The Lion and the Elephant. Charles John Andersson
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so tainted as to render it utterly unfit for human food.—ED.
THE LION.
twenty or thirty years, and Gerard, on the authority of the Arabs, at from thirty to forty; but unless its days be cut short by accident, its existence is much more prolonged than the above authorities imagine. Even when in confinement, it has attained to a most venerable age. The famous lion, Pompey, which died in the Tower of London in 1760, was known to have been there above seventy years; and one brought from the river Gambia, and which also died in that fortress not many years ago, had attained to the venerable age of sixty-three.
It is asserted that when a lion finds himself dis- abled, and Tillable to attack his pursuers, he will not unfrequently turn his ire upon himself and mutilate his own body.
Delegorgue's remarks on this subject are both curious and interesting; he says:—
"Certain animals, when they have been mortally wounded, evince a weakness resulting either from their inadequate means of defence, or from the mild- ness of their disposition. Some utter plaintive cries, the like of which are never heard except at this critical moment. Others shed tears. The elam (Boselaphus Oreas), especially, patiently awaits the chasseur, whom it seems to implore instead of opposing to him its formidable horns. Others again simply resign themselves to their fate without showing any signs either of courage or of weakness.
The lion differs from all these. . . . If the vital parts of its body be pierced, so that it is unable to leave the spot, and its enemies keep at a dis- tance, it abandons itself to despair, and its teeth and
SELF-MUTILATION.
claws are turned against its own person; it crushes its paws, and it breaks its talons, as if it wished to be the author of its own annihilation. It is a verit- able suicide, but which the weapons provided by Nature do not permit it to consummate."
The fact that the lion, when, disabled by wounds, it is prevented from either attacking or fleeing from its enemies, mutilates itself in the manner de- scribed above, is not, I believe, uncommon. Sir Samuel Baker, indeed, records an instance to this effect that came under his own eye; for when de- scribing (as will hereafter be seen) the dying moments of a lioness, he says:—"Occasionally in her rage she bit her own paws violently, and then struck and clawed the ground."*
* Something of the kind described by Delegorgue and Sir Samuel Baker occurs, I take it, with other beasts besides the lion in their death-struggles. Once indeed, I myself saw a large and badly wounded bear rear itself up on its hind legs against a young spruce pine, which it very deeply scored with its fangs; and when at a dis- tance of some thirty or forty paces I killed it whilst in that posi- tion.—ED.
CHAPTER III.
THE LION MONOGAMOUS—HIS GALLANTRY TO HIS MATE—LOVE AND GALLANTRY AMONG LIONS—THE LIONESS A JILT—COMBATS OF RIVAL SUITORS—THE PAIRING SEASON—PERIOD OF GESTATION— THE CUBS THEIR SIZE, APPEARANCE, AND COLOUR DISPARITY IN THE NUMBER OF THE SEXES—THE YOUNG LION'S APPRENTICE- SHIP—DEPRIVING THE LIONESS OF HER CUBS.
T
HE lion is monogamous, and by all accounts most faithful to his mate. "He never leaves her," says Gerard, "unless from compulsion, and entertains for her a most enduring affection. The lion and the lioness usually hunt in company. From the moment the pair leave their den until their return to it, it is always the lioness who proceeds in advance, and when it is her pleasure to halt, he halts also. Ar- riving near the "douar" that is to furnish a supper, the lioness crouches outside of the fence that pro- tects it, while her mate bounds bravely over the im- pediment into the midst of the fold, and after helping himself to what he deems best, carries it to his better half. He regards her, whilst feeding, with infinite pleasure, and keeps guard that no ill may
LOVE AND GALLANTRY.
befall her; thinking not of satisfying his own hunger until such times as his wife has eaten her fill. His love is not confined to the pairing season, for at all times, and under all circumstances, He evinces for her the tenderest regard."
But the love and affection thus shewn by the lion for the lioness, would not seem to be always duly reciprocated. Indeed, according to the author just quoted, "she is of a somewhat fickle disposition, for if a stronger and more courageous lion presents himself and solicits her favours, she deserts her spouse, and places herself under the protection of his rival." "What she seeks for in the first in- stance," Gerard goes on to say, "is a full-grown and adult mate, who is able to rid her of the young lions, her suitors, whose constant combats with each other on her account weary her out." In Algeria, according to Gerard, at the end of January, when adult male lions, strangers to each other, meet at the fountain, or elsewhere, desperate battles, not unfrequently ending in the death of one or both of the combatants, take place, yet it is more espe- cially during the pairing season that those animals exhibit a belligerent disposition.
"It is then not uncommon," says Gerard, in his usual poetical style, "to see a lioness accompanied by three or four young lions, her admirers, who fight desperately amongst themselves for her favours; but as she at length becomes weary of seeing that they are unable to destroy one another on her account, she leads them towards a grand old lion, whose
THE LION.
valour she appreciates on hearing his roar- ings.
"The lovers bravely play their part, and arrive, with the lioness, in presence of the preferred rival.
"The preliminaries are soon settled, and the re- sult of these battles is always certain. Attacked by the three impudent youngsters, the old lion reviews them without stirring; with the first grasp of his jaws, he dispatches one of his assailants, with the next he crushes the leg of a second, and the third beast is only too happy if he escapes with an eye, leaving the other eye at the end of the claw of the victor.
"The arena free, the noble animal proudly shakes his mane, and then crouches near to the lioness, who, as the first token of affection, licks with a fondling look the wounds he has received on her account.
"When two adult lions meet," Gerard goes on to say, "the affair does not terminate thus easily. An Arab, of the tribe of Kesenna, related to me a com- bat of the kind to which he himself was an eye-wit- ness.
"It was during the rutting season with deer, Mohammed, my informant, a great lover of the chase, was one fine moonlight night perched among the branches of an oak standing in the midst of an extensive glade of the wood, and near to a foot-path, awaiting the arrival of a hind he had pre- viously observed in company with several stags.
"Towards midnight he saw a lioness, followed by a full grown fawn-coloured lion, approaching his
TERRIFIC COMBAT.
ambush. The lioness left the path, advanced up to the tree in which the man was seated, and crouched at the foot of it. The lion in the meanwhile remained stationary in the path- way, and appeared to listen.
"Mohammed now heard in the distance a scarcely distinguishable roaring, to which the lioness re- sponded. The fawn-coloured lion then began to roar most awfully, which so frightened the chasseur that, to prevent himself from falling to the ground, he clung to the branches, and in the act of so doing his gun dropped from out of his hands.
"The nearer the stranger lion approached the spot, the louder roared the lioness. The fawn- coloured lion now became furious, left the pathway and went up to her, apparently to impose silence, and then retraced his steps to the spot he had just quitted, as if to say, 'Well! let him come, I am quite ready for him!'
"An hour afterwards, a lion, black as a wild boar, made his appearance at the lower end of the glade mentioned. The lioness rose from the ground, seemingly with the intention of going up to him; bat the fawn-coloured lion, divining her purpose, bounded past her direct for the enemy. Both lions crouched prior to taking their spring, and then rushing on one another fell together on the sward, never again to rise!
"The duel was long, and terrible