The ‘Great White Hunter’ genre has fallen out of favour, especially with the media classes. Yet perhaps we must question whether, in replacing old prejudices with new, we can in fact be less broad-minded than our ancestors, who in many ways had no choice but to develop a practical knowledge of the world in which they lived.
Jim Corbett certainly presents a challenge to some fashionable perceptions of the role of the semi-professional hunter and of the last decades of British India. Like the vast majority of Britons in India, he was not partying at Simla but getting on with some very important work, not for profit but for the benefit of the local population, protecting them from rogue tigers or leopards who were capable of killing dozens, even hundreds, In doing so, he exposed himself to incredible risks.
Yet this keen hunter was also a keen conservationist. This paradox is by no means uncommon: partly it is because hunters want to preserve animals in order to have something to shoot, but it is also because the best of them develop a genuine love of nature on its own terms, without the sentimentality of urban animal-lovers. Corbett developed a real sympathy for what he calls the ‘jungle folk,’ but never forgot what they were, ‘red of tooth and claw.’
He also had a greater knowledge, understanding, and love of India and its people than most of those today who would write him off a ‘colonialist.’ He was nothing of the sort: born and raised in India, he never saw it as anything but India. To this day there is a national park there named after him.
Above all, he loved tigers. He shoots rogue man-eaters because his greater sympathy is with the Indian people they kill, but he is at pains to point out that such behaviour is unusual in tigers and he respects those he shoots. He is conflicted when he shoots one tiger that later turns out to be innocent. It is true that he shoots another on a rather dubious pretext, but on yet another occasion he feels guilty at having to shoot a confirmed man-eater when it was asleep. He seems to have felt that the tiger was a hunter like himself – as he puts it, the tiger is a gentleman – and should be treated as such. His attitude can be summed up as ‘do unto the tiger as he would do unto you – but do it first.’ Corbett is therefore ruthless in the hunt but never cruel.
In any case, whether or not one agrees with his values, Corbett is a born story-teller. Despite the fact that he obviously lived to tell the tale, one soon finds oneself so lost in the narrative that one wonders how Corbett can possibly escape the hairy situation he is describing. He has the great gift of being able to convey tension and uncertainty in very few words.
This particular edition also benefits from some delightful line drawings that give a perfect sense of place.
Above all, Corbett is good company. He is at his most likable when writing the moving life story of his favourite dog, Robin. No one could doubt his credentials as an animal-lover after reading that.