by Shen Shixi
The sound of fierce fighting and the mournful bleating of the doe carried in the wind. The gazelles up ahead stopped and looked back. The other doe needed to protect her two fawns, and carried on running towards the strange lie of the land at the foothills of the snowy mountains. But the head of the herd turned and ran back to rescue them. At this critical moment his sense of responsibility returned; the safety of his doe and fawn were paramount.
Flame saw it all with her own eyes. It had taken at most six or seven seconds from the moment the fawn had tripped to the mother sticking out her horns and rushing back to him. In other words, Blacktail had had no more than six or seven seconds to kill the fawn. This was too hard a task to achieve in such a short time. When Blacktail jumped down, the fawn stood up. There were no visible scars or traces of blood on its neck or body. The prey was too big, thought Flame, and the hunting time too short. What a shame he hadn’t been able to snatch it away.
The doe bleated again, encouraging the fawn to run as fast as it could. It took a few steps forward, then suddenly lost its balance, wobbled and slipped to the ground. It bleated and bleated, crying out in pain. It struggled to get back on its feet again, and once it was up it had trouble standing steady. Its body kept curving to one side. Flame looked carefully, and noticed that one of its back legs had been bitten at the knee, its leg was bent awkwardly, and it was having to support itself on just three legs.
A less intelligent jackal would have seen the fawn fall, and leapt over to bite at its neck, or claw at its skin, but the outcome would not have been ideal. The fawn was not yet past the suckling stage, but it was already half the size of a full-grown adult, and certainly heavier than a jackal. Although jackals have sharp teeth and claws, they require more than a split second to take down a gazelle. Nevertheless, Blacktail’s bite had been a smart move. Although he had apparently inflicted no damage on the fawn – there was no visible injury and no sign of fresh blood – the attack was life-threatening. When a young fawn has an injured leg and cannot walk, it needs to be protected by an adult. It would not be able to escape misfortune; sooner or later a predator would take it.
The head of the herd and the doe were on either side of the fawn, trying to help it so they could run off as a group. But they had only gone one step when the fawn collapsed on the ground again. The doe licked the fawn’s forehead, and bleated for a while to encourage it to get back on its feet. The fawn managed to stand, but it was trembling so much that it didn’t dare lift its foot and transfer its weight. The doe ran ahead one, two, twenty steps, then turned around and bleated at the top of her voice, as if she could magically summon the fawn to her side, so they could run after the herd together. The fawn cried out drearily. It took careful steps with its three legs: one step, then a pause to regain its balance, then the next step. It was slower than a snail’s pace. Blacktail had been so smart and so accurate in his attack. He had injured it in such a way that it would never recover. The patient doe kept close to her fawn, inching forward one little step at a time. But the head of the herd was getting twitchy, leaping and jumping beside them. He was getting impatient.
Blacktail swerved in front of the three of them, and roared as though challenging the head of the herd to a fight. But when the gazelle lowered his head, showed his horns and charged, Blacktail’s response was to turn round and go for the fawn. The fawn was not able to run off; it was a fixed target and one so rickety that it would fall at a touch. Of course, Blacktail got the fawn, but he did not bite. He was playing some kind of game. As the fawn fell to the ground, Blacktail moved to the side. The doe came to its side, and the head of the herd rushed over. The doe stayed by the fawn, crying and bleating, gently licking its body, and nudging its backside to encourage it to stand up. But its knee injury was only part of the problem. The fawn had suffered even worse damage. Being under constant attack from this vicious jackal, it had lost its nerve. It lay down on the ground, scared that if it struggled it might never be able to stand again.
The head of the herd circled the doe, then suddenly ran off towards the snowy mountains. As far as he could see, it was pointless to hang around. It wasn’t that he was particularly afraid of jackals, those evil spirits that ate sheep without spitting out the bones. He just felt dreadful when he was near one, and was forever having to think up plans to guard against them. The fawn was already seriously wounded and unable to get up, and although the gazelle found it hard to flee the scene of that vile jackal’s butchery, the sooner he got away the better. He ran about a hundred metres, then stopped, and turned to bleat to the doe. The message was clear, he wanted the doe to go with him, not put her own life at risk for the sake of a dying fawn.
The doe shot a vengeful glance at Blacktail, then looked lovingly at the fawn. She raised her head to the sky and bleated, a tragic, heart-rending wail. Without taking her eyes off the fawn, she took a step backward, then another. When she was almost thirty steps away, she turned round, and half-walked half-staggered behind the head of the herd. Together they made their way to the snowy mountains. She was not strong enough to take on the jackal. She had no choice but to run away.
Blacktail picked up the abandoned fawn and placed it in front of Flame. The little thing craned its neck as it watched its mother’s shadow in the distance, and bleated shrilly. The thought of delicious gazelle delighted Flame. She enjoyed the sweet pleasure of anticipation. Her instincts were right. Blacktail really was a brave and intelligent jackal, his hunting techniques were near perfect, he was a hero among jackals. He had been able to catch the youngest gazelle in the herd. It was not difficult for a jackal to deal with most kinds of sheep and goats: black sheep, mountain goat, argali, bharal, grey goral and red goral. But, a Tibetan gazelle! That was way up in the highest rank of prey.
A bachelor jackal that could hunt gazelles was certainly a good catch! Sure enough, Flame was falling for him. Blacktail certainly ticked the ‘Tall and Strong’ box. Could he pass the ‘Loyalty’ test?
Chapter 7
The human view is that love doesn’t exist in the animal world, that an animal’s urges are driven solely by hormones, and that when they come on heat, their desire derives from instinct, and they will mate with anyone – any time, any place, anywhere. Humans think that in the animal world it’s simply a case of meet and mate, that emotions between male and female don’t come into it. In the human world they describe male violence towards women as a beastly gratification of animal desire. It is as though the term wild animal is synonymous with barbarism and violence. They are effectively saying that animals do not have love; only animal desire. In fact, this is a gross misunderstanding, something humans do not understand about animals.
The self-important humans often stitch animals up, frame them as culprits. It is pitiful that humans value their own right of good character, but do not extend that right to animals. This means that animals suffer a great deal of unjust treatment.
In fact, animal courtship is incredibly complicated. As in human society, it has its violent types and its gentlemen, its escort girls and its ladies. When it comes to pairing up with the opposite sex, of course there are some instances of bullying and of gratification of animal desire. But most animals go through a process of familiarisation and pursuit before they pair up, and the higher-ranking mammals in particular usually require a mutual compatibility before they will mate. In the case of frogs, the male will stay by the female’s side and sing for hours on end, crooning amphibian love songs all day and all night, until the female’s heart is drunk with song, the shy rose of love opens and the bride accepts her groom. In the case of peacocks, the male will persistently show off his stunning tail feathers, opening his brilliant fan and dazzling the female with the gorgeous colours. One heart cannot sustain itself for long, and they soon walk down the aisle as a couple.
As for jackals, there are five stages in finding a mate. First, they spray their smell on to tree roots and rocks in the mountain wilderness, to spread the word that they are looking for love.
Second, they meet out hunting or by the water sources. Third, if a female catches the eye of a male, he will bush out his tail and pursue her enthusiastically. If the female responds positively then she will spend time with the male. In this fourth stage they will go hunting together, drink water together, go for afternoon walks together, lie in the sun together and get to know each other. For the fifth stage the female will run a series of tests to determine whether the male truly meets her requirements. Only then will she allow him into her cave, as her mate.
Right now, Flame was at the fourth stage. She’d known Blacktail for seven days, which, considering that the life expectancy of a jackal is ten years, is not a short time. During those seven days, apart from each going back to his or her own place to sleep, they had spent the entire day together, hunting for food, drinking water, running together through the colourful mountain flowers, luxuriating in the warmth of the sunlight on the rocks near the snowline. Flame was now ready to take the fifth step – to put Blacktail through the test of loyalty.
He couldn’t wait to be her mate but she implicitly dodged the issue. It wasn’t that Flame was being prudish. There were three reasons why she was taking her time to let Blacktail into Buddha Belly Cave. First, she was concerned that if they rushed into a relationship so soon after meeting, Blacktail might not take her seriously, might look down on her, might think she was cheap. She wanted to maintain an appropriate modesty, to let him know her mind: she was looking for a serious relationship, a mate for life. She would not look at another male, she would be a faithful partner to him forever, and a wonderful mother to their pups.
Her second reason was that things that are easily won are seldom treasured. Easy come, easy go. If she put a few obstacles in his path, things that needed some effort to work through, then she would increase his value as a mate. She would force him to invest in their future family; he would cherish his wife and family more if he had to struggle for them. The obstacles and feats he had to overcome so diligently on his road to becoming her mate would be the highlights of their love, the stuff of family legends.
Thirdly, as the saying goes, ‘The road is far and you must know your horse’s strength.’ Time is the touchstone of a true heart. Only after a period of intense scrutiny and meaningful trials would Flame know for sure whether Blacktail was indeed a loyal jackal of excellent quality.
The best way to test a jackal’s loyalty is to see whether he can resist the temptation of beauty, and there are lots of opportunities to do this. That afternoon, after a lunch of wild boar, Flame set out with enthusiasm for the foothills of the snowy mountains. She looked all round as far as she could see: at the snowy mountains, the clear pools, the forests, the grassland, the brilliant white clouds in the blue sky, the mountain covered in rhododendrons. The scenery was beautiful, a sightseer’s delight! But Flame was really on the lookout for a ‘prop’ for Blacktail’s trial, ‘prop’ meaning, of course, a female jackal. It was not long since she had last come over to the foothills of the snowy mountains to hunt. On this same hillside covered with rhododendrons she had picked up a scent similar to her own. She knew that there was a jackal living here, and although she hadn’t seen her, Flame knew from the scent that she was a young one, about two years old, and even better, that she was like a tight bud ready to burst into flower. Love was in the air! She was the perfect prop for Blacktail’s trial.
Flame came to a stretch of pink rhododendrons and sniffed about in the foliage. Sure enough, the jackal was still living round here. Flame followed the sweep of rhododendrons round. As she followed the young jackal’s scent, she secretly wondered how Blacktail was reacting. Yes, he had slowed down, as though an invisible lead was restraining him, or there was extremely sticky tree-gum on the ground. The more he lagged behind, the greater the distance between them grew. He took a few steps forward, then sniffed around under the branches, like a bee searching for pollen. Halfway round the mountain, the figure of a jackal emerged from a hole in the winding tree roots. Flame immediately recognised her as the jackal that had spread her scent in the rhododendrons. She was young, with a glossy red-brown coat, her youthful beauty shimmering in the sun. Her eyes flashed like sunrays hitting the water. There was only one name for this ravishing jackal: Dazzle! She was stunning!
Flame glanced over at Blacktail. He was drawn to Dazzle like a magnet; he could not take his eyes off her. Flame coughed. Blacktail jumped with a start, and looked round. But as soon as she wasn’t looking, his eyes were all over Dazzle again. Flame seethed with jealousy; he wasn’t quite as steady as he looked. But, on second thoughts, when a male jackal is excited, and a female jackal is on heat, it’s the law of Nature that opposites will attract. Blacktail was a normal adult jackal, it was normal that he should be attracted to the scent of young females, and enjoy looking at them. His behaviour was nothing out of the ordinary. Jackals can appreciate a good-looking jackal.
Dazzle was stunningly beautiful. Even Flame herself couldn’t stop looking at her. And if that was the case, why was she surprised to find that Blacktail was so entranced? Wouldn’t any jackal be distracted by this young female as fresh and beautiful as a flower? What had she expected? That he would turn his eyes away? That he would cover his nose? Well, that was hardly realistic. There is not a single male jackal anywhere in the world (with the exception of stuffed jackals in museums) that would be unmoved by such a beauty at his side. Only the most practised jackal-follower of Confucius would follow the way of Heaven; would see no evil; hear no evil; smell no evil.
When Flame considered it like this, her disappointment and indignation began to subside. She chastised herself for not having thought up a better plan of action.
She reached a stretch of yellow rhododendron flowers. There was an old mouse hole beneath them. Flame made a small noise, pretending to have found something interesting. She scratched and scraped at the earth, as though desperate to dig that clever little mouse out of its hole. She had picked a good spot, just off the young jackal’s scent trail, at an angle to Dazzle’s hole in the winding roots. From here she could see every move that Blacktail made, but was more or less out of sight herself. It looked as though all her attention was focused on the mouse hole beneath the rhododendrons, as though she was totally absorbed in this game of catch-the-mouse, oblivious to everything that was going on around her. But she was actually playing another game! She wanted to see whether Blacktail would take advantage of her being distracted and head over to flirt with Dazzle. This was a really important test. If, while she was busy with her ‘catch-the-mouse’ game, Blacktail crossed the scent trail and mated with Dazzle, it would prove that he was a slippery-no-good-can’t-be-trusted creature of weak moral fibre. It was guaranteed that in future he would go sneaking off with other jackals behind her back; that no sooner had they set up home together than he’d yield to temptation and run off with another female. In which case she should say goodbye to him as soon as she could, and avoid all the trouble ahead.
So she turned her back on Blacktail and Dazzle, and scrabbled away at the ground with her front paws, sending the dust flying, and displaying a single-minded determination to catch that mouse. But every now and again she sneaked a look at him. She had a good view from there. Dazzle was sitting by the entrance to her den in the winding roots of the tree, every so often raising her paw to scratch her ear. She licked her muzzle clean, and smoothed down the soft golden hair on her chest with her tongue. For jackals, female beauty does not lie in the curves of the chest, waist and hips, it lies in her ears, her muzzle and her crotch.
She-jackals have a tuft of white hair by their ears. While they are young and full of energy, the white tuft is thick and glossy. As they grow older the hair gradually thins out and the brilliant white becomes dull. The white tuft of hair is a sign of age, just as wrinkles are a sign of age in humans. A soft damp muzzle is a barometer of a jackal’s health: a healthy jackal will have hardly any tics in its thick fur, it will eat well, and sleep well; its nose will be a dark purple colour,
full and firm, and damp to the touch like cold jade. If the jackal is sick, the parasites in its fur will breed, it won’t eat or sleep properly, and its muzzle will turn grey, and go dry and crusty like a cowpat that’s been in the sun. A jackal’s crotch shows her fertility: if the soft fur there is clean, thick and strong, it shows she is fertile and ready to have pups, a litter of at least three, maybe even five, active little pups, which she’ll deliver with ease.
In short, this jackal’s beauty lay in her youth and her health. Of course, Dazzle was well aware that a male jackal was within range. She used fine and elegant movements to comb and clean the three most crucial parts of her body. Her intentions were quite clear: she was posing as she preened, seducing as she scratched.
Oh yes, Blacktail was definitely interested. He was watching her, entranced, his eyes as wide as they could go, something inside urging him to move a little closer, to throw all caution to the wind, to step over the scent line and go to her, to Dazzle. Lust was whisking away his soul.
Flame made a noise. She was still after that mouse, pawing away beneath the rhododendrons. The noise sounded like a sigh, as though the crafty mouse had slipped through her claws just as she was digging it out of its hole. Actually, it was a side-on attack, to remind Blacktail that she was right there beside him. It was a very timely reminder too, because Blacktail’s front legs were already over the scent line. And it had the effect of an electric shock! He whipped his legs back at lightning speed, and in that split second of indecision, he turned to look at her. His hair stood on end and a shudder ran through his body. He wanted to shake those feelings right out of his mind. He had resisted temptation and made his choice.
There’s nothing like having a bucket of cold water poured over you to bring you back down to earth! Blacktail ran over to the yellow rhododendrons. There was guilt written all over his face. Flame stopped her digging, and gave him a cold stare. Their eyes met, but Blacktail was quick to look away. No doubt he felt uncomfortable because of the bad thoughts he’d just had.