When the dry weather
destroys this supply of food in one district, they migrate to another
part of the country.
They come forth to feed about 4 P.M., and they invariably, retire to the
thickest and most thorny jungle in the neighbourhood of their
feeding-place by 7 A.M. In these impenetrable haunts they consider
themselves secure from aggression.
The period of gestation with an elephant is supposed to be two years,
and the time occupied in attaining full growth is about sixteen years.
The whole period of life is supposed to be a hundred years, but my own
opinion would increase that period by fifty.
The height of elephants varies to a great degree, and in all cases is
very deceiving. In Ceylon, an elephant is measured at the shoulder, and
nine feet at this point is a very large animal. There is no doubt that
many elephants far exceed this, as I have shot them so large that two
tall men could lie at full length from the point of the forefoot to the
shoulder; but this is not a common size: the average height at the
shoulder would be about seven feet.*(*The males 7 ft.6 in., the females
7 ft., at the shoulder.)
Not more than one in three hundred has tusks; they are merely provided
with short grubbers, projecting generally about three inches from the
upper jaw, and about two inches in diameter; these are called 'tushes'
in Ceylon, and are of so little value that they are not worth extracting
from the head. They are useful to the elephants in hooking on to a
branch and tearing it down.
Elephants are gregarious, and the average number in a herd is about
eight, although they frequently form bodies of fifty and even eighty in
one troop. Each herd consists of a very large proportion of females, and
they are constantly met without a single bull in their number. I have
seen some small herds formed exclusively of bulls, but this is very
rare. The bull is much larger than the female, and is generally more
savage. His habits frequently induce him to prefer solitude to a
gregarious life. He then becomes doubly vicious. He seldom strays many
miles from one locality, which he haunts for many years. He becomes what
is termed a 'rogue.' He then waylays the natives, and in fact becomes a
scourge to the neighbourhood, attacking the inoffensive without the
slightest provocation, carrying destruction into the natives'
paddy-fields, and perfectly regardless of night fires or the usual
precautions for scaring wild beasts.
The daring pluck of these 'rogues' is only equalled by their extreme
cunning. Endowed with that wonderful power of scent peculiar to
elephants, he travels in the day-time DOWN the wind; thus nothing can
follow upon his track without his knowledge. He winds his enemy as the
cautious hunter advances noiselessly upon his track, and he stands with
ears thrown forward, tail erect, trunk thrown high in the air, with its
distended tip pointed to the spot from which he winds the silent but
approaching danger. Perfectly motionless does he stand, like a statue in
ebony, the very essence of attention, every nerve of scent and hearing
stretched to its cracking point; not a muscle moves, not a sound of a
rustling branch against his rough sides; he is a mute figure of wild and
fierce eagerness. Meanwhile, the wary tracker stoops to the ground, and
with a practised eye pierces the tangled brushwood in search of his
colossal feet. Still farther and farther he silently creeps forward,
when suddenly a crash bursts through the jungle; the moment has arrived
for the ambushed charge, and the elephant is upon him.
What increases the danger is the uncertainty prevailing in all the
movements of a 'rogue'. You may perhaps see him upon a plain or in a
forest. As you advance, he retreats, or he may at once charge. Should he
retreat, you follow him; but you may shortly discover that he is leading
you to some favourite haunt of thick jungle or high grass, from which,
when you least expect it, he will suddenly burst out in full charge upon
you.
Next to a 'rogue' in ferocity, and even more persevering in the pursuit
of her victim, is a female elephant when her young one has been killed.
In such a case she will generally follow up her man until either he or
she is killed. If any young elephants are in the herd, the mothers
frequently prove awkward customers.
Elephant-shooting is doubtless the most dangerous of all sports if the
game is invariably followed up; but there is a great difference between
elephant-killing and elephant-hunting; the latter is sport, the former
is slaughter.
Many persons who have killed elephants know literally nothing about the
sport, and they may ever leave Ceylon with the idea that an elephant is
not a dangerous animal. Their elephants are killed in this way, viz.:
The party of sportsmen, say two or three, arrive at a certain district.
The headman is sent for from the village; he arrives. The enquiry
respecting the vicinity of elephants is made; a herd is reported to be
in the neighbourhood, and trackers and watchers are sent out to find
them.
In the meantime the tent is pitched, our friends are employed in
unpacking the guns, and, after some hours have elapsed, the trackers
return: they have found the herd, and the watchers are left to observe
them.
The guns are loaded and the party starts. The trackers run quickly on
the track until they meet one of the watchers who has been sent back
upon the track by the other watchers to give the requisite information
of the movements of the herd since the trackers left.
