<h2 id="CHAPTER_VI" class="vspace">CHAPTER VI<br/> <span class="subhead">“GOING BAD”—ANIMAL INSTINCT</span></h2>
<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">What</span> those who have charge of wild
animals in captivity, and especially
trainers, dread most among the large carnivora,
is that inexplicable change of temperament
on the part of the animal known in the
parlance of the menagerie as “going bad.”
Lions are likely to go bad about the tenth year
of life; tigers two or three years earlier. The
male tiger is the dread of the profession when
he reaches this condition, because he is more
likely to go into a frenzy without warning,
and, once gone bad, nothing will satisfy him
but murder. He will leap for any man within
reach, and when once his teeth are on the bone,
nothing but fire will make him relinquish it,
and not always that.</p>
<p>This “going bad” may come in the nature<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span>
of a sudden attack, or it may develop slowly
and be counteracted if taken in time. An old
trainer can usually detect the symptoms of
this curious ailment. It seems to be in the
nature of a disease, and other animals recognize
it and shun the affected one. When its
progress is apparent the danger is not great;
all that is required then is a level head, and
the wisdom to refrain from further interference
with the animal.</p>
<p>A good trainer never dreams of interfering
with an animal in this condition. If attacked,
his one aim is to defend himself, until he has a
chance to escape from the cage, and to separate
the animal from his fellows as soon as possible.
Sometimes this bad temper will last but a short
time, and again it will become the permanent
condition of the animal. In that case he is
sent to the lonely cage to spend the rest of his
life in comparative obscurity, disturbed merely
by the passing crowd and his daily meals.</p>
<p>Let an animal once acquire a love for blood
and he is spoiled for the rest of his life. If
the killing instinct once develops it can rarely
be eradicated. Rajah, a tiger which has already<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span>
killed two men, and severely injured me
on more than one occasion, “went bad” suddenly,
and his taste for blood having once been
aroused, it would have been worse than useless
to attempt to do anything with him again,
and he is now kept carefully by himself. Formerly,
he was one of the best trick tigers before
the public, but some unknown thing
ruffled his nature, he gained a realization of
his own brute strength and a taste for blood,
and his career as a performer was over.</p>
<p>As a rule, a trainer can also tell when the
critical moment has come in this peculiar
phase of “going bad.” The man who puts
his head in a lion’s mouth, sooner or later, arrives
at the point where he feels that to continue
would endanger his life. A trainer once
had an experience of that kind in England.</p>
<p>He had safely accomplished the hazardous
feat for several months without any particular
feeling of trepidation. One night he placed
his head in the lion’s mouth as usual, and was
about to draw it out again when he suddenly
had a shuddering, indefinable realization that
the lion’s good temper was gone. He knew<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span>
the danger, and prepared for it by bracing all
his strength against that of the lion’s jaws.</p>
<p>He removed his head slowly, as usual, for
the least hurry might have provoked an attack,
but in a second the lion snapped at him while
his face was yet within danger. The tip of
his chin was caught and lacerated. That was
the conclusion of the act with that lion, and he
was relegated to solitude like others troubled
with the same complaint.</p>
<p>Elephants also “go bad,” and there is even
more danger with these huge beasts than with
lions and tigers; for they may break out and
kill and injure a great number of people, besides
causing an immense amount of damage
by tearing up and destroying property.</p>
<p>Most people have heard how many valuable
elephants have had to be killed owing to their
becoming “rogues.” A rogue elephant is a
terrible creature in more ways than one, for
his huge bulk and enormous strength make
him not only a formidable enemy, but his cunning
and viciousness can be appreciated only
by those who have come in constant contact
with him.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span>
There appears to be no special age for an
elephant going bad, but the majority of these
animals become dangerous after a certain time
in captivity. The most tractable and gentle
elephant I ever had suddenly “went bad” for
no conceivable reason, and although after
much coaxing and soothing he appeared to
settle down quietly, there were certain indications
soon after that he intended mischief.
Finally, his small eyes became so red and
threatening that I considered it wiser to have
him killed, rather than run any risk of his
sacrificing human lives.</p>
<p>With regard to the instincts of animals,
I have had some very curious experiences.
Just before a disastrous fire at Baltimore,
when nearly all the poor animals were terribly
burned, many in the exhibition noticed how
restless and uneasy the animals were, but as
there appeared to be no reason for it, we
thought nothing more about it.</p>
<p>When the time for the performance came,
not one of the animals would move out of
its cage. It is not unusual for wild animals
to get restless fits sometimes, but it is extremely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span>
unusual for them all, at one and the
same time, absolutely to refuse to come out of
their cages at the command of the trainers.
The majority of wild-animal trainers are
superstitious, and many of them began to wonder
what it meant and whether it was a bad
omen, for not one in the whole building had
the slightest idea that the fire was even then
gaining ground.</p>
<p>There was not the faintest smell of smoke
or any other indication to give warning that
one of the greatest calamities I ever had was
just coming upon me. Not more than a quarter
of an hour before the men had been round,
according to the usual custom, to see that
everything was safe and in good order, but
nothing was noticed out of the way, and until
the flames suddenly burst forth no one had
any idea that there was the least danger or
trouble at hand.</p>
<p>Another curious instance of animal instinct
occurred in the winter of 1902–03 at Ocala,
Florida. Mme. Pianka had taken her lions
there to perform, and as soon as they arrived
every one noticed that the animals, especially<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span>
the lions, were restless and uneasy at night,
and that they behaved very strangely.</p>
<p>It is customary, soon after arriving at a
place, to turn the animals out into the steel
arena for exercise, as, of course, it is quite impossible
to give them any exercise at all while
on a long journey. The moment the lions entered
the arena, instead of stretching themselves
luxuriously and pacing up and down
in their usual manner, they stopped short, with
ears back and noses to the ground, and commenced
to sniff in the most peculiar manner.</p>
<p>It was impossible to rouse them up or make
them move about. Each one would walk a
few paces, but always with his head bent down
and sniffing the ground. When the time for
the performance came on, their behavior was
still more curious. These lions were Mme.
Pianka’s favorites, and as she had always been
very fond of them, and had had them in training
for several years, she had been accustomed
to caress them. Although the majority of
them took this in the grave, dignified manner
peculiar to lions, one or two had appeared
actually to like her endearments, and had occasionally<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span>
rubbed their huge heads against
her face.</p>
<p>But at this time they would not let her touch
them. Each one let her know that she must
keep her distance, or it would be a serious matter.
Neither would they perform at the accustomed
words of command. Indeed, their
manner grew so forbidding and dangerous
that at last she dared not even go near them.</p>
<p>That same night Mme. Pianka was awakened
by the watchman calling to say that
the lions were digging large holes in the
ground, and that he thought, at the rate they
were working, they would very soon dig themselves
out altogether. All the assistants were
called up, the electric lights were turned on,
and it was found that the lions had already
dug holes deep enough in the earth to bury
themselves.</p>
<p>The danger was doubly great because so
unexpected. Hyenas and wolves will dig holes
in the ground in this manner, but for lions to
do so is almost unheard of. The lions were
with great difficulty taken out of the cage,
with evident reluctance on their part, and put<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span>
once more into their traveling compartments.
The ground was securely battened down and
covered thickly with fine sand, disinfectant,
and sawdust.</p>
<div id="ip_106" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 38em;">
<ANTIMG src="images/i_126.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="472" alt="" />
<div class="caption">QUEER FRIENDS—CAMEL, LIONESSES, AND DROMEDARY</div>
</div>
<p>The following night the lions were turned
into the arena again, but in a very short time
they had scratched away the sand and sawdust
and dug up the earth, and it was only just in
time that the lions were once more removed to
their traveling-cages in exceedingly ugly and
dangerous moods.</p>
<p>Many solutions were offered by various
people,—especially by those who knew nothing
whatever about animals,—but no satisfactory
one could be found. We thought of the
change of climate, of air, scene, and food. The
lions had grown accustomed to changes of air
and climate, and the food was the same kind
that they had been accustomed to in captivity.
We next thought of the water; but it was pure
and good, and there seemed to be no accounting
for this strange freak on the part of the
animals. Had one or two shown this peculiar
propensity, we should naturally have concluded
that they had “gone bad,” but as all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span>
were doing the same thing, and two were quite
young lions, this could not be the case.</p>
<p>At last this was mentioned to the chief of
police and one or two old residents, and we
then discovered that the tent had been pitched
directly over an old graveyard in Ocala, and
although most of the bodies had been removed,
there was, of course, every probability
that some of the remains were still under the
ground.</p>
<p>This, of course, solved the mystery, to our
great relief; for, having found out the cause,
we very soon applied a remedy, and it was not
long before we had the tent and the animals
removed some distance off. As soon as the
animals were removed, their savage sulkiness
vanished, and they at once settled down into
their old routine, and were as obedient and
good-natured as they had ever been.</p>
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<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span></p>
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