ON THE HABITS OF TIGERS 99 
peace with all around. The dawn breaks, and the 
crows pass over the forest in flocks to some savoury 
food-supply they had abandoned at nightfall ; from 
their elevation their sharp eyesight detects some- 
thing amiss, and one or two will perch in the neigh- 
bouring trees for further investigation. From that 
moment every animal in the forest is on the qui vive. 
The tiger remains to protect his larder from the 
vultures, and every movement is watched. He goes 
to drink water, and his progress through the forest 
is heralded by bird and beast; he returns to his 
evening meal, and the same publicity is his portion. 
Even during the night the grazing deer, nervous 
with their knowledge of his presence, are startled 
by harmless sounds, and false alarms are passed from 
herd to herd. Even if the hunt of the night before 
has been unsuccessful, the tiger is bound to be 
detected; for as his hunger increases his caution 
grows less, and he recklessly exposes himself, to his 
further disadvantage, so that soon but one course is 
left to him—namely, to move on to where he is unex- 
pected ; and he sooner or later must do this, prob- 
ably with deep roars that signify both his impatience 
and his departure. 
The successful tiger returns to his kill until the 
supply of flesh is exhausted. A cow or buffalo will 
generally last him three days, and there may be 
some unsavoury pickings on the fourth, but these he 
generally abandons to others. He eats voraciously 
in huge mouthfuls, skin, hair, and bones, being all 
acceptable, and yet in an incredibly short time his 
stomach is empty. I once shot a tiger in the act of 
feeding on a buffalo. The bullet struck the liver, 
