Tiger Attack

Meeting with the Tiger Hunter and others... In the winter of 1972 I was invited to meet with Frank Nicholls at his daughter's house in Mt Roskill, in Auckland. Frank, an Englishman, had come to New Zealand to retire after working as a manager on tea estates in the northern State of Assam, India, for some 30 years. He was later appointed as visiting agent to the tea estates and his leisure was filled with his great passion for hunting and fishing. Frank designed a new type of saddle for elephants that was used for many years by visitors to the Kaziranga Game Reserve. He was a wild life enthusiast and his outstanding devotion was duly recognised through an appointment as an honorary game warden by the Assam Forest Department of India.

During his period in Assam, Frank was repeatedly called upon to deal with a variety of wild animals such as elephants, leopards and tigers that had proved troublesome and were a real threat to the local communities. He told me he had acquired first-hand experience with many tigers, including man-eaters, then he emphasised one point about all tigers - and that was their superlative cunning.

He began relating other personal encounters with these cunning animals and then he suddenly broke off his conversation and left the room. He returned with a copy of his then recently-published book(1). He thumbed through several pages, then, looking up, he said, "Now here's what I've been looking for . . ." He then went on to read this intriguing episode concerning one particular tiger and the embarrassing circumstances that were revealed.

This tiger had caused several deaths in the surrounding district and the proprietors of the estate and the Government had both offered rewards, totalling 500 rupees, to whoever shot the tiger. A tidy sum of money for those days no less. The next victim was a native gardener who had a deformed toe on which a ring was attached. He was an employee of a European manager of the Majulighur Tea Estate.

The partly eaten body was abandoned by the tiger quite some distance from where the attack had occurred. That night a planter sat up in a machan over the victim and shot the animal as it came back for another meal. Nevertheless, the manager of the estate, who studied expenditure very carefully, was reluctant to believe it was that particular tiger that had killed his gardener after all. The planter decided to prove it.

He had the animal's stomach opened, and out fell, the deformed toe, still with the ring on it! It was arranged for the toe to be delivered to the manager on a plate - just as he, his wife and guests were sitting down at dinner.

The killer of the tiger got his 500 rupees the next morning!

Frank kept on talking about tigers, saying that a tiger's terrific strength can knock a victim unconscious with the first attack. And he stressed that very seldom those who are attacked escape with their lives. Then he added with a wry smile, "let alone being able to relate details of the event afterwards."

Then, just before I left Frank, he gave me a signed copy of his book.

In the book, The Jungle is Neutral(2), the author, Fred Chapman, who had spent several years in the Malayan jungles during World War II, only ever saw one solitary tiger. Another account regarding tigers appeared in the book, Regular Soldier(3) where Frank Rennie narrates episodes of the New Zealand contingent of the 22nd SAS Regiment's role in Malaya (1955-57). This particular incident is taken from Chapter 32, pages 181-182:

"Trooper 'Pep' Pepene was moving between five to ten yards ahead of me and each time I put my foot down I was conscious of placing it on the imprint of Pepene's jungle boot. I heard a bit of a swish, looked up but didn't see anything. However, when I picked up my foot to place it on the imprint I expected, the print had been obliterated by a pugmark of a tiger. I must have frozen in disbelief, foot still raised."

The pair continued on and as they halted, Colonel Frank Rennie asked Trooper Pepene what had happened and the trooper replied, "I heard a sound behind and saw on the track just in front of you, the biggest bloody tiger I've ever seen."

In May, 1995, I met Fred Cumming. He was a very tall man, and looked as though he could break an axe handle as easy as a matchstick, although he had a soft-spoken voice. Fred was on a business trip in Auckland and, during conversation he mentioned he had served in Malaya with the 1st Battalion The Queen's Own Royal Kent Regiment. He started to say something else, but hesitated.

"There were a great many incidents during our tour of duty," he said, "far more devastating than my experience, but I did hear of a soldier, a private, who outshone them all. He was from Bravo Company of the Coldstream Guards . . . this was early on in the Emergency . . . they were operating in near a place called Trolak, just north of K.L." [Kuala Lumpur]. Fred looked at me. Then he said, "You're not going to believe this, but this chap was mauled by a tiger! In his right shoulder area! What do you think of that? You don't hear about that every day!"

I wasn't sure how to reply at first. Then I mumbled, "Funny you should say that! Because you're not going to believe this!" Then I told him briefly that I'd been attacked and left it at that. Then, I pressured him into revealing what he attempted to say in the first place.

"It wasn't much, really," he started apologetically. "However, we were moving through a swampy area when I tripped over a submerged root and overbalanced. I had my pack on and I had difficulty getting to my feet. I already had swallowed a couple of mouthfuls of swamp water, when, if I didn't slip over into the stinking mess again. And once more I swallowed a couple of mouthfuls. All the boys thought it was very funny. Then when we got back a week or so later, I started to feel unwell . . ." He stopped and wiped his hand over his lips before he continued.

"Well . . . I ended up in hospital . . . and there were some bugs in that water that I swallowed . . . Actually, they operated, and they took half my stomach away. It was that bad. You know, Frank, I don't want to sound like a moaning Pom, but . . . I have never received any compensation, even though I have been incapacitated ever since leaving that hospital in Malaya, but, that was then. Nowadays . . . I'll never go back to the U.K. . . . Never!"

For readers with a passion for coincidences, I'll conclude that my daughter was born under the Chinese astrological Sign of . . . wait for it . . . the Tiger!

(1) Assam Shikari. Frank Nicholls. Tonson Publishing House, 96 Queen Street, Onehunga, Auckland, 6, New Zealand. 1970.
(2) The jungle is Neutral. F. Spencer Chapman. Chatto and Windus, London. 1963.
(3) Regular Soldier. Colonel Frank Rennie. Endeavour Press, Auckland, New Zealand. 1986. ISBN 0 19647 949 5.

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