Note 52 — Chapter X

EDUCATION OF CHEETA.

The cheeta invariably selects the buck, passing by the nearer does and fawns. I never saw but one instance to the contrary. On that occasion the cheeta endeavoured to secure what appeared to be his easiest victim—a young fawn; but the little creature twisted and doubled so rapidly, that it escaped perfectly uninjured. The turbaned keeper, greatly surprised, begged the spectators to remain at a respectful distance while he proceeded to secure the panting, baffled animal. The caution was not unnecessary; for the disappointed beast, though usually very tractable, struck at the man’s arm and tore it. On examination a large thorn was found in one of the animal’s fore-paws, which fully explained the cause of his not bounding after the lord of the herd, when he had, in cat-like manner, stealthily crawled as near as any intervening bushes would afford concealment. This preliminary part of the affair is at times very tedious; the rest is quickly settled: for the wondrous springs of the cheeta (whose form then so apparently dilates,{1} that the observer, if a novice, starts in the belief that he suddenly sees a royal tiger) soon exhaust him, which accounts for his always creeping as near as possible before openly commencing his attack.

The education of the cheeta is no less progressive than that of the dog; and whatever patience the latter may require from his instructor, the former demands far greater; not so much from want of docility, as from the nearly total absence of all the feelings of attachment so conspicuous in the canine race. The cubs when they are very young are stolen from the rocky fastnesses where they are usually bred. They are immediately hooded, and allowed no other exercise than what they can take when they are led about by their keeper. While he is feeding them, he invariably shouts in a peculiar key. In a month or so their eager looks, animated gestures, and possibly cheerful purring, testify that they comprehend its import as fully as a hungry young ensign does “the roast beef of old England.” They are then slightly chained, each to a separate bandy (bullock-cart), and habituated to its motion. They are always fed during the drive. They thus learn to expect a good meal in the course of their airing. After a time the keeper, instead of feeding a promising pupil while he is a prisoner, goes to a little distance from the bandy and utters the singular cries now so joyfully heard, upon which—an attendant slipping off the chain and hood—the liberated cheeta runs to his trainer to be fed. By degrees this is done at increased distances. He is always conducted back to the carriage by the keeper’s dragging at the lump of meat of which the animal retains a firm hold. The next step is for the man again to commence feeding near the cart, but without making any noise,—the removal of the hood being the only thing that tells the spotted beast to look about him for his dinner. The last step is the substitution of a kid or wounded antelope, for the keeper with his provision basket, when it rarely happens that nature’s strong instinct does not make the cheeta seize with eagerness the proffered prey. His education is now completed; but for many months he is never unhooded at a herd unless the driver has managed to get the cart within a very favouring distance.

The cheeta knocks over the buck with a blow of his paw on the hind-quarters, given so rapidly that the eye cannot follow the motion, and then grasps him firmly by the throat; nor will he quit hold of the windpipe as long as the prostrate animal can make the slightest struggle for breath. This affords the keeper ample time to cut off a limb, which he thrusts against the cheeta’s nose, and as soon as the still quivering dainty tempts him to grasp it, he is again led off to his cart. He is then further rewarded with a drink of warm blood taken from the inside of the antelope, and the scene concludes by the carcass being strapped under the bandy.

{1} A dealer often says in praise of a small horse,—and great praise it is—“You may fancy him a little one now, but wait till you see him move, and then you’ll think him a big one.”