The Leopard Hunt

by MONICA MARTIN

1

THE veranda was cool behind the sun blinds of split bamboo. Outside in the garden someone was shaking a wooden rattle to attract our attention. My husband looked up from oiling his gun.

“I can’t stand another conjurer who hides his wife in a basket, passes a sword through the middle of it, and produces her unscathed.

“And I don’t want another snake charmer, said I, “with his cobras wriggling over the floor.

The traveling entertainer shook his wooden rattle again.

My husband was to cross over into the adjoining Province the following morning. He was Forest Officer of the Bettiah Raj in North Behar, and during the past two seasons had laid out many acres of young tree plantations in our jungles. The Chief Conservator of Forests was anxious for him to see the type of reafforestation carried out in the United Provinces, and to compare it with the work already laid out in our own. For this purpose Peter was to be away for several weeks. We were both busy with preparations for the following day. Peter was checking equipment and oiling his guns. I was counting stores.

Once again the wooden rattle sounded. I raised one of the sun blinds. A snake charmer was standing outside. He saw me and salaamed. At any other time I would have tried his skill on the cobra that lived in a hole in the cactus hedge — it persistently eluded my vigilance — but today there were other things to do. I waved the man away. He shouldered once more the two baskets he had hopefully unloaded on the lawn. With the snakes still in them, and with his reed in his hand, he wended his disappointed way back down the drive.

He had scarcely disappeared, when there was another interruption. A discreet cough sounded outside the screen. This time it was a messenger from one of the forest rangers. The ranger had sent a letter to say that a leopard had killed two bullocks belonging to the carters who extracted our timber from the forests. Peter had no time to take any action before he left. An assignment with a leopard of the size that struck down fully grown bullocks would take several days. As he told me the contents of the note, he must have seen a gleam in my eye, and when saying good-bye the next morning, he took care to think of a great many instructions about our elephants and the other animals. It was obvious that to carry them out I would have to stay at the house all the time.

Our wild jungle folk interested me beyond the realms of caution. The more I learned, the more J wanted to know. Peter may have decided I was an uncertain factor when left alone.

He had scarcely gone when another message was delivered at the house. The leopard had again killed, and this time a buffalo. Leopards do not usually attack anything so large. This one sounded interesting.

Winter had not yet arrived. The temperature was still high. The forests were very boggy. The river in the north had risen thirty feet in the monsoon and was only now subsiding; but I wanted to go. Peter was away and no one could stop me.

I sent a message to the forest ranger to say I was coming, and another to the head mahout Mohammed, to have ready Temi Bahadur, the big tusker I preferred for solitary work. Nothing ever bothered him.

First there was the question of transport. Bhankatwa was my destination, about fifteen miles into the forests. The trip would last several days. The bullock carts could not take the tent and equipment because the cart road was still heavily flooded for long stretches. Nothing could go with me, as I had to go on horseback.

The solution was a compromise. The first nine miles of cartage was to be by bullock cart and then everything would be transferred to two of our elephants already there. Elephants, big as they are, cannot carry as much heavy baggage as one would imagine from their size. The loads had to be made as light as possible. The first, thing to be eliminated was my bed; I would have to chance what bedfellows I found on the ground. A tin bathtub was ruled out and I had to be prepared to bathe like the sparrows, in bits. You can go without a lot, but after working in the tropic sun, you require more than face washing. Cooking pots and pans were drastically cut down.

Having got everything on its way, I left the next morning at dawn, riding Pussyfoot. An early start was best, not only to avoid the heat, but to allow time for a rest in the afternoon, preparatory to sitting up all night for the leopard.

Five miles out some peacock strutted in the fields beside the path, making a dawn foray on the crops; but I was in a hurry and did not shoot. Wherever there was a patch of open land, village cattle grazed. Beside each one stalked its attendant egret, solemnly intent on the business of the day. They moved with the cattle, and stopped with them when they halted. As the cow grazed she disturbed the grasshoppers, and snap went the egret’s beak as he lunged for his breakfast.

After the first nine miles, Pussyfoot was handed to the syce who had gone ahead the previous evening. He was to keep her and feed her until my indefinite return. I transferred to one of the elephants and afler half an hour heartily wished I had not. How anyone can enjoy riding an elephant for long periods is beyond me.

For variety I changed places with the mahout and sat on Temi Bahadur’s neck to drive him. I used my toes under his ears to guide him left or right. Temi was feeling lazy that day and frequently I had to increase his pace by pressing on his head with the ankus, the short curved rod.

Temi and I both became very warm, for the sun was now high. Soon he was plunging his trunk down his throat and sucking up water from his reserve tank. Then he flung his trunk from side to side and sprayed his shoulders. There is a lot to be said for carrying your own water supply and using your nose for a shower bath. Usually I objected to having to share the hath, but by then the jungles were so hot, I could not have cared less.

The boggy forest negotiated, it was a relief to reach Bhankatwa. All was ready, the tent pitched and my mattress inside it, on the ground. An enamel jug and basin completed the furnishings.

I was back in my beloved jungle with the wild birds flying overhead. Scarcely ten minutes went by, when a pair of peacocks walked out and looked me over. I left them alone, though they would have been useful for the pot ; but it was unwise lo fire a gun so near the camp. One of the machans (shooting platforms) was in a tree within two hundred yards, and the leopard might he near. It would have been stupid to frighten him away.

I inspected what remained of the previous kills, which the jackals and vultures had picked clean. Always in my mind had been the possibility that these had been made by one of our tigers, but indications ruled this out. A tiger generally kills by leaping on the back of the neck. These attacks had been made at the side of the neck, near the jaw.

After lunch I tried to rest, but the tent was alive with mosquitoes and also a particularly poisonous little fly that Stung like a wasp. I lay on one, so T know. The sting was imbedded in my left shoulder blade for days.

Before dusk I took up position in the machan. A pig was then tied near it as bait, This order of procedure is important. If the pig is tied before yon climb into the machan, it sees you and is likely to give away your position by staring at you. You are liable to find then that any stalking done is not by you. 1 hated to use even a pig as bail, but several bullocks had been killed, and more would be, if the leopard were not quickly destroyed.

I blew my nose with a trumpet blast before climbing the tree. I must not make another sound before dawn, for if I were even to breathe heavily, the animal would hear me. From the start I had to adjust, my position to allow for the least possibilityof cramp. A platform of bamboos or branches may feel pleasant at first; after half an hour it can be torture. As I started, there 1 must remain. When one is after the cat tribe it is no use playing games.

Nothing came that night, though I sat as still as death. The machan had black hammerhead ants in it.

2

IT is wonderful what a few hours’ sleep and a bath will do. The bath was fine. An old paraffin tin filled with water, and a mug to pour it over me. were all I needed. After the bath, I pulled on a clean shirt and about 10 A.M. called for Temi Bahadur. I wanted a solitary pad elephant to go in search of meat for the camp, for we had already acquired some unofficial assistants.

Back at headquarters, the mahouts persisted in keeping people they called their “moths,” alleging that the work inflicted on them required additional help. We paid wages to none but the mahouts, but the whatnots remained.

The going had been so boggy that in camp this time only two meths had tagged after ihe mahouts; but several carters whose bullocks had been killed look a, natural interest in the proceedings and settled down to wait for the finish. It was easy enough for me to give I hem the pleasure of a little meat.

On Temi’s back, broad as a couple of padded couches, I arrived in a belt, of trees. Almost a once a spotted deer crossed, flitting in and out among the shadows. Several more moved away. I was using a shotgun loaded with ball and had to get close. I do not like to use a ride except in fairly open country. On one occasion a friend out with us had fired a rifle at close quarters in the maze of jungle. The bullet ricocheted off a tree and injured one of the elephants. It might as easily have hit a man.

It was difficult work, but interesting, trying to walk up those deer. They never seemed to get any closer in the undergrowth, and it was taking so long I finally whispered to Mohammed that I would get down and he, making a detour, could start them moving in my direction.

Temi knelt down and I slithered off his tail end. Even kneeling he was about the height of a singledecker bus. I was surprised to see the mahout, after moving away only a few paces, quietly turn the elephant round and come back. Mohammed was a reliable man and I knew there must be a good reason. As he reached me he whispered that there was a leopard m the grass. The moment he left me he saw the leopard just beside him. The undergrowth, though fairly low here, was still over my head. I could do no good on the ground, and decided to climb up again.

So much of our forest touring was done on elephants that we never used a ladder to mount, for it wasted time. We hauled ourselves up by the animal’s tail if he was kneeling; or if he was standing, we ran up the trunk which he extended at the word of command. One of the many things I liked about Temi Bahadur was the gracious way he would help when you were halfway, by lifting his trunk still higher and practically tipping you on to his back.

Wo looked for the leopard, but it was a hopeless search. He might have gone in any direction. We never found him again. He and I must have been tracking the deer together.

A little later a couple of wild pigs rustled out and went galloping away to the left. I got the boar. That was meat for the lower orders in camp, but the mahouts were Mohammedans, and as far as they were concerned we were back where we had started.

We stole forward quietly. Keep an elephant from his overpowering propensity for tearing down and eating leaves, and he is amazingly silent in his movements. The tread of a trained gun elephant scarcely rustles a fallen leaf.

Soon a spotted deer appeared. The shot was in the heart this time. We sent for someone to carry in ihc pig. The deer was loaded on Temi. There was a great welcome in camp, for meat was a luxury to the men. I could have continued shooting for the remainder of the day, but immediate needs were satisfied and I hate killing for killing’s sake.

3

THAT evening I sat in a machan further away. This time I smeared neck and wrists with paraffin oil to keep at bay the mosquitoes and insects that; had made the previous night a torture. Citronella I never found to be of any use; our insects drank it and then ate me.

There was a dim half moon.

Various false alarms set me tense and alert. A blunt gray snout suddenly appeared at the foot of the ladder up to the machan. Was the leopard about to join me? It was a honey badger with a perfect moonlight camouflage. His back is silver gray, and unless he moves he cannot be seen. He trundled off. Soon a couple of deer stepped daintily across the path. It was curious how friend and foe lived and bred in the same forests, the deer trusting to their powers of hearing even more than to their sense of smell. Something startled the deer. A head was flung up to listen. The large eyes in the light of the moon glowed like lamps. In a flash the deer were gone, white undertails showing in the danger signal.

I lost count of time. The waning moon had disappeared. Suddenly at the end of the path, in the shadows, a leopard was sitting. My heart leapt. One moment the path was empty, the next he was there, sitting up on his hindquarters. His casual manner perhaps meant that, he sensed no danger yet. I could not draw an accurate bead on him in the shadow. If only he would come nearer.

He sat and looked at the pig and the pig stared back at him. Then he lowered himself until his chest touched the ground, and stayed staring at the pig. That leopard was no fool. He suspected something.

Seconds might have passed. It might have been hours. Waiting no longer I tried a shot, though the angle was bad from my tree height.

With a “wuff” he leapt up, rounded like a streak, and disappeared. The biggest leopard I had ever seen, and to miss!

I sat quite still, puzzling how the aim had been out, when to my amazement, from the right, a big leopard marched straight out and up to the pig. It was unbelievable. A loud report from a rifle in the middle of the night, and in spite of that, another leopard appearing at the same spot!

Things rapidly became even more unreal, for the leopard now did what no leopard ever does. Usually they lie in cover and spring on their prey unawares. This leopard stalked down the middle of the path for all the world as if it wanted to find out why the family joint had been left lying about.

It walked right up to the pig. The little fellow — he was quite small — backed behind the stake, with the leopard on the other side. The leopard let out a deep roar. I tingled as if in the grip of an electric current. The pig sat down suddenly with fright. I aimed and pulled the trigger. The great cat gave one bound and fell dead.

There was still no means of knowing whether there had been two leopards, or one that had paid two visits — and if two, where the other one was. After waiting for some time to make sure there was no movement from the one on ihe ground, I gave a series of short sharp notes on my whistle, which was the signal for the mahout that there was danger, and not to come from the camp on foot.

Soon Temi Bahadur’s bulk loomed out of the darkness and swayed towards my tree. He was nearly level with the machan, and jumping across to his broad back, I returned to camp. No more could be accomplished that night .

Early the next morning we brought in the trophy. It was a leopardess, Great was my reception in camp, and the bullock carters rushed off to find a man of the chumar (tanner) caste who would start the skinning. This had to be carried out as quickly as possible, for ihe temperature made it necessary. They returned not only with a chumar but with sufficient sail from the village to give the pelt a rough dressing afterwards.

Leaving them, I returned to the vicinity of the machan, and when I reached the spot, slid off Temi Bahadur. There might be some signs to indicate whether or not there had been another leopard. On the edge of the forest path, far from where the leopardess had fallen, there were drops of dark red blood on the grass. These ceased, then further on were a few more. The color of the blood meant that this was no mere flesh wound. Beyond that spot I could find nothing more. The grass thinned out a little here and was no longer over my head. I sent Temi to circle the area, and followed on foot. Any signs there might be could never be seen from an elephant’s back.

At last I found a solitary drop of blood again, this time on the path. Beside it was a deep overgrown depression like a ditch. With my rifle ready 1 peered in. The familiar dark rosettes of fur could be seen down below, at the bottom. Even now the leopard’s camouflage was nearly perfect. At last T could distinguish 1 he head. The eyes were open, cold, and staring. If they had been closed I would have known he was still alive, though wounded. He was the biggest leopard I had ever seen. There had been two of them after all.

I bagged two more deer and a peacock for meat, then struck camp and returned to the house. For a time, the villagers would lose no bullocks, and the tiny village cows would return safe each evening to the sound of their leader’s wooden bell.

For quicker transport in that heat, I slung the two pells across my saddle when I finally took over Pussyfoot from the syce. The skins were heavy and the mare indicated that no well-brought-up horse should be expeeled to carry such things. We flew like the wind until she knew she was near her own stables.

I had scarcely reached the house, and swung myself out of the saddle, when I was greeted with the news that some eggs in the henhouse had been sucked. A deputation from the kitchen led me over. There the eggs lay, neatly punctured and some of the sticky yolk still on the ground. That confounded cobra had been at work again. I registered a mental note to take care of the affair that afternoon, but I was suffering from a severe headache after the ride in, and at the moment, all I wanted was a cool drink and a rest.

The cobra had a few more days of safety, for within half an hour I was paying for the jungle trip with one of the worst bouts of malaria I had ever experienced. The mahouts, who never even boiled their water, suffered no ill effects.

I had been most circumspect in any letters to Peter while he was in the United Provinces, never mentioning the forest trip; but news can travel fast, even in the jungles. While still miles away, he had heard all about it.

It must have been dating from this time that he started to refer to me as Circumstances over which he had no control.