CHAPTER II

THE ELEPHANT (ELEPHAS)

This animal has interested mankind more than any other, owing to the peculiar combination of immense proportions with extraordinary sagacity. The question has frequently been raised "Whether the elephant or the dog should be accepted as superior in intelligence?" My own experience would decide without hesitation—The Dog is man's companion; the Elephant is his slave.

We all know the attachment and fidelity of the dog, who appears to have been created specially to become the friend of the human race. He attaches himself equally to the poor man and the rich, and shares our fortunes "for better, for worse," clinging with heroic loyalty to his master when all other friends may have abandoned him. The power of memory is wonderfully exhibited, considering the shortness of life which Nature, by some mischance has accorded to man's best friend.

"While thus Florinda spake, the dog who lay Before Rusilla's feet, eyeing him long And wistfully, had recognised at length, Changed as he was and in those sordid weeds, His royal master. And he rose and lick'd His withered hand, and earnestly looked up With eyes whose human meaning did not need The aid of speech; and moan'd, as if at once To court and chide the long-withheld caress… . . . . . . . Disputing, he withdrew. The watchful dog Followed his footsteps close. But he retired Into the thickest grove; there yielding way To his o'erburthen'd nature, from all eyes Apart, he cast himself upon the ground, And threw his arms around the dog, and cried While tears stream'd down. Thou Theron, thou hast known Thy poor lost master… Theron, only thou!"—

Southey's "Roderick, last of the Goths."

In case of danger the dog will defend his master, guided by his own unaided intelligence; he at once detects and attacks the enemy. In wild sports he *shares the delight of hunting equally with his master, and the two are inseparable allies. The day is over, and he lies down and sleeps before the fire at his master's feet, and dreams of the dangers and exploits; he is a member of his master's household.

The elephant is, in my opinion, overrated. He can be educated to perform certain acts, but he would never volunteer his services. There is no elephant that I ever saw who would spontaneously interfere to save his master from drowning or from attack. An enemy might assassinate you at the feet of your favourite elephant, but he would never attempt to interfere in your defence; he would probably run away, or remain impassive, unless guided and instructed by his mahout. This is incontestable; the elephant will do nothing useful unless he is specially ordered to perform a certain work or movement.

While condemning this apathetic character, we must admit that in the elephant the power of learning is extraordinary, and that it can be educated to perform wonders; but such performances are only wonderful as proving the necessary force of direction and guidance by a superior power, to which the animal is amenable.

I have had very many years' experience with elephants, both Asiatic and African, and in my opinion they are naturally timid. Although in a wild state the males are more or less dangerous, especially in Africa, the herd of elephants will generally retreat should they even wind an unseen enemy. This timidity is increased by domestication, and it is difficult to obtain an elephant sufficiently staunch to withstand the attack of any wild animal. They will generally turn tail, and not only retreat gracefully, but will run in a disgraceful panic, to the great danger of their riders should the locality be forest.

The difference in species is distinct between the Asiatic and the African. It is at all times difficult to give the measurement of a dead animal, especially when so enormous, as the pressure of weight when alive would reduce the height afforded by measurement when the body is horizontal.

The well-known African elephant Jumbo that was sold to America by the Zoological Society of London, was brought up in confinement since its early existence, when it was about 4 feet 6 inches high. That elephant was carefully weighed and measured before it left England, with the result, of height at shoulder, 11 feet; weight, six tons and a half. The girth of the fore-foot when the pressure of the animal's weight was exerted, was exactly half the perpendicular height of the elephant. I have seen very much larger animals in Africa, but there is nothing in India to approach the size of Jumbo.

There is no reason why the African elephants should not be tamed and made useful, but the difficulty lies in obtaining them in any great numbers. The natives of Africa are peculiarly savage, and their instincts of destruction prevent them from capturing and domesticating any wild animals. During nine years' experience of Central Africa I never saw a tamed creature of any kind, not even a bird, or a young antelope in possession of a child. The tame elephant would be especially valuable to an explorer, as it could march through streams too deep for the passage of oxen, and in swimming rivers it would be proof against the attacks of crocodiles. So few African elephants have been tamed in proportion to those of Asia that it would be difficult to pronounce an opinion upon their character when domesticated, but it is generally believed by their trainers that the Indian species is more gentle and amenable to discipline. The power of the African is far in excess of the Asiatic. Nine feet at the highest portion of the back is a good height for an Indian male, and eight feet for the female, although occasionally they are considerably larger. There are hardly any elephants that measure ten feet in a direct perpendicular, although the mahouts pretend to fictitious heights by measuring with a tape or cord from the spine, including the curve of the body.

As Jumbo was proved to have attained the height of eleven feet although in captivity from infancy, it may be easily imagined that in a wild state the African elephant will attain twelve feet, or even more. I have myself seen many animals that would have exceeded this, although it would be impossible to estimate their height with accuracy.

The shape of the African variety is very peculiar, and differs in a remarkable manner from the Asiatic. The highest point is the shoulder, and the back is hollow; in the Indian the back is convex, and the shoulder is considerably lower. The head of the African is quite unlike that of the Indian; and the ears, which in the former are enormous, completely cover the shoulder when thrown back. The best direction for a vital shot at an African elephant is at the extremity of the ear when flapped against the side. A bullet thus placed will pass through the centre of the lungs. The Indian elephant has many more laminae in the teeth than the African, constituting a larger grinding surface, as the food is different. The African feeds upon foliage and the succulent roots of the mimosa and other trees, which it digs up with its powerful tusks; the forests are generally evergreen, and being full of sap, the bark is easier to masticate than the skeleton trees of India during the hottest season. Both the Indian and African varieties have only four teeth, composed of laminae of intensely hard enamel, divided by a softer substance which prevents the surface from becoming smooth with age; the two unequal materials retain their inequality in wear, therefore the rough grinding surface is maintained notwithstanding the work of many years. A gland at the posterior of the jaw supplies a tooth-forming matter, and the growth of fresh laminae is continuous throughout life; the younger laminae form into line, and march forward until incorporated and solidified in the tooth.

It is impossible to define exactly the limit of old age, as there can be little doubt that captivity shortens the duration of life to a great degree. We can only form an opinion from the basis of growth when young. As an elephant cannot be fully developed in the perfection of ivory until the age of forty, I should accept that age in a wild animal as the period of a starting-point in life, and I should imagine that the term of existence would be about a hundred and fifty years.

The life of an elephant in captivity is exactly opposed to its natural habits. A wild Indian elephant dreads the sun, and is seldom to be found exposed in the open after dawn of day. It roams over the country in all directions during night, and seeks the shelter of a forest about an hour before the sun rises. It feeds heartily, but wastefully, tearing down branches, half of which it leaves untouched; it strips the bark off those trees which it selects as tasteful, but throws wilfully away a considerable portion. Throughout the entire night the elephant is feeding, and it is curious to observe how particular this animal is in the choice of food. Most wild animals possess a certain amount of botanical knowledge which guides them in their grazing; the only exception is the camel, who would poison himself through sheer ignorance and depraved appetite, but the elephant is most careful in its selection of all that is suitable to its requirements. It is astonishing how few of the forest trees are attractive to this animal. Some are tempting from their foliage, others from their bark (vide the powerfully astringent Catechu), some from the succulent roots, and several varieties from the wood, which is eaten like the sugar-cane. There is one kind of tree the wood of which alone is eaten after the rind has been carefully stripped off.

The elephant, being in its wild state a nocturnal animal, must be able to distinguish the various qualities of trees by the senses of smell and touch, as in the darkness of a forest during night it would be impossible to distinguish the leaves. There are few creatures who possess so delicate a sense of smell; wild elephants will wind an enemy at a distance of a thousand yards, or even more, should the breeze be favourable. The nerves of the trunk are peculiarly sensitive, and although the skin is thick, the smallest substance can be discovered, and picked up by the tiny proboscis at the extremity.

A wound upon any portion of the trunk must occasion intense pain, and the animal instinctively coils the lower portion beneath its chest when attacked by a tiger. This delicacy of nerve renders the elephant exceedingly timid after being wounded, and it is a common and regrettable occurrence that an elephant which has been an excellent shikar animal before it has been injured, becomes useless to face a tiger after it has been badly clawed. I cannot understand the carelessness of an owner who thus permits a good elephant to work unprotected. In ancient days the elephants were armoured for warlike purposes to protect them from spears and javelins, and nothing can be easier than to arrange an elastic protective hood, which would effectually safeguard the trunk and head from the attack of any animal.

I had an excellent hood arranged for a large tusker which was lent to me by the Commissariat. The first layer of material was the soft but thick buff leather of sambur deer. This entirely covered the head, and was laced beneath the throat; at the same time it was secured by a broad leather strap and buckle around the neck. A covering for about three feet from the base of the trunk descended from the face and was also secured by lacing. The lower portion of the trunk was left unprotected, as the animal would immediately guard against danger by curling it up when attacked. Upon this groundwork of buff leather I had plates of thick and hard buffalo hide, tanned, overlapping like slates upon a roof. This armour was proof against either teeth or claws, as neither could hold upon the slippery and yielding hard surface of the leather tiles; at the same time the elephant could move its trunk with ease. Two circular apertures were cut out for the eyes, about six inches in diameter.

An elephant, if well trained, would be sufficiently sagacious to appreciate this protection should it find itself unharmed after a home charge by a tiger or other dangerous beast; and such a quality of armour would add immensely to its confidence and steadiness.

Although the elephant is of enormous strength it is more or less a delicate animal, and is subject to a variety of ailments. A common disease is a swelling in the throat, which in bad cases prevents it from feeding. Another complaint resembles gout in the legs, which swell to a distressing size, and give exquisite pain, especially when touched. This attack is frequently occasioned by allowing elephants, after a long march under a hot sun, to wade belly-deep in cool water in order to graze upon the aquatic vegetation.

Few animals suffer more from the sun's rays than the elephant, whose nature prompts it to seek the deepest shade. Its dark colour and immense surface attract an amount of heat which becomes almost insupportable to the unfortunate creature when forced to carry a heavy load during the hot season in India. Even without a greater weight than its rider, the elephant exhibits signs of distress when marching after 9 a.m. At such times it is disagreeable, as the animal has a peculiar habit of sucking water through the trunk from a supply contained within the stomach, and this it syringes with great force between its fore legs, and against its flanks to cool its sides with the ejected spray. The rider receives a portion of the fluid in his face, and as the action is repeated every five minutes, or less, the operation is annoying.

It is a curious peculiarity in the elephant that it is enabled to suck up water at discretion simply by doubling the trunk far down the throat, and the fluid thus procured has no disagreeable smell, although taken direct from the creature's stomach. In every way the elephant is superior to most animals in the freedom from any unpleasant odour. Its skin is sweet, and the hand retains no smell whatever, although you may have caressed the trunk or any other portion of the body. It is well known that a horse is exceedingly strong in odour, and that nothing is more objectionable than the close proximity of a stable, or even of a large number of horses picqueted in the open,—I have frequently been camped where fifty or sixty elephants were for several days in the same position within a hundred yards of the tents, and still there was no offensive scent.

The food of an elephant is always fresh and clean, and the digestive functions are extremely rapid. The mastication is a rough system of grinding, and the single stomach and exceedingly short intestines simplify the process of assimilation. The rapidity of the food passage necessitates a consumption of a large amount, and no less than six hundred pounds of fodder is the proper daily allowance for an elephant.

There have been frequent discussions upon the important subject of elephant-feeding. Mr. G. P. Sanderson, the superintendent of the keddah department in Assam, has declared against the necessity of allowing a ration of grain in addition to the usual fodder. This must naturally depend upon the quality of the green food. If the locality abounds in plantains, the stems of those plants are eagerly devoured, and every portion except the outside rind is nourishing. Even then the waste is excessive should the stems be heedlessly thrown down before the animal. It will immediately proceed to strip long fibrous ribbons from the stem by placing one foot upon the extremity, and then tearing off the alternate layers like the skin of an onion. These it converts into playthings, throwing them over its back and neck until it is dressed in dangling necklaces, which by degrees, after serving as toys, are ultimately devoured. The proper method of feeding an elephant with plantains where an allowance of rice is added, is by splitting the entire stem through the centre, and then cutting it into transverse sections about two feet in length. As each layer is detached, it resembles a delicately coloured trough, nearly white; this is doubled up in the centre and it at once forms a hollow tube, similar to a very thick drain tile. A handful of rice is placed within, and it is secured by tying with a fibrous strip from the plantain stem. A large pile of these neat packages is prepared for every elephant, and, when ready, the mahout sits by the heap and hands the parcels one by one to the ever-expectant trunk.