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Man-eaters of Kumaon

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The presence of a man-eating tiger in the impoverished rural community of Nainital spread fear and panic among the terrified locals. This tigress had already devoured over 460 victims by the time Jim Corbett was approached to track and kill her in 1907.

These ten thrilling and moving tales are Corbett's first-hand accounts as he expertly tracks and kills many tigers and two leopards which had become man-eaters, driven to this by injury or extreme old age.

No one understood the signs of the jungle better than Corbett. A skilled tracker, Corbett preferred to hunt alone and on foot, sometimes accompanied by his small dog Robin. He derived intense happiness from his observations of wildlife and was an important conservationist as well as a tracker and ace shot.

He empathised with the impoverished people amongst whom he lived, in what is today Uttrakhand, and he established India's first tiger sanctuary there.

Corbett's writing is as immediate and accessible today as it was when first published in 1944.

ISBN-13: 9781910723432

Media Type: Hardcover

Publisher: Merlin Unwin Books

Publication Date: 12-01-2017

Pages: 272

Product Dimensions: 5.60(w) x 8.60(h) x 1.00(d)

Jim Corbett was born in 1875 in the Himalayas to Irish parents, one of 16 children. His father was the postmaster there. Roaming daily from his home, Jim was fascinated as a young boy by the surrounding jungle and its flora and fauna. He refused bounties and lived simply. He retired with his sister to Kenya where he died aged 79. British artist and illustrator best known for illustrating Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea.

Read an Excerpt

Her tracks now — as she carried away the girl — led into the wilderness of rocks, some acres in extent, where the going was both difficult and dangerous. The cracks and chasms inbetween the rocks were masked with ferns and blackberry vines, and a false step, which might easily have resulted in a broken limb, would have been fatal. Progress under these conditions was of necessity slow, and the tigress was taking advantage of it to continue her meal. A dozen times I found where she had rested and after each of this rests the blood trail became more distinct.

This was her four hundred and thirty-sixth human kill and she was quite accustomed to being disturbed at her meals by rescue parties but this, I think, was the first time she had been followed up so persistently and she now began to show her resentment by growling. To appreciate a tiger's growl to the full it is necessary to be situated as I then was-rocks all round with dense vegetation between, and the imperative necessity of testing each footstep to avoid falling headlong into unseen chasms and caves.

I cannot expect you who read this at your fireside to appreciate my feelings at the time. The sound of the growling and the expectation of an attack terrified me at the same time as it gave me hope. If the tigress lost her temper sufficiently to launch an attack, it would not only give me an opportunity of accomplishing the object for which I had come, but it would enable me to get even with her for all the pain and suffering she had caused.

The growling, however, was only a gesture, and when she found that instead of shooing me of it was bringing me faster on her heels, she abandoned it.

I had now been on her track for over four hours. Though I had repeatedly seen the undergrowth moving I had not seen so much as a hair of her hide, and a glance at the shadows climbing up the opposite hillside warned me it was time to retrace my steps if I was to reach the village before dark.

The late owner of the severed leg was a Hindu, and some portion of her would be needed for the cremation, so as I passed the pool I dug a hole in the bank and buried the leg where it would be safe from the tigress, and could be found when wanted.