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- Herausgeber: Charles River Editors
- Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
- Sprache: Englisch
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Seitenzahl: 449
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
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ELEPHANT HUNTING IN EAST EQUATORIAL AFRICA
Arthur Neumann
WAXKEEP PUBLISHING
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Copyright © 2015 by Arthur Neumann
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Elephant Hunting in East Equatorial Africa
By Arthur Neumann
CHAPTER I.FIRST EXPEDITION FROM MOMBASA
CHAPTER II.ON THE JAMBENI RANGE
CHAPTER III.CAMPING AT MOUNT KENIA
CHAPTER IV.THE NDOROBO COUNTRY
CHAPTER V.NDOROBO ELEPHANT-HUNTING
CHAPTER VI.RETURN TO MOMBASA
CHAPTER VII.SECOND EXPEDITION
CHAPTER VIII.EXCURSIONS FROM EL BOGOI
CHAPTER IX.EXCURSIONS FROM EL BOGOI (CONTINUED)
CHAPTER X.EXCURSIONS FROM EL BOGOI (CONTINUED)
CHAPTER XI.FROM EL BOGOI TO LAKE RUDOLPH
CHAPTER XII.LAKE RUDOLPH
CHAPTER XIII.A SOJOURN AT RESHIAT AND KERE
CHAPTER XIV.RETURN TO LAKE RUDOLPH
CHAPTER XV.RETURN TO LAKE RUDOLPH (CONTINUED)
CHAPTER XVI.EN ROUTE FOR EL BOGOI
CHAPTER XVII.CAMPING AT EL BOGOI
CHAPTER XVIII.EL BOGOI TO MOMBASA
ELEPHANT HUNTING IN EAST EQUATORIAL AFRICA
BY ARTHUR NEUMANN
CHAPTER I.FIRST EXPEDITION FROM MOMBASA
AFRICA IS A BIG country. Few people who have no personal acquaintance with more than one portion of the continent realize how big. Thus in South Africa anything outside of the various colonies and states that make up what is commonly included under that designation used to be “somewhere up about the Zambesi,” though it might be a thousand more miles beyond. Just so now the average idea of Central Africa held in this country is expressed in the query “anywhere near Buluwayo?” I would therefore ask you to kindly glance at a map of Africa and notice what a long way Mombasa is from Cape Town, and how far the equator is north of even the Zambesi.
Though Durban is now the handsomest and most up-to-date seaport town in South Africa, when I first landed there early in 1869 it was a comparatively primitive place. Nevertheless I always felt that I had come too late, and listened with envy to the tales of those who were then old colonists about elephants in the Berea bush when they first were “Jimmies” or newcomers. The elephants had been driven far beyond the borders of the colony by the time my foot first sank into the deep sand which served for the streets then, and I never overtook them in South Africa. The last buffalo even Natal contained was killed a year or two after my arrival. Not but what I did find my way, during the many years I wandered in South-Eastern Africa to where the latter were still in possession—big herds of them; and other game, of every kind peculiar to the country with the one notable exception above mentioned, yet swarmed. Some of those old days might be worth recalling at another time; but they never satisfied me thoroughly. I hankered after the untouched wilds which I knew still existed in Equatorial Africa: where the elephant yet roamed as in primeval times; where one would never see the wheel-mark of a Boer’s wagon nor hear the report any gun but one’s own.
But circumstances—largely connected with a certain emptiness of the pocket—kept me back for something like twenty years from attempting to penetrate into the interior of the continent from another and more favorably situated point. Even when in 1888 when I made my first passing acquaintance with Mombasa (before the days of the Imperial British East Africa Company), as well as other African ports, in the course of a voyage up the east coast, I was deterred by the heavy coast which such an expedition as was said to be necessary to enable one to go any distance inland would entail. Two year later I was there (Mombasa) again; but still the difficulties in the way of making an independent trip after elephants, and the lack of encouragement to undertake it in any other way led me to take service under the East Africa Company for a time, that I might learn something of the country and gain a knowledge of the management of a caravan and a smattering of the Swahili language. Of a little more than a year which I spent thus—first cutting a bush road up the Sabaki River and afterwards joining in an expedition to the interior—it is not my intention to write now, though there may be something worth telling about the latter someday. I had also the opportunity of finding out during that trip that elephants were not more difficult to kill than other game, and resolved to devote myself to their pursuit. Then the offer of an appointment in Zluland took me south again, but only to find after a year that the monotony of the life was unsuited to me. So I reverted to my original plan.
Mombasa had always a great attraction for me. A sleepy, old-world place, with its narrow streets and listless, picturesque inhabitants, it was suggestive of primitive times. If, one thought, the very port is so remote and untouched by modern progressive influences, what mysteries enticing to the imagination may not the interior contain? This, surely, was the very country I had yearned for. The island had, moreover, beauties of its own, though these it is not my province ot describe, such as a picturesque and interesting old fort, a fine harbor, and dreamy shady mango groves run wild producing luscious fruit nearly all the year round. I always enjoyed the time I was detained there. The prospect over the still water in the cool of early twilight or by moonlight was particularly soothing, with the quaint dhows at anchor and fishing canoes paddling in and out or gliding before the soft breeze, a loin-cloth hoisted between two upright wattle serving for sail. The island too was then unspoilt. Such toy tramways as had been laid down were for the most part overgrown with grass and tropical vegetation; overtured dolls’ trucks, rotting in the jungle, but emphasized the supremacy of nature. Now, alas! The place is all railways, iron roofs, and regulations, a change decidedly not for the better from my point for view. Let those who like them describe such “improvements.”
I make these preliminary observations mainly with a view to showing that I had had considerable African experience all of which was directly or indirectly of the greatest use to describe. I had shot much big game in South-Eastern Africa; had travelled many thousand miles, albeit with different means of transport and had acquired such bush and veldt knowledge as only a long apprenticeship can give—knowledge of the greatest value not only to hlelp one over difficulties but to enable one to understand the varying conditions with which one may be surrounded.
So that I was no novice when, in the end of November 1893, I landed once more in Mombasa, this time prepared to at last carry out my long-cherished scheme for making an independent expedition with my own caravan into the interior, the main object of which should be elephant-hunting. I hoped by this means to recoup myself through the ivory for the outlay incurred in following my bent wandering in the most remote wilds I could reach. My weapons were a double .577 (which I had already once had the opportunity of testing on elephants, with good results), a single .450—both of these by Gibbs,—a .250 rifle, and a shotgun. This last is afterwards discarded as unnecessary, while tis cartridges were an encumbrance. To these I added a common Martini-Henry.
I know by experience that the routine of organizing and fitting out an expedition, starting it from the coast, and even the first part for the journey itself make uninteresting reading, and anything that I may think worth mentioning on these subjects I can more conveniently allude to elsewhere; I will, therefore, not worry my readers with tedious preliminaries of the kinds now, beyond saying hat in one month I was ready with about fifty men (all of whom I armed with Snider carbines) and some twenty donkeys to start for the “bara” or interior, with the intention of getting as far as I could and being away as long as I liked. That way, I consider, a short time to take in all the preparations work done, and I had brought nothing but my guns and cartridges with me; but porters were plentiful, and I was known to them, not unfavorable—my very Swahili name, “Nyama Yagu” (my meat or my game), being suggestive of good times. My headman was not altogether a happy selection. He was a most polite, polished, and picturesque Swahili gentleman of Arab descent, but not very practical. Plucky, he was, as I afterwards found, but somewhat procrastinating and over punctilious about strict Mahomedan observances to be altogether suitable to the rough-and-ready life we had to lead. Owing partly to this not too suitable appointment, some undesirable men got “written on” as porters. There are abuses in the manner of engaging these men; and if not very carefully looked after, the wily rupee plays an important but discriminating part in their choice quite unconnected with any useful qualifications. The result became apparent pretty soon, but not, fortunately, on any very serious scale.
Our start, two days before Christmas, was most smooth and propitious. The men all turned up, and never was there a happier and more enthusiastic a lot of porters nor, for the most part, a finer. Two or three desertions took place a day or two after, causing a little, temporary inconvenience, and one gentleman took the belt containing my watch with him, which had been hung on a bush behind me while I was seeing the caravan off in the dusk. But strange to say-whether because his conscience pricked him or that he could not sell what it was so apparent he must have stolen—he came back of his own accord, watch and all, a few days later. I forgave him, and he was a faithful and reliable for the rest of the trip.
Having had long experience of both ways of travelling, I prefer on the whole the Central African system of a caravan of porters for a hunting trip to the ox-wagons of South Africa. Of course the latter means of transport have many advantages and the others their drawbacks, and probably many people would disagree with my conclusion. But with the “safari” one is more mobile, independent of roads, and never has those terrible “stickfasts”—so upsetting to plans and tempers—to which wagons are liable.
I have no intention of inflicting upon the reader a description of the wearisome details of caravan travelling. It is less monotonous to go through than to read about. The exercise keeps you in good health, as a rule, and there is always something to be done which prevents the afternoons hanging heavily upon your hands; while the constant change, even from one disagreeable camp to another, makes a variety of a kind—never so tedious as stagnation. One soon shakes down to the life, and finds one’s tent as comfortable as any house, while in the former you can never become a nuisance to your neighbors. Breakfasting in the dark at 4 A.M. is trying to one when fresh civilized habits, I admit; but one has to and does get broken in even to that, and a most important thing for one’s comfort during the march it is to be able to eat heartily at such unearthly hours.
I had decided to mae Laiju—a district on the north side of the Tana, and lose to the foot of the Njambeni or Jambeni range, which is a little east of Mount Kenia—my first objective point, and to get as much farther north in the direction of Lake Rudolph as I should be able, or as circumstances might seem to make desirable. I ventured to disregard advice to take the Tana River route—involving a sea voyage, a fresh organization, and a journey through difficult and unhealthy “fly”-infested bush all the way, with little useful help from canoes (which could not take animals) against the stream—and elected for the overland one through northern Ukambani. But I made the mistake of going round by Kibwezi on the Uganda road, instead of following the more direct and convenient path used by Swahili traders and Wakamba visiting the coast. At the little German mission station of Ikutha, where one enters Ukambani, I passed the last outpost of civilization in this direction. I have reason to feel the greatest gratitude to its hospitable head (Mr. Sauberlich) for many kindnesses and ready assistance in various ways. Shortly after leaving there I met Mr. Chanler returning to the coast. I had already had the advantage of some talks with Lieutenant Von Hohnel (previously Count Teleki’s companion) in Mombasa, who had been hurt by a rhinoceros while travelling in his company, and from both these gentlemen I received much useful information. I had long previously, though, heard of Laiju and the Ndorrobo country beyond from Swahili traders as a good one for elephants, and resolved to make that direction my aim, and as much farther as I could attain. It had the special attraction for me that the country that way was least known, and I was not likely to be hampered by rival travelers, official or otherwise, there. Chanler gave me a little half-bred terrier, named “Frolic,” which proved a charming little companion, and continued so until her sad death on another expedition.
There is nothing worth recording in the way of sport during all this part of the journey. The uninhabited (principally desert) country traversed previous to entering Ukambani has but little game, though here and there an odd head may be picked-up,—a Coke’s hartbeeste, impala or zebra,—and a few guinea-fowl sometimes help the pot.
But one animal, to which considerable interest attaches, deserves more particular mention. In some parts of the country to the left (or south) of the road between Duruma and Taita—as, for example, about Pika-Pika and Kisigau, and sometimes not far from Ndara—a gazelle is to be found about which naturalists seem somewhat confused, namely G. Petersi. Some authorities seem to regard this antelope as a mere local variety of G. Granti; but I am strongly of opinion that it is quite distinct, and, while taking the place of the latter in the coast regions, may be regarded as almost intermediate between it and G. Thomson. I am able to illustrate this by a photograph of a series of skulls of the three species in my possession. These have, I may explain, not been specially selected, but are some of those I have shot, which I happen to have kept. It will be seen that they form a regular gradation, the females corresponding exactly with the males in their peculiarities. I am sorry that I have not been able to figure a female Thomson’s gazelle skull, as it appears there is not one in England, not even in the Museum. I have, however, been kindly given the photographs of two mounted heads (the only ones, so far as I can discover, in existence in this country), one of which is reproduced. It is a curious thing that the female off this gazelle seems almost to be in a state of uncertainty as to whether it ought to bear horns or not. For, while many specimens, like that illustrated, have properly developed symmetrical horns, in some they are more or less imperfect, others again being hornless.
Through Ukambani there is no game—there are too many natives—and the march is not interesting. I will, therefore, skip this part for the journey, fly across the Tana with its wide shallow valley full of monotonous dense scrub, and land my reader at Laiju, about five weeks’ caravan journey from the coast by the most direct route (though I did not reach there until 22nd February 1894), which may be considered as practically the commencement of the game country in this direction.
Arrived here the first thing to be done was to establish friendly relations with the natives of the district, and open up a food trade. This was not difficult, since Chanler had been on good terms with them, and had been careful to keep market prices for produce within reasonable bounds, for which I felt grateful to my predecessor. So the preliminary negotiations only lasted a couple of days, and on the third Baikenda, one of the leading men the immediate neighborhood—a weird-looking, wizened old savage, suffering from rheumatism—came with his retinue, bringing the sacrificial sheep, and we went through the ceremony of “eating blood” most solemnly and impressively. I then made their hearts white with presents, as their bodies with calico, and Baikenda and I became, as he put it, as if born of one mother, emphasizing the relationship with expressive pantomime by squeezing suggestively his shriveled old breast with his hand.
It is a fertile district, and food was to be had in fair abundance and considerable variety. Luscious bananas were plentiful and fine yams cheap and good. My cook used to make me what he called “smash-em-up” of the latter-a capital substitute for mashed potatoes: indeed, as regards vegetable products, I lived better while here than I ever did again, and often, when restricted for months and months together to porridge and cakes of coarse dry meal in the barren country farther north, did I think of those delicious bananas.
Intending to make this my headquarters for a while, and finding Chanler’s boma too straggling to be a secure depot in which to leave my good sin charge of a few men (though I used it as a camp myself), I spent some time in building a strong little stockade for this purpose. Various circumstances, into the details of which it is not necessary to enter, prevented my making any extended hunting trip for a much longer time than I had intended to delay here. I was ble to obtain meat easily enough, as a game of one sort or another was generally to be found within a long walk of my camp—waterbuck and zebra being the most numerous—and the young natives were always pleased to accompany me, being keen for meat, though they had a curious prejudice against letting their women kind see them with any.
Of my first small excursion in quest of elephants—although unsuccessful in that I did not get a sight of any—a short account may not be uninteresting, since I saw a good deal of other game, and had a certain amount of sport; but elephant-hunting being the main object of my expedition—as it is to be the principal subject of this book—I will not dwell too much upon it. It occupied little more than a fortnight, and the farthest point I reached was probably not more than about forty miles as the crow flies away from my main camp. Laiju is about east-north-east for Kenia (which, by the way, the natives here cal Kilimara), and the direction we took was nearly due east—but slightly to the south by compass—from the former place.
An old Ndorobo, to whom I had been introduced by Baikenda, and who, being too feeble to hunt, lived here generally as a sort of dependent of his—mainly on charity—had offered to show me where elephants were, within two or three days’ journey; and, as I was not yet in a position to start on a long trip, I gladly accepted his offer, in hopes of putting in a little of the time I was obliged to wait pleasantly and perhaps profitably. The Ndorobos, of whom I shall have more to say later on, are a kind of degraded Masai, living on game, honer, etc., in the bush, something after the style of the South African bushmen, the grand object of their desires being elephants. They live a more or less nomadic life in small communities scattered over a wide extent of East Equatorial Africa, where no settled inhabitants are. The wild region from here northward to Lake Rudolph is left entirely to them.
On my outward journey, although I saw plenty of game, I did not do more shooting than just to supply my men and self with meat, for which a zebra or two and one or two Grant’s gazelles sufficed. I will go more into detail describing our return journey, as it was then that I did most shooting. But first, touching the elephants. We had crossed several beautiful streams the head waters of a considerable tributary of the Tana, which Chanler and Von Hohnel have called the Mackenzie River-ad got into a pretty dry country beyond, where there was hardly any game. All the way the bush was more or less open and easy to walk through, as we avoided the thicker parts. Our old guide was rather tedious, insisting on our making short stages each day, having always some excuse, such as the next water being a long way ahead, or that we might come suddenly into the elephants’ haunts and disturb them prematurely. In reality he was in no hurry; having plenty of meat he enjoyed himself dawdling along, camping early, and cooking and eating the rest of the day. He was, however, such a nice old chap that I could never get wild with him; indeed, we were great chums, he was such a pleasant contrast to the uncouth natives of this district, who have no shadow of an idea of courtesy, while he, on the contrary, was a polite old gentleman, like a Masai. He called me Papa (with the accent, however, on the first syllable), and as he was a much older man than I—though with fewer gray hairs, I am bound to confess—I could not do less, regarding the old fellow quite affectionately as I did, than return the compliment so we always called each other Papa.
Well, at last we did get elephant spoor. The first we found was two days old, but it proved the elephants were in the locality. Old Papa was quite moved with the sight, it was touching to see him. Holding up his hand toward the sky he prayed, “Ngai (God), give us elephants,” looking so earnest the while one could not but sympathize with his feelings, even if I had not been myself equally anxious for success. A little farther on the old man was deeply affected by coming upon some droppings, taking one of the dry loaves of vegetable fiber fondly in his hands and breaking it open to see whether still moist inside, so as to judge its age. The elephant is clearly the acne of the Ndorobo’s ideas of happiness. He would wish for unlimited elephants, just as you or I might for 10, 000 a year. Elephant’s fat, in particular, seems to be the summit of their desires. “Oh! If I could but feed on elephant’s fat,” said my old friend, “my wife would not know me when I went back, so sleek and pump should I become.”
Where we first bound this spoor was near a small spring at which we had slept, at the base of a rocky koppie. Here there was a deserted Ndorobo camp, where Papa’s clan had been about a month before. He showed me which had been his hut. The huts were mere gypsy shelters. There was a good-sized collection of them here. They did not seem to have had much success in hunting, judging by the bones which were but few, about; among them were those of a giraffe. Several times in this country we came upon little circular low screens of branches, close to what were, when there was rain, small “pools in the parched ground”; in these, Papa told me, the Ndorobo hunters watched by night for game.
We were now taken on to a sandy stream bed, where our guide said the elephants were in the habit of drinking, and in the neighborhood of which he felt confident they then were. We kept silence on the march on this day. Except or an odd Waller’s gazelle or two here and there, and occasionally a little giraffe spoor, the country now seemed gameless. We at length entered the dry bed of the watercourse, and after following it up for some distance came, to Papa’s intense excitement, to where elephants (a few only) had dug in the sand for water the night before. We camped not far off to leeward and kept perfectly quiet, after sunset putting our fires out and neither speaking nor stirring. It was hardly dark when we heard the elephants farther up the stream, fortunately to windward, They were evidently drinking.
I had, of course, great hopes of success now; and next morning was ready, as soon as it was light enough, to follow the spoor. In this, however, poor old Papa failed, much to my astonishment. I had been told by Von Hohnel that Ndorobos were not good at spooring; but could hardly believe that he must have been mistaken. However, mine could not keep it in hard dry ground; and after casting about all morning he was at length forced to confess that he was not able to spoor with certainty except after rain. The poor old fellow was so downhearted, being much more disappointed than I myself, that I could not be put out with him, although he had led me all this dance and wasted so much of my time for nothing. At that time neither I nor my gun-bearers had had much experience at spooring elephants, the ground was very hard with no long grass, and, our guide having failed us, I thought it was useless now thinking more of elephants this time so next morning we marched back in the direction we had come from. How I wished for a couple of good South African to spoor for me! I have never had bushmen with me, but some of the Tongas and Shanganes living in the game districts of South-Eastern Africa are good enough for me. Had I been able to follow these elephants in such easy bush to hunt in I might have had a splendid chance at them.
We took a more direct route returning, and the first day slept at the most easterly of the head streams of the Mackkenzie; my intention being to go on to the second next day and camp there for a few days to shoot meat to carry back partially dried to the “boma.” On our way the first day, when within about a couple of hours’ march of the stream, we passed through a beautiful open glade with short green grass. Here I had a shot a couple of Grant’s gazelle on our way out, and seen zebra, oryx, and ostriches; so I expected to find game, and hoped to shoot something for the men if not for myself, as I had been unable to get a shot at a rhino I had seen during the morning.
As soon as we emerged from the bush we saw a zebra ahead, so I made the men sit down while I went after them alone. I soon saw that they were not the common kind, by their wide ears, narrow stripes and much larger size, and became interested; for any animal new to me always delights me. But while I was stalking those ahead of me, another lot I had not seen trotted out of the bush to my right and ran past me. But halting for a moment to look at the strange creature, they gave me a good chance, and one received a bullet, which I saw at once by the way he galloped off would be fatal; and following to where he had disappeared I found him lying down as if alive, but in reality dead. I might have shot a second, but one was enough for our present needs. A beautiful creature he was; far handsomer than Burchell’s and its allies as well as much bigger. This was my first acquaintance with Grevy’s magnificent zebra. I skinned his head for a trophy. I noticed too that the cry of this zebra (as I shall have occasion to notice more particularly later on) was quite different from the bark of all the small kinds, being a very hoarse kind of grunt varied by something approaching to a whistle. This is about the limit of the species; there are none south of the Tana nor farther up the river on this side.
Next morning we started to move on to the next stream where I knew there was an abundance of game; and as the “boma” at Laiju could from there be reached in one good day, it would be a suitable locality in which to shoot meat for the purpose of being carried in. But on the way, while it was yet early, as we were traversing the comparatively open bush that covers most of this particular part of the nearly level country, we came suddenly in sight of a rhinoceros standing a short way off. Being bent on “biltong” for exchanging with the natives for meal, etc., I thought it a pity to lose this chance; so I exchanged my single Metford, which it was then my custom always to carry myself, for the double .577 with my gun bearer behind me and ran up to a little bush quite ear the rhino.
Although very bad-sighted, these animals often seem to get some inkling of one’s proximity even when the wind is right, either from the tick birds which generally accompany them or, in their absence, by some other means—perhaps hearing, This one knew I was there and began to shift about uneasily; but as soon as I got up to the bush which screened my approach, I took the first chance he gave me os a fide shot and before he had made up his mind to decamp. He immediately executed what I call the rhino’s death-waltz—a performance they very commonly go through on getting a fatal shot. It is a curious habit, this dying dance, and consists of spinning around and round like a top in one place with a rocking horse motion before starting off at a gallop, which generally is only a short one, to be arrested after a hundred yards or so by death. I imagine the cause of this strange evolution is the animal’s endeavor to find out the cause of the sudden wound it has received—much on the same principle as a dog chases his tail when anything irritates that organ. Mine passed close to me after his dance, but I felt so sure he was done that I refrained from giving him the second barrel.
On another occasion however, I lost a rhino through placing faith in the “waltz” being a sign of immediately impending death. I had given him a shot in about the right place; but as he was somewhat inclined diagonally towards me, the bullet must have gone too far back. He waltzed round several times with only an ant-heap and him, he being on one side and not much broader, between me and him, he being on one side of it while I dodged him, as his dance sometimes brought him half round it on the other. On that occasion however, my rhino galloped so far that I lost him through not putting in the second barrel as he passed.
Well, my victim of this morning galloped off and I followed him with confidence. But no sooner I started in pursuit that I saw him standing a couple hundred yards on. I made towards this one; but on the way passed my rhino already dead. Getting quite close up behind another small bush, I shot this second one in the point of the shoulder, breaking it, though I did not feel certain at the time that the bullet had penetrated to his vitals. He plunged about, and on my tiny dog “Frolic” running in and barking, charged savagely at her, ploughing up the ground and carrying some of the soil between his horns. The charge brought him towards me, so I gave him my second barrel in from of the shoulder; and after trying to stand on his head, squealing like a gigantic pic,—as he is in appearance too,—he subsided into a lying position on his stomach, and though his ears flapped and his little eyes blinked still, he was dead. It turned out afterwards that the second was superfluous, as both bullets had gone through the heart.
Thus, we had two rhinos dead, only about a hundred yards apart. There had been rain the night before, and pools of water stood in depressions in patches of bare red ground such as occur here and there in this bush; so we camped by one of these which we found a short way off, for the convenience of cutting up and carrying the meat.
We remained here two days, the men cutting up and hanging the meat in festoons. As they had as much they could deal with I did not attempt to shoot anything more there, though there were giraffe as well as other game about. Waller’s gazelle are particularly fond of bush in this character, where there are these bare patches of hard red ground. I made the acquaintance of this queer-looking gazelle for the first time now, with its extraordinarily long neck giving it the appearance of a little giraffe. Among the flocks of vultures that congregated around were a few marabou storks, reminding me forcibly of the old days when I used to shoot on the Sabi and Crocodile rivers in South-Eastern Africa, while game yet teemed there, where there were always two or there of these quaint birds about whenever anything was killed. One I shot here had the exquisite little white fluffy feathers under the tail in perfect order.
The day we moved our camp on to the streak—the pool being nearly dried up—I did not want to shoot anything except a Grant’s gazelle, to provide some fresh meat for myself, as the men were busy carrying down the bundles of still heavy rhino biltong; but I went out into a great open plain that extended for a considerable distance in the direction of Laiju to look out for messengers I had sent back to the boma, lest they should not find our new camp. I sat down here under a tree and amused myself by looking through my glasses in all directions at the game visible. I could see large herds of zebra in many parts, also numbers of Grant’s gazelle; a couple of giraffes were visible one way, and in the distance some ostriches. By and by, while we were skinning a gazelle I had shot, a family party of three rhinoceroses came into view not far off.
ON our way back to camp, as they were in the direction we wanted to go, I went straight towards them out of curiosity, to see what they would do. My experience of these creatures has not been that they often charge viciously, though when a long caravan is passing and they wish to get through they can hardly avoid going for someone, but of course they do undoubtedly sometimes attack their enemies. I have always believed a cow with a calf to be more dangerous than any other and I was anxious to see how this one would behave, though as I had no wish to shoot any that day it was perhaps a foolish thing to do. The cow was leading, followed by her calf; the bull being some distance behind and when about one hundred yards from her I stood and examined her and her mate’s horns through my glass, but decided they were not worth coveting. When we got within about fifty yards, she started straight for us at a sharp trot. I waited until she had come on to within about half the distance, and then, as she still made dead for me who was in front, I confess I did not care to wait passively the further progress of the experiment, so gave her a bullet in the face, which turned her off at a gallop. I was really sorry to have hurt her, but as the ground was perfectly open, with not a stick to dodge behind if she had run amuck among us, she might have got foul of someone and done damage. I don’t know whether this was a bona-fide charge or not; if I had waited longer she might have turned off of her own accord when she was satisfied what we really were, but I disliked so close an inspection.
Another day, I came back to this plain to try to get a shot at the ostriches. I failed to get neat them, but, while trying, a giraffe came towards me—apparently not seeing me or mistaking me for something harmless; so I sat still till it had walked a little past, some 150 yards off, so that the solid bullet I sent into its ribs from my little Gibbs .450 might travel forward. It galloped violently for about 200 yards, and then, after staggering a little, plunged head first, its hind quarters curiously standing up for a second or two after its neck was on the ground. It is not often has the chance of seeing a giraffe fall plainly, as they are generally shot among bush. More often they, like most animals, fall backwards when mortally wounded.
I left my men cutting up giraffe, and carrying my two guns myself, like Robinson Crusoe (I can’t say I admire his plan), I directed my steps towards the camp, old Pap with a load of meat fro himself alone following me. But before arriving at the stream I saw a herd of oryx away to the right, grazing among some clumpy bushes on slightly rising ground. I wanted some oryx heads, and the meat would be useful too—for I had sent back to Laiju for porters to carry in the biltong, of which we could hardly have too much; so I determined to go after them, especially as the ground was rather favorable for getting near.
Papa had gone on ahead towards camp, and was so taken up with his burden and absorbed in the happy thoughts it evoked that I could not attract his attention; so I put in my second rifle and sundry other impedimenta I had taken from my gun-bearer, such as glasses, etc., down—or, rather, hung them on a tree—and proceeded to stalk the hear. Taking advantage of the cover afforded by the bushy shrubs, and keeping my eyes fixed on such of the grazing herd as were from time to time visible between as I crept nearer—lying low now again and till the position of nay member that seemed likely to discover me became favorable again—I got at last within shot. Then wriggling myself into a sitting position under cover of a bush, I edged out cautiously a little to one side, and waited till a good chance should be offered by the antelopes moving slowly about as they grazed—for I had succeeded so well that they were absolutely unconscious of my presence. It was not long before a favorable opportunity presented itself, of which I took advantage, getting in another satisfactory shot at a second immediately after, before the herd took to flight, and I felt certain that each had gone well home. Now was I disappointed, for on going to see when the rest had decamped I found both lying dead not very far apart, in the track of the retreating herd.
I have for years adopted the device of hanging my handkerchief on a bush or stick beside the carcass of an animal I am obliged to leave by itself while men are called to skin and carry it to camp, to keep the vultures off and have always found this plan effectual. I generally have two or three white cotton cloths for the purpose in a satchel my gun bearer carries, but I had not any with me now, and as my handkerchief would only serve for one of the oryx I took of my vest of cotton web—all I wear under my little loose Holland jumper—and hung it up to mount guard over the other. Papa had come on hearing the shots, and helped me to drag under the shade of the nearest bush, the ensign being hung from it over the buck. Various modifications of this may be adopted as circumstances render convenient. Thus, a stick may be stuck into the ground beside a large animal which cannot be moved, or even into the bullet wound; or if none is obtainable, the horns or leg of the beast itself may be made to serve the purpose, as is shown in the accompanying illustration of a Grant’s gazelle, so disposed as to cause the horns to stick upright, conveniently for attaching the handkerchief. I took this photo specially for the benefit of any one who may not have hit upon the plan for himself. In the meantime I had skinned the heads, and we started for the camp; and though it was not far, my wrist ached when I got there with one in my hand which I has to carry in addition to my rifles, etc., for old Papa could only manage one. The sly old fellow always pretended to be no good at carrying a load, unless it was something he specially wanted himself and could get no one to bring along for him; but I fancy it was partly put on, lest we should expect him to carry something always.
I wanted to see something shoot with a bow and arrow, as I had never yet witnessed such sport, and often tried to persuade my old friend to give me an exhibition of his skill; but I could never prevail upon him to shoot at anything, though once or twice opportunities for close shots at antelopes, though once or twice opportunities for close shots at antelopes presented themselves. My own opinion is that he knew he couldn’t hit anything, and I doubt if many of Ndorobos are much good with that weapon. The only one I have ever seen shoot at any unwounded animal missed clean a small buck standing still at only a few yards range. But there are some, no doubt, who do kill game occasionally by these means though I do not believe they are good shots unless at very close quarters One thing I have always wondered at with regard to these people is that the children do not seem to practice for amusement—as Kafir boys do the use of the assegai by throwing pointed sticks at a pumpkin rolled down a hill—nor do they ever shoot at birds. It is a curious thing, too, that an Ndorobo would rather starve than eat a bird: he looks on a guinea-owl even with aversion, the consequence being that the boys do not attempt to snare birds as other young natives are so fond of doing: indeed their only idea of occupation seems to be to join in the everlasting hunt for honey.
I did not hunt much more here as we had already a large quantity of meat drying, and I wanted to get back to Laiju and lay my plans for a trip in another direction in quest of elephants. I shot one or two oryx, being anxious to get a finer specimen of this handsome, long-horned antelope, and a few smaller kinds. One oryx which I had hit rather low ran some distance, and when we finally came up with him after following the spoor showed fight, so that though already done, it was necessary to use another cartridge to finish him. It is, of course, well known that it is very dangerous to lay hold of a wounded oryx or go within reach of its sharp, sweeping horns, and I have before experienced its dexterity with these formidable weapons; but I do not remember to have noticed its angry voice under such circumstances: this one fairly growled when we went near it.
The neighborhood of which I have been writing is quite an ideal game country, and very pleasant to camp and to shoot in. The drawback is the difficulty of getting there; otherwise a very delightful time might be spent by a small party in the district. My camp there was by a little lakelet formed by the stream—a charming spot—my tent pitched under a spreading tree on the very water’s edge. One day I shot a huge barber in this pool with my rook rifle. I was sitting heaving my meal under the shade of the tree outside the tent door, and it came feeling about after scraps I threw in on the surface of the water close to the bank above which I sat, and I put the little bullet right through the center of its nose—or rather where the nose ought to be in its wide ugly head—killing it instantly to the delight of my Swahili retainers (to whom fish never comes amiss).
The varieties of game to be found in this district, not of course all in precisely the same locality, but in the neighborhood round about, are:—rhinoceros, giraffe, oryx, waterbuck, lesser koodoo, Grant’s gazelle, waller’s gazelle, impala, a few Cike’s hartebeeste and the tiny “paa” (Kirkii); zebra of two kinds, ostriches, lions, and rarely warthogs. Leopards may sometimes be heard at night, and hyenas are, of course, numerous though these I regard as vermin. Guinea-fowl, francolins, etc., are plentiful in places. There are also plenty of hippos in the Tana and the lower reaches of its larger tributaries. Impala are curiously scarce, even in parts that seem thoroughly favorable to them; it seems strange why, seeing that the species is present, they should be so few here. In South-Eastern Africa, they used to fairly teem in their favorite resorts—a thousand in a troop being sometimes no exaggeration, probably often an underestimate—whereas nowhere in Equatorial Africa have I seen anything approaching to such number. Coke’s hartabeeste is here on the very limit of its range. I saw a few near Laiju and between there and the Tana, but none farther east, though there are more (as I afterwards found) in the opposite direction (that is westwards, between the Jambeni hills and the river)-northward it is entirely absent.
On arrival of the porters I had sent back for, the store of biltong-by this time fairly dry—was lashed up into long bundles and we returned to the “boma,” reaching there on morning of April 14th.
The news that awaited me was far from cheering. Although before I left many of my donkeys were already dead, I had hoped that when those that had suffered most from “fly” in passing through the Tana valley had succumbed, the remainder would keep healthy; for I did not then know that Laiju was one of the most deadly places in Africa for domestic animals, not excepting the generally hardly ass. But on my return now I found that all were either dead, dying, or sick. This was a great blow, as I knew that without these useful pack animals, it would be impossible to penetrate far into the uninhabited country stretching northward from the Jambeni range towards Lake Rudolph; and though I had been encouraged by many promises to hope that we might obtain some from the Embe natives, not one had yet been offered for sale. However, I determined at all events to explore as much of the country as circumstances would allow of my reaching in the directions where I had reason to believe elephants were numerous. Various matters, with which it is not necessary to trouble the reader in detail, caused another fortnight to slip by unprofitably—I paid a short experimental visit to the Embe district, on the top of the range; and the heavy rains at this season being unfavorable to traveling, entailed further delay—but at length I was ready to start for another attempt.
CHAPTER II.ON THE JAMBENI RANGE
ON 30TH APRIL 1894 about 6AM, I started from my “boma” at Laiju with about twenty men, leaving the remainder of my caravan of fifty al told with the goods, prepared for a raid of some length on the elephants which I had been informed were on the (northern)s side of the Jambeni range. The guides, who had solemnly promised to come the day before, had not turned up, according to the usual custom, as it seems, of these natives to invariably break their word. Having become used to this, I was determined not to let their failure to keep their promise interfere with my arrangements, feeling sure that I could pick up others on the way. On passing the kraal of my “blood brother” I looked in for a chat; and he assured me that everything was peaceful for us ahead, which was satisfactory as the Embe tribe, through whose country we had to pass, are a treacherous lot. We had a thunder-shower on our way after getting up among the hills, making it very unpleasant and soaking some of my things. The path was perfectly awful; greasy to a degree; overhung with dripping jungle, weighed down with the wet; and, being steep and sidelong, made it very hard work for the porters. In consequence of the rain, and partly also to get a guide, we camped early at the first suitable place; a nice open spot near a small wood with water not far off. It is important in these hills to camp, if possible, where firewood can be procured (which is not the case everywhere), as the climate is cool and damp and the nights very cold and trying to the men without good fires, often bringing on serious illnesses. On this occasion I put down in my diary “cold and beastly.” The natives here are great thieves, so that it is necessary to keep a careful watch over everything, and a good open space is desirable as camping ground for safety. I secured a new guide and one of those who had disappointed me turned up.
The next morning was chilly, misty, and drizzling, and the going abominably bad, but we started early in spite of it all. By and by, thought, the sun came out and made things more cheerful and let us see about us. This must be a grand climate and, I should think, perfectly healthy. The early mornings are very cold, but lovely after the sun gets up; the air crisp and as clear as crystal. I walked to the top of a hill ahead and was abundantly rewarded by a wonderfully extended view of the country beyond for an immense distance right up to a range I thought must overlook Baringo, as well as the Lorogis and other mountains, with a peep of the Gwaso Nyiro River shining between. Of Kenia (or Kilimara, as it is more correctly called)—quite near, to the south-west by west—only the immensely wide base and the extreme apex of precipitous black rock flecked with snow were visible, all its snowfields being covered with banks of cloud, below which appeared extensive forests on the lower slopes, except those on the northern side, which are quite bare. The general aspect of the country to the northward thus spread out in panorama before me, seemed, from this birds-eye view, to be more or less open and fairly level, though hills and ranges were also to be seen. Its yellow color, denoting dryness, contrasted strongly with the verdant hills we were on; but this almost untrodden wilderness, stretching away to the far northern horizon where the tips of hazy peaks, just visible, seemed to beckon one on, had a wonderful fascination for me. I longed to pry into its mysteries. What especially attracted me was the knowledge that save for a few scattered possession of, as in primeval ages, by the (to me) more interesting denizens of the animal world.
