“And now beside thee, bleating Lamb,I can lie down and sleep,Or think on Him who bore thy name,Graze after thee and weep.”
“And now beside thee, bleating Lamb,I can lie down and sleep,Or think on Him who bore thy name,Graze after thee and weep.”
“And now beside thee, bleating Lamb,I can lie down and sleep,Or think on Him who bore thy name,Graze after thee and weep.”
“And now beside thee, bleating Lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee and weep.”
The Lion enjoys the honourable distinction of being, unlike most Carnivora, strictly faithful to his spouse, although report says that she is by no means so virtuous, but only cleaves to her mate until a stronger and handsomer one turns up. Let us hope this is a calumny. At the breeding season each Lioness is usually followed by a number of Lions, who try all means in their power to gain her affections, and fight the most terrible battles with one another. In these fights the mane is of great use, for its length and thickness prevent the combatants taking a firm grip of one another’s neck. Thus, the Lion with the finest mane has the best chance of succeeding in life in two ways. The Lioness is more likely to take a fancy to him than to a less favoured suitor, for most of the lower animals, as well as ourselves, appreciate personal adornment very strongly; and he has also the best possible protection in the tournament in which he is obliged to take part, fighting,à outrance, against all comers.
THE KISS OF PEACE.
THE KISS OF PEACE.
When the battle is over, and the “queen of love and beauty” has bestowed the prize—herself—on the victor, the happy pair live together until the young are able to take care of themselves. The male often hunts for his mate, and allows her to take as much as she wants of the prey before satisfying his own hunger. He cares for her in the same way all the time she is suckling, and for the litter from the time when they are weaned till they are able to hunt for themselves.
The Lioness goes with young about fifteen or sixteen weeks, and produces from two to six at a litter. The cubs are delightful little creatures, about as big as a moderate-sized Cat, blind at first, with pretty innocent faces, and delightfully playful ways. The mother is devoted to them; thinks, no doubt, like Celia Chettam, in “Middlemarch,” that where there are babies“things are right enough, and that error, in general, is a mere lack of that central posing force.”
When the cubs are about eight to twelve months old they begin hunting for themselves, by attacking smaller animals, such as sheep and Goats, under their parents’ direction. The period between the ages of one and two years is the worst part of the Lion’s existence, as far as the inhabitants of the district are concerned, for they “kill not only to support themselves, but also in order to learn how to kill.”
At the age of three the young Lion’s education is complete; he leaves his father’s house, and begins to think of getting a house and a wife for himself, and then in her company he “roars after his prey and seeks his meat from God” for the rest of his career. He is not full-grown until the age of eight, when he may be considered as quite adult; and for many years to come revels in the consciousness of unconquerable strength and power, and oppresses all inferior creatures to his heart’s content.
But even to king Leo “life is not all beer and skittles;” there is suffering and work to be borne and done. The lower creatures “groan and travail” with us; and we find disease where we should least expect to find it, namely, in the wild creatures that at their will freely roam the desert. “The Carnivora, too, become diseased and mangy. Lions become lean, and perish miserably by reason of the decay of the teeth. When a Lion becomes too old to catch game, he frequently takes to killing Goats in the villages. A woman or child happening to go out at night falls a prey too; and as this is his only source of subsistence now, he continues it. From this circumstance has arisen the idea that the Lion, when he has once tasted human flesh, loves it better than any other. A man-eater is, invariably, an old Lion. And, when he overcomes his fear of man so far as to come to villages for Goats, the people remark, ‘His teeth are worn, he will soon kill men.’ They at once acknowledge the necessity of instant action, and turn out to kill him. When living far away from population, or when, as is the case in some parts, he entertains a wholesome dread of the Bushmen and Bakalahari, as soon as either disease or old age overtakes him, he begins to catch Mice and other small Rodents, and even to eat grass. The natives, observing undigested vegetable matter in his droppings, follow up his trail in the certainty of finding him, scarcely able to move, under some tree, and despatch him without difficulty. The grass may have been eaten as medicine, as is observed in Dogs.”
Before leaving the subject of the life and death of our great Carnivore, it will be as well to add a few words as to its breeding in captivity. It is stated by a naturalist who probably knows more about the matter than any other man,[14]that “the Lion appears to breed more freely than any other species ofFelis, and the number of young at a birth is greater, not infrequently four, and sometimes five, being produced in a litter. It is remarkable that these animals breed more freely in travelling collections (wild-beast shows) than in zoological gardens. Probably the constant excitement and irritation produced by moving from place to place, or change of air, may have considerable influence in the matter.
“A very extraordinary malformation, or defect, has frequently occurred among Lions produced during the last thirty years, in the Regent’s Park. This imperfection consists in the roof of the mouth being open. The palatal bones do not meet; the animal, is, therefore, unable to suck, and consequently always dies. This abnormal condition has not been confined to the young of any one pair of Lions, but many Lions that have died in the Zoological Gardens, and not in any way related to each other, have, from time to time, produced these malformed young, the cause of which appears to me quite unaccountable.”
Lion-hunting has not yet become, like Tiger-hunting, a regularly organised sport, entered upon at a particular season by large parties of Europeans, who think far more of the fun of the thing than of ridding the world of destroying beasts. The sport of Lion-hunting, on the other hand, is only undertaken by an individual traveller, now and then, who has to take nearly the whole of the danger on his own shoulders, and is quite without the extraneous aids afforded by regiments of Elephant-mounted fellow-hunters, and armies of beaters. The rest of the Lion-killing is done, not for sport, but for use, to get rid of a beast which has decimated flocks, and put friends and neighbours to a cruel death. In all parts where the Lion is found, the natives have one or more ways of trying to get rid of him: sometimes meeting him in open fight, sometimes destroying him in a more underhand manner, by pitfalls, or the like.
Of all methods, that which is attended with the least danger is the ditch, or pitfall, of the Arabs of Algeria. This is a pit four or five yards broad, and ten deep, dug in the middle of thedouar, or small encampment of from ten to twenty tents, in which the Arabs live during the winter. The whole douar is surrounded by a hedge, two or three yards in height, and a lesser hedge is placed round the pit to prevent the cattle falling into it; the latter being kept loose within the encampment to attract Lions by their scent and their cries. When the desirable effect is attained, and a Lion has made up his mind to take toll from the flock he hears bleating within the enclosure, he leaps the hedge with one of his tremendous bounds, and, the ditch being a less distance from the hedge than the horizontal range of his leap, falls headlong into the trap prepared for him, from which, owing to its depth, and the fact that it is made narrower above than below, his most frantic efforts can never succeed in extricating him.
As soon as the Arabs hear his roars, and know that they have their enemy a prisoner, they prepare a great feast, summon all the inhabitants of the neighbouring douars, and, proceeding to the pit’s mouth, every one hurls stones at the poor animal, calling him at the same time by all the opprobrious names in the Arabic vocabulary, and, finally, fire upon him until he is dead. When this is the case, they haul up the carcase with ropes; and, having got their prey on level ground, “the mothers take each a small piece of the animal’s heart and give it to their male children to eat, in order to render them strong and courageous. They take away as much as possible of the mane in order to make amulets of it, which are supposed to have the same effect. Then, when the skin has been removed and the flesh divided, each family goes back to its respective douar, where, in the evening, beneath the tents, the event of the day will, for a long time, be the favourite story with every one.”
Besides the pitfall, the Arabs construct ambushes, which are of two kinds. “In the first a hole is dug, about a yard deep, and three or four wide. After placing trunks of trees over it, and covering them with heavy stones, the whole is strewed over with the earth dug out of the ground, except in a few places on one side, where holes are left for the men to shoot through, and an opening on the other, which forms the door of the cavern, and which is closed from the inside by means of a piece of rock.” A pit of this sort is made in some place frequented by Lions. The carcase of an animal is put on the ground opposite the loopholes, and the Arabs get inside and wait until the Lion begins to try conclusions with the bait, when he is promptly peppered by his hidden enemies.
In the second kind of ambush, the hunters conceal themselves in a tree instead of in a pit. Otherwise the mode of procedure is the same.
All these methods of Lion-slaying are safe and sure, but scarcely heroic. Often, however, the Arabs organise regular hunting parties, and compass the death of their foe in a far more legitimate and sportsman-like manner. A party of about fifty usually take part in the hunt; they proceed, after a good deal of talking over the plan of operations, to the Lion’s lair, and by the footmarks it is determined whether the animal in question is young or old, male or female. Five or six experienced Arabs act as watchmen to observe the movements of the game, and signal to their comrades. Themodus operandivaries with the age and sex of the Lion. Jules Gérard describes the method when a full-grown male, of course the worst of all to have to do with, is diagnosed.
“When the hunters have succeeded in getting within gunshot of the supposed lair, they ‘turn’ it, so as to command it from the high ground, and stop directly they command the position, observing throughout their operations the greatest silence. As the Lion’s sense of hearing is very delicate, it sometimes happens that he hears the steps of the hunters, or the rolling of some stone which has been displaced from the side of the mountain. In this case he rises and walks in the direction of the sound. If one of the ‘men of the watch’ perceive him, he takes the skirt of his burnous in his right hand, and hoists it before him, which means ‘I see him.’ One of the huntsmen from the group then stands forward, and puts himself in communication with him, shaking his burnous from right to left, which signifies ‘Where is he?’ and ‘What is he doing?’ If the Lion is still, the ‘man of the watch’ raises the skirts of his burnous to his head, then lets them fall, and walks a few steps forwards, repeating the same signal, which may be translated by ‘He is motionless, in front of you, and at some distance.’ If the Lion walks to the right or left, the man walks in the same direction, shaking his burnous either from left to right, or from right to left. Finally, if the animal proceeds in the direction of the hunters, the ‘man of the watch’ places himself exactly opposite them, shakes his burnous violently, and cries with all his might, ‘Aou likoum!’ (‘Take care!’) At this signal the hunters draw themselves up in a line, if possible against a rock, so that their position may not be turned. Woe to him who has not heard the cry of ‘Aou likoum!’ in sufficient time, and has stopped at some distance from his comrades.”
When a Lion actually comes in sight, all concealment is, of course, at an end. The Arabs get as near as possible, to fire, and as soon as their guns are discharged rush upon the wounded beast with their pistols and swords. As might naturally be expected the casualties in this mode of warfare are fearful; hardly a hunt takes place unmarked by the death of one or more of the hunters.
One of the most daring single combats of which we ever remember to have read was one between a great black-maned Lion and Mr. C. J. Andersson, who had all the real part of the fight entirely to himself. The account is also interesting as showing—like, perhaps, most descriptions of the same kind—how very tenacious of life the Lion is, for the animal in question, although it had received the contents of both Mr. Andersson’s barrels, one of which completely smashed its shoulder, had a sufficient number of its nine lives left to enable it to get clear off, and cheat its gallant destroyer of his lawful spoil—the skin.
“One day, when eating my humble dinner, I was interrupted by the arrival of several natives, who, in breathless haste, related that anOngeama, or Lion, had just killed one of their Goats close to the mission station (Richterfeldt), and begged of me to lend them a hand in destroying the beast. They had so often cried ‘Wolf!’ that I did not give much heed to their statements; but, as they persisted in their story, I at last determined to ascertain its truth. Having strapped to my waist a shooting-belt containing the several requisites of a hunter—such as bullets, caps, knife, &c.—I shouldered my trusty double-barrelled gun (after loading it with steel-pointed balls), and followed the men.
“In a short time we reached the spot where the Lion was believed to have taken refuge. This was in a dense tamarisk brake of some considerable extent, situated partially on and below the sloping banks of the Swakop, near to its junction with the Omutenna, one of its tributaries.
“On the rising ground above the brake in question were drawn up in battle array a number of Damaras and Namaquas, some armed with assegais, and a few with guns. Others of the party were in the brake itself, endeavouring to oust the Lion.
“But as it seemed to me that the ‘beaters’ were timid, and moreover somewhat slow in their movements, I called them back, and, accompanied by only one or two persons, as also a few worthless Dogs, entered the brake myself. It was rather a dangerous proceeding, for in places the cover was so thick and tangled as to oblige me to creep on my hands and knees, and the Lion in consequence might easily have pounced upon me without a moment’s warning. At that time, however, I had not obtained any experimental knowledge of the old saying, ‘A burnt child dreads the fire,’ and therefore felt little or no apprehension.
“Thus I had proceeded for some time when suddenly, and within a few paces of where I stood, I heard a low, angry growl, which caused the Dogs, with hair erect in the manner of Hogs’ bristles, and with their tails between their legs, to slink behind my heels. Immediately afterwards, a tremendous shout of ‘Ongeama, Ongeama!’ was raised by the natives on the bank above, followed by a discharge of firearms. Presently, however, all was still again, for the Lion, as I subsequently learnt, after showing himself on the outskirts of the brake, had retreated into it.
“Once more I attempted to dislodge the beast; but finding the enemy awaiting him in the more open country, he was very loth to leave his stronghold. Again, however, I succeeded in driving him to the edge of the brake, where, as in the first instance, he was received with a volley; but a broomstick would have been equally efficacious as a gun in the hands of these people, for, out of a great number of shots that were fired, not one seemed to have taken effect.
“Worn out at length by my exertions, and disgusted beyond measure at the way in which the natives bungled the affair, I left the tamarisk brake, and, rejoining them on the bank above, offered to change places with them. But my proposal, as I expected, was forthwith declined.
“As the day, however, was now fast drawing to a close, I determined to make one other effortto destroy the Lion, and should that prove unsuccessful, to give up the chase. Accordingly; accompanied by only a single native, I again entered the brake in question, which I examined for some time without seeing anything; but on arriving at that part of the cover we had at first searched, and when in a spot comparatively free from bushes, up suddenly sprang the beast within a few paces of me. It was a black-maned Lion, and one of the largest I ever remember to have encountered in Africa. But his movements were so rapid, so silent, and smooth withal, that it was not until he had partially entered the thick cover (at which time he might have been about thirty paces distant) that I could fire. On receiving the ball he wheeled short about, and with a terrific roar, bounded towards me. When within a few paces he crouched as if about to spring, having his head embedded, so to say, between his fore-paws.
“Drawing a large hunting-knife, and slipping it over the wrist of my right hand, I dropped on one knee, and, thus prepared, awaited his onset. It was an awful moment of suspense, and my situation was critical in the extreme. Still my presence of mind never for a moment forsook me—indeed, I felt that nothing but the most perfect coolness and absolute self-command would be of any avail.
“I would now have become the assailant; but as—owing to the intervening bushes, and clouds of dust raised by the Lion’s lashing his tail against the ground—I was unable to see his head, while to aim at any other part would have been madness, I refrained from firing. Whilst intently watching his every motion, he suddenly bounded towards me; but whether it was owing to his not perceiving me—partially concealed as I was in the long grass—or to my instinctively throwing my body on one side, or to his mis-calculating the distance in making his last spring, he went clear over me, and alighted on the ground three or four paces beyond. Instantly, and without rising, I wheeled round on my knee, and discharged my second barrel, and as his broadside was then towards me, lodged a ball in his shoulder, which it completely smashed. On receiving my second fire he made another and more determined rush at me; but owing to his disabled state, I happily avoided him. It was, however, only by a hair’s breadth, for he passed me within arm’s length. He afterwards scrambled into the thick cover beyond, where, as night was then approaching, I did not deem it prudent to pursue him.
“At an early hour on the next morning, however, we followed his ‘spoor,’ and soon came to the spot where he had passed the night. The sand here was one patch of blood, and the bushes immediately about were broken and beaten down by his weight, as he had staggered to and fro in his effort to get on his legs again. Strange to say, however, we here lost all clue to the beast. A large troop of Lions that had been feasting on a Giraffe in the early morning had obliterated his tracks; and it was not until some days afterwards, and when the carcase was in a state of decomposition, that his death was ascertained. He breathed his last very near to where we were ‘at fault,’ but in prosecuting the search we had unfortunately taken exactly the opposite direction.”