Oorial, like stags, seem to affect particular spots at that season, and certain hills which at other times of the year hold nothing but ewes and young ones will just then invariably have big rams on them. Oorial ground has hitherto been practically restricted to the Salt range, and a 30-in. ram there is now a rarity. The country on the right bank of the Indus is being yearly made more accessible, however, and there are large tracts of good oorial ground in that direction that are as yet practically unshot. Oorial shooting, however, is by no means a summer amusement, and there is little to be gained then except dysentery from bad water and sunstroke by hunting the deep stifling ravines and almost red-hot stony hills. In the cooler months it is most enjoyable. As a rule one gets a fair number of chances, the ground being so broken that stalking is by no means difficult. An old ram oorial is a fine game-looking animal, and though not to be compared to burrel, is still very fair eating. The best way of hunting them is by walking along the tops of the ridges and carefully examining the ground below; as there are often a good many bushes on the hillside, oorial are not always very easy to see, especially if they are lying down, so the pace should be slow. The natives of the salt range are generally expert trackers, and as a wounded oorial is by no means an easy beast to recover, their skill is doubly appreciable when following up a good ram with a broken leg. The way they will carry the trail through the marks of a flock of sheep or along stony nullahs and hillsides with perhaps only an occasional spot of blood to help them, is quite charming after the bungling attempts at the art one generally sees displayed by the natives of the Himalayas.
As oorial are perpetually seeing shepherds and other natives they do not become alarmed at the sight of man at a distance; but as they are a good deal driven about, especially by the cultivators whose crops at the foot of the hills they feed on at night, no liberties can be taken during the stalk, and the sides of the ravines being often excessively steep, good noiseless stalking shoes are requisite.
This variety is found in Khelat, and a few specimens have been procured near Quetta. Its horns are described as being longer and more slender than those ofO. cyclocerosorO. Vignei, and as having a second twist outwards at the ends. It has a white beard, unlike either shapoo or oorial.
Native names: Cashmere, ‘Markhor’; Ladak, ‘Rache’; Aster, ‘Boom’
Whether this king among goats deserves his name of ‘snake-eater’ or not is hardly likely to be settled. Shikaris all believe that markhor do eat snakes, some going as far as to say that they suck the snakes out of their holes, and swallow them like macaroni; and Colonel Kinloch supports the theory.
But though some hundreds of markhor have been shot by Europeans, the fact has hitherto not been proved; and the writer ventures in all humility to suggest that the tale is derived from some old legend, and refers, in spite of the Persian name which may have become corrupted, to the long snake-like horns.
Be this as it may, an old markhor swaggering along a ledge on a precipitous hillside, with his long black beard and white mane floating down to his knees, showing off every inch of his beautiful horns—as no beast knows better how to do, except perhaps a really big stag in the rutting season—is one of the most glorious sights in the Himalayas.
The Astor markhor
The Astor markhor
The beast looks such a gentleman with his lean head and small ears, his powerful back and quarters, and his dignified carriage. Alas! it is all looks! His smell is something fearful, and manners he has none. Ibex and burrel can be trusted, when they are lying down after their morning feed, at all events not to move far; but markhor, no. You may watch a flock feeding till late in the morning, and they will lie down comfortably, apparently for the day; you begin your stalk with everything in your favour; suddenly there is a clatter of stones and a cloud of dust, you peep over a spur, and see the whole flock galloping wildly down the hill. After going half a mile, they probably pull up, begin feeding again, and again stretch themselves out on the ground as if nothing had happened. This little manœuvre probably necessitates your climbing painfully back to the top of the ridge, and starting your stalk afresh, the intervening ground being impracticable. Once more you try, leaving a man on the top of the hill to watch and signal what the beasts do. You stalk carefully on; the watcher makesno sign; you creep on the last hundred yards, to the exact spot you wish to reach, and there is nothing. You search the ground as far as you can get, and there are only a few footprints leading over impassable ground; you climb back again, probably the only way you can go, vowing vengeance on the watcher, and he tells you that the markhor lay quiet till you were beginning your last crawl in—every second he expected to hear the shot: suddenly they jumped up and disappeared, and owing to the steepness of the ground he could not tell which way they had gone. This sort of thing will happen over and over again, particularly in Astor.
Perseverance combined with good management always brings luck in the end, but big bags of really fine markhor are not to be expected; one fair chance for each fortnight on the shooting ground is a good allowance.
It is always a pretty sight seeing markhor move down to their feeding ground in the evening from the crags above where they have been lying during the afternoon. Full gallop they come, sending the stones whizzing in front of them, over the most breakneck ground as if it were a level plain; rearing up on their hind legs and butting at one another, a venerable old fifty-incher probably playing with his great-grandson, a young spark of only twenty; the whole lot of them thoroughly enjoying the frolic. Ibex will play, and prettily too, but no beast appears so thoroughly to enter into the fun of a good skylark as a markhor. The master buck of the flock, however, seems to keep the youngsters in pretty good order. The writer was much amused once, watching a flock coming down a particularly difficult cliff. The best buck led the way, the flock following in single file soberly enough, the ground apparently was not safe even for a markhor to frolic on; turning a corner, the old fellow came to a wall of rock that, after careful inspection, he did not think good enough to descend, and he turned back to take another route. Just as he made up his mind, one of the smaller bucks in rear evidently chaffed him. The old fellow went for him at once, drovehim right up to the edge of the cliff with his horns, as nearly as possible pushed him over, and then, with an air of great importance, led the flock round his own way.
1. Cashmere2. Astor
1. Cashmere
1. Cashmere
2. Astor
2. Astor
3. Trans-Indus4. AfghanistanVarieties of markhor
3. Trans-Indus
3. Trans-Indus
4. Afghanistan
4. Afghanistan
Varieties of markhor
Hitherto most writers have divided markhor into only two varieties, viz. the spiral and straight horned; but the type of horn obtained in Astor is so different from that in Cashmere, and again that in Afghanistan from that in the lower Trans-Indus ranges, that any sportsman can distinguish them at a glance.
The writer has consequently adhered to Colonel Kinloch’s theory, that there are four distinct varieties of this goat, classifying the twospiral types under the name ofMegaceros, and the two straight-horned types under that ofJerdoni. In the British Museum the nameFalconeriis applied to all four.
The first variety ofCapra megacerosis that found in Cashmere on the Pir Punjal and Kajnag ranges; its horns make occasionally three complete spirals, whereas the horns of the second or Astor variety rarely have more than one; and as the horns are measured along the curve, it follows that a 40-in. horn from Astor is far bigger than one of the same length from Cashmere. The Astor markhor is also a larger animal than the Cashmere one, often measuring a couple of inches higher at the shoulder.
As regards habits, the Cashmere markhor is a thoroughly forest-loving beast. He will come out to eat the young grass on the upper slopes of the hill, but his real home is among precipitous cliffs in the middle of forest, and well worth watching those cliffs are when the sun first comes out after heavy rain. If there are any markhor about, they are pretty sure to appear and sun themselves.
The Astor variety, on the contrary, live almost entirely in the open, only taking to the strips of forest when driven there by the gadflies in the summer. In the winter they come down to the cliffs overhanging the main streams, working up about May, till they join the ibex, who never seem to leave the higher ground. In June both ibex and markhor may be seen feeding together. The writer saw a combined flock of nearly one hundred beasts, male and female, in the amphitheatre at the head of the Dashkat or Datchnar valley. Stalk them? Of course we tried, in spite of the long odds against one with a flock of that size. There was a ravine leading up towards them, which we reached all right by crawling on hands and knees through some thick low scrub; then we crept up the ravine till it died away into open ground and found ourselves planted within three hundred yards of the head of the flock, some dozen buck markhor and ibex. There we lay for nearly an hour and a half hoping they would feed towards us, and a capital opportunity we had of comparing the relative size of the beasts; the markhor with his superior height and length making theibex look quite cobby in comparison. Of course an old buck markhor must needs feed ahead of the rest, well out of shot, get our wind, and lead the whole lot at a gallop back to the rocks on the far side of the basin. There the ibex stayed, but the markhor went clean away over the crest of the hill.
In the evening, while we were watching the ibex in the vain hope they would come down again, behold on the very line the markhor had left by in the morning three male ibex and another flock of markhor appeared descending into the basin. As the markhor were coming down at a good pace we started to cut them off. On came the markhor, which we recognised as a flock we had been hunting all the previous week on another part of the ground. A stiff climb took us near where we had last seen them, and creeping on the shikari who was in front came almost face to face with one, upon which the alarm call began to sound furiously. A run forward only brought the writer within sight of a pair of horns moving off about eighty yards away, but while pushing on to get a shot, suddenly the buck that had convinced us as to the identity of the flock by his upright horns, came into full view broadside on at fifty yards. He rolled over stone-dead to the shot, and as he was lying doubled up with his head underneath him a gun-carrier was sent down to him, while I ran on fast to try for another shot. The rest of the flock, however, had vanished, and as the chase was abandoned a noise was heard: looking round, the spectacle presented itself of the beautiful 50-in. markhor (such was the first impression; in reality it was not quite forty) slipping from the clumsy Cashmeree’s hands, rolling down the slope over one precipice, then over another, and lodging by the greatest luck just on the top of a third; the horns were sadly scarred and chipped, but were fortunately not broken. Many heads of both markhor and ibex get utterly spoilt in Astor by the animals falling over cliffs when shot.
As regardsCapra Jerdoni, the straight-horned markhor, the first variety, with a perfectly straight axis to the horn, is found all over the low ranges that run parallel to the right bank of the Indus below Attock; it used to be found in fair numbers near Sheikh Budin, a small station near Dera Ismail Khan, and in the hills, or rather the steep ravines, in the plateau behind Dera Ghazi Khan. The country beyond these places belongs to more or less inhospitable tribes and, for the present at all events, is practically closed against the sportsman. Near Quetta markhor are reported to be obtainable, and in Beluchistan there should be a chance of gettingCapra ægagrusandOvis Blanfordias well asCapra Jerdoni. Hunting straight-horned markhor is scarcely a summer amusement, as the heat is terrific on the low hills, and drinkable water is extremely scarce.
The second variety is found in Afghanistan, another practically closed shooting ground. It appears to be a link between the straight horn and the spiral, more generally approaching the spiral in size of body and general appearance. As the Astor variety probably extends some distance to the west of Gilgit, and this second variety is found in Northern Afghanistan, it seems possible that its corkscrew bend may be more pronounced towards its eastern limit and less so as it extends to the south-west. The illustration on p. 312 gives the four marked types.
Kinloch notes that markhor horns twist the reverse way to those of domestic goats; and the writer, after looking at many hundreds of tame goats in India for the express purpose of studying their horns, and after inspecting the heads in the British Museum and other collections, is able to confirm the fact that the horns of all wild animals that twist at all do so outwards, while those of tame animals appear invariably to twist inwards.
Measurements
Cashmere, ‘Kale’; Ladak, ‘Skeen’; Pangi and Lahoul, ‘Tangrol’
In his summer coat
In his summer coat
Ibex vary very much in colour according to age, locality and the season. In their winter coats the old bucks, though looking almost white at a distance, and showing up conspicuously among the brown young bucks and females, are really very patchy looking at close quarters, the head and part of the neck being a sepia brown, the middle of the body generally yellowish white with a dark stripe on the back, and the quarters again brown, with legs of dark sepia. In the summer they are sepia-coloured all over, the head and neck often darker than the body—in fact, an old buck looks sometimes almost black at a distance; the beard is thick and very dark brown.
Ibex are to be found pretty nearly everywhere in thehigher ranges of hills from Gilgit to Spiti, though they do not appear to cross the Sutlej to the eastward of Spiti. To name a particular valley would be only misleading. Favourite districts soon get shot out as regards good heads, and the only trustworthy information to work on is that of the year previous. If you get a good nullah, there is no sport in the Himalayas more charming. Parts of the ground no doubt will test your nerve as a cragsman, but it does not entail the perpetual climbing of markhor and ther ground, and in April, May and June a fair number of good chances may be relied upon. As Ward says, ‘Patience and steady shooting are what are necessary; a man does not require to be a first-rate walker or a really brilliant shot during that season; but he does require to be enduring, and not too eager about getting up at once to his game.’ Of course, if the sportsman blazes away at indifferent heads he will not get the big ones; but if he sees a good head one day and cannot get it, if he does not disturb the beast, he will see him again next day somewhere near the same place, and sooner or later be able to close accounts with him; ten heads, all over thirty inches, which would probably include two or three over forty inches, would be a far better bag for two months’ work than twenty heads in the same time, including a lot of rubbishy little things about twenty-five inches.
If you wish thoroughly to enjoy your stalk, and the ground is not too difficult, insist upon going first and making your shikari carry your rifle behind you. He will probably object, but be firm, and listen to none of his plausible arguments; carry out your own stalk without asking his advice, simply telling him what you mean to do. When you are within two hundred yards of where you expect to get your shot, make him lie down, take the rifle from him and go on alone. Warn him beforehand that if he moves till you tell him, you’ll fine him. When you reach your place, get your wind before you look over; you will see perhaps fifteen or twenty ibex in front of you; don’t be in a hurry; make sure that you have really selected the best head for your first shot, and take pains to get it home. When you fire, the smoke will hang in your eyes, and you will dimly see the flock scatter. Keep your head now—don’t show yourself; and if you are in about the right place, a little above, but nearly on a level with the flock, and about eighty yards off, not closer, you will probably see the flock walking up the hillside, occasionally turning round to gaze at the 40-incher lying dead below them. With cartridges handy, and steady shooting, you should add the next two or three best heads to your score. You have no shikari at your elbow nudging you, and whispering advice just as you are going to fire, starting off the flock by showing himself immediately after your first shot, and finally, when you have got all the heads you care for out of the flock, imploring you to shoot a worthless little brute for the coolies to eat. Call him up when you have finished, and let him cut the throats of the slain to make them lawful eating, low down the neck, so as not to spoil the skin for stuffing, and if he objects, tell him he may do without meat. One of the greatest mistakes that all shikaries make in stalking is trying to get too close to the game. It stands to reason, in a country infested by leopards or ounces, that if a beast catches sight of the top of one’s head within five and twenty yards, he will bolt at once, whereas at eighty yards distance he feels at all events safe from a sudden rush, and will stop to gaze.
After the end of June it is practically waste of time trying for ibex. There is grass everywhere, and to escape the gadflies and be out of the way of the flocks of sheep and goats that are driven up into many of the best nullahs in summer, the ibex retire to the highest peaks in the neighbourhood, and rarely descend to ground where there is any chance of getting near them.
Native names: ‘Pasang,’ male; ‘Boz,’ female; generally Boz Pasang in Persia (Blanford); Kayeek in Asia Minor (Danford)
This ibex extends from the Taurus mountains in Asia Minor, through the Caucasus range and Persia, to Afghanistan, Beluchistan and Sindh.
It is a smaller animal than the Himalayan ibex, and does not ascend to the same altitude, preferring, according to Mr. Danford, elevations of 2,000 to 5,000 ft., while 8,000 ft. is about the lowest limit of the Himalayan variety. In Beluchistan and Afghanistan these ibex andO. Blanfordiare found on the same ground, just asCapra JerdoniandOvis cyclocerosare in the Suleiman range; and this peculiar trait of preferring hot low hills is, in the writer’s estimation, the great point of difference betweenCapra ægagrus,Capra JerdoniandOvis cycloceroson the one side, andCapra sibirica,Capra megacerosandOvis Vigneion the other.
The general colour of the buckCapra ægagrusis brown with a dark line down the back, and a black beard, but the last is not so profuse as inCapra sibirica. The females are lighter in colour, and have small horns. The horns are quite different from those of any other species of ibex; instead of having a flat front and being thinner behind than in front, as most other ibex horns are, these horns have the edge in front, a scimitar-like ridge running up the front of the horn, wavy but unbroken for about one-third above the head, and then represented by knobs which spring up at some distance apart for about another third, when the ridge appears again, but rapidly dies away towards the point. The sides of the horn too are smooth, the outer side rounded and the inner flat, the knobs not running down the sides as in other ibex.
In Persia and Afghanistan these ibex are generally shot in drives. The members of the Afghan Boundary Commission had a great day with them.
In the Sinaitic Peninsula they are replaced byCapra sinaiticavelnubiana, which extends through Egypt. Few people looking at the hills that run down to Suez harbour would imagine that they hold ibex, but such is the case nevertheless. The horns of this type are more likeCapra sibirica, being quite as long, but thinner and more curved.
Capra sibiricaCapra ægagrusCapra sinaitica
Capra sibirica
Capra sibirica
Capra ægagrus
Capra ægagrus
Capra sinaitica
Capra sinaitica
The European ibex,Capra Ibexof the Tyrol, has also horns likeCapra sibirica, and nearly as thick, but shorter. His beard, however, is only rudimentary.
The Spanish ibex,Capra pyrenaica, on the other hand, has a peculiar upward twist at the end of the horn that makes it look almost like a markhor. This type is described elsewhere.
‘WITH CARTRIDGES HANDY AND STEADY SHOOTING’
‘WITH CARTRIDGES HANDY AND STEADY SHOOTING’
Measurements
Mr. Sclater gives two other varieties of ibex,Capra caucasicaandCapra Wali. The Senckenberg Museum of Frankfort isbelieved to possess the only known specimens of this last type. Of it Dr. F. Richters, in charge of the Museum, says: ‘The horns ofCapra Walidiffer from those ofCapra sibiricain the following points: the outer surface inCapra Waliis curved (smooth?), while inCapra sibiricait is corrugated. The under side ofCapra Waliis sharper than inCapra sibirica. The inner side ofCapra Walihas between every two knobs (on the top of the horn) five or six grooves, which correspond with a similar number of notches of equal depth on the under side.C. sibirica, on the other hand, has a fairly smooth inner surface, and on the under side has under every two knobs (on the top of the horn) a deep notch, and between every two deep notches a shallower one. The tip ofC. sibiricais more curved than that ofC. Wali. The horn of our specimen of wali has eight knobs on it, that ofC. sibirica(horns 36¼ ins. in length, girth at base 9½ ins., cord from base to tip 22 ins.) 17 knobs.’ The specimen came from Abyssinia, and its photograph shows the peculiar knob at the base of the horn on the forehead, its absence of beard, and its small size in comparison toC. sibirica, which is photographed with it.
Gurwhal, ‘Ther,’ female ‘Theri,’ ‘Tahr,’ or ‘Jhula,’ female ‘Tharni’; Chamba and Pangi, ‘Kart’; Cashmere, ‘Jagla’; Khistwar, ‘Kras’; Nepal, ‘Jharál’
Ther are found at high elevations, where the forest line begins to give way to the snow throughout the southern slopes of the Himalayas, from Cashmere to Bhutan. Its north-west limit appears to be where the Jhelum river separates the Kajnag from the Pir Punjal ranges; though fairly common in the latter, it is apparently unknown in the Kajnag, nor is it found in the ranges to the north of the Cashmere valley; from the Pir Punjal it extends south-eastwards through Kishtwar and Chamba, then leaving Lahoul and Spiti to the north on to the upper waters of the Jumna, Ganges, and Aleknanda rivers, and so by Nepal to Bhutan, being most plentiful perhaps in Chamba and Gurwhal.