Tiger! Tiger!

I had completed my wilderness clinic the day before and was ready to leave the North Lankinpur area. I had stayed at the mission headquarters where Bill Hagstrom and his wife had established the mission.

Just before I left, a local tribal runner arrived, shouting "Bagh, Bagh, Bagh" which means "Tiger, Tiger, Tiger" in the Assamese language. It was well known in this area that Bill had a predatory animal permit from the government of Assam.

The excited messenger explained that a big Bengal Tiger had killed another one of his family's calf last night. The tiger had killed three weeks in a row, one cow per week. The tribal family had no protection against that striped jungle predator. Their cattle was their life line. "Please come," he begged, "Please come help us! That tiger will be devouring my family if he isn't stopped!" Bill consented to help these poor people.

"Doc, wont you stay over a few days? You can help me. We will build a machan about 30 feet high, in the trees where we can guard the bovine herd at night. Once that tiger has established his pattern he will be back."

"That means he will be back, but when?" I asked. Maybe next week, maybe sooner since he only succeeded in killing a calf on this last attack.

At least you are offering me a low cost tiger safari hunt, "I'll stay! Let's build our machan today. Wait Bill, you have your big Weatherby 375 magnum rifle, but I don't have my rifle."

"My son has a smaller rifle with a scope attachment. It will be powerful enough to bring down a tiger. I'm sure he will loan it to you." Bill was urging me now. The farmer has offered a cow to use as tiger bait, Bill told me.

"That may mean we will have to spend a week, or even more, sleeping with the mosquitoes and wilderness nocturnal animals, birds and insects."

"Could be," Bill answered, "but maybe the predator will get hungry sooner. We can use native yellow bamboo poles to support our tree platform."

We built our treetop nightstand in a marshy area near a jungle trail. The beast had exited here from the jungle for his nocturnal, blood-thirsty hunting. After killing, he pulled his victim to his watery hideout for a weekly feast.

Two nights were spent beginning at 3:30 p.m. until after daylight the next morning. To the shrill buzz of mosquitoes other nighttime insects added their weird, annoying sounds. Small animals scurried through the brush. Birds of many colors and sounds, broke the silence of the marshy jungle. It was weird but different.

I remembered a tribal proverb which read "The pattern of the tiger is on the outside--that of man is on the inside." The tiger can neither purr nor meow. An elastic ligament in place of the long windpipe apparatus permits great extension of the larynx. It is this stretching movement that makes the loud roar of a tiger possible. The lion and leopard are the other two members of the cat family that do not have bone in their windpipes and are capable of roaring. They too, do not purr or mew.

At 4 p.m. on the third day of our vigil, I heard a snapping sound of breaking bamboo. I looked at my wristwatch "Four o'clock," I whispered to Bill! I remembered reading a book on the tactics of the tiger stalking his prey. It would be an hour now before the big beast would attempt to attack his prey, our tethered cow, provided the author was correct in his tiger tactics advice.

In almost a frozen state of excitement, I held my borrowed rifle ready for action. "Action was slow...," that's what the book promised. "....minutes would pass until another.... noise... then another.... cautiously, slowly, sounds of braking marsh grass could be heard!"

Gradually the sounds of breaking bushes sending their rattling messages via air to our ears became more audible. I was not alone in excitement. As I watched the staked-out cow I almost forgot my mission! At first the poor animal, unable to escape danger and certain death, tested the strength of her tether. She soon gave up! Her ears were flipping to and fro. With circular fluttering ear twitches she exhibited every sign of well deserved fright!

The flow of adrenaline caused her eyes to bug out, glistening like polished glass. Observing the cow's stiffened legs and rapid breathing, I had the feeling I could hear her heart throbbing. Oh no! We must wait! No tiger in sight yet? How much longer? Forty-five exciting minutes have passed! Can that captive cow survive? The time is still ticking! Never mind that persistent fly on my ear! I dare not make a sound for fear of frightening away our oncoming challenge! The swarming, stinky flies told us we were in real tiger country. I can smell his fetid, carrion, soiled body now! The wind is in our favor blowing his stench toward us, and our human odor away from him. He is at the edge of the jungle. His dirty striped body color blends with the brown plants. I thought he would stand out like a National Geographic photograph! He is drooling now! He is headed for the cow's jugular vein. Creeping, almost crawling now, the culprit is headed directly toward his intended victim. His ever-so-careful movements displayed his muscular strength! He expected to satisfy his blood thirsty appetite with his prey's warm blood, then pull his weekly meat supply to savor the tasty raw morsels in this jungle hide out.

Glancing at my watch it showed two minutes to five, the book was right! Jump #1, pause... He is evaluating his next move. It's no wonder an hour has elapsed since his first jungle- breaking steps were heard. Ah... Jump #2. Ready, aim, Bang! Bang! Both rifles sounded in unison! The culprit let out a roar of death, swirled, then fell to his watery demise!

The little cow looked puzzled! Her breathing had reached the hyperventilation stage and surely her heart was near fibrillation. But she was alive! She had no tiger bites or scratches! Safe but frightened!

Within ten minutes after firing our three victory signal shots, the farmer and neighbors rushed to the scene shouting, waving, and dancing!

"Doc," they say, "American Sahib, Hero! Hero! Hero!" in their native tribal language.

An elephant, the local beast of burden, under the guidance of the capable mahout arrived. The platform lookout was dismantled in short order and loaded on the pack animal.

We waved farewell to our wilderness nightly mission with feelings of elation for our mission accomplished.

This page is maintained by Dr. Wood's son, Harold W. Wood, Jr., of Visalia, California.
My E-mail address is: harold@planetaryexploration.net

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