Learn How to Climb Trees


(Many tigers roamed about in the thick forests in the Kumaon and Garhwal hills till the beginning of 20th Century. Jim Corbett was brought up in this region. He loved mountains, forests and animals. He was an excellent shooter. He killed many man-eaters and saved the lives of countless people. )
   Kunwar Singh was the first to visit me the day I was given my first gun. I was eight then. He came early, and I put the old double-barrelled gun into his hands with great pride. He laid the gun aside and said to me "you are no longer a boy, but a man; and with this good gun you can go anywhere you like in the Jungles and never be afraid provided you learn how to climb trees. I'll now tell you a story to show how necessary it is for us, who shoot in the Jungles, to know how to climb trees.
   Har Singh and I went to shoot one day last April. We had started when the stars were paling. Since we found nothing to shoot, we started for home towards evening. While we were taking a sandy nullah that ran through dense scrub and thorn-bamboo jungle, a tiger was looking at us. It stared at us for some time but went back.
   We continued on our way and the tiger came out again and it was growling and twitching its tail. We stood still and luckily, the tiger left the nullah Being disturbed by the tiger, a number of jungle fowl rose cackling out of the dense scrub. One of them alighted on a branch and Har Singh fired at it.
   

The tiger came towards us with a terrifying roar. I had climbed up a runi tree but Har Singh could not climb up a tree as he had not learnt to climb trees when he was a boy.
   The tiger sprang at him and he was screaming. Now I fired the gun off into the air. The tiger went away and Har Singh collapsed at the foot of the tree. I climbed down very silently and went to Har Singh I found that one of the tiger's claws had entered his stomach and torn the lining from his navel to within a few fingers' breadth of the backbone. All his inside had fallen out. I could hot know what to do. Har Singh told me to put his intestines back into his stomach. I stuffed them all back along with the dry leaves, grass and twigs that stuck to them.
      Later I wound my pugree (turban) round his stomach and knitted it tight to keep everything from falling out again. We started for home walking for seven miles. I led the way and Har Singh followed me. Holding the pugree in position Har Singh told me that he wanted to meet the doctor. We walked for the extra three miles to the hospital. It was night and the hospital was closed. But the doctor-babu who lived nearby was awake. He asked me to call Aladia, the tobacco-seller. When I returned the doctor had laid Har Singh on a string bed. Aladia held the lantern and I held the two pieces of flesh together. The doctor was very kind. He sewed up the hole in Har Singh's stomach. I offered him two rupees but he refused to take it. When we went home, the woman folk were crying.

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