28 MODERN PIG-STICKING 



knows he is over-matched, and occasionally does 

 not fight. He gets upset by one attack after 

 another from different quarters. No English word 

 can quite express the meaning of ghabrou ; it 

 is a state of confusion and bewilderment. This 

 word must well illustrate the boar's condition at 

 such a time. Yet I am sure the same pig would 

 invariably fight hard if hunted by one man only. 

 I only say this because on the few occasions when 

 a pig does not put up a good show, it is annoying 

 to hear the three or four men who have successfully 

 mobbed him come back and say what a rotten pig 

 he was. Of course, in all species there are a few 

 arrant cowards. But, when at bay and attacked 

 on foot, I have never once known or heard of a boar 

 who did not face any number of spears, and charge 

 and die with utmost desperation. I am inclined 

 to doubt if there is much difference in the fighting 

 qualities of a pig in different parts of India. At 

 least such is my experience. An ordinary pig — I 

 do not mean your suffragette extremist — will, as a 

 rule, spar less in thick cover and grass country than 

 he will in the open. He is no fool, he wishes to live ; 

 every bush, every clump presents an additional 

 hope of escape. When he is in the open or in patchy 

 country he knows that all that remains is the stern 

 joy of a fight. 



And, thank goodness, and I do not say it as a 

 solace to my worse feelings, I do not think a boar 

 does feel his death much. There are seldom long 

 miles of sobbing wind and fate ever pressing behind 

 him. His is probably a sudden wakening from 

 sleep, a sharp run at full speed, and then a last 

 hard fight with blood at fever heat, and the red 

 light dancing before his eyes. When the blood 



