The Rhesus Monkey, the monkey made famous by Kipling in his Jungle Stories, is the true Bander of the Hindoos. They have a restless, quarrelsome disposition, and appear to lead aimless lives. As they are another branch of the sacred monkeys of India, they feel at liberty to plunder the stores and gardens of their protectors without showing the slightest fear. It has been agreed on all sides that for cunning and insolence they have no equal.
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| A family of Rhesus monkeys by the water. |
Once, long ago, a district magistrate in Bengal had a number of fine peach-trees, the fruit of which he was very proud, and therefore anxious to save. Now the local Rhesus monkeys had also taken a fancy to these same peaches, and forthwith a war began between the man and the beasts. First of all, a Hindoo was put on guard, but the monkeys cared little or nothing for him, well knowing that his caste and religion forbade him injuring them. Now the white man in India did not care an atom for the monkey in those days, for he had no scruples about their sanctity, and if they did steal from him, he punished them as much as he dared without offending the natives. So one day a white man mounted guard over the peach trees. The monkeys came into the orchard boldly enough, but this man chased them off, using his stick freely. The marauders, astonished beyond measure, retired to the top of the high trees to consult. For a long time they coughed, chattered, pulled tails, and shook the branches with excitement and rage until they agreed upon a plan. They divided into bands. First one would pretend to enter the orchard, and when the guard flew at them another band would swarm over the bamboo fence and scramble up the trees, shaking the branches and causing a shower of ripe, golden peaches. Meanwhile others would scamper round on the ground, grabbing up what they could, and then once more retire, chattering with delight, to the safety of the high trees. The sun being hot and the man out of breath, he naturally lost his temper and went for a gun. This did not trouble the monkeys, for they had seen weapons pointed at them before, but never fired. The man rushed to the fence upon which a number of monkeys were still perched, and, picking out one offender, he fired. The poor creature set up a howl of pain as it fell, and then, to the amazement of the man, held out to him its bloody, shattered, little hand. In a moment or two it toppled over dead, and, regardless of the danger, the other monkeys scrambled over the fence and bore the body away. The result was that the monkeys retired from that spot, and the magistrate gathered his peaches in peace; but the man never after raised a gun to a monkey, feeling quite guilty of his crime.
