Dr. Haider gets his quarry
A fortnight had passed since the arrangements described above had been put in place but so far they had not the slightest effect on the activities of the man eater. None of the baits tied at carefully selected places had been taken. Nor had any animal been sighted at the waterholes where the Shikaris were lying in ambush. We had also put up carefully constructed hides where forest department marksmen had been put in, but so far they had seen nothing of the man eater. It was clear that we were dealing with a clever animal that was unlikely to accept baits, or fall into traps laid for it. The brief encounter that I have described above was the only sighting of the man eater to date -apart from the fleeting glimpse of the animal obtained by Ram Lal when his son was killed. This was when Dr Haidar, either by pure serendipity, or as he himself put it, by use of the sixth sense which all seasoned Shikaris possess, stumbled upon the wolfs lair. Let this part of the sto1y be told in his own words.
Ever since the news of the man eater of Astha was brought to me, my mind had been in a whirl. I knew our Collector was a good man and would spare no efforts no efforts to get the man eater, but he needed all the help he could get. The men around him were nincompoops. They know nothing about Shikar. What he needed was a man like me a, man who knew all about Shikar that there was to know, and some one who could be counted upon to shoot straight in a tight spot. The problem was, the Collector was always surrounded by busybodies and jackanapes of all kinds and I would have to make an attempt on my own, if we were to get the animal.
Thus it was that I set out one morning for Ashta, in my beloved Austen 7. I know I am often blamed for losing my had over a mere car, but I can hardly resist telling you a thing or two about this old beauty. First of all I maintain, this car can go where no other car in the district can reach. Forget about dumpy old Ambassadors and squat little Faits, I say this car can go where even four wheel drive jeeps do not dare to venture. Why the other day, when we went after the wolf at Arnia Gazi, as the collector will tell you, but for this brave little car, we would never have made it to spot. Secondly this car have an elegance, a panache, an old world grace which is a thing not to found in modern cars. But enough, let me get on with my story.
As I was saying, it was a cold clear morning, with a stiffish breeze blowing from the north, when I set out for Astha, and it was getting to be about eight when I reached that town. It is may practice, not to venture out on a Shikar on an empty stomach, because one never knows when the next meal would be coming. I therefore decided to have a light meal at Astha Rest House, nothing substantial, you will understand, just a few poached eggs followed by a roast chicken with a bit of biryani for the road. By the time I was through with this meagre repast, followed by a brief siesta, it was getting to be almost noon. There was no time to lose, so I set out immediately in the direction of Dodi.
A little short of Dodi, there is a track which turns left foe the village of Amla Mazzzu. If one follows this track for a few miles, and then turns off to the right on a thin strip of road that looks little more than a bridle path, one soon reaches a desolate plain, that looks like a lava plain. Nothing seems to grow in the stony, sterile earth on this stretch of the country, but there are innumerable caverns and hollows in the small hill that stands at this pot, and it was my intension to search this hill. It was my hunch that the wolf had his lair, in one of these caverns on the hill side.
To this hill then I made my way, and thanks to my car, I was there in less than hour, I had looked into all the caverns and was about to turn away disappointed when I saw out of the corner of my eyes, some things moving a little way up the hill. Sure enough this was a small cave that I ad missed. A Blue Jay was sitting on a bush at the entrance of this cave. Now I admit I am superstitious and I took this Blue Jay to be an omen. I was sure that the wolf was in the cave, but I hesitated to enter this cave directly from the front, because I was afraid. Don't get me wrong. I was afraid that I might scare the wolf away, which could make a dash for the entrance of the cave and get past me in the uncertain light inside the cave. The best policy then would be to wait outside, after concealing onself and to shoot the wolf when it came out, as I felt sure that it must.
As I was waiting outside the cave under cover of a convenient lantana bush, I saw two small balls of fur, motted black and brown. They looked like two puppies, playful frisky and, lovable. They were the wolf cubs, and I knew by nom that their mother must be somewhere nearby. I was sure she must appear on the scene any moment, and had put my shot gun to the shoulder in anticipation when I heard two shots fired in quick succession and the a small commotion, as a party of armed policeman appeared on the scene. They had sighted the wolf on their patrol, and some trigger happy members of the wolf party had fired on the wolf without taking proper aim. They claimed to have hit the wolf but I knew better. To hit a moving target in the uncertain light of the evening without taking careful aim would have been impossible. By their rash act these novice marksmen had frittered away a golden chance of bagging the man eater and spoiled my own chances of ridding the area of this menace. I thought over the whole matter for a while. I realize a that if I told then about the cave and the wolf cubs; they would barge into the cave as well and that would be the end of whatever little chance there still remained of bagging the wolf.
No I would have to keep quite over the matter. A plan was already forming in my head. The entrance to the cave was mantled with overhanging creepers, therefor it would not have been possible to effect entry without making at least some noise thereby losing the element of surprise. A frontal assault was therefore clearly inadvisable. On the other hand the chance of lying in wait for the wolf and surprising in, as it came back to its hideout were good, but one could not rule out unforeseen disruptions of the kind that I have just described.
This was a matter there for the called for the skills of my friend Rajaram Pardhi. Rajaram was the chief of pardhis and the headman of the village of Pardhikhers that was not far from the spot where the lair was. The Pardhis, are past masters at the art of trapping game. They make ingenious traps and nets for snaring all kinds of birds and beasts. Classified as a scheduled tribe, most of them lead a semi nomadic existence, moving from place with their baggage piles up in caravans of bullock carts and eke out a precarious living from the more or less illegal occupation of hunting. Years ago Rajaram and I had hunted sand grouse in these parts. Rajaram had an old blunderbuss- a muzzle loader with a split barrel tied up with lashings of brass wire- of which he was inordinately proud. When fired, this gun let out a blinding flash followed by clouds of evil black smoke, which certainly blinded the user momentarily, even when they had little effect on the intended victim. More to humour Rajaram than for any other reason, I often let him handle my own double barrelled spanish shot gun that had no equal in accuracy and range, and by dint of this generosity, I had won his permanent regard. What I proposed to do now was to summon Rajaram and his tribe to the spot and instruct them to snare the wolf in one of their clever traps. Accordingly it was to Rajaram's camp that I repaired.
Rajaram was usual glad to see me but I had to decline his offer to hospitality on this occasion. His notions of entertainment had a touch of barbaric splendour. An honoured guest had to be offered liberal doses of the fiery liquor which was brewed in house. After this there would be some dancing and singing by younger members of the tribe and all this would be followed by a meal which had to have some fresh game, if nothing else a wild boar would be roasted. The honour of the tribe required that these ceremonies be observed and observed they were, with a most scrupulous regard. However I was now getting on in years and no longer had any appetite for these dissipations. So after politely declining his proffered hospitality, I explained to him the errand that had brought me there. The first question that he asked me was, if the cubs were still there. He felt that if the cubs were still in the cave it would be a comparatively simple matter to trap the wolf. What he proposed to do was this. A small pit about six feet long and four feet wide would be dug. This would then be covered Over with twigs a11d earth, so that it would be completely undetectable. The wolf cubs would then be placed over this pit and tied to a small stake. The twigs and branches covering the pit would support the weight of the cubs , who were merely two smal1 mites, but would give way under the wolf, when it came to the cubs.
Two things were absolutely essential to make the trap successful. First the trap should be so well concealed that the wolf would suspect nothing. This required a great deal of skill in laying the branches over the pit and then covering them with earth. Secondly the branches must immediately give way, as the wolf stepped on them. If this did not happen suddenly and immediately, the wolf would have sufficient time to jump clear and save itself. Once the animal was in the pit, it would have absolutely no chance of getting out. The pardhis would see to that.
In accordance with the plan therefore, the next day, when the sun was well up and the cubs were likely to be alone in the cave the trap was laid. The first thing that we had to do on reaching the cave, was to make sure that the wolf was not in the vicinity. In order to do this three Pardhis, armed with stout clubs entered the cave. A score of other tribesman, similarly armed, stood outside, ready to fall on the wolf, should it attempt to make a run for it.
I also entered the cave with the Pardhis. We went in expecting the wolf to charge us, but when our eyes got used to the dim light of the interior, we saw that the she wolf was not in the cave. The cavern was surprisingly large, considering the narrow opening. There was a strong musty odour inside. The two cubs, alarmed at the invasion of their hitherto inviolate sanctuary, were cowering in one corner. It took us only a few minutes to capture the cubs who made whimpering noises as we gathered them up in our arms walked out of the cave and into the bright light of the day.
Once the cubs were in our hands, the rest of the trap was soon set. The pit was rapidly dug and expertly camouflaged with branches and earth and two cubs were then tied to the stake and set to gambol freely on the conceal ourselves. If such a large number of man remained in close proximity of the cave, the wolf would be sure to detect their presence. It was therefore decided that only Rajaram and two of his stoutest henchman should remain on the scene along with me. However here an unexpected problem presented itself. There were no suitable hiding place close to the trap, and if we positioned ourselves too far from it there was the off chance that the wolf might make good its escape. This is where the jungle craft of the pardhis came in handy. There were two lantana bushes growing not far from the entrance to the cave. I said to Rajaram that if only these bushes were bigger and bushier, they might offer a suitable place to hide. This was sufficient to spur him into action. After making a quick recce of the surrounding area, the Pardhi's picked out three or four lantana bushes that grew a little distance from the scene. Bushes closer to the spot were rejected, because I was told that any change in their profile might alert the wolf and make it suspicious. The selected bushes were then carefully cut down almost flush with the ground, so as not to leave any tell tale stumps remaining. These bushes were then transported to the site where the hide was to be constructed and placed round the existing lantana bushes with such art that no one could tell which of the bushes were real. The bushes were so arranged that they made a small enclosure where the four of us could conceal ourselves, without any possibility of detection. There was one factor however, which could still upset our carefully laid plan and this was the direction of the wind. Although we had so positioned our hide that we would be down wind from the wolf when she arrived, any sudden change in the direction of the wind, of the expected line of approach of the wolf, would be sufficient to forewarn it of our presence. There was nothing for it however, but to conceal ourselves and sit down to await developments.
This is what we proceeded to do. The Pardhis, being children of the woods, know the art of sitting still, but for my part I find it hard to sit like a graven image, without talking, smoking or even clearing my throat, but this discipline would now have to followed, because any movement or sound from us could give away our carefully concealed position. Time passed slowly as it always does when one is waiting for something to happen. When the sun was close to the western horizon, a large black crow, perhaps I should describe it as a raven, flew over us, croaking loudly. The unexpected appearance of this bird and the way in which seemed to be behaving seemed to indicate the presence of some predator, which in this case could only be the wolf. A pebble came rolling down the hillside, bouncing over the stony surface of the black volcanic rocks and startling us badly. And a moment later the wolf appeared on the scene, a medium sized animal, much like an Alsatian dog with a mottled greyish brown coat, she approached the cave warily, turning her head first to the left and then to the right to survey the area. But just then she spotted her cubs and her maternal instincts took over. She dashed to the spot, and fell straight into the trap laid for her. No sooner was she in the pit, then the Pardhis, with a whoop, dashed out of the hide and a rain of blows fell on the wolf. Trapped within the confines of the pit, she could not put up even the semblance of a fight, her back was broken and within a few moment she was dead. The two cubs, who were unharmed during the whole episode, were taken over by the Pardhis, in whose custody they remained for several years. What finally happened to then I do not know."
Thus ended the chronicle of Dr Haidar. When I was informed of the incident, I was in Ashta and upon reaching the village, found the wolf laid out in the middle of a circle of Pardhis, who were performing a kind of war dance over the dead animal. This wolf was not the enormous animal, that we had seen the other day in the ravine at Arnia Gazi, and we were in a sense disappointed. There was a school of thought among the forest officials who believed that we had killed the wrong animal, and they were disposed to blame Dr Haidar for this, but a post-mortem carried out on the dead animal, discovered strands of human hair and splinters of bone in its viscera. There was no doubt that we had killed a man eating wolf. It was now clear that we were dealing, not with a single man eater, but with a whole pack that had taken to human flesh. How many of these animals were actually there, was something that could only be discovered in the course of time, but our battle against the man eating wolves of Ashta was far from over. Indeed, it had barely started. It was not a heartening thought.
