Shikar Stories

by Ruskin Bond

  The following day is occupied with skinning, and pegging out and curing the skin (for which purpose there is nothing better than burnt alum and saltpetre finely powdered and mixed in the proportion of four parts of alum to one of saltpetre). In doing all this, experientia docet, and personal attention to all details ensures a good result. The least one can do before shooting animals is to make sure we know all about the proper preservation of the trophies we seek.

  A period of ten days elapsed before the tigress put in an appearance. One of the methods of shooting a tiger is to so arrange an approach to the kill as to enable one to get silently and without discovery within certain shooting distance. Up the river such an arrangement had been made, and for six successive mornings we stalked the tied-up buffalo at dawn, each time in the hope of this, the acme of all tiger-shooting.

  On the seventh morning, we wearied of the difficult walking over the stones of the river bed to the sandy path from which the stalk commenced, and took a day off. That very morning the tigress was found to have killed. She was an unwary beast, or very hungry. Having slain the buffalo at about daybreak, as could be known from the tracks along the sand, she appeared in broad daylight, shortly after four o'clock in the afternoon, seized the kill and then stood listening intently and looking up the path along which she no doubt heard the men come when they visited the kill in the morning. She fell in her tracks, instantly slain. Not a move, scarcely a twitch of the tail. And so she came down the river in a dug-out canoe; the beautiful river along the banks of which she had hunted for many years, for she was an old beast. Eight feet two inches she measured and her weight two hundred and forty pounds.

  It was to be expected that after these two animals some time would elapse before other tigers took their places, and so it proved. Another year however finds us at the same place: and making similar arrangements we await the pleasure of the tiger and tigress, successors of their departed relatives, who are now in possession.

  We are not, alas! to have the same fortune, as the tiger is disposed of by a village shikari over a bullock, some few miles away, and the tigress is the wiliest within our experience.

  The tigress killed the upstream buffalo very early one morning and the tracks showed that when she first sighted the tethered animal she stuck out her claws, whisked round, and galloped off to the jungle fifty yards away. She eventually came through the forest and killed. It may be that she would have returned that night to meet her end, but chance in the shape of a village calf she met in the forest intervened, as we learnt next day after a night in the machan, that while we were settling ourselves in she was killing the calf. The carcass could not be found and a second night in the machan was without result.

  Another bait was tied up at a new place. This cunning tigress examined it at ten paces but refused to kill. Some days later, stalking along the edge of the reeds about daybreak, she again came on the bait, again turned tail and did not kill. She did not return within our stay and will doubtless be slain in a beat during the hot weather.

  So we are tigerless on this occasion, both on account of this cunning beast and because a tiger, swimming across the river, chose to walk downstream instead of up and missed our bait. A traveller, this tiger. We heard the various alarm calls of the jungle folk, soon after sundown, announcing his departure. Tigers take readily to water and often swim the Narbada, even in the cold season.

  The pleasure of shikar is not all in successful results. The joy of living the jungle life; the peace, and the being so close to nature, is the greater part of sport. And so, though without trophies on this occasion, we are content, and strike our camp, to proceed to other jungle resorts without any regrets in our minds.

  Narbada Mail We will visit you again!.

  (1928)

  The Haunts of Isabeline

  By C.H. Donald

  I

  t has been a severe winter in the Himalayas, and an early one, but once more the sun shines bright and warm, and green patches of grass here and there, in a great wilderness of dazzling white snow, acknowledge its power and the advent of spring. A flock of lighthearted little choughs circling in the bright blue sky above sing to each other, and convey the joyful tidings to all whom they may concern, that the snow is fast melting from their feeding grounds, and that it is high time to be out and enjoying life in such glorious weather.

  Isabeline, the little brown mother bear, hears the call, and pokes her nose out of her hollow at the root of an ancient mountain oak, where she has spent the winter, and given birth to two tiny wee cubs. The nose is followed by a great shaggy head and two little beads of eyes, blinking hard in the glare, roll in their sockets, while her nose wobbles about from side to side, to ascertain from every passing zephyr of the presence of any lurking enemy. Her keen scent, however, tells her that all is well, and that she may leave her two woolly balls and come out. Stealthily a great paw, armed with large white nails, next makes an appearance, and then the whole bear in all her glory of a magnificent winter coat, steps out into the sun, to stretch her weary limbs after her long winter sleep. She can still hear the cry of the choughs far, far above her, as she looks up the valley to the alpine pastures which she knows so well, and slowly she moves off in that direction, her legs so stiff that they have some difficulty in bearing her weight, but at each step they get better, and soon "Isabeline" is well above the forests and revelling in the warm sun.

  There is, however, no time for enjoyment and the pangs of hunger must be first attended to, before she hurries back to the little ones in the cave. The sight that meets her eyes on everyside is not very reassuring and there does not seem very much prospect of satisfying her ravenous appetite on these snow-tovered slopes, but she sees the little green path and makes for it and is rewarded for her pains by getting a few mouthfulls of luscious young, wild carrot tops, as hors d'oeuvre. Thence she slowly makes her way down again, turning over all the big stones she parses and getting from under one, a nest of beetles or ant's larvae, and under the next a few blades of sprouting grasses, till eventually she finds herself in a ravine, from the side of which all the snow has been blown off by the wind and the grass coming up sweet and green everywhere, and here she makes up for lost time. As she feeds on she becomes aware that she is not the first of her kind that has visited this spot during that morning, and her nose tells her that another has gone over the same ground, only a few hours before her, but there is no time to think of others, as she goes from tuft to tuft, and here and there turns over a stone to see if it conceals anything edible, beneath it.

  She is not nearly satisfied, but the sun is high up in the horizon, and it's time that she made her way back to the little ones at home, as it is not safe to wander about at a time when her arch enemy, man, may be about. Day after day she might be seen grazing on the bare plateaux, in the early mornings, and late evenings, and as the snow melts, new pastures come into being, and she has much less difficulty in satisfying her cravings than she formerly had.

  Spring has past into summer, and the snow has given place to green fields of grass and flowers of every hue. Masses of dainty primulae, king-cups and anenomes, clothe the plateaux on every side in gay pinks, yellows and purples, whilst a bright patch of blue tells of a bed of little forget-me-nots or gentians, and there on that crag, all by itself, too proud to mix with the rest, waves gently in the breeze, the gem of the mountains, in its wonderful electric blue, the blue mountain poppy.

  The little cubs have been all over these hills with their mother, since we last saw her, and though only three months old now, are fine sturdy little specimens, and up to every kind of mischief their ursine brains can devise. In size there is practically no difference between them, and in colour they are identical, except that the one has a small white waist-coat which is almost indistinguishable in the other. In temperament however, they are as the poles apart, and if you could only get near enough to see the wee, restive little beady eyes of each, you could have no doubt as to which had the wits of the family.
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  I had seen old "Isabeline" on the very first occasion that she had ventured out of her hollow in the tree, and I had from afar, coveted that glossy, light brown winter coat of hers, which I had examined carefully through my glasses, and as she approached the green patch in the snow, she little guessed, poor little lady, how near she was to feeling a rifle bullet smashing through her bones. I, too, had seen the green patch and knew she would go to it, so keeping the spur of the hill between us, had reached a point a few yards above it, just before her, and watched her as she grazed. I had seen that beautiful coat, but I had also seen something else, when she came to within 30 yards of me, which the glasses had not revealed, and which proved her salvation.

  This was the lack of hair, in patches, underneath, which showed me that she was the mother of one, if not two little babies which eagerly waited for her arrival, and would starve in their cave if some cruel hand laid her low now. From that date on she became my especial care, and many and many is the time, that I have sat and watched her turning over the boulders and grazing on the grassy slopes, little dreaming how near she was to her enemy, who, for the time being, was also her friend. When "Devil" and "Fool", as I christened the cubs, first made their apperance in public, early in June, I had the good fortune to meet them at very close quarters, without their knowing it, and from that hour fell in love with them, and was determined to have them for my own, but how to get them, without shooting the mother, was another matter altogether. However, there was no hurry and I could afford to wait and watch, and before long got to recognise the one from the other almost as well as the mother could have done. There was something in the Devil's eyes and general saucy devil-may-care look that was quite wanting in poor Fool. It was not only in his eyes but in his general demeanour, for it was not necessary to be near him to be able to recognise him, he was unmistakable 40 yards away.

  What it was, I could not tell, but it was there, and if anyone who had never seen the cubs before, had been asked which was Devil and which Fool he would have pointed them out correctly, the very first shot.

  One evening I had gone up for a quiet stroll to Isabeline's haunts; it was a warm afternoon and very still, even at this altitude, and whilst waiting under a rock, I had got drowsy and fallen asleep.

  I woke up with a start hearing strange noises somewhere very near, and there to my delight, not ten yards away, embracing each other, were Devil and Fool. Such a time as they were having, on the soft turf, and the mother a few yards below, not taking the least notice of her dear little hopefuls' gambol. This was luck, the wind blew directly from them to me, so there was no possibility of my being winded, and until it changed, or they got above me, I would be able to feast my eyes on their delightful antics. The fond embrace in which I first saw them, culminated in the Fool losing his balance and toppling over with the Devil still holding on to him, and down they went rolling in a ball for a few yards, when Devil loosened his hold, and ran for his mother. Right under her legs he rushed, and then turning round, stood up on his hind legs, with his forepaws on her back, and coyly peeped at Fool from this coign of vantage. I just suppressed a loud laugh, for anything more grotesque than the Devil's rolling eyes and twitching snout, and the poor Fool's tired look and perplexity, would be hard to find. After a couple of seconds or so, Fool too made a rush for his mother's legs, evidently hoping to get a grip of Devil from below, but Devil had played this game before, seemingly, and was prepared, for as soon as Fool emerged on the other side, Devil fell on his back, with both paws firmly gripping Fool's sides and his teeth in Fool's neck, and thus got quite a pleasant little ride at Fool's expense, till his weight brought Fool down on his nose. Up got Devil again, and made for his mother, and Fool, picking himself up, quietly set about following his mother's example and feeding. The Devil, though, was irrepressible, and, not finding Fool sociably inclined, he looked at his mother as much as to say "shall I?" and began tearing up the ground with his forefeet, and backing at the same time, then suddenly made a plunge at her, but evidently rather misjudged his distance, for he landed right on her head, which had the effect of jabbing her snout rather violently into the ground. Next instant old Devil was flying through space as though out of a gun barrel, and landed on his back quite ten feet down the hill. The mother went on with her grazing and took no further interest but the Devil's face was a treat. He stood up and looked at his mother out of the corner of his eye, and such a look!

  I am sure that had he been able to speak English, the words he would have muttered would have been "nasty old cat" He could not have expressed himself more plainly than he did, though.

  Now this would probably have kept Devil quiet for some time, and made him think of more serious things, but just then he looked up and his eye met Fool's, in which he plainly saw written the words "that served you jolly well right", and that coming from Fool was not to be endured at any price, so he made a savage charge at him, and once again I saw them in a loving embrace, but this time they had both got a good deal to say to each other as they rolled down, locked in each other's arms, and from the way it was all said, I knew it was nasty names that they were calling each other. A depression in the ground hid them from my view for a few seconds, and what was my surprise to suddenly hear the angry "unf unf unf" half sneeze, half grunt of a bear alarmed, and angry. Up went the mother's head in a second, with her nose held well to the wind, and giving vent to a deeper "unf unf unf" than the last I had heard, off she went, after Devil and Fool, but pulled up at the top of the depression, where I could still see her, with all the long hair on her withers bristling with anger, at something I could not see. The babies had both now joined their mother and all there stood looking down at, to me, the unknown disturber of their peace.

  What could it be? Not a man, for they would not stand there looking at him, and besides, there were no shepherds on this plateau as yet, and nobody but a shepherd would come here. I began to get as excited as the bears were, but could not move from my rock without attracting the attention of one or the other of the three before me, so had to curb my impatience and sit where I was, but was soon rewarded, for the mother gradually edged off and down into the depression and both the cubs followed. I was out of my hiding at once, and taking advantage of a small spur behind one got quickly round it.

  As my head got over the rising ground, the breeze brought up the shrill "chick chick" constantly repeated notes of the monaul pheasant, this also was his note of alarm and warning, but far down in the valley.

  With my glasses I searched every inch of the rolling plateaux before me and below me, but not a thing could I see anywhere, and yet I felt certain that something was astir somewhere, what could it be?

  Just as I was getting tired of looking at nothing, a movement a long way down the hill caught my eye, but look as I would nothing could I make of it, though I gazed again and again with a powerful pair of Zeiss glasses, at the exact spot where I had seen the movement with the naked eye. Looking still lower down, I suddenly spotted a fox digging for voles some 200 yards below where I had first seen the "movement."

  This would account for the cry of alarm of the monaul, but did not in the least explain the uneasiness of the bears, or that "movement" I saw. Still worried, I kept on looking at the fox, a tiny speck in the distance, when again that movement caught my eye, and much more distinct this time. Again I got the glasses out and looked and looked till my eyes ached, but nothing was visible, and yet I was sure that I was not mistaken. More puzzled than ever, I decided to watch the country around the fox for a few minutes, and before a couple of minutes had gone I distinctly saw a greyish object flash through the air and again disappear into the very bowels of the earth. Again my glasses revealed nothing, for some time, but at length, on a grey boulder, I noticed the twitch of a tail, and there right before me, was a beautiful panther crouching low on the rock. I must have had my eyes and glasses on him over and over again, and yet not seen him, and now that I had seen him, he was as plain almost as the bears had been a few
minutes previously. It was absurd to risk a 400 yards long shot, but how was I to get nearer in such open country, was the question? But then again why those sudden movements on his part and why was he now crouching on that rock?

  Then a thought struck me. He was stalking the fox. If so, that would be something worth watching, and I soon forgot all about Isabeline and her family and settled myself to watch developments in this direction, For five full minutes that panther sat immovable as the rock on which he crouched, and then without a moment's warning or the slightest movement of a muscle, he sprang straight into the air and stopped dead on a rock some ten feet lower down, in the identical position in which he left the last rock. I looked at the fox but she had noticed nothing, and was moving leisuredly about in quest of her voles. The next move of the panther was different, and he sprang lightly off the rock and crouching low, went very stealthily yet with quick steps, down the hill. This time the fox looked up, and immediately the panther crouched and lay still. The fox, however, like me, had got a glimpse of something and though not scared, was still suspicious and kept looking up every few seconds, but the panther never moved a muscle, and only about 80 to 100 yards divided them.

  Gazing through binoculars for any length of time is very tiring for the eyes, and though loth to miss a single state of the drama before me, I put them down till the feline should again make a move, keeping my eyes on him in the meantime. It was about 10 minutes ere he moved again and this time covered a good 20 paces ere he stopped, but the fox too was changing her ground and still kept her distance. She was now no longer straight below him as she had been when I first saw him, but had got several yards to one side, yet he still went on straight down.