When a Jackal Eats a Jackal

Bandhavgarh Tiger Reserve.

An encounter with cannibalism and the opportunistic world of the golden jackal

When you go in the jungle/tiger reserve, never think that you can see according to your desire.  If we see some well and good and if not, just remember how fortunate we are to even go inside the jungle or tiger reserve. Also remember the jungle has ways of showing us things we are not prepared for.

We become accustomed to seeing predators hunt prey, scavengers gather around carcasses, and animals take advantage of whatever food the forest provides. But every now and then, we witness something that makes us stop, look more closely and question what we thought we knew.

On one such evening safari, we as usual was searching for tigers.  The light had changed what photographers call it the “golden Light” and I was wishing to see something.  Then, Vandevi must have heard my prayers! We came across a lone jackal beside the carcass of another jackal.

What I could see and later confirm by carefully going through my photographs, was that the dead jackal’s body was remarkably intact. Its head and all four legs were still attached. Only a chunk of the stomach and the ears appeared to be missing.

And then, sitting there in front of us, the living jackal began feeding.

What I Saw

The jackal tugged and yanked repeatedly at one of the legs until it managed to tear it away from the body.

It then began dragging the remains farther from where we had first seen it. After some distance, it stopped and rested.

Then it moved again, dragging the carcass even farther until it eventually settled beneath a tree.

The evening sun had turned beautifully golden by then. The jackal remained under that tree with the carcass for the rest of the time we were able to watch it.

Why did it move?

Was it seeking shade from the warmth of the evening sun? Did our presence make it uncomfortable? Did the tree simply offer a more sheltered place in which to feed and rest?

I do not know.

Unfortunately, our safari time was over and we had to leave. The jackal was still there beneath the tree when we drove away.

The Opportunist

Golden jackals are extraordinarily adaptable animals.

They are opportunistic omnivores, which means they are neither entirely dependent upon hunting nor restricted to eating meat. Their diet changes according to habitat, season and, most importantly, what is available.

They may hunt rodents and other small mammals, catch birds, reptiles and amphibians, and feed on insects. They also consume fruits and other plant material. Where they live close to people, they may take advantage of discarded food and other readily available resources.

A carcass represents something valuable in the wild: nutrition obtained without expending the considerable energy and accepting the potential risk involved in capturing live prey.

Perhaps this adaptability is one of the secrets of the jackal’s success. It does not insist that its meal arrive in one particular form. It hunts when there is something to hunt, scavenges when there is something to scavenge, and takes advantage of plant foods when they are available.

But what happens when the carcass belongs to its own species?

Cannibalism is the consumption of an individual of the same species.

The word sounds dramatic, even disturbing, because we inevitably interpret such behaviour through human emotions. In nature, however, what appears shocking to us may simply represent another feeding opportunity.

What I witnessed can more specifically be described as intraspecific scavenging – a jackal feeding upon the carcass of another member of its own species.

There is an important distinction here.

I did not witness one jackal attack or kill another. Therefore, I cannot say that the jackal I photographed had killed the animal it was eating.

That distinction matters.

A photograph records what happened during the fraction of a second in which the shutter was pressed. Even a sequence of photographs cannot necessarily tell us what happened before we arrived.

In this case, my photographs could tell me that the carcass was initially largely intact. They could show me the jackal feeding, pulling at one of the legs, dragging the carcass and eventually moving beneath a tree.

Why Eat One of Your Own?

For an opportunistic scavenger, perhaps the question is not simply why would a jackal eat another jackal? But why would it ignore an available source of food?

A carcass contains valuable energy and nutrients. In the wild, where the next meal is never guaranteed, passing up an available food source may carry its own cost.

As with so much in nature, there may be a balance between opportunity and risk.

And jackals are masters of opportunity.

Why Drag the Carcass Away?

This was one of the most fascinating parts of the encounter.

The jackal did not simply remain where we first found it and continue feeding. After tearing one leg away, it dragged the carcass farther, rested, and then dragged it farther still before eventually settling beneath a tree.

There are several possible explanations.

Moving the carcass could have provided a quieter or more sheltered feeding place. It could have increased the distance between the jackal and our vehicle. The shade beneath the tree may have offered relief from the warmth of the evening sun. Moving food can also reduce the possibility of losing it to competitors.

But these remain possibilities – not conclusions.

And my photographs could not tell me either.

What the Photographs Told Me

There was something particularly rewarding about returning to my photographs later and studying the sequence carefully.

Memory had retained the essence of the encounter, but the photographs preserved the details.

The missing ears.

The four legs.

The jackal pulling at one leg until it came away.

The dragging.

The pauses.

And finally, the jackal sitting beneath the tree in the golden evening light.

The Jungle Does Not Waste

We often place wild animals into convenient categories: predator, prey, hunter, scavenger, herbivore, carnivore.

But the wild does not always follow the neat categories we create for it.

The jackal survives precisely because it can adapt.

A rodent may become a meal. So may an insect. Fruit may provide nourishment. A carcass left behind by another animal may become dinner.

And occasionally, even the body of another jackal may become food.

What I witnessed that evening was cannibalism, but more specifically it was an act of intraspecific scavenging – an opportunistic animal making use of an available food resource.

I had arrived after the first chapter of the story had already ended.

I did not know how the jackal had died. Nor make any conclusion as I had to leave before the final chapter began. When our safari came to an end, the lone jackal remained beneath the tree with the carcass, bathed in the golden light of the evening sun.

Perhaps that is how many of our encounters with the wild are meant to remain.

We observe.

We photograph.

We wonder.

But we do not always get to know the answer.