Chapter VII: Ostrich Hunting

It is remarkable that in the wide range of territory over which I journeyed, ostriches were to be found only in one particular part. I have endeavoured to show, in the preceding chapter, that on the shores of the desert there are alternating strips of barren desert and bushland, and it is in the very last belt of bush, which reaches to the actual edge of the desert, that ostriches are to be found— roughly between the small forts of Tanout and Aderbissinat in a scattered bush belt about 80 miles in width. I have seen one ostrich track within 30 miles of Agades (near Tegguidi cliff) and some 50 miles north of the usual range, while I have heard reports of ostriches being near Agades, but in actual experience I have seen enough to feel satisfied that they do not often range far beyond the bush belt, which dies out a short distance north of Aderbissinat, and about 80 miles south of Agades, which is near to the foot of the Aïr mountains.

In deciding to make camp at Takoukout, I had selected the place put forward by my camel-men and by the local natives as the most favourable for the pursuit in view, while at the same time they warned me that ostriches were not numerous anywhere in the country; and their judgment eventually proved to be quite sound.

It was March 4th when I reached Takoukout and set about preparing a permanent camp. I had had an escort of Senegalese soldiers with me since leaving Zinder, for it is the military rule that no European shall proceed north of that point unaccompanied by an armed escort, and from Tanout six soldiers were detailed to go with me to guard my belongings and person at Takoukout, so that on this occasion pitching camp was rather an elaborate business, as it required some defensive arrangement. With the purpose of gaining a little shade, a clump of bush in a slight hollow was selected, and there camp was established within a thick brushwood barricade of thorn bushes, which was erected all around the encampment for protection and as an enclosing wall. It was difficult to find any local natives to help in cutting down trees for hut construction, since the few that existed within visiting distance of the Takoukout wells were hidden away in solitary bush-camps, and it was difficult, also, to secure grass in the neighbourhood sufficiently long for the purpose of covering in the walls and roof of the huts; but a few Tuaregs of the district came to our aid on the second day, and a comfortable camp was knocked into shape in due course. There were then within the zareba: my tent erected for my own use; a grass-hut workshop; a small cooking shelter for John; and, set some distance apart, four rough hut sun-shelters for the soldiers, as well as for Sakari, a local hunter, and a camel-man; while my horse, and those belonging to escort, and two camels for carrying water-skins or game on long journeys in the bush, were also within the enclosure on nights that I happened to be there.

A notable addition to my personnel at this time was a native hunter, of whom I shall make brief reference. This local warrior, whose proper name was Dirto, but whom my followers invariably called Tsofo (old man), was secured for me by the French officer at Tanout, so that I would have a man familiar with hunting, and, above all, familiar with the puzzling sameness of the level seas of low bush-forest which prevailed in the Takoukout region. Tsofo, as I too called him, since the name fitted so well, had the reputation of being a great _chasseur_ who had lived his life hunting the wild animals of the bush with snare and bow and arrows, which primitive devices are the only ones available to the natives for pursuit of the chase in the country.

For the purpose of hunting, and, particularly as a means of defence, bows and arrows are universally in use in Damergou, and an adult male native is seldom seen abroad, no matter on what business he is intent, without bow in hand and a leather sheath, containing usually about fifteen arrows, slung from a cord over the left shoulder. The same weapon is much used in Damagarim and Kano provinces, but not to the same extent as in this still more remote and exposed zone, where the need for an arm for protection is imperative, since among the natives there is not only lingering dread of robbers descending across the desert from the north, but also the wild instinct of very primitive people, in dreadfully primitive surroundings, to wage war, one against the other, under the grim impulse of an existence that demands self-protection before all else, and upholds the faith that life is a struggle for “the survival of the fittest.” The European law of the country forbids any natives to possess fire-arms.

But, to return to Tsofo, I will endeavour to describe him, for he was an odd character in appearance and constitution, and at the same time somewhat typical of many of his kind. When I first laid eyes on him, I could not believe that the ill-clad, unkempt creature that stood before me was the chosen hunter that was to accompany me. Upon my word, I never saw a dirtier native; his bit of a gown, once white, now a smoked blackish colour, was cast carelessly over his shoulder and hung in rags about him, full of rents and badly frayed round the bottom edge; beneath this he wore an equally discoloured buck-skin loin-cloth and apron. He carried not a scrap of food when he joined me, and had nothing about his person except bow and arrows, and a hatchet and hunting-knife of his own crude making. Undoubtedly he was past his prime, in fact he was an old man, despite the stalwart framework that remained of deep chest, and mighty thighs and lower limbs which bespoke an athlete. His face was so wrinkled with exposure, and with frowning beneath the fierce rays of the sunlight, and so unkempt that it would be unkind to estimate his character by it. The coarse hair on his head and the scrub-beard on his chin were almost entirely grey, and his watery red-rimmed eyes betrayed declining years.

He wore a broad-brimmed, high-crowned hat, locally woven with dyed grasses, which was not unlike the garish headgear of a Spanish muleteer. On his feet he wore rough sandals cut to shape from a single piece of thick antelope-hide. He was a Beri-Beri native of a very primitive class, and most of his kind that I have seen have fine physique, but coarse features of heavy unattractive type, and I have often doubted the purity of their breeding.

As I have said, it would be unkind to judge Tsofo’s character by his unprepossessing appearance, so I will tell you how I found him in daily life. In his favour be it said: he knew perfectly the bush country where we hunted, and, during many long journeys in the most difficult bush I have ever encountered, he never failed to find his way back to the base camp, though he had one or two occasions for anxiety. On the other hand, Sakari, the Hausa boy, was quite bewildered in this country, and got separated from us and lost on three occasions, which goes to show that all natives have not that marvellous faculty of travelling in a given direction with animal-like instinct and memory, which is usually their most striking gift. On account of this shortcoming, it is interesting to note that Sakari had lived most of his life in Lagos and Kano, and belonged to a family of shop-keepers, so that no doubt environment, which has such a powerful influence on the character of mankind as well as on the lesser creatures of the earth, had much to do with his loss of natural instinct.

Tsofo’s knowledge of the bush was his greatest asset; as a hunter he was not a success, for undoubtedly he was too old, as I will explain below. But he was most eager to serve me and to bag game, and spared no pains to that end. Also he was on friendly terms with the few nomad Tuaregs who came about the shallow wells at Takoukout to water their herds and fill their water-skins. (With them this old hand at travelling light and camping anywhere bartered part of his share of the buck-meat killed, so that he could have millet-meal (_Dawa_) and goat cheese (_Chuku_) to vary his diet.) He was kindly disposed to all he met, and had always a word and a hand-pat for children, while he never attempted that domineering attitude which natives are so prone to assume, when backed by a white man’s presence, to bully some gift from the frightened bush-people.

Being an old man, long days were too much for Tsofo, but, even so, he never dropped behind while he hunted, though the efforts of the day often caused him to groan with pain and complain of sickness when we got into camp at night. He had wonderful strength and endurance for his age, and I often found myself admiring his dogged gait, though it was nothing less than pure animal toughness of the kind which one associates with tramps, or tinkers in the old country, who live outdoors the year round, and care little for bodily comfort and cleanliness so long as they can secure enough to eat.

Tsofo had his limitations: he would eat food in almost any condition and in large improvident quantities. When he joined my caravan he was well-nigh in a starving condition, and when a gazelle was killed for food, the old man fell upon it like a jackal, starting on the raw entrails, when disembowelling the animal, and thereafter cooking and eating meat until he was completely gorged. Next day he was sick and not so greedy, but he soon recovered, and before long I knew him to be a savage, untamed glutton when he had food in his possession. The old rascal, I’m sure, had been a very fine hunter and tracker, for he knew all the “tricks of the trade,” as it were, and the habits of the animals; but both eyesight and hearing were impaired to such an extent that he altogether lacked the acutely keyed keenness of those senses, which are essential to good hunting. I soon found that he was a blunderer after he had spoilt a chance or two to shoot in failing to detect the first slight movement of wary game, while he proved a dreadfully slow tracker, because, by reason of his bad eyesight, he often overshot the footprints he was following in the sand, and had to search about to pick up the right track again. His knowledge of the bush was invaluable, and, besides, he had an unassuming character that pleased me, so I always took him out, but when I understood his weakness, I did not allow him to join me up in front, but bade him follow some hundred yards behind.

Before I proceed to deal with the actual search for ostriches, I feel I should make reference to the climate, and its fierce antagonism to comfortable hunting in this part of the world.

I would not like to boldly assert that the climate in the Western Sudan is unhealthy for Europeans, for such an assertion might appear unjust in the estimation of some men of very adaptable and robust constitution, but on the whole I think it can justly be said that the climate is such as belongs to Central Africa in general, and that therefore it already has an accepted reputation for being very hot and trying. North of the neighbourhood of Kano there is no open water or marsh in the dry season (approximately from October to July), so that for the greater part of the year no hanging dampness, no mosquitoes, and no malaria are experienced in the country with which I am dealing—which is so much to the good. On the other hand you have a mighty opponent to comfort and health in the form of the merciless sun, which glares down upon the white glittering sand-surface of the earth with unmitigated fierceness, laying an awesome withering breathlessness upon the land which saps the energy of man and beast, so that they perforce forsake their occupations for the greater part of the day and seek rest in the shade; while even the plant life cannot survive the remorseless moisture-consuming oppressor in the sky, and leaves and grass that were green in the short rainy season, lie wilted and bleached on the sand. We Europeans of temperate zones love the sun, but I’m afraid Old Sol is a graceless and greedy robber of the earth’s vitality in some climes, and here, where Nature has raised no compact leafy screen upon the land, nor sends not clouds across the sky, he well-nigh reigns supreme over smitten wastes that lie wretchedly subdued because of his unopposed power. On account of the intense heat, and the exhaustion resultant therefrom, I found the climate very trying at times, for there are many occasions when the hunter must be afoot all day in the open, while, even if he chances to be in camp, the collector seldom enjoys relaxation from his busy labours by the specimen bench during the valuable hours of daylight. Records of temperature on 27th March read: 7 a.m., 58% Fahr.; noon, 105% Fahr.; 8 p.m., 71% Fahr. I have brought up the subject of climate at this juncture, because it was at Takoukout that I felt the heat more trying than at any other period—in fact, it temporarily sapped my strength to such an extent that I came near collapsing under the strain of day after day searching the stifling hot waterless country for restless, ever-travelling ostriches.

I will not enter into every incident of the unlucky hunting that I experienced at Takoukout, but will quote from my diary a few records of typical days. In all I hunted twenty days for ostriches and saw sixteen birds, _but never fired a shot at any of them_. Nevertheless, the general details of hunting them are, I feel sure, not without peculiar interest, and on that account I am induced to give some personal experiences.

_7th March._—Away hunting all day. Left camp 6.30 a.m.; returned 5.30 p.m. Set out north-west till noon, then north till 3 p.m., then south-east to camp. Searched again for ostriches without seeing any; a few tracks encountered, all leading westward. In late afternoon, having seen no ostriches, I decided to break the silence, which I was particular to preserve so long as there was hope of coming on any of the great wary birds, and to shoot gazelle, if the opportunity offered when nearing camp. Now, the country within the last bush-belt is rich in game, and a day never passed without seeing some beautiful gazelle-creatures which surely must rank among the most noble on earth, so delicate in form are they, so superbly graceful, so joyously alive in activity and in the sheen of health that casts a glamour over their soft rich coats, so proud with their finely poised heads and large inquiring eyes and nostrils. There were three species of them: sometimes dainty little Dorcas Gazelles, pale fawn in colour, like the dry grass and sand, would be encountered in small lots of two, four, and five, and occasionally in herds of about ten to fifteen in the open sandy glades, which they seem to prefer to frequent; sometimes, again, the rich rufous Red-fronted Gazelles would be seen among the acacias, usually single, in pairs, or in threes and fours—never in herds; while yet again the big and striking Dama Gazelles would be encountered—striking because of the large amount of conspicuous white which they possess. They are the largest species of the genus. They were occasionally seen single, but are much given to associate in herds of ten, twenty, thirty, or more. (Later on, in August, after the advent of the Rains, which had caused a tall rank grass to spring up in the bush and gave leaf to the acacias, so that the country appeared much more enclosed and vastly changed from the open barrenness which it possessed in the dry season, those animals appeared to be migrating northward out into the desert margin; no doubt so that they might breathe the wind of the open places, and be to some extent free from flies, and feed on the fresh delicate grasses that were then sprouting forth. On one notable day, when between Tegguidi and Abellama—before the bush belt is entered when journeying from the north—I passed herd after herd of Dama Gazelles, and was able to get close enough on three occasions to count the numbers. The totals were 37, 44, and 84, and in each case I probably overlooked a few.

The local Hausa names of those three species are: Dorcas Gazelle, _Matakundi_; Red-fronted Gazelle, _Barewa_; Dama Gazelle, _Mena_, sometimes _Myna_. The Hausa for ostrich is _Jimmina_.

From the above may be gathered some idea of buck we expected to see on this evening of which I am writing; true, there were other kinds, but so rarely seen that, as a general rule, they could be discounted, though their clean-cut tracks in the sand were occasionally crossed. As far as my observations go, those others were White Oryx, Korrigum, and Giraffe.

We were still a fair distance from camp when a nice herd of a dozen Dama Gazelles were sighted, and, after a certain amount of running and dodging to keep a screen of bush cover between the herd and myself, I got a good view of them, and managed to drop the animal that appeared to have the best head. I got another as they jumped and paused to ascertain from which direction the danger threatened, and yet another in following them up a little way; for, besides wanting specimens, meat was needed in camp for all the natives—fresh meat and sun-dried. One of the animals was a splendid male, but, as so often happens, the fine head was spoilt through one horn being slightly deformed and broken at the tip. However, one female was a good specimen, and, as both sexes were desirable, I reserved it for a museum specimen, and told the natives not to cut it in any way. The other two were disembowelled, and all were then loaded on to the two camels that had come up from the rear, where they had been following unseen. The day was then drawing to a close, but incident was not yet finished with, for, before reaching camp, I stalked and shot a Red-fronted Gazelle—also a nice museum specimen—and missed its companion.

_8th March._—In camp all day skinning and preserving two gazelles, one jackal, and a few small birds.

_9th March._—Left camp at daybreak to continue search for ostrich. Travelled eastward. Made short halt at 10 a.m. Nothing, so far, has been seen of our quarry, though four tracks of yesterday’s making were crossed—three of them leading in a southerly direction and one in northerly direction. Five Dorcas Gazelles seen about time of halting. Continued on the move after a brief consultation with Tsofo, at the same time changing direction more into the north, and soon entered country where bush was more plentiful, for previously it had been very open and the scrub thin. But up to noon-time nothing seen moving; sun blazing hot. Lunched and lay watchful for a time in the doubtful shade of a poor-leaved tree, while the natives slept.

Resumed search through bush about 2 p.m., about which time some Dama Gazelles were seen resting in the heat of day. Those animals were given a wide berth and left undisturbed, as is my unvarying custom when the search for ostrich is afoot. In my opinion, to disturb any such game which, for the time being, happen to be of secondary interest, and set them hurrying away before you in alarm, is almost as bad as to lose patience and fire an unimportant shot, for in both cases you stand to spoil the great chance you hope for, since there is always the possibility of giving warning to the creatures you seek, and which may at any moment be at hand all unknown to the hunter.

Close on 4 p.m. we came upon a very fresh ostrich track where a bird had passed about two hours earlier in the afternoon. Followed track some distance, but bird not seen, and gave up, as there appeared no prospect of overtaking it before darkness set in; indeed, so far as that was concerned, there was no certainty that it would be overtaken even in a whole day’s travelling, for they are birds that are incessantly moving on from place to place, while, if alarmed, they run long distances before assured that they are safe from their enemies.

Leaving the ostrich tracks, we started on a long wearisome journey in a westerly direction to camp, while the sun set and the day finished. I and the natives—Sakari, Tsofo, and the man with the camels—showed much relief and gladness when at last, after the trying labour of picking our way over rough unfamiliar country in the dark, we caught the welcome light of our camp-fires, beckoning from afar; and we were safely back in camp an hour and a half after dark.

From what I have thus far seen, added to local information gleaned from more than one quarter, I am satisfied that ostriches are far from plentiful in this isolated strip of country that they inhabit, and it has been, and will continue to be, hard hunting to secure the desired specimens— long arduous days of tracking through the sand-swept bush, beneath the inextinguishable sun, until one day, perchance, we meet across each other’s tracks. Tsofo, the old native hunter, claims that for a number of years hunting conditions within the territory have been undergoing change owing to the influx of nomad Tuaregs, with their herds of goats and cattle, from the neighbourhood of Aïr. Those natives in small numbers are now scattered about in the bush at distant intervals, and, possibly, if they were sedentary, no harm would be done, but the necessity of constantly changing to fresh ground, so that enough food may be found for their herds, and their own strong nomadic instincts, lead those Tuaregs to range from place to place continually and disturb considerable areas, and Tsofo rightly claims that this circumstance greatly tends to frighten any timid game such as the ostrich, for nothing is more disturbing to their keen senses than to come across the tainted trail which clumsy herds of domestic animals invariably leave behind wherever they happen to pass, or pause in feeding. Tsofo declares, and no doubt there is a lot of truth in his statement, that when the French occupied Agades (the first French military mission visited Agades in 1904), some of the wild unenthralled Tuaregs of Aïr fled from the country in fear of the invaders and scattered broadcast on the edge of the desert as far south as the neighbourhood of Tanout in their secretive, gipsy-like wanderings.

_10th March._—Hunting as unfruitful as yesterday.

_11th March._—Almost at dark, after a long uneventful tramp through the bush, I at last sighted ostrich. Crossing from a bare open glade, and approaching quite close to an edge of fairly thick bush, I suddenly stood motionless in my stride, for I had seen the head and neck of an ostrich just within the cover. The acacias awkwardly blocked further view, and breathlessly I made a short careful creep forward. When I rose, inch by inch, to peer forward, I found I was quite close to a great black male ostrich, but, unfortunately, it stood on the far side of a tree, and the trunk and all intervening branches and foliage hid it to such an extent that I could not discern head from tail, nor where to place a fatal shot. Therefore I tried to change my position very slightly, and was in the act of doing so, when, of a sudden, another bird on my right, a grey hen which I had not seen amongst the bushes nor thought of guarding against, rushed off in alarm, startling the bird I was stalking and two others. In an instant, almost, they were out of sight among the bushes, and although I rushed forward hoping that an open space was not far ahead and that I would get a shot at them making off, I had no such luck, and never saw them again. My disappointment was acute, the more so because I had plenty of time to fire from the first position, after crawling forward, if I had foreseen what was to follow, and taken the risk of getting a lucky shot home.

Who that is a sportsman does not know disappointment of the kind? I fancy we all do, and, moreover, have been lured on to stick to many a difficult quest in once having seen and let escape some much-prized quarry. Does not the fisherman who has risen a nice fish and missed it, after many patient hours on the water, go on thereafter with a new zest and a brighter outlook? It was so in my case; and, instead of returning to Takoukout, and having sufficient water on the camels, we camped out in the bush this night with a new excitement, and hoping to make amends on the morrow.

_12th March._—Camped comfortably overnight.

Hopes awakened by yesterday’s experience doomed to disappointment, for the day’s hunting brought no reward. Returned to camp in the afternoon; very tired, for the sun and the glittering sand take it out of one. The sun seems to hold its fatiguing intensity from 9 a.m. till 4 p.m. at this time of year.

A number of gazelles seen, and tracks in the sand are constantly crossed. It is splendid country for tracking, and most interesting to read and study the signs upon the smooth sand.

Sand covers the whole earth in this country, and reminds me much of a land of snow. The level wastes, that are random planted with wiry, hard-living thorn trees (acacias), have patches that are wind-swept and crusted to hardness underfoot, and there are soft driftings in the slight declivities and about the plant roots, while the grass is so scant in most places, that the few blades that stand have the aspect of such as peep above the surface of a country that has been the victim of a deep fall of snow.

_13th March._—A day in camp. Feeling somewhat overstrained. Skinned birds all forenoon; collected ten more in afternoon. Giving bush a rest in hope that I’ll have more luck next outing.

_14th March._—Greater part of day skinning eleven birds. Toward evening made short hunt to secure meat for camp, and had a few shots at gazelle, wounding two, but failed to get either of them. I shot badly: possibly through being overtired.

When about to turn home, I stood on a slight elevation and looked out across a wide shallow hollow on to an open grass slope similar to the one I occupied, and carefully scanned the distant view, more from habit than in hope of seeing anything of particular interest. My surprise was therefore manifest to the natives with me when I discovered four black-looking objects, like boulders or small dark shrubs, in the far distance, that moved and were undoubtedly ostriches. In an instant the blacks were beside me imbued with excitement equal to my own as I pointed out the birds. Immediately, for receding day threatened to frustrate this lucky chance, I started on a long encircling stalk, since the birds were in an open position that was difficult to approach unseen, and great care had to be exercised, for ostriches are endowed with wonderfully keen eyesight. Unfortunately, when I cast in toward the position of the quarry, I saw nothing, and thought I had misjudged the place and was a little too high on the slope. I then cast lower down, but with no better result, and soon picked up their tracks leading westward on to the summit of the rise. Perhaps I had been heard by the birds, for pebbles crunched annoyingly underfoot in places, or perhaps they had merely shifted onward in feeding; I could not tell, for I had been out of sight of them almost since the stalk began. They might still be quite close; but that availed me nothing, for the moments of daylight, that had been precious, were finished. So there was nothing for it but to give up and return to camp empty-handed.

_15th March._—Left camp at daybreak, taking with me two mounted native escort, two camels and camel-men, Tsofo, and Sakari in charge of my horse. I usually have a horse following behind in case it should be required in an emergency, but never use it in actual hunting, for the hoofs resound over loudly for my liking, and I prefer to be far out ahead of all following, excepting one native gun-bearer, and, on foot, moving along as quietly as possible. I took a larger following than usual on this occasion, and camels to carry skins of water, as I intended to be away some days.

Travelled all day in north-westerly direction, but no ostriches seen, and only two single tracks of them were crossed.

At dusk shot one gazelle for food, and camped at the kill for the night.

Gazelle continue to be constantly seen. I have noted that Dama Gazelles have a remarkable tendency to run up-wind when alarmed, an impulse so strong that if you know this habit, and make to get nearly between them and the wind, instead of making directly for them, they will almost certainly pass you as they run away. As a general rule they are very alert animals, and more difficult to stalk than either the Red-fronted or Dorcas Gazelles.

_16th March._—Moved on again at daylight, first heading westward, then swinging more into the north under the direction of Tsofo, making for a well on the Agades trail named Tchingaraguen, so that the horses could be watered and the water-skins refilled. During the morning oryx and giraffe tracks were seen on the sand, which were the only incidents of note. Oryx tracks were not uncommon, but giraffe tracks were seldom seen during my wanderings through this bush. Neither animal was important to my collections, so that I did not attempt to follow their tracks.

We reached Tchingaraguen about 11 a.m., and made short halt while I breakfasted and the horses were watered—the poor brutes were desperately thirsty. This half-barren, shadeless sand country is not a land for horses, and they suffer a lot from the heat, while fodder is miserably poor. I have resolved that when I move on to Agades I will leave my horse behind at Tanout and henceforth ride a camel.

Leaving Tchingaraguen, we crossed the Agades track and held south-east. In other words, we had reached the crown of the huge circular trail we were making through the country, with the starting-point at Takoukout; we had covered the western side of that circle, and had now the eastern side to trace in on the way homeward. The country we entered, once well clear of the watering-place, held more encouraging signs than hitherto, for a fair number of footprints were seen upon the sand, sometimes where an ostrich had passed, sometimes where birds had been feeding on the bleak acacias or on a little patch of living ground weed; once, too, I came upon the “form” where a bird had recently had a sand-bath, and picked up a few feathers which had dropped out while the bird rolled in the dust. But they are birds that are ever on the move, here one hour and gone the next; and this day I never sighted a bird.

There is at least one substantial reason at the present time for the restless wanderings of the ostrich, while I am not at all sure that it does not account for their scarcity of numbers for the time being in the territory. It was Tsofo who first drew my attention to the marked scarcity of ostrich food. Time and again the old man, who knew this country like a book, though he had not hunted in it for more than a year back, led me to places where he knew, from past experience, that there should be good feeding-ground for the birds. But always when we got to these chosen places where their favourite plants were expected to be abundant, he would look sadly about him, for the bushes were almost as bare as dead trees, and scarcely a plant grew on the soil that was not burnt up. The good old fellow at such times bravely held his tongue, so that he would not dishearten me, unaware that it was easy to detect his disappointments and make one’s own deductions. It was not difficult to see that the growth was suffering from a water-famine, and when at last I taxed Tsofo on the poor state of the country, he confessed his surprise at finding it in such condition, and said that the cause must lie in the fact that no plentiful rain fell in the territory last year. At a later date I happened to learn that at Agades in the same year—1919—small rainfall had occurred only on two days, and there is little doubt that there was a similar drought further south, and that Tsofo spoke the truth.

But nevertheless it is difficult to conceive that a land, where so fierce a sun is dominant, can survive without rainfall for almost two years (sometimes, the natives declare, they experience drought for so long as three years in succession), and it is little wonder that, with such grim set-backs to existence, the ground is largely barren and the bush-growth stunted.

But that the plants of the earth do not always survive, I can vouch for, for when I passed east of the mountains of Tarrouaji in Aïr later in the year, I saw there a belt of standing acacia bush, on the edge of mountain and desert, that was quite dead, and to all appearance from no other cause than from lack of nourishment. It was an eerie sight and a desolate one: every bush dead, the limbs colourless and lifeless, and the bark hanging therefrom in shreds—a graveyard, where the struggle for existence had been greater than could be withstood.

It was not difficult to ascertain which plants the ostriches fed on at the season I was hunting them, for one could tell by the tracks in the sand exactly where a bird stopped in the act of feeding, while careful survey of the foliage further revealed where pieces had been broken off. I brought home those plants that were known to me as food of the ostrich so that they might have authoritative identification, and I give some notes on them herewith; while I am indebted to Dr. A. B. Rendle, of the British Museum, for their scientific names:

1. _Cassia_ nr. _obovata_ (Leguminosæ) Hausa: Filasko. “Senegal Senna.” A small low shrub, with yellow flowers and short flat pods, which curve in a quarter circle and have a raised saw-edged rib down their centre. The local natives claim this plant to be the one most sought after by ostriches.

2. _Cucumis_ sp. (Cucurbitaceæ) Hausa: Gurji. A small ground-creeping gourd, which has often long-reaching trailers. Ostriches feed on the leaves of this plant.

3. _Mœrua rigida R. Br._ (Capparidaceæ) Hausa: Chichiwa. A small tree, with white flowers and tiny elongated leaves.

4. _Oxystelma bornouense R. Br._ (Asclepiadaceæ) Hausa: Hanjin Rago. A slender, climbing creeper, which flourishes in the topmost branches of acacia trees, there overreaching and having green foliage in a thick cluster. When trees are almost bare of leaves, as often is the case in the dry season, the clumps of green of this parasite in the tree-tops are conspicuous and easy to find, which is perhaps a kind provision of Nature, so that the creatures who seek such food may be guided to it from afar. The leaves of the plant contain considerable juice, and it is the second favourite food of the ostrich; while it is also a rich titbit for camels, who are very fond of it.

Native hunters of the territory know those plants well, and utilise the knowledge to secure the downfall of many an ostrich; for it is where they expect birds to feed that they conceal the traps that are the only means by which they can capture them, for ostriches are too wary to be shot with bow and arrow. The ostrich trap is of the same kind as that which the natives use for antelope (and for wild sheep in Aïr), but it is of a much larger size and stronger. It is constructed in this way: two wands about the thickness of half an inch are relaxed in hot water and bent into the form of a complete circle which has a diameter of 14 in.; those rods are bound at their meeting points, and allowed to dry and set in the form of a rigid hoop, whereupon they are laid together, while closely grouped hard unbending straws, about the length of a pencil, are inserted between them and stoutly bound in place with strips of bark; all the straws radiate to the inside centre, but do not quite meet, so that, though they are held firmly on the circular frame, they have no support whatever where they converge in the centre, therefore the finished article is a flat tray of rigid straws, which is firm around the rim, but is subject to collapse outward in the centre if any great weight be put upon it. The contrivance looks a simple enough thing, but there is more in the construction than first appears. The trap is for ostrich, and on that account it is desirable that smaller animals shall not “spring it,” and the resourceful hunters have hit on the solution to a nicety, simply by increasing the thickness and rigidity of the straws, so that they will give beneath the weight of an ostrich, while they will remain undisturbed beneath the footstep of a gazelle.

To set an ostrich trap, a hole is excavated in the sand, say, beneath an acacia thorn, which bears an attractive cluster of the plant _Oxystelma bornouense_, and exactly where it is anticipated a bird will stand that is intent on reaching the choice foliage; this hole is 10 to 12 in. in diameter, so that when the straw tray is laid over it, the greater part of the surface lies over the cavity, while the rim is firmly held on the edge of the pit. When the tray is in position, a very strong noose made out of plaited raw-hide thongs, and opened to a diameter similar to the rim of the tray, is laid over it, and the end attached to a stout log: this log is buried beneath the sand, while the tray and noose are also concealed by smoothing the sand surface over them until every sign of disturbance of the soil is obliterated. If an ostrich chance to visit the place, and approaches to feed on the small clump of green leaves, with his eyes fixed upon the coveted morsel, he will almost certainly step upon the concealed tray; whereupon his foot breaks through it into the hole, and the noose jumps upward and is around the limb when the unfortunate bird hurriedly withdraws the foot from the hole. Thus he is caught; snared so securely that, powerful bird though he is, he has no hope of breaking loose. He will yet go a long distance, but trailing the log behind him, and leaving the tell-tale marks of it in the sand wherever he goes—and his captors will find him in the end.

_17th March._—Off again at daylight. But first searched for a Dama Gazelle which I had wounded at camp almost at dark on the night before, and had been unable to find it. Almost where we had given up tracking it on the previous night we found the animal’s deathbed, but only pools of blood-discoloured sand, and some green grazings from the stomach, so completely had the animal been devoured in the night by jackals and hyenas. I wanted to find the head, for I thought it was a very fine one when shooting at the animal, and I had all the natives search the neighbourhood of the kill. But so complete had been the meal of the night-prowlers, that not a vestige of anything was found except one solitary piece of shoulder-blade.

To-day travelled south-east, but in morning nothing seen except gazelle. However, about 10 a.m., advancing cautiously over a low ridge, I saw at last a single ostrich; but the sharp-eyed brute saw me at the same time also, and cleared right away, very wild. The sun was now blazing hot, but we had to keep going incessantly, as the water-skins were almost empty, and we had a long way to go to reach Takoukout before sundown.

About noon again sighted ostriches—three of them away to the west in fairly open country. Made long stalk, keeping out of sight in the slight hollows, but could not overtake the birds, as they were moving too rapidly; followed them a long way, but finally had to give up. Throughout the remainder of the day no more birds were seen, and we reached Takoukout at sundown, after being three days in the bush, and having seen, in that time, but four ostriches, distant and wild. Very glad to get into camp; our water was finished, and all were very done up with the excessive heat. The poor horses drank till I thought they would collapse.

_20th and 21st March._—Two fruitless days hunting for ostrich. Not a bird seen. Travelled north, then west to Eleki, and returned to camp on second day. Brought back one Dama Gazelle, two Dorcas Gazelles, one partridge, and four small specimens.

I have endeavoured to give an idea of hard hunting in a dreary belt of country, and beneath a pitiless sun, where the reward desired was withheld to the bitter end. It is a chapter of adversity, such as we all meet at some time or other in our experiences of life, but may still hold some value, even although the chief pursuit devolved in failure.