towards the grove.
They had not gone far when the elephants caught sight of them, and started off afresh. But the poor wounded one could not keep up with the rest, and was easily cut off. Gordon Cumming dismounted, and, throwing his bridle over one arm, tried to aim steadily at the elephant. He found this, however, almost impossible to do; his horse Colesberg was in mortal terror of the huge, strange creature, and plunged wildly. A shot was at length fired, but without much result, and the noise at such close quarters ended by upsetting Colesberg’s nerves completely. In vain his master attempted to get near enough to jump on his back; Colesberg only plunged and reared and swung round towards the wounded elephant. At this moment a loud trumpeting noise was heard from behind, and out from the trees came a stone-deaf old dog, followed, unknown to himself, by the friend of the wounded elephant, who had come to the help of his comrade. The men looked on from afar; but, less loyal or brave than the elephant, they did nothing, and Colonel Gordon Cumming’s hunting days would have ended there and then had it not been for the dogs who yapped at the knees of the elephants, and took off their attention—for elephants are horribly afraid of dogs. When their trunks were almost touching him he managed, goaded by the danger, to spring into the saddle, and dashed off to where the men were standing for a second rifle. Then, aiming as well as his frightened steed would let him, he soon ended the sufferings of his first victim, which fell to the ground, bringing down a huge tree in her fall.
Her friend, seeing the case was hopeless, charged straight at the murderer, who was forced to fly for several hundred yards before he could contrive to get a shot. At last he was able to turn and place a ball in her shoulder, when, evidently hard hit, she gave it up and made for cover.
Some old writers have left us very curious stories of the elephants which were first seen in Europe in the wars of Pyrrhus with Rome. ‘The beast which hath between its eyes a serpent for a hand,’ was much used in battles in those days, and when steady and well-trained, was most useful, both in charging the enemy, and in carrying a kind of fort filled with light armed men on its back. In the wars between Carthage and Rome, Hannibal is said to have ranged his elephants in the front of his lines, to break the shock, and to trample down the advancing foe. But in the end, the Romans got accustomed to these tactics, and learned how to foil them.
A number of these tales—not always true or even likely—were collected about two hundred and fifty years ago by a man named Topsel, who published them in a book called ‘The History of Four-footed Beasts and Serpents,’ illustrated with some very funny pictures.
Topsel assures us that in their wild state old elephants are cared for by the young ones, who gather food for them and fight for them when they are not able to fight for themselves; and that when they are dead, green boughs are laid over them by the rest of the herd. He further declares that they have been known to pull darts and spears out of each other’s bodies, and that when Porus, king of the country beyond the Indus, was defeated by Alexander the Great, his favourite elephant drew the javelins out of his wounds with his trunk, and then knelt down very gently, so that if the king was still alive, he might not be shaken. Topsel does not tell us whether it was Porus, or another Indian king, who had a bodyguard of elephants, which were trained to watch him by turns while he was asleep, and never failed to appear at their appointed hours, like sailors on board ship.
One story he quotes from Arrian the writer, of an Indian who had brought up a white elephant from the time it was a little creature, and loved it dearly. Now white elephants are greatly valued in many countries; indeed, in Siam, they take rank immediately after the king, and before the heir to the throne; and the king of that part of India, hearing of the white elephant, sent to the man and demanded it should be given him as a present. The Indian could not bear the thought
of parting with his elephant, which he had brought up and taught for so many years, till it was almost like his own child, and in the middle of the night he mounted its back, and they both fled away into a desert place.
When the king heard what the man had done he was very wroth, and sent messengers to take the elephant, and to bring its master into his own presence, so that he might receive the punishment due to his disobedience.
The Indian saw them coming, and climbed with his elephant up a steep rock, only answering their summons to give himself up by throwing stones at their heads, and the elephant followed his example. At length, some of the men stole round from behind, and seizing the Indian threw him on the ground. At this the elephant waxed so furious that it charged them madly, catching up some in its trunk and dashing them to the earth again, and trampling others under its great feet. The men at the back, seeing the fate of their foremost comrades, fled away in terror from the enraged elephant, who then, stooping over its unconscious master, raised him gently in its trunk, and carried him away to a safe place.