Part 21

Nothing done to elephants by way of insult, teasing, or unkindness, is ever forgotten or forgiven by them, and they are sure to take an opportunity of revenging themselves. On the other hand, kindness is equally remembered and appreciated; an awkward proof of which occurred to a lady, who, when she frequently went to see a male elephant, carried to him bread, apples, and brandy. To show his gratitude for these, he took her up with his trunk one day, and seated her on his back. As she could not enjoy this testimonial of his feelings, she uttered the most piercing shrieks, and implored the assistance of those around. His keepers, however, advised her not to stir, and there she was obliged to wait till he again encircled her with his trunk, and put her on the ground in safety. Of the attachment of elephants to each other, a proof was given by two in the Jardin des Plantes, who had been with difficulty separated during their journey thither from Holland. They were placed in two apartments, divided by a portcullis. The male soon found out that this was fastened only by a perpendicular bolt, which he soon raised, and then rushed into the other room. The joy of the two at meeting can scarcely be described: their cries of joy shook the whole building, and they blew air from their trunks resembling the blasts from smiths' bellows. The female moved her ears with great rapidity, and entwined her trunk round the body of the male; she kept the end motionless for a long time close to his ear, and after holding it again round his body, applied it to her own mouth. The male encircled her with his trunk, and shed tears. They were afterwards kept in the same apartment; and their attachment was never interrupted.

The indignation of elephants at being laughed at or deceived, has been manifested very often; and sometimes they punish the offenders with death; at others, they seem perfectly to understand in what way their retaliation will take most effect, without inflicting so serious a reproof.

An artist in Paris was anxious to draw one of the elephants of the menagerie there; with his trunk in the air, and his mouth wide open. After throwing fruit and vegetables in for some time, to make him repeat the attitude, his keeper only pretended to do so, fearing to give him too much food. The elephant at last became irritated, and perfectly understood that the artist was the cause of his annoyance; he, therefore, turned round upon him, and dashed a quantity of water over the paper on which he was drawing. It is chiefly in animals of greatest intelligence that we find the greatest affection and gratitude; elephants have sometimes refused to eat, and have pined to death when separated from their favourite keepers, and they are never obliterated from their memory. Their humanity is also frequently conspicuous; and we are told of one who, on being ordered to walk over the bodies of some sick persons, at first refused to advance; and then on being goaded by his driver, gently took the poor men up with his trunk, and laid them on one side, so that he could not do them any injury.

The following is another fearful instance of their power and vengeance, related by Mr. Burchell, a South African traveller. "Carl Krieger was a fearless hunter, and being an excellent marksman, often ventured into the most dangerous situations. One day, having with his party pursued an elephant which he had wounded, the irritated animal suddenly turned round, and singling out from the rest the person by whom he had been injured, seized him with his trunk, and lifting his wretched victim high in the air, dashed him with dreadful force to the ground. His companions, struck with horror, fled precipitately from the fatal scene, unable to look back upon the rest of the dreadful tragedy; but on the following day, they repaired to the spot, where they collected the few bones that could be found, and buried them. The enraged animal had not only literally trampled Krieger's body to pieces, but did not feel its vengeance satisfied till it had pounded the very flesh and bones into the dust, so that nothing of the unfortunate man remained excepting a few of the latter, which made most resistance from their size."

M. Frederic Cuvier, in his admirable essay on the "Domestication of Animals," writes as follows, concerning an elephant in the menagerie of the Jardin des Plantes. The care of this animal had been confided, when he was only three or four years old, to a young person, who taught him a number of those tricks which amuse the public. The animal loved him so much, as not only to be perfectly obedient to all his commands, but to be unhappy out of his presence. He rejected the kindness of every one else, and even was with difficulty persuaded to eat the food presented to him.

During a certain period, the elephant had remained with his owner, and the young man, his son, had constantly evinced the greatest kindness towards the animal; but he was at length sold to the government, and his keeper hired to take care of him; deprived of all restraint, and his family no longer present to watch over him, the latter neglected his charge, and when intoxicated, even struck his favourite, for he abandoned himself to the worst habits. The naturally cheerful disposition of the elephant began to alter, and he was thought to be ill; he was still obedient, but his exercises no longer gave him pleasure. He now and then appeared to be impatient, but tried to repress his feelings; the struggle, however, changed him so much, that his keeper became still more dissatisfied with him. Orders had been given to the young man never to beat the elephant, but in vain. Mortified at losing his influence, which daily became less, his own irritability increased; and one day being more unreasonable than ever, he struck the elephant with such brutality, that the beast uttered a furious cry. The frightened keeper fled, and it was well he did so, for from that moment the elephant could not endure the sight of him, becoming violent the moment he appeared; and nothing ever restored the poor animal to his previous good conduct: hatred had succeeded to love, indocility to obedience, and as long as the animal lived these two latter feelings predominated.

Mr. Broderip, in his delightful Zoological Recreations, tells us of an elephant which was shewn, among other wild beasts, at a fair in the West of England. One of the spectators gratified the elephant by some excellent gingerbread nuts, in return for which, the animal, unsolicited, performed his tricks. The donor, however, was a practical joker, and when he had gained the confidence of the good-tempered beast, presented him with a large parcel, weighing two or three pounds, which the elephant took unsuspectingly, all at once. He had scarcely swallowed it, however, than he set up a loud roar, and seemed to suffer exceedingly; he gave the bucket to his keeper, as if to ask for water, which was supplied to him most plentifully. "Ho!" said his tormentor, "Those nuts were a trifle hot, old fellow, I guess." "You had better be off," exclaimed the keeper, "unless you want the bucket at your head; and serve you right, too." The elephant drank the sixth bucket full, and then hurled the empty vessel at the head of the man, just as he cleared the entrance of the show, or most probably he would have lost his life. A year after, at the same place, the joker again went to see the elephant, with one pocket full of good nuts, and the other with nuts of pepper. He gave the animal some of the first, and then presented him with one that was hot. The moment the elephant tasted it, he seized the coat tails of the man, and lifted him from the ground, when the cloth giving way, he dropped down, half dead with fright; and his coat reduced to a jacket. The elephant retained the skirts, inserted his trunk into the pockets, and devoured the good nuts in the most leisurely manner, after due examination. Those done, he trampled upon the others, till he had reduced them to a mash, then tore the coat skirts to rags, and threw them to their owner.

We must not omit to mention the remarkable partiality of the elephant for brandy, rum, or arrack, either of which will tempt him to make extraordinary exertions, and which seems almost unnatural in so simple a feeder.

HIPPOPOTAMUS.

When all London, and half England, have been to see the Hippopotamus, at the Zoological Gardens, I feel as if a work on animals, written at the present moment, would be incomplete unless it contained some notice of this animal. Nevertheless, in spite of research into old and new books, into private reminiscences, and personal recollections, I find it difficult to raise him to the intellectual place of those which have been, or will be treated of in my pages. When I heard praises so lavishly bestowed upon him, when I became even reproached for not having been to see him, I began to think I had been mistaken, and that my former acquaintance with his brethren must have been made under circumstances which had caused prejudice; I therefore paid him a visit, spent some little time in watching and observing him, and came away, more than ever astonished at the marvellous effects which novelty and variety will produce in the minds of men; throwing beauty and interest over the most ungainly form and good-natured stupidity. He certainly looks to greater advantage in this country than he does in his own; for here a rose-coloured blush tinges his skin, and there he is too often covered with mud, to wear any other appearance than that of a dirty brown.

The hippopotamus is exclusively a denizen of Africa; and perfectly harmless when unprovoked; except that he sometimes gets into the plantations in the vicinity of his haunts, and crushes and devours a crop of maize, or millet. He would rather avoid fighting or quarreling; but, like all other brute creatures, can retaliate an injury with a fury, which is rendered frightful by his enormous weight. He looks best when walking in the shallow part of a lake or river, just under the water, with his eyes open; but if there should be a boat, or canoe on the surface, the sooner it bears its freight to the shore the better; for he is sure at least to try and upset it with his huge back; not that he has any murderous intentions, but he probably thinks it is an intrusion on his peculiar domains.

The hide of the hippopotamus, of which tremendous whips are made, is at least two inches thick, and has no hair upon it; his legs are so short, that the body of one that is full grown, almost reaches the ground, and sometimes measures five feet across; his tail is very short and insignificant, and his eyes and ears are very small. They live together in small numbers, feed chiefly on grass and aquatic plants, and come forth at night. Each foot has four toes, and each toe a separate hoof; the nostrils open on the top of the muzzle; their flesh is thought to be very good to eat, and to resemble pork. A thick layer of fat lies just under the skin, which the Africans look upon as a great delicacy for the table. The male is the largest; and two species are said to exist. The exploits of Mr. Gordon Cumming give us a lively picture of their habits; but there is nothing in his work which affords the slightest interest in their mental faculties. The following account from the pen of Captain Owen who explored so large a portion of the African shores, is the only instance I have met with which wears the semblance of almost unprovoked anger on the part of a hippopotamus:—"While examining a branch of the Temby river, in Delagoa Bay, a violent shock was suddenly felt from underneath the boat, and in another moment, a monstrous hippopotamus reared itself up from the water, and in a most ferocious and menacing attitude rushed open-mouthed at the boat; with one grasp of its tremendous jaws it seized and tore seven planks from her side; the creature disappeared for a few seconds, and then rose again, apparently intending to repeat the attack, but was fortunately deterred by the contents of a musket discharged in its face. The boat rapidly filled; but, as she was not more than an oar's length from the shore, they (the crew) succeeded in reaching it before she sank. The keel, in all probability, had touched the back of the animal, which, irritating him, occasioned this furious attack; and had he got his upper jaw above the gunwale, the whole broadside must have been torn out. The force of the shock from beneath, previously to the attack, was so violent, that her stern was almost lifted out of the water, and Mr. Tambs, the midshipman steering, was thrown overboard, but fortunately rescued before the irritated animal could seize him."

The hippopotamus, with his shy and secluded habits, may be easily passed as he lies concealed among the reeds which grow by the side of the river, but if once he gets into the water, he is always to be detected by the blowing noise which he makes.

HOGS.

Nature has so strongly marked the wild and the tame Hog with the same characters, that no hesitation arises in pronouncing the former to be the stock from whence we have derived the latter. In common, however, with all other free and domesticated animals, there is a prolongation of muzzle in the wild species, which is not to be found in those of our sties. The tusks also are larger; in this instance, as in all others, showing how bountifully the Great Creator provides for all. The domestic hog is not required to seek his food and dig roots as his untamed brother does, and, therefore, the parts most used for these purposes are not equally developed. Both, however, possess very powerful muscles of the neck and shoulder, to give movement to their large and strong jaws. They all have four toes on each foot; the two in the middle being much the largest and armed with strong hoofs. Their snout looks as if it had been suddenly chopped off, as if to expose the nostrils, which are pierced in this truncated portion. Their triangular, canine teeth, or tusks, project beyond the mouth; those of both jaws curve upwards. They make very formidable weapons, as many a dog and huntsman has known to his cost. Wild hogs are covered with stiff, dark brown hair, which gets grizzly with age, and is more upright along the back. The tail is short; and in many varieties of the domestic pig, it curls very tightly.

The male wild boar only associates with the female for a short period, and at other times lives alone, in the thickest parts of dense forests; coming forth in the evening to procure his food, which is chiefly of a vegetable nature. It is only when pressed by hunger, that wild hogs will eat animal substances. The females herd together, and their young remain with them till they are two or three years old. When they are about to be born, the mothers retreat as far as possible from the fathers, as the latter have a most longing desire always to devour their offspring. The females, left to defend themselves and their children, place the latter behind them, and expose themselves in a line to the attacks of an enemy, or they form a circle round them, and evince an extraordinary amount of fury and courage. Sparrman, the South African traveller asserts, that the species of wild sow in those regions, when so closely pursued that it is impossible for them to make off, take the young pigs in their mouths. To his astonishment, one day, when pursuing a herd, all the young ones disappeared, nor could he explain the mystery till aware of this singular fact.

The hunting of wild boars has, from the most ancient times, been reckoned a noble sport; for it not only called for dexterity and courage, but was attended with considerable danger, from the extreme savageness of these animals when at bay, and the facility with which they rip open their antagonists with their tusks. They were in former times considered as royal game, and fines were imposed on those who killed them without having the privilege of doing so. The time of their extirpation in England is uncertain; but we know that in the reign of Charles the First, orders were given for some domestic hogs to be turned into the New Forest, that they might become wild; but they were all destroyed in the time of Cromwell. Some still exist in the large European forests, and a variety of hounds are still trained to hunt them. Horses are particularly alarmed at them, and in the history of boar-hunts, we constantly read of the sportsmen being forced to alight from their steeds to take a steady aim. The numbers of ancient arms in which they are found, and the names of old places derived from them, attest their numerous presence here; for instance, Brandon, which is brawn's den; brawn being the old term for boar. Their skin is so thick as frequently to deaden the force of bullets, which, after death, have been found lying between it and the flesh.

The wild boars of Africa have a broader snout than their European brethren, and possess two protuberances under the eyes, which prevent them from seeing anything underneath them. They live in subterranean holes; and one which had been for some time kept in confinement, was accidentally left loose in a small court near his cage, upon which he tore up the pavement, and had already made a deep pit when his keeper returned. When the natives of Africa spear or entrap one, they tie his fore-feet together, sling him on a pole, decorate him and themselves with creeping plants, and return to their huts with triumphant shouts and rejoicing. The flesh of these is very close-grained, white and hard. The impossibility of keeping meat in that country till it becomes tender, makes wild boar flesh almost useless to Europeans, unless their teeth vie with those of negroes.

Some idea of the sort of sport which attends the chase of wild boars, may be formed from the following account of one which took place in a forest in Luxembourg. At a battle, several of these animals were driven together, and they came rushing on like a squadron of heavy dragoons, breaking through the underwood. Several shots were fired, and they tried to disperse. One huntsman got out of the line, and a boar came rushing upon him; but a fresh shot broke one of his legs; which, however, though it made him more savage, caused him to turn into the forest. The well-trained dogs, and the huntsmen pursued him; and when they came up with him, found him terrifically savage. One of the hounds, more daring than the rest, made a dart at the beast, seized him by one ear, and bounded over him to the opposite side. They ran off together, the boar's head almost turned upside down; but, with a sudden jerk, the dog was shaken off, and the boar tearing him open, tossed him several feet in the air. The pack then gathered so thickly round, that the boar's progress was stayed; the men then came up and cut his throat. At another point of the wood, a sow, weighing three hundred pounds, and followed by her young, was wounded, and furiously pursued a hunter, whom she surprised in a narrow pass between two rocks. He waited her approach and fired, or rather tried to do so, but his gun missed; he then, in an instant, fell on his face and hands, and the sow ran over his body. Rising, and loading his gun, he provoked the sow again by his cries. The foaming creature, with flashing eyes, turned upon him; but this time she received the charge in her head and fell.

Wild hogs are easily domesticated, and as easily resume their uncivilized habits; but they seem then to keep in packs. Mr. Byam relates the following adventure with these renegades:—"I was one day hunting alone, on foot, in a rather open wood, when a large boar made his appearance about sixty yards off, and not seeing any of his companions, I let fly the ball, and tumbled him over. He gave a fierce grunt or two as he lay; and a large herd of boars and sows rushed out of some thick underwood behind him, and, after looking at the fallen beast for a few seconds, made a dash at me: but they were a trifle too late, for on catching sight of them, I ran to a tree, 'cut up' it for life, and had only just scrambled into some diverging branches, about ten feet from the ground, when the whole herd arrived; grunting and squeaking, at the foot of the tree. I could not help laughing at the ridiculous figure I must have made, chased up a tree by a dozen of pigs; but it soon turned out no laughing matter, for their patience was not, as I expected, soon exhausted; and they settled round the tree about twenty yards distant, and kept looking at me with their little twinkling eyes, as much as to say, 'We'll have you yet.'" So far are Mr. Byam's own words; and I now give the sequel in a more abridged form, though, by so doing, I feel that I deprive the story of some of its zest:—Having made up his mind to a regular siege, he examined his resources, and found them to be a double-barreled gun, a flask of powder (nearly full), plenty of copper caps; a few charges of shot; only two balls; a knife, flint, and steel; a piece of hard, dried tongue; a small flask of spirits and water; and a good bundle of cigars. He could not expect relief, a sally was out of the question; so he made himself as comfortable as he could. Hour after hour passed, the pigs never stirred, except when one or two returned to look at their dead comrade, as if to sharpen their revenge. At length the imprisoned hunter thought of firing off some powder every few minutes, shouting at the same time. One barrel of his gun was still loaded with shot, and he aimed at an old boar; who, on returning from his deceased friend, had looked up at him and grunted. The whole charge, at a distance of about twenty feet, went into the boar's face, who then turned round and ran away, making a horrible noise. The rest of the party charged altogether up to the foot of the tree, but the outcry of the old boar drew them away; and the whole herd went after him, making such a noise as never before had saluted Mr. Byam's ears. He remained in the tree a short time; and, when all was quiet, he slipped down, and ran away as fast as he could, in a contrary direction.