The most famous man-eating animals, terrible cases of attacks. Retired in Kenya
Edward James "Jim" Corbett(Eng. Edward James "Jim" Corbett; July 25, 1875, Nainital, United Provinces, British India - April 19, 1955, Nyeri, Kenya) - English hunter, conservationist, naturalist, writer.
Known as a hunter of cannibals and the author of a number of stories about the nature of India.
Corbett held the rank of colonel in the British Indian Army and was repeatedly invited by the government of the United Provinces to exterminate man-eating tigers and leopards in the regions of Garhwal and Kumaon. For his success in saving the inhabitants of the region from cannibals, he earned the respect of the inhabitants, many of whom considered him a sadhu - a saint.
Jim Corbett was an avid photographer and film lover. After his retirement, he began to write books about the nature of India, the hunting of cannibals and the life of the common people of British India. Corbett also actively campaigned for the protection of Indian wildlife. A national park was named in his honor in 1957.
Life and activities
Youth
Jim Corbett was born to an Irish family in Nainital, Kumaon, in the foothills of the Himalayas in northern India. He was the eighth of thirteen children in the family of Christopher and Mary Jane Corbett. The family also had a summer home in Kaladhungi, where Jim spent a lot of time.
Jim was fascinated by wildlife since childhood, he learned to distinguish between the voices of birds and animals. Over the years, he became a good hunter and tracker. Corbett attended Oak Openings, later renamed Philander Smith College, and St. Joseph's College with Nainital.
Before the age of 19, he left college to work for the Bengal and North Western Railway, first as a fuel inspector in Manakpur, Punjab, and then as a reloading contractor at Mokameh Ghat station in Bihar.
Hunting for man-eating animals
Between 1907 and 1938, Corbett is documented to have hunted down and shot 19 tigers and 14 leopards officially documented as cannibals. These animals have been responsible for the deaths of more than 1200 people. The first tiger he killed, the Champawat man-eater, was the cause of the documented death of 436 people.
Corbett also shot a Panar leopard, which, after being wounded by a poacher, could no longer hunt its usual prey and, having become a cannibal, killed about 400 people. Other cannibals killed by Corbett include the Talladesh Ogre, the Mohan Tigress, the Tak Ogre, and the Chowgar Man-Eating Tigress.
The most notorious of the cannibals shot by Corbett was the Rudraprayag leopard, which for eight years terrorized locals and pilgrims on their way to Hindu shrines at Kedarnath and Badrinath. An analysis of the skull and teeth of this leopard showed the presence of gum disease and the presence of broken teeth, which did not allow him to hunt for his usual food and was the reason that the beast became a cannibal.
After skinning a man-eating tigress from Taka, Jim Corbett discovered two old gunshot wounds in her body, one of which (in the shoulder) became septic, and, according to Corbett, was the reason for the transformation of the animal into a cannibal. Analysis of the skulls, bones, and skins of man-eating animals showed that many of them suffered from diseases and wounds, such as deeply pierced and broken porcupine quills or gunshot wounds that did not heal.
In the preface to The Kumaon Cannibals, Corbett wrote:
Since sport hunting of predatory animals was widespread among the upper classes of British India in the 1900s, this led to the regular appearance of man-eating animals.
In his own words, Corbett only once shot an innocent animal in the deaths of people, and he was very sorry about it. Corbett noted that man-eating animals themselves are capable of chasing the hunter. Therefore, he preferred to hunt alone and pursue the beast on foot. He often hunted with his dog, a spaniel named Robin, about which he wrote in detail in his first book, Kumaon Cannibals.
Edward James "Jim" Corbett is a famous cannibal hunter in India.
Corbett held the rank of colonel in the British Indian Army and was repeatedly invited by the government of the United Provinces to exterminate man-eating tigers and leopards in the regions of Garhwal and Kumaon. For his success in saving the inhabitants of the region from cannibals, he earned the respect of the inhabitants, many of whom considered him a sadhu - a saint.
Between 1907 and 1938, Corbett is documented to have hunted down and shot 19 tigers and 14 leopards officially documented as cannibals. These animals have been responsible for the deaths of more than 1200 people. The first tiger he killed, the Champawat man-eater, was the cause of the documented death of 436 people.
The Champawat Tigress (Champawat Ogre) is a Bengal tiger killed in 1911 by Jim Corbett. The Champawat tigress is said to have killed 436 people in Nepal and the Kumaon region of India.
After killing more than 200 people in Nepal, the tigress, pursued by the Nepalese army, moved to Kumaon, where she continued to attack people. She was so bold that she roared along the roads around the villages, terrorizing the locals, and often tried to break into their huts.
After she killed a 16-year-old girl during the day, she was shot by Jim Corbett.
In the city of Champawat, there is a "cement slab" that indicates the place of death of the tigress.
Corbett also shot a Panar leopard, which, after being wounded by a poacher, could no longer hunt its usual prey and, having become a cannibal, killed about 400 people. Other cannibals destroyed by Corbett include the Talladesh Ogre, the Mohan Tigress, the Tak Ogre, and the Choguar Ogre.
Jim Corbett and the tiger Povalgarsky bachelor shot by him
The most notorious of the cannibals shot by Corbett was the Rudraprayag leopard, which terrorized pilgrims on their way to the Hindu shrines at Kedarnath and Badrinath for more than a decade. An analysis of the skull and teeth of this leopard showed the presence of gum disease and the presence of broken teeth, which did not allow him to hunt for his usual food and was the reason that the beast became a cannibal.
Jim Corbett at the body of a man-eating leopard from Rudraprayag he shot in 1925
After skinning a man-eating tigress from Taka, Jim Corbett discovered two old gunshot wounds in her body, one of which (in the shoulder) became septic, and, according to Corbett, was the reason for the transformation of the animal into a cannibal. Analysis of the skulls, bones, and skins of man-eating animals showed that many of them suffered from diseases and wounds, such as deeply pierced and broken porcupine quills or gunshot wounds that did not heal.
In the preface to The Kumaon Cannibals, Corbett wrote:
The wound that forced the tiger to become a cannibal may be the result of an unsuccessful shot by a hunter who then did not pursue the wounded animal, or the result of a collision with a porcupine.
Since sport hunting of predatory animals was widespread among the upper classes of British India in the 1900s, this led to the regular appearance of man-eating animals.
In his own words, Corbett only once shot an innocent animal in the deaths of people, and he was very sorry about it. Corbett noted that man-eating animals themselves are capable of chasing the hunter. Therefore, he preferred to hunt alone and pursue the beast on foot. He often hunted with his dog, a spaniel named Robin, which he wrote about in detail in his first book, Kumaon Cannibals.
Corbett risked his life to save the lives of others, thus earning the respect of the population of the areas in which he hunted.
Perhaps there is not a single person interested in big cats who would not know the name of Jim Corbett. Corbett's views on the tiger and its place in nature were far ahead of their time. But first, a few words about the life path of a native-born Englishman, as Rudyard Kipling called such a breed of people.
Jim Corbett was born in 1875 in India, in the town of Naini Tal, where his parents had a summer cottage in the mountains; the house was located 25 kilometers below, in the town of Kaladhungi, in the Terai zone of the foothills of the lowland forests. This area was called Garhwal and Kumaon and became famous thanks to Corbett and his man-eating tigers. The large family was middle-class. His father passed away when Jim was four years old. The burden of care fell on the shoulders of the mother. The boy was introduced to the world of the jungle by Tom, his older brother, and also by the poacher Kunwar Snngh. Tom brought up his brother in a Spartan way: he took the baby once on a bear hunt and left him alone for several hours in a gloomy, dark ravine. Jim was convinced that the bear would certainly eat him, and when he first saw the beast, he was ready, by his own admission, to die of fear. But he did not leave the place until the arrival of Tom.
By the end of his Jungle Book training, Jim was no longer confusing the tracks of a sambar or a nilgai with those of a wild boar, but a track of a red wolf with a hyena. He could even recognize the tracks of snakes. To move silently, Jim walked through the jungle barefoot; he learned to climb trees without branches, that art allowed him to maintain excellent physical shape even in adulthood.
In his youth, Corbett hunted for pleasure, and when he was poor and starving (and his life was like that), he shot game, not really adhering to hunting ethics. With maturity, knowledge, his inherent love and respect for all living things, the conviction came that one should not take life unnecessarily. He began to hunt only man-eating animals.
From 1907 to 1939, Jim Corbett killed 12 tigers and man-eating leopards, which accounted for 1,500 people. Corbett did his work disinterestedly (he constantly feared that he would be considered one of the many hunters for the award) and during the holidays: he was still working on the railroad then. Immediately after high school, Jim joined the railroad as a fuel inspector and later worked as a contractor at the Mokameh Ghat junction station.
The archives have preserved a family photograph of the Corbetts: on a veranda lined with pots of flowers, Jim was located at the feet of his mother with a boater hat, his idol brother Tom and sister Maggie, as well as a certain Mary Doyle, were right there. Corbett did not have his own family, in any case, he never wrote about it. Maybe the reason for this was the hunt, which lasted months and years! Corbett devoted himself completely to them, having retired in 1924, settling in Kaladhungi among peasants who rented land belonging to the Corbetts.
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Jim Corbett
TEMPLE TIGER
INSTEAD OF EPIGRAPHS
1. “Soon the tiger extended its paw forward, followed by the other, then very slowly, without lifting its belly from the ground, pulled itself up to the prey. After lying motionless for several minutes, still not taking his eyes off me, he felt the tail of a cow with his lips, bit it off, put it aside and began to eat ... The rifle lay on my knees with the barrel in the direction where the tiger was, I just had to raise it to my shoulder . I could do it if the tiger took his eyes off me for a moment. But he was aware of the danger that threatened him and, without taking his eyes off me, slowly, but non-stop, ate.
2. “... a group of twelve Europeans with battle rifles passed me by. A few minutes later they were followed by a sergeant and two soldiers with flags and targets for shooting. The sergeant, a kind soul, informed me that the people who had just passed were heading to the training ground and that they were holding together because of the cannibals.
3. "In general, tigers, except for the wounded and cannibals, are very good-natured."
J. Corbett. "Temple Tiger"
TEMPLE TIGER
Anyone who has never lived in the Himalayas does not realize how great the power of superstition over people in this sparsely populated area. But various kinds of beliefs professed by educated inhabitants of the valleys and foothills differ little from the superstitions of simple illiterate highlanders. In fact, the difference is so small that it is difficult to decide where belief ends and superstition begins. Therefore, I would ask the reader, if he has a desire to laugh at the ingenuousness of the participants in the event about which I am going to tell, to wait and try to establish whether the superstitions I have described differ in any way from the dogmas of the religion in which he was brought up.
So, after the First World War, Robert Ballears and I hunted in the interior of Kumaon. On a September evening we camped at the foot of Trisul, just at the place where, we are told, eight hundred goats are sacrificed every year to the spirit of that mountain. There were fifteen highlanders with us. Never before on a hunt have I had to deal with such cheerful and zealous people in the performance of their duties. One of them, Bala Singh, a Garwalian I have known for a number of years, has accompanied me on many expeditions. He was especially proud of the fact that during the hunt he carried the heaviest bale of my luggage and, stepping ahead, cheering the others with singing. In the evenings at halts, before going to bed, our people always sang around the fire. That first evening at the foot of Trisul they sat longer than usual. We could hear singing, clapping hands, shouting and banging on cans.
We decided in advance to stop at this place in order to hunt tars, so we were extremely surprised when, sitting down for breakfast in the morning, we saw that our people were preparing to break camp. When asked to explain what was the matter, they replied that this site was not suitable for a camp, that it was damp, that the water was undrinkable, that fuel was difficult to obtain, and that, finally, there was a better place two miles away.
My luggage had been carried the day before by six Garhwalians. I noticed that now things are packed in five bales, and Bala Singh is sitting by the fire separately from everyone else with a blanket thrown over his head and shoulders. After breakfast I went to him. The others stopped their work and began to watch us with intense attention. Bala Singh saw me approaching, but did not even try to say hello (which was unusual for him) and answered all my questions only that he was not sick. We made the two-mile march that day in complete silence. Bala Singh brought up the rear and moved like sleepwalkers or drugged people.
What happened to Bala Singh also depressed the other fourteen people, they worked without their usual enthusiasm, tension and fear froze on their faces. While we were setting up the tent in which Robert and I lived, I took my Garhwal servant Moti Singh aside - I had known him for twenty-five years - and demanded that he tell me what had happened to Bala Singh. Moti shied away from answering for a long time, saying something incomprehensible, but in the end I pulled a confession out of him.
As we sat by the fire last night and sang, said Moti Singh, the spirit of Trisul jumped into Bala Singh's mouth and he swallowed it. Everyone started shouting and hitting tin cans to exorcise the spirit, but we didn't succeed, and now there's nothing to be done.
Bala Singh sat to one side, the blanket still covering his head. He couldn't hear my conversation with Moti Singh, so I approached him and asked him to tell me what had happened to him the night before. Bala Singh looked at me for a moment with despairing eyes, then said hopelessly:
It is useless to tell you, Sahib, what happened last night: you will not believe me.
Didn't I ever believe you? I asked.
No, he replied, you have always believed me, but you will not understand this.
Understand or not, I still want you to tell me in detail what happened.
After a long pause, Bala Singh replied:
Okay, Sahib, I'll tell you. You know that when our mountain songs are sung, usually one person sings, and all the rest pick up the chorus in unison. So, last night I sang a song, and the spirit of Trisul jumped into my mouth and, although I tried to push it out, slipped through my throat into my stomach. The fire burned brightly, and everyone saw how I struggled with the spirit; the rest also tried to drive him away, shouting and hitting the cans, but,” he added with a sob, “the spirit did not want to leave.
Where is the spirit now? I asked.
Putting his hand on his stomach, Bala Singh said with conviction:
He is here, Sahib. I feel him tossing and turning.
Robert explored the area west of the camp all day and killed one of the Tars he encountered. After dinner we sat up into the night discussing the situation. For many months we have been planning and dreaming about this hunt. Robert is seven and I have been on foot for ten days on difficult roads to the hunting place, and on the very first evening upon arrival here, Bala Singh swallows the spirit of Trisul. It doesn't matter what Robert and I thought about it. Another thing was important - our people believed that the spirit was really in the stomach of Bala Singh, so they shunned him in fear. It is clear that hunting in such conditions was impossible. So Robert, though very reluctantly, agreed that I should return with Bala Singh to Naini Tal. The next morning, having packed my things, I had breakfast with Robert and went back to Naini Tal. The journey there was supposed to take ten days.
Leaving Naini Tal, thirty-year-old Bala Singh was a cheerful and full of energy man. Now he returned silent, with an extinct look, and his appearance spoke of the fact that he had completely lost interest in life. My sisters - one of them was a member of the Medical Relief Mission - did everything they could for him. He was visited by friends, both those who came from afar, and those who lived nearby, but he sat indifferently at the door of his house and spoke only when he was addressed. At my request, he was visited by the district doctor of Naini-Tala, Colonel Cook, a man of great experience and a close friend of our family. After a long and careful examination, he declared that Bala Singh was physically perfectly healthy, and he could not determine the cause of his apparent depression.
A few days later, an idea struck me. At that time, a famous Indian doctor was in Naini Tal. I thought that if I could persuade him to examine Bala Singh and only then, after telling about what had happened, ask him to suggest to the "sick" that there was no spirit in his stomach, the doctor would be able to help the trouble. This seemed all the more feasible since the doctor not only professed Hinduism, but was himself a highlander. My calculation was wrong. As soon as the doctor saw the "patient", he immediately suspected something was wrong. And when, from the answers to his cunning questions, he learned from Bala Singh that the spirit of Trisul was in his stomach, he hastily recoiled from him and, turning to me, said:
I am very sorry that you sent for me. I can't do anything for him.
In Naini Tala there were two people from the village where Bala Singh lived. The next day I sent for them. They knew what had happened because they visited Bala Singh several times, and at my request they agreed to take him home. I provided them with money, and the next morning all three set out on their eight-day journey. Three weeks later Bala Singh's countrymen returned and told me what had happened.
Bala Singh reached the village safely. On the first evening after arriving home, when relatives and friends gathered around him, he announced that the spirit wanted to be freed and return to Trisul, and the only thing left for him, Bala Singh, was to die.
And so, they concluded their story, Bala Singh lay down and died; the next morning we helped burn it.
In July 1875, in the Indian city of Nainital, a boy was born to a family of Irish immigrants, who was named Edward James Corbett. His parents had twelve more children, and James himself, or, as he was called "Jim", was the eighth in a row. From birth, the boy was surrounded by the majestic nature of the Himalayan foothills of northern India. Walking in the jungle, he learned to distinguish between animals and birds by their voices. This helped him later become a successful tracker and hunter. At the age of 19, he left St. Joseph's College and went to Punjab, where he got a job as a worker on the railway.
(Total 11 photos)
When the First World War broke out, Corbett formed a detachment of five hundred volunteers and went with them to France. Having shown himself to be an excellent commander and leader, the man was awarded the rank of major in the British army.
But Jim Corbett is known not at all for this, but for his hunting merits. The Irishman chose the most difficult and dangerous areas for hunting - they were inhabited by cannibal predators. It is known for certain that from 1907 to 1938, Corbett shot 14 leopards and 19 tigers, who had previously killed more than 1,200 people. The first predator killed was a tiger, nicknamed the Champawat man-eater, which caused the death of 436 people. All the animals killed by Corbett were confirmed cannibals, terrifying both remote villages and bustling cities.
One of the most famous predators killed by an Irishman was the Rudraprayag leopard, which for ten years attacked pilgrims going to the Hindu shrines at Badrinath and Kedarnath.
But Jim wasn't a fanatical big cat killer. He carefully studied the bodies of the animals who died at his hands and soon came to the conclusion that they had to become cannibals against their will. In many cases, gunshot wounds inflicted by poachers contributed to the refusal of habitual food. Some of the wounds were not severe enough to kill the animal, but severe enough to render it unable to hunt agile ungulates. Trying to survive, the beast began to attack the one who was the most accessible - a man. At the beginning of the 20th century, the sport of large predators was very common among the British nobility. This contributed to the regular appearance of man-eating animals.
Corbett took no perverse pleasure in killing. He pitied animals forced by circumstances to feed on human flesh. He always hunted alone, on foot, accompanied by his faithful spaniel Robin. Jim was sure that man-eating cats were smart and quick-witted enough to turn from a victim into a hunter overnight, so he did not want to risk anyone's life except his own. It was for such selflessness that the inhabitants of those places that he saved from a mortal threat considered him a saint.
The Irishman never ceased to love nature, and in the late 20s he acquired a movie camera, which he used to shoot documentaries about tigers. He was seriously concerned about the fate of the Indian jungle and its inhabitants, therefore he was known as an ardent defender of the nature of his native land. Thanks to him, a national park appeared in the Kumaon region, as well as a conservation organization.
By the time the Second World War began, the man was already 65 years old, but he decided not to stand aside. Under his supervision, the district fund for helping wounded soldiers was transferred. In 1944, Corbett became a lieutenant colonel and took on the position of lead jungle survival instructor. Three years later he moved from India to Kenya (Nyeri), where he died of a heart attack in 1955. He was 79 years old.
James Corbett managed to write six books about the jungle, Indian nature, cannibal predators and the reasons that made them become such. The most popular, translated into 27 languages, was the debut story "The Kumaon Cannibals", published in 1944.
In 1957, his name was given to the national park, the organization of which he contributed to during his lifetime. And the house in Nainital, India, has been turned into a museum.
In 1975, a series of stamps featuring the folk hero was issued in India. And although more than a hundred years have passed, the Indians still honor the memory of a modest mustachioed Irishman who saved, without exaggeration, thousands of lives.
