There is another reason, which would
frequently apply even in an open country. Unless the traveler is
well accustomed to wild sports, he his not his "game eye" open in
fact; he either passes animals without observing them, or they
see him and retreat from view before he remarks them.
It is well known that the color of most animals is adapted by
Nature to the general tint of the country which they inhabit.
Thus, having no contrast, the animal matches with surrounding
objects, and is difficult to be distinguished.
It may appear ridiculous to say that an elephant is very
difficult to be seen! - he would be plain enough certainly on the
snow, or on a bright green meadow in England, where the
contrasted colors would make him at once a striking object; but
in a dense jungle his skin matches so completely with the dead
sticks and dry leaves, and his legs compare so well with the
surrounding tree-stems, that he is generally unperceived by a
stranger, even when pointed out to him. I have actually been
taking aim at an elephant within seven or eight paces, when he
has been perfectly unseen by a friend at my elbow, who was
peering through the bushes in quest of him.
Quickness of eye is an indispensable quality in sportsmen, the
possession of which constitutes one of their little vanities.
Nothing is so conducive to the perfection of all the senses as
the constant practice in wild and dangerous sports. The eye and
the ear become habituated to watchfulness, and their powers are
increased in the same proportion as the muscles of the body are
by exercise. Not only is an animal immediately observed, but
anything out of the common among surrounding objects instantly
strikes the attention; the waving of one bough in particular when
all are moving in the breeze; the switching of a deer's ear above
the long grass; the slight rustling of an animal moving in the
jungle. The senses are regularly tuned up, and the limbs are in
the same condition from continual exercise.
There is a peculiar delight, which passes all description, in
feeling thoroughly well-strung, mentally and physically, with a
good rifle in your hand and a trusty gun-bearer behind you with
another, thus stalking quietly through a fine country, on the
look-out for "anything," no matter what. There is a delightful
feeling of calm excitement, if I might so express it, which
nothing but wild sports will give. There is no time when a man
knows himself so thoroughly as when he depends upon himself, and
this forms his excitement. With a thorough confidence in the
rifle and a bright lookout, he stalks noiselessly along the open
glades, picking out the softest places, avoiding the loose stones
or anything that would betray his steps; now piercing the deep
shadows of the jungles, now scanning the distant plains, nor
leaving a nook or hollow unsearched by his vigilant gaze. The
fresh breakage of a branch, the barking of a tree-stem, the
lately nibbled grass, with the sap still oozing from the delicate
blade, the disturbed surface of a pool; everything is noted, even
to the alarmed chatter of a bird : nothing is passed unheeded by
an experienced hunter.
To quiet, steady-going people in England there is an idea of
cruelty inseparable from the pursuit of large game; people talk
of "unoffending elephants," "poor buffaloes," "pretty deer," and
a variety of nonsense about things which they cannot possibly
understand. Besides, the very person who abuses wild sports on
the plea of cruelty indulges personally in conventional
cruelties which are positive tortures. His appetite is not
destroyed by the knowledge that his cook his skinned the eels
alive, or that the lobsters were plunged into boiling water to be
cooked. He should remember that a small animal has the same
feeling as the largest and if he condemns any sport as cruel, he
must condemn all.
There is no doubt whatever that a certain amount of cruelty
pervades all sports. But in "wild sports" the animals are for
the most part large, dangerous and mischievous, and they are
pursued and killed in the most speedy, and therefore in the most
merciful, manner.
The government reward for the destruction of elephants in Ceylon
was formerly ten shillings per tail; it is now reduced to seven
shillings in some districts, and is altogether abolished in
others, as the number killed was so great that the government
imagined they could not afford the annual outlay.
Although the number of these animals is still so immense in
Ceylon, they must nevertheless have been much reduced within the
last twenty years. In those days the country was overrun with
them, and some idea of their numbers may be gathered from the
fact that three first-rate shots in three days bagged one hundred
and four elephants. This was told to me by one of the parties
concerned, and it throws our modern shooting into the shade. In
those days, however, the elephants were comparatively
undisturbed, and they were accordingly more easy to approach.
One of the oldest native hunters has assured me that he has seen
the elephants, when attacked, recklessly expose themselves to the
shots and endeavour to raise their dead comrades. This was at a
time when guns were first heard in the interior of Ceylon, and
the animals had never been shot at. Since that time the decrease
in the game of Ceylon has been immense. Every year increases the
number of guns in the possession of the natives, and accordingly
diminishes the number of animals. From the change which has come
over many parts of the country within my experience of the last
eight years, I am of opinion that the next ten years will see the
deer-shooting in Ceylon completely spoiled, and the elephants
very much reduced.
