FALCONRY — THE MINA BIRD AND ITS FEATS — SNAKE CHARMERS — SUSPICION OF IMPOSTURE — GENERAL CAMPBELL’S ACCOUNT OF THE COBRA AND THE CHARMER — DEATH OF THE MAN — DIFFICULTY OF THE TASK — THE POISON FANGS NOT REMOVED — INITIATION OF A NOVICE — ELEPHANT HUNTING — CATCHING ELEPHANTS WITH KOOMKIES — TAMING THE CAPTURED ANIMAL — AN ENTHUSIASTIC KOOMKIE — HUNTING IN NEPÂL — JUNG BAHADÛR AND THE ELEPHANTS — HUNTING WITH TRAINED STAGS AND ANTELOPES — THE CHETAHS OR HUNTING LEOPARDS.

We will end this description of India with a few remarks on one of the chief peculiarities of native character, namely, the wonderful capacity of the Indians in taming and training animals. This capacity develops itself in various ways, some partaking of a religious character, and being considered as in some sense miraculous, and some only illustrative of the natural ascendancy which these men exert over beasts, birds, and reptiles.

The Indians are, for example, unsurpassed in their powers of training falcons, which they teach to attack, not only birds, but antelopes and other game. These falcons are of course unable of themselves to kill an antelope, but they will mark out any one that has been designated by their master, and will swoop down upon its head, clinging firmly with their talons, and buffeting the poor beast about the eyes with their wings, so that it runs wildly hither and thither, and thus allows itself to be captured by the dogs, from which it could have escaped had it been able to proceed in a straight line. A thoroughly trained falcon is held in very great esteem, and many a petty war, in which many lives were lost, has been occasioned by the desire of one rajah to possess a falcon owned by another.

Then there is a little bird called the Mina, belonging to the Grakles. It is a pretty bird, about as large as a starling, with plumage of velvety black, except a white patch on the wing. From either side of the head proceeds a bright yellow wattle. This bird can be taught to talk as well as any parrot, and it is said that, as a rule, the mina’s tones more closely resemble those of the human voice than do those of any parrot. It is very intelligent besides, and can be taught to perform many pretty tricks.

One trick, which is very commonly taught to the bird, is to dart down upon the women, snatch away the ornaments which they wear on their heads, and carry them to its master. This is a little trick that is sometimes played by a young man upon the object of his affections, and is intended to make her grant an interview in order to have her property restored.

As to reptiles, the cobra seems to be as unlikely a creature to be tamed as any on the face of the earth. Yet even this terrible serpent, whose bite is nearly certain death, is tamed by the Indians, and taught to go through certain performances. For example, a couple of serpent charmers will come, with their flat baskets and their musical instruments, and begin to give a performance. One of them plays on a rude native pipe, while the other removes the cover of one of the baskets. Out comes the hooded head of the cobra, which seems as if it were about to glide among the spectators, when a gesture and a few notes from the piper check its progress, and it begins to rise and fall, and sway its head from side to side, as if in time to the music. The men will then take up the venomous reptile, allow it to crawl over their bodies, tie it round their necks, and take all kinds of liberties with it, the serpent appearing to labor under some strange fascination, and to be unable or unwilling to use its fangs.

Some persons think that the serpents are innocuous, their poison fangs having been extracted. This may be the case in some instances, but in them the performers are not the genuine snake charmers. Moreover, there are several sets of fangs, one behind the other, so that when one pair is broken or extracted, another pair speedily comes forward.

That the genuine charmers do not depend upon such imposture for their success is evident from many cases in which the serpents have been carefully examined before and after the performance, and their fangs found to be perfect in every respect. One such instance is narrated by General Campbell in his “Indian Journal.” He had previously been under the impression that the fangs were always removed from the serpents, but the following circumstance convinced him that the charmers could perform their tricks with snakes whose fangs were perfect:—

“When I was on General Dalrymple’s staff at Trichinopoly, there was a dry well in the garden which was the favorite haunt of snakes, and in which I shot several. One morning I discovered a large cobra-capella at the bottom of this well, basking in the sun; but while I ran to fetch my gun some of the native servants began to pelt him with stones, and drove him into his hole among the brickwork. I therefore sent for the snake charmers to get him out. Two of these worthies having arrived, we lowered them into the well by means of a rope. One of them, after performing sundry incantations, and sprinkling himself and his companion with ashes prepared from the dung of a sacred cow, began to play a shrill, monotonous ditty upon a pipe ornamented with shells, brass rings, and beads, while the other stood on one side of the snake’s hole, holding a rod furnished at one end with a slip-noose.

“At first the snake, who had been considerably bullied before he took refuge in his hole, was deaf to the notes of the charmer, but after half an hour’s constant playing the spell began to operate, and the snake was heard to move. In a few minutes more he thrust out his head, the horse-hair noose was dexterously slipped over it and drawn tight, and we hoisted up the men dangling their snake in triumph.

“Having carried him to an open space of ground, they released him from the noose. The enraged snake immediately made a rush at the by-standers, putting to flight a crowd of native servants who had assembled to witness the sport. The snake charmer, tapping him on the tail with a switch, induced him to turn upon himself, and at the same moment sounding his pipe. The snake coiled himself up, raised his head, expanded his hood, and appeared about to strike, but, instead of doing so, he remained in the same position as if fascinated by the music, darting out his slender forked tongue, and following with his head the motion of the man’s knee, which he kept moving from side to side within a few inches of him, as if tempting him to bite.

“No sooner did the music cease, than the snake darted forward with such fury that it required great agility on the part of the man to avoid him, and immediately made off as fast as he could go. The sound of the pipe, however, invariably made him stop, and obliged him to remain in an upright position as long as the man continued to play.

“After repeating this experiment several times, he placed a fowl within his reach, which he instantly darted at and bit. The fowl screamed out the moment he was struck, but ran off, and began picking among his companions as if nothing had happened. I pulled out my watch to see how long the venom took to operate.

“In about half a minute the comb and wattles of the fowl began to change from a red to a livid hue, and were soon nearly black, but no other symptom was apparent. In two minutes it began to stagger, was seized with strong convulsions, fell to the ground, and continued to struggle violently till it expired, exactly three minutes and a half after it had been bitten. On plucking the fowl, we found that he had merely been touched on the extreme point of the pinion. The wound, not larger than the puncture of a needle, was surrounded by a livid spot, but the remainder of the body, with the exception of the comb and wattles (which were of a dark livid hue), was of the natural color, and I afterward learned that the coachman, a half-caste, had eaten it.

“The charmer now offered to show us his method of catching snakes, and seizing the reptile (about five feet long) by the point of the tail with his left hand, he slipped the right hand along the body with the swiftness of lightning, and grasping him by the throat with his finger and thumb, held him fast, and forced him to open his jaws and display his poisonous fangs.

“Having now gratified my curiosity, I proposed that the snake should be destroyed, or at least that his fangs might be extracted, an operation easily performed with a pair of forceps. But, the snake being a remarkably fine one, the charmer was unwilling to extract his teeth, as he said the operation sometimes proved fatal, and begged so hard to be allowed to keep him as he was, that I at last suffered him to put him in a basket and carry him off. After this he frequently brought the snake to the house to exhibit him, and still with his fangs entire, as I ascertained by personal inspection, but so tame that he handled him freely, and apparently without fear or danger.”

The best proof that the snake’s fangs were not extracted is, that some weeks afterwards the reptile bit the charmer, and killed him.

It seems strange that serpents should be thus subject to man. It is comparatively easy to tame a bird or a beast, as hunger can be employed in the process, and really is the chief power, the creature learning to be fond of the person who furnishes it with food. Or, in extreme cases, the power of inflicting pain is employed, so that the animal is ruled by fear, if not by love.

But, in the case of a snake, the tamer is deprived of both of these adjuncts. As a serpent only feeds at very long intervals, and possesses an almost inexhaustible power of fasting, hunger cannot be employed; and its peculiar constitution would render the infliction of pain useless. The charmer has, therefore, to fall back upon some other mode of working upon his pupil, and finds it in music, to which the cobra seems peculiarly accessible. That it is powerfully influenced by music was known many centuries ago, as we may see by the references to serpent charming in the Scriptures. Any music seems to affect the creature, and, if it can be rendered docile by the harsh sounds that proceed from the charmer’s flute, we may conjecture that more melodious sounds would have a like effect. Mr. Williams, who was very much inclined to be sceptical on the subject of serpent charming, and thought that the poison fangs were always removed, mentions that a gentleman at Chinsurah, who was a very excellent violinist, was forced to lay aside his instrument because the sounds of the violin attracted so many serpents to his house.

Serpent charming is thought to be a semi-sacred calling, and is one of those cases where the process of taming partakes of the religious character. The charmers are regularly initiated into their duties, and undergo certain ceremonies before they are thought to be impervious to the serpent’s teeth. Sometimes an European has been initiated into these mysteries, as happened to Lady Duff Gordon, to whom a snake charmer took a fancy, and offered to initiate her. He and his pupil sat opposite each other, and joined their hands. The charmer then twisted a cobra round their joined hands, and repeated some invocation. Both of them afterward spat on the snake, and the novice was pronounced to be safe, and enveloped in snakes as a proof of the success of the incantation.

There is perhaps no better instance of the mastery of the Indians over animals than the manner in which they catch and instruct elephants.

The reader will doubtless remember that, though the elephant is abundant both in Africa and India, the inhabitants of the former country never attempt to domesticate it. It has been thought that the African elephant is not trained, because it is fiercer than the Asiatic species or variety, and lacks the intelligence which distinguishes that animal. This, however, is not the case. The African elephant is as docile and intelligent as that of Asia, and quite as capable of being trained. The elephants which were used in the time of the ancient Romans were brought from Africa, and yet we read of the most wonderful feats which they could perform. Moreover, the African elephants which have been in the Zoölogical Gardens for some years are quite as tractable as the Asiatic animals. The real cause for the non-use of the African elephant is, not its incapacity for domestication, but the lack of capacity in the Africans to domesticate it.

In almost all cases of domesticated animals, the creatures are born in captivity, so that they have never been accustomed to a wild life. The Indian, however, does not trouble himself by breeding elephants, but prefers to capture them when sufficiently grown to suit his purposes. There are two modes of catching the elephant, one of which is so ingenious that it deserves some description, however brief. A common way is by making a large enclosure, called a “keddah,” and driving the elephants into it. The keddah is so made, that when the elephants have fairly entered it they cannot get out again, and are kept there until subdued by hunger and thirst.

By this mode of elephant catching, the animals are taken in considerable numbers, and of all sizes. The genuine elephant hunter, however, cares little for this method, and prefers to pick out for himself the best animals, the Indians being exceedingly particular about their elephants, and an elephant having as many “points” as a prize pigeon or rabbit.

In every herd of elephants the males are given to fighting with each other for the possession of the females, and it often happens that a male, who for some time has reigned supreme in the herd, is beaten at last. Furious with rage and disappointment, he leaves the herd, and ranges about by himself, destroying in his rage everything which opposes him. In this state he is called a “rogue” elephant by the English, and saun by the natives. Now, furious and dangerous as is the saun, he is always a splendid animal, scarcely inferior indeed to the master elephant of the herd. The elephant hunters, therefore, are always glad to hear of a saun, and take measures to capture so valuable a prize.

They possess several female elephants, called “koomkies,” which are used as decoys, and, strangely enough, take the greatest interest in capturing the saun. When the hunter goes out on his expedition, he takes with him at least two koomkies, and sometimes three, if the saun should happen to be a very large one; and in all cases he takes care that the koomkies shall not be much smaller than the saun.

The hunters, furnished with ropes and the other apparatus for securing the saun, lie flat on the koomkies’ backs, cover themselves with a large dark cloth, and proceed toward the place where the saun was seen. Often the koomkies carry in their trunks branches of trees, which they hold in such a manner as to prevent their intended captive from seeing that they carry anything on their backs. The saun, seeing them approach, loses some of his fury, and thinks that he is in great good-fortune to meet with females over whom he can rule as he had done before. He is so delighted with this idea that he fails to perceive the hunters, who usually slip off behind a tree as they near him, but sometimes boldly retain their post.

The koomkies then go up to the saun and begin to caress him, one on each side, and sometimes another in front of him, when three decoys are employed. They caress him, make much of him, and gradually bring him near a stout tree, where they detain him. The hunters then creep under the huge animal, and pass stout ropes round his forelegs, binding them tightly together, being aided in this by the decoys, who place their trunks so that their masters cannot be seen, and sometimes even assist him by passing the rope when he cannot conveniently reach it. The forelegs being secured, the hunter places round the elephant’s hindlegs a pair of strong fetters. These are made of wood, and open with a hinge of rope. They are studded inside with sharp iron spikes, and, when clasped round the feet of the elephant, are fastened to the trunk of the tree with strong ropes.

The elephant being now made fast, the hunters creep away, and are followed by the koomkies, who receive their masters on their necks, and go off, leaving the unfortunate saun to his fate. If he was furious before, he is tenfold more so when he has to add to disappointment the sense of confinement, and the knowledge that he has been tricked. He screams with rage, tears branches off the tree, pulls up the grass by the roots and flings it about, and even tries to break the rope which holds him to the tree, or to pull up the tree itself by the roots. The spikes with which the wooden fetters are lined give him such pain, that he is soon forced to desist, and wearied out with pain and exertion, he becomes more quiet. On the following day the same men and elephants come to him, and bring him a little food; and so they go on until he has learned first to endure, and afterward to desire their presence. When they judge him to be sufficiently tamed, strong ropes are fastened to his legs, and attached to the koomkies, and, the ligatures round his feet being removed, he is marched off to his new quarters.

Sometimes he resists, on finding his limbs at liberty. In such a case the koomkies drag him along by the ropes, while a large male pushes him on from behind, sometimes using his tusks by way of spurs. When he has been taken to his abode, he is treated with firm but kind discipline, and is so effectually tamed, that in a few months after he was ranging wild about the forest he may be seen assisting to convey a refractory brother to his new home.

The intelligence of the koomkies is really wonderful, and they take quite as much interest in the pursuit as their masters. Captain Williams mentions an instance where a gentleman had purchased a koomkie, not knowing her to be such. The mahout or driver would not mention her capacity, because he very much preferred the ease and comfort of a gentleman’s establishment to the dangers and hardships of a hunter’s life. The wealthy natives of the neighborhood would not mention it, because each of them hoped to buy the animal for himself at a less price than would be asked for a koomkie.

One day the animal was missing, and did not return for several days. However, she came back, and was harnessed as usual for a walk. When she came to a certain spot, she became restive, and at last dashed into the jungle, where she brought her master to a fine saun, whom she had crippled by fastening a chain round his forelegs.

In Nepâl the natives adopt a very dangerous mode of elephant hunting. They go to the hunt on elephants, and furnish themselves with very strong ropes, one end of which is made fast to the body of the riding elephant, and the other furnished with a slip-knot, to which is attached a line, by which the noose can be relaxed. They give chase to the herd, and, selecting a suitable animal, the hunter dexterously flings the noose upon the head of the animal just behind its ears and on its brows. The elephant instinctively curls up its trunk, whereupon the noose slips fairly over its head.

The hunter then checks the pace of his animal, so that the noose is drawn tightly round the neck of the captured elephant, and causes a partial choking. His speed being checked, another hunter comes up and flings a second noose, so that by their united force the captive can be strangled if necessary. Sometimes, when he is very furious, the hunters are obliged to render him insensible over and over again, before he can be induced to obey his new masters. The well-known Nepâlese ambassador, Jung Bahadûr, was celebrated for his skill and daring in this dangerous sport.

As an example of the perfect command which the Indian mahouts have over their animals, Captain Williams mentions an adventure which took place at Chittagong. During a stormy night, an elephant got loose, and escaped into the forest. Four years afterward, when a herd of elephants was driven into a keddah, the mahout, who had climbed the palisades to view the enclosed animals, thought that he recognized among them his missing elephant. His comrades ridiculed him, but he persisted in his idea, and called the animal by name. The elephant recognized the voice of its driver, and came toward him. The man was so overjoyed at this, that, regardless of the danger which he ran, he climbed over the palisades, and called to the elephant to kneel down. The animal obeyed him, he mounted on its neck, and triumphantly rode it out of the keddah.

Elephants are sometimes taken in pits, at the bottom of which are laid bundles of grass in order to break the fall of the heavy animal. The elephants are generally decoyed into these pits by a tame animal which is guided close to the pit by the mahout, who has placed certain marks by which he knows its exact locality. Sometimes they are merely dug in the paths of the elephants, which fall into them in their nightly rambles, and by their moanings inform the hunters of their proceedings.

In these pits they are forced to remain until they have been tamed by hunger, just as is the case with those animals that are tied to the trees. When they are sufficiently tame, the hunter throws into the pit successive bundles of jungle grass. These the sagacious animal arranges under his feet in such a way that he soon raises himself sufficiently high to step upon the level earth, where he is received by the hunters and his tame elephants. These “pitted” elephants, as they are called, are not held in high estimation, as there is always danger that they may have suffered some injury by the fall.

Just as tame elephants are brought to capture the wild animals, so are tame stags taught to capture those of their own species. An account of the sport is given in the “Private Life of an Eastern King”:—

“I have never heard of trained stags being employed elsewhere as I saw them employed in Oude.... In our rides in the neighborhood of the lake, near which we encamped, we lighted upon a fine open country adjoining a forest, which would answer admirably for the purpose. The adjoining wood was full of the smaller game of Oude, or, if not smaller, at all events the more harmless, among which the wild deer must be classed as one. Skilful beaters were sent off into the forest to drive the deer, as if unintentionally,—that is, without violence, or making much noise,—toward the point of the forest adjoining the open space which I have just mentioned. Here, protected by its watching guardians, the most warlike and powerful of its males, the herd was congregated in apparent safety.

“We had about a dozen trained stags, all males, with us. These, well acquainted with the object for which they were sent forward, advanced at a gentle trot over the open ground toward the skirt of the wood. They were observed at once by the watchers of the herd, and the boldest of the wild animals advanced to meet them. Whether the intention was to welcome them peaceably, or to do battle for their pasturage, I cannot tell, but in a few minutes the parties were engaged in a furious contest. Head to head, antlers to antlers, the tame deer and the wild fought with great fury. Each of the tame animals, every one of them large and formidable, was closely contested with a wild adversary, standing chiefly on the defensive, not in any feigned battle or mimicry of war, but in a hard-fought combat. We now made our appearance in the open ground on horseback, advancing toward the scene of conflict. The deer on the skirts of the wood, seeing us, took to flight, but those actually engaged maintained their ground, and continued the contest.

“In the meantime a party of native huntsmen, sent for the purpose, gradually drew near to the wild stags, getting in between them and the forest. What their object was we were not at the time aware; indeed, it was not one that we could have approved or encouraged. They made their way to the rear of the wild stags, which were still combating too fiercely to mind them; they approached the animals, and, with a skilful cut of their long knives, the poor warriors fell hamstrung. We felt pity for the noble animals as we saw them fall helplessly on the ground, unable longer to continue the contest, and pushed down by the tame stags. Once down, they were unable to rise again.

“The tame ones were called off in a moment; not one of them pursued his victory. Their work was done; they obeyed the call of their keepers almost at once, and were led off like hounds, some of them bearing evidence in their gored chests that the contest in which they had been engaged was no sham, but a reality. As we rode up we saw them led off, triumphantly capering over the ground as if proud of their exploits, tossing their fine spreading antlers about joyously, and sometimes looking as if they would enjoy a little more fighting,—this time with each other.”

The antelope is sometimes used in a similar manner. The largest and most powerful male antelopes are trained for the purpose, and are sent toward the herd with nooses fastened on their horns. The wild antelopes soon come out to fight the intruders, and are caught by the nooses.

There is another sport of which the Indians are very fond, namely, the chase of the deer by means of the chetah, or hunting leopard. This animal is by no means the same species as the common leopard, from which it is easily distinguished by its much larger legs, its comparatively bushy tail, and a crest or ridge of hair along the neck. It is not so much of a tree-climber as the common leopard, and though it can ascend a tree, very seldom does so. Whether the common leopard could be trained to catch deer is rather doubtful. The experiment has not been tried, probably owing to the fact that the chetah performs its part so well that there is no object in trying another animal.

Chetahs are very docile creatures, and, when tame, seem to be as fond of notice as cats. This I can personally testify, having been in the same cage with the animals at the Zoölogical Gardens, and found them very companionable, even allowing me, though after some protest in the way of growling and spitting, to take their paws in my hand, and push out the talons.

Those which are used for the sport are led about by their attendants, merely having a cord round their necks, and are so gentle that no one is afraid to be near them. Lest, however, they might be irritated, and in a moment of passion do mischief, they wear on their heads a sort of hood, shaped something like the beaver of an ancient helmet. This hood is generally worn on the back of the head, but if the keeper should think that his charge is likely to be mischievous, he has only to slip the hood over the eyes, and the animal is at once rendered harmless.

When the hunters go out in search of deer, the chetahs are taken on little flat-topped carts, not unlike the costermongers’ barrows of our streets. Each chetah is accompanied by its keeper, and is kept hooded during the journey. When they have arrived within sight of deer, the keeper unhoods the animal and points out the prey. The chetah instantly slips off the cart, and makes its way toward the deer, gliding along on its belly like a serpent, and availing itself of every bush and stone by which it can hide its advance. When it can crawl no closer, it marks out one deer, and springs toward it in a series of mighty bounds. The horsemen then put their steeds to the gallop, and a most exciting scene ensues.

The chase is never a very long one, for the chetah, though of wonderful swiftness for a short distance, does not possess the conformation needful for a long chase. Sometimes a chetah of peculiar excellence will continue the chase for some little time, but, as a rule, a dozen mighty bounds bring the animal to its prey. We all know the nature of the cat tribe, and their great dislike to be interrupted while their prey is in their grasp. Even a common cat has a strong objection to be touched while she has a mouse in her mouth, and we may therefore wonder how the keepers contrive to make the chetah relinquish its prey. This is done either by cutting off part of the leg and giving it to the chetah, or filling a ladle with its blood and allowing the leopard to lap it. The hood is then slipped over the eyes, and the chetah allows itself to be replaced in its cart.

Sometimes it is necessary to leave the cart, and lead the animal by its chain toward the place where the animals are known to be. This is always a difficult business, because the animal becomes so excited that the least noise, or the scent left by a passing deer, will cause it to raise its head aloft, and stare round for the deer. In a few moments it would, become unmanageable, and dash away from its keeper, were not he prepared for such an event. He carries with him a kind of ladle, made of a hollowed cocoa-nut shell at the end of a handle. This is sprinkled on the inside with salt, and as soon as the man perceives a change of demeanor on the part of his charge, he puts the ladle over the muzzle of the chetah. The animal licks the salt, forgets the cause of excitement, and walks on quietly as before.

Some of the great men in India take considerable pride in their chetahs, and have them paraded daily, covered with mantles of silk heavily embroidered with gold, and wearing hoods of similarly rich materials.