Chapter I: Part 1

IN WILDEST AFRICA

IN WILDEST AFRICA

BY
C. G. SCHILLINGS
AUTHOR OF “WITH FLASHLIGHT AND RIFLE IN EQUATORIAL EAST AFRICA”

TRANSLATED BY
FREDERIC WHYTE

=WITH OVER 300 PHOTOGRAPHIC STUDIES DIRECT FROM THE AUTHOR’S
NEGATIVES, TAKEN BY DAY AND NIGHT; AND OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS=

VOL. II

LONDON
HUTCHINSON & CO.
PATERNOSTER ROW
1907

Contents of Vol. II

CHAP PAGE

VIII. IN A PRIMEVAL FOREST 319

IX. AFTER ELEPHANTS WITH WANDOROBO 370

X. RHINOCEROS-HUNTING 431

XI. THE CAPTURING OF A LION 470

XII. A DYING RACE OF GIANTS 511

XIII. A VANISHING FEATURE OF THE VELT 550

XIV. CAMPING OUT ON THE VELT 578

XV. NIGHT PHOTOGRAPHY UNDER DIFFICULTIES 637

XVI. PHOTOGRAPHY BY DAY AND BY NIGHT 657

List of Illustrations in Vol. II

PAGE

Young Dwarf Antelope v

Cormorants vii

Spurred Geese 319

Views of Kilimanjaro 322, 323, 327

River-bed Vegetation on the Velt 331

A Fisherman’s Bag 335

Clatter-bills 340, 341

A Marsh-land View 346

Snow-white Herons 347

A Pair of Crested Cranes 349

A Snake-vulture 349

Preparing to Skin a Hippopotamus 352

Hippopotami Swimming 353

Head of a Hippopotamus 357

A Wandorobo Chief 359

Egyptian Geese 364

A Wounded Buffalo 365

Hunting Record-card 367

A Sea-gull 369

A Masai throwing his Spear 370

A Hippopotamus on his way to the Swamp _facing_ 370

Oryx Antelopes 374

Waterbuck 375

Wandorobo Guides on the March 380

A Party of Wandorobo Hunters 381

A Feast of Honey 386

Acacia-tree denuded by Elephants 387

An Oryx Antelope’s Methods of Defence 389

A Dwarf Kudu 390

Zebras 392

Giraffe Studies 392

Zebras on the open Velt 393

Laden Masai Donkeys 397

Pearl-hens on an Acacia-tree 393

A pair of Grant’s Gazelles taking to Flight _facing_ 398

Grant’s Gazelles 402

A Good Instance of Protective Colouring 402

Grant’s Gazelles 403, 408, 409

Young Masai Hartebeest 411

A Herd of Hartebeests 414

Hartebeests with Young 415

Waterbuck 415

The Skinning of an Elephant 420, 421

A Missionary’s Dwelling 424

Elephants killed by the Author 426, 427

Some African Trophies 429

Black-headed Herons 431

Rhinoceros Heads 434, 435

An Eland Bull _facing_ 438

An Eland, just before the Finishing Shot 441

An Eland Bull 445

Rhinoceroses, with and without Horns 450, 451

Snapshot of a Rhinoceros at twenty paces 455

Shelter from a Rhinoceros 459

An Emaciated Rhinoceros 461

Specimen of Stone against which Rhinoceroses whet their Horns 463

A “Rhino” in sitting posture _facing_ 464

A Rock-pool on Kilimanjaro 467

Masai Killing a Hyena with Clubs 470

The Moods of a Lion Cub 472, 473

Record of a Lion-hunt 479

A Lion at Bay 483

Studies of a Trapped Lion 485

The Lion ... had dragged the Trap some distance _facing_ 488

Carrying a Live Lion to Camp 489

A Captured Lioness 492

A Trapped Lion roaring 493

Flashlight Photograph of a Lion 495

Photograph of a Lion at five paces 499

Hauling a Live Hyena into Camp 501

Hyena Chained up in Camp 505

Masai making game of a Trapped Hyena 507

Specimens of Elephant-tusks 511

Record Elephant-tusks 513

A Store of Elephant-tusks 517

Auk and Auk’s Egg 521

Thicket frequented by Elephants 525

Velt Fires 532, 533

An old Acacia-tree 537

Studies of Elephants in Dense Forest Growth _facing_ 540

Elephants and Giraffe--a Quaint Companionship 544, 545

A Young Lion 549

Study in Protective “Mimicry” 550

Giraffe Studies 552, 553; 558, 559; 564, 565

Giraffes in Characteristic Surroundings _facing_ 568

Head of a Giraffe 569

Giraffe Studies 574, 575

_Giraffa schillingsi_, Mtsch. _facing_ 576

Crested Cranes on the Wing 577

Hungry Vultures 578

Pitching Camp 579

My Taxidermist at Work 581

Termite Ant-hills 583

An unusually large Ant-hill 587

Prince Löwenstein 589

Destroying an Ant-hill with Pick and Shovel 590

Serving out Provisions 592

Bearer’s Wife preparing a Meal 592

Young Baboons in front of my Tent 593

Young Ostriches 593

Marabou Nests 595, 598

Feathered members of my Camp 599

A rather Mixed-up Photograph 601

My Rhinoceros: in the Berlin “Zoo” and on the Velt 606, 607

How my captive “Rhino” was Carried to Camp 612

Carrying a Dead Leopard 612

My “Rhino” and her Two Companions 613

A Young Hyena extracted from its Lair 613

Vultures:
On the Wing 618
Hovering over a Carcase 619
Moving away from a Carcase 621

My Pelicans 623

A Siesta in Camp 625

A Strange Friendship 628

“Fatima” Prowling Round 629

Carrying a fine Leopard 631

Killing Game in accordance with Mohammedan rites 633

Cutting up the Carcase 633

A Trapped Leopard 635

The Baboon and the Little Black Lady 636

Moonlight on the Velt _facing_ 636

A Fowl of the Velt 637

A River-horse Resort 639

One of the Peaks of Donje-Erok 641

Drawing Water for the March 643

Vultures 645

Flashlight Photographs 648, 649

My Night-apparatus in position 653

A Pet of the Caravan 654

A Baobab-tree 655

Flashlight Photograph of a Mongoose 657

Apparatus for Night Photography 660, 661

Vultures contesting the Possession of Carrion 665

First Dry-plate Photograph, probably,
ever taken in the African Desert 667

Photographic Mishaps:
Cracked Glass Plate 669
Plate Exposed Twice 673

Telephotograph of Ostriches 677

Photographs of Birds taken at distances
varying from 20 to 200 paces 681

Telephotographs of Birds on the Wing 683

Dwarf Gazelle, photographed at sixty paces 684

Jackal taking to Flight, startled by the Flashlight 685

Lioness frightened away from Carcase
by the Flashlight _facing_ 688

Aiming at a Pigeon and Hitting a Crow! _facing_ 688

Hand-camera Photograph of a Jackal 689

Photograph of a Jackal taken with my
first Night-apparatus 689

Flashlight Photography: my Native Models 691

Flashlight Failures 694, 695; 697, 698

Photographic Studies of Antelopes shot by the Author 699

Jackals _facing_ 702

East-African Antelopes shot by the Author 703

More Antelopes 707

Spotted and Striped Hyenas and Jackal 711

A Jackal in full Flight 713

Guinea-fowl 715

Farewell to Africa 716

VIII

In a Primeval Forest

Scenes of marvellous beauty open out before the wanderer who follows the windings of some great river through the unknown regions of Equatorial East Africa.

The dark, turbid stream is to find its way, after a thousand twists and turns, into the Indian Ocean. Filterings from the distant glaciers of Kilimanjaro come down into the arid velt, there to form pools and rivulets that traverse in part the basin of the Djipe Lake and at last are merged in the Rufu River. As is so often the case with African rivers, the banks of the Rufu are densely wooded throughout its long course, the monotony of which is broken by a number of rapids and one big waterfall. Save in those rare spots where the formation of the soil is favourable to their growth, the woods do not extend into the velt. Trees and shrubs alike become parched a few steps away from the sustaining river. The abundance of fish in the river is tremendous in its wilder reaches--inexhaustible, it would seem, despite the thousands of animal enemies. The river continually overflows its banks, and the resulting swamps give such endless opportunities for spawning that at times every channel is alive with fry and inconceivable multitudes of small fishes.

It is only here and there and for short stretches that the river is lost in impenetrable thickets. Marvellous are those serried ranks of trees! marvellous, too, the sylvan galleries through which more usually it shapes its way! They take the eye captive and seem to withhold some unsuspected secret, some strange riddle, behind their solid mass of succulent foliage. It is strange that these primeval trees should still survive in all their strength with all the parasitic plants and creepers that cling to them, strangling them in their embrace. You would almost say that they lived on but as a prop to support the plants and creepers in their fight for life. Convolvuli, white and violet, stoop forward over the water, and the golden yellow acacia blossoms brighten the picture.

In the more open reaches dragonflies and butterflies glisten all around us in the moist atmosphere. A grass-green tree-snake glides swiftly through the branches of a shrub close by. A Waran (_Waranus niloticus_) runs to the water with a strange sudden rustle through the parched foliage. Everywhere are myriads of insects. Wherever you look, the woods teem with life. These woods screen the river from the neighbouring velt, the uniformity of which is but seldom broken in upon by patches of vegetation. The character of the flora has something northern about it to the unlearned eye, as is the case so often in East Africa. It is only when you come suddenly upon the Dutch palms (_Borassus æthiopicus_, Mart., or the beautiful _Hyphæne thebaica_, Mart.) that you feel once again that you are in the tropics.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

VIEW OF MAWENZI, THE HIGHEST PEAK BUT ONE OF KILIMANJARO, TAKEN WITH A TELEPHOTO-LENS.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

VIEW OF KILIMANJARO, TAKEN AT SUNSET.]

The river now makes a great curve round to the right. A different kind of scene opens out to the gaze--a great stretch of open country. In the foreground the mud-banks of the stream are astir with huge crocodiles gliding into the water and moving about this way and that, like tree-trunks come suddenly to life. Now they vanish from sight, but only to take up their position in ambush, ready to snap at any breathing thing that comes unexpectedly within their reach. Doubtless they find it the more easy to sink beneath the surface of the river by reason of the great number of sometimes quite heavy stones they have swallowed, and have inside them. I have sometimes found as much as seven pounds of stones and pebbles in the stomach of a crocodile.

The deep reaches of the river are their special domain. Multitudes of birds frequent the shallows, knowing from experience that they are safe from their enemy. One of the most interesting things that have come under my observation is the way these birds keep aloof from the deep waters which the crocodiles infest. I have mentioned it elsewhere, but am tempted to allude to it once again.

Our attention is caught by the wonderful wealth of bird-life now spread out before us in every direction. Here comes a flock of the curious clatter-bills (_Anastomus lamelligerus_, Tem.) in their simple but attractive plumage. They have come in quest of food. Hundreds of other marsh-birds of all kinds have settled on the outspread branches of the trees, and enable us to distinguish between their widely differing notes.

Among these old trees that overhang the river, covered with creepers and laden with fruit of quaint shape, are Kigelia, tamarinds, and acacias. In amongst the dense branches a family of Angolan guereza apes (_Colobus palliatus_, Ptrs.) and a number of long-tailed monkeys are moving to and fro. Now a flock of snowy-feathered herons (_Herodias garzetta_, L., and _Bubulcus ibis_, L.) flash past, dazzlingly white--two hundred of them, at least--alighting for a moment on the brittle branches and pausing in their search for food. Gravely moving their heads about from side to side, they impart a peculiar charm to the trees. Now another flock of herons (_Herodias alba_, L.), also dazzlingly white, but birds of a larger growth, speed past, flying for their lives. Why is it that even here, in this remote sanctuary of animal life, within which I am the first European trespasser, these beautiful birds are so timorous? Who can answer that question with any certainty? All we know is, that it has come to be their nature to scour about from place to place in perpetual flight. Perhaps in other lands they have made acquaintance with man’s destructiveness. Perhaps they are endowed with keener senses than their smaller snow-white kinsfolk, which suffer us to approach so near, and which, like the curious clatter-bill (which have never yet been seen in captivity), evince no sign of shyness--nothing but a certain mild surprise--at the sight of man.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

KIBO IN THE FOREGROUND, WITH THE SADDLE-SHAPED RANGE CONNECTING IT WITH MAWENZI IN THE DISTANCE. THE AVERAGE HEIGHT OF THIS “SADDLE” IS MORE THAN 16,OOO FEET.]

Now, with a noisy clattering of wings, those less comely creatures, the Hagedasch ibises, rise in front of us, filling the air with their extraordinary cry: “Heiha! Ha heiha!”

Now we have a strange spectacle before our eyes--a number of wild geese, perched upon the trees. The great, heavy birds make several false starts before they make up their minds to escape to safety. They present a beautiful sight as they make off on their powerful wings. They are rightly styled “spurred geese,” by reason of the sharp spurs they have on their wings. Hammerheads (_Scopus umbretta_, Gm.) move about in all directions. A colony of darters now comes into sight, and monopolises my attention. A few of their flat-shaped nests are visible among the pendent branches of some huge acacias, rising from an island in mid-stream. While several of the long-necked fishing-birds seek safety in flight, others--clearly the females--remain seated awhile on the eggs in their nests, but at last, with a sudden dart, take also to their wings and disappear. Beneath the nesting-places of these birds I found great hidden shaded cavities, the resorts for ages past of hippopotami, which find a safe and comfortable haven in these small islands.

The dark forms of these fishing-birds present a strange appearance in full flight. They speed past you swiftly, looking more like survivals from some earlier age than like birds of our own day. There is a suggestion of flying lizards about them. Here they come, describing a great curve along the river’s course, at a fair height. They are returning to their nests, and as they draw near I get a better chance of observing the varying phases of their flight.

But look where I may, I see all around me a wealth of tropical bird-life. Snow-white herons balance themselves on the topmost branches of the acacias. Barely visible against the deep-blue sky, a brood-colony of wood ibis pelicans (_Tantalus ibis_, L.) fly hither and thither, seeking food for their young. Other species of herons, notably the black-headed heron, so like our own common heron (_Ardea melanocephala_, Vig., Childr.), and further away a great flock of cow-herons (_Bubulcus ibis_, L.), brooding on the acacias upon the island, attract my attention. Egyptian Kingfishers (_Ceryle rudis_, L.) dart down to the water’s edge, and return holding tiny fishes in their beaks to their perch above.

The numbers and varieties of birds are in truth almost bewildering to the spectator. Here is a marabou which has had its midday drink and is keeping company for the moment with a pair of fine-looking saddled storks (_Ephippiorhynchus senegalensis_, Shaw); there great regiments of crested cranes; single specimens of giant heron (_Ardea goliath_, Cretzschm.) keep on the look-out for fish in a quiet creek; on the sandbanks, and in among the thickets alongside, a tern (_Œdicnemus vermiculatus_, Cab.) is enjoying a sense of security. Near it are gobbling Egyptian geese and small plovers. A great number of cormorants now fly past, some of them settling on the branches of a tree which has fallen into the water. They are followed by Tree-geese (_Dendrocygna viduata_, L.), some plovers and night-herons, numerous sea-swallows as well as seagulls; snipe (_Gallinago media_, Frisch.), and the strange painted snipe (_Rostratula bengalensis_, L.), the _Actophylus africanus_, and marsh-fowl (_Ortygometra pusilla obscura_, Neum.), spurred lapwing (_Hoplopterus speciosus_, Lcht.), and many other species. Now there rings out, distinguishable from all the others, the clear cry--to me already so familiar and so dear--of the screeching sea-eagle, that most typical frequenter of these riverside regions of Africa and so well meriting its name. A chorus of voices, a very Babel of sound, breaks continually upon the ear, for the varieties of small birds are also well represented in this region. The most beautiful of all are the cries of the organ-shrike and of the sea-eagle. The veritable concerts of song, however, that you hear from time to time are beyond the powers of description, and can only be cherished in the memory.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

RIVER-BED VEGETATION ON THE VELT.]

There is a glamour about the whole life of the African wonderland that recalls the forgotten fairy tales of childhood’s days, a sense of stillness and loveliness. Every curve of the stream tells of secrets to be unearthed and reveals unsuspected beauties, in the forms and shapes of the Phœnix palms and all the varieties of vegetation; in the indescribable tangle of the creepers; in the ever-changing effects of light and shade; finally in the sudden glimpses into the life of the animals that here make their home. You see the deep, hollowed-out passages down to the river that tell of the coming and going of the hippopotamus and rhinoceros, made use of also by the crocodiles. It is with a shock of surprise that you see a specimen of our own great red deer come hither at midday to quench his thirst--a splendid figure, considerably bigger and stronger than he is to be seen elsewhere. A herd of wallowing wart-hogs or river-swine will sometimes startle you into hasty retreat before you realise what they are. The tree-tops rock under the weight and motion of apes unceasingly scurrying from branch to branch. Every now and again the eye is caught by the sight of groups of crocodiles, now basking contentedly in the sun, now betaking themselves again to the water in that stealthy, sinister, gliding way of theirs.

Not so long ago the African traveller found such scenes as these along the banks of every river. Nowadays, too many have been shorn of all these marvels. Take, for instance, the old descriptions of the Orange River and of the animal life met with along its course. No trace of it now remains.

I should like to give a picture of the animal life still extant along the banks of the Pangani. The time is inevitably approaching when that, too, will be a thing of the past, for it is not to be supposed that advancing civilisation will prove less destructive here.

So recently as the year 1896 the course of the river was for the most part unknown. When I followed it for the second time in 1897, and when in subsequent years I explored both its banks for great distances, people were still so much in the dark about it that several expeditions were sent out to discover whether it was navigable.

That it was not navigable I myself had long known. Its numerous rapids are impracticable for boats even in the rainy season. In the dry season they present insuperable obstacles to navigation of any kind.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

A FISHERMAN’S BAG! THREE CROCODILES SECURED BY THE AUTHOR IN THE WAY DESCRIBED IN “WITH FLASHLIGHT AND RIFLE.”]

The basin of the Djipe Lake in the upper reaches of the Pangani, and the Pangani swamps below its lower reaches, formed a kind of natural preserve for every variety of the marvellous fauna of East Africa. It was a veritable El Dorado for the European sportsman, but one attended by all kinds of perils and difficulties. The explorer found manifold compensation, however, for everything in the unexampled opportunities afforded him for the study of wild life in the midst of these stifling marshes and lagoons. The experience of listening night after night to the myriad voices of the wilderness is beyond description.

Hippopotami were extraordinarily numerous at one time in the comparatively small basin of the Djipe Lake. In all my long sojourn by the banks of the Pangani I only killed two, and I never again went after any. There were such numbers, however, round Djipe Lake ten years ago that you often saw dozens of them together at one time. I fear that by now they have been nearly exterminated.

Here, as everywhere else, the natives have levied but a small tribute upon the numbers of the wild animals, a tribute in keeping with the nature of their primitive weapons. Elephants used regularly to make their way down to the water-side from the Kilimanjaro woods. My old friend Nguruman, the Ndorobo chieftain, used to lie in wait for them, with his followers, concealed in the dense woods along the river. But the time came when the elephants ceased to make their appearance. The old hunter, whose body bore signs of many an encounter with lions as well as elephants, and who used often to hold forth to me beside camp fires on the subject of these adventures, could not make out why his eagerly coveted quarry had become so scarce. Every other species of “big game” was well represented, however, and according to the time of the year I enjoyed ever fresh opportunities for observation. Generally speaking, it would be a case of watching one aspect of wild life one day and another all the next, but now and again my eyes and ears would be surfeited and bewildered by its manifestations. The sketch-plans on which I used to record my day’s doings and seeings serve now to recall to me all the multiform experiences that fell to my lot. What a pity it is that the old explorers of South Africa have left no such memoranda behind them for our benefit! They would enable us to form a better idea of things than we can derive from any kind of pictures or descriptions.

* * * * *

I shall try now to give some notion of all the different sights I would sometimes come upon in a single day. It would often happen that, as I was making my way down the Pangani in my light folding craft, or else was setting out for the velt which generally lay beyond its girdle of brushwood, showers of rain would have drawn herds of elephants down from the mountains.[1] Even when I did not actually come within sight of them, it was always an intense enjoyment to me to trace the immense footsteps of these nocturnal visitors. Perhaps the cunning animals would have already put several miles between my camp and their momentary stopping place. But their tracks afforded me always most interesting clues to their habits, all the more valuable by reason of the rare chances one has of observing them in daylight, when they almost always hide away in impenetrable thickets. What excitement there is in the stifled cry “Tembo!” In a moment your own eye perceives the unmistakable traces of the giant’s progress. The next thing to do is to examine into the tracks and ascertain as far as possible the number, age and sex of the animals. Then you follow them up, though generally, as I have said, in vain.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

CLATTER-BILLS SETTLING UPON THE BARE BRANCHES OF RIVERSIDE TREES.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

CLATTER-BILLS (_ANASTOMUS LAMELLIGERUS_, Tem.).]

The hunter, however, who without real hope of overtaking the elephants themselves yet persists in following up their tracks just because they have so much to tell him, will be all the readier to turn aside presently, enticed in another direction by the scarcely less notable traces of a herd of buffaloes. Follow these now and you will soon discover that they too have found safety, having made their way into an impenetrable morass. To make sure of this you must perhaps clamber up a thorny old mimosa tree, all alive with ants--not a very comfortable method of getting a bird’s-eye view. Numbers of snow-white ox-peckers flying about over one particular point in the great wilderness of reeds and rushes betray the spot in which the buffaloes have taken refuge.

The great green expanse stretches out before you monotonously, and even in the bright sunlight you can see no other sign of the animal life of various kinds concealed beneath the sea of rushes waving gently in the breeze. Myriads of insects, especially mosquitoes and ixodides, attack the invaders; the animals are few that do not fight shy of these morasses. They are the province of the elephants, which here enjoy complete security; of the hippopotami, whose mighty voice often resounds over them by day as by night; of the buffaloes, which wallow in the mud and pools of water to escape from their enemies the gadflies; and finally of the waterbuck, which are also able to make their way through even the deeper regions of the swamp. Wart-hogs also--the African equivalent of our own wild boars--contrive to penetrate into these regions, so inhospitable to mankind. We shall find no other representatives, however, of the big game of Africa. It is only in Central Africa and in the west that certain species of antelope frequent the swamps. In the daytime the elephant and the buffalo are seldom actually to be seen in them, nor does one often catch sight of the hippopotami, though they are so numerous and their voices are to be heard. As we grope through the borders of the swamp, curlew (_Glarcola fusca_, L.) flying hither and thither all around us, we are startled ever and anon by a sudden rush of bush and reed buck plunging out from their resting-places and speeding away from us for their life. Even when quite small antelopes are thus started up by the sound of our advance, so violent is their flight that for the moment we imagine that we have to deal with some huge and perhaps dangerous beast.

In those spots where large pools, adorned with wonderful water-lilies, give a kind of symmetry to the wilderness, we come upon such a wealth of bird-life as enables us to form some notion of what this may have been in Europe long ago under similar conditions. The splendid great white heron (_Herodias alba_, L., and _garzetta_, L.) and great flocks of the active little cow-herons (_Bubulcus ibis_, L.) make their appearance in company with sacred ibises and form a splendid picture in the landscape. Some species of those birds with their snow-white feathers stand out picturesquely against the rich green vegetation of the swamp. When, startled by our approach, these birds take to flight, and the whole air is filled by them and by the curlews (_Glareola fusca_, L.) that have hovered over us, keeping up continually their soft call, when in every direction we see all the swarms of other birds--sea-swallows (_Gelochelidon nilotica_, Hasselg.), lapwings, plovers (_Charadriidæ_), Egyptian geese, herons, pelicans, crested cranes and storks--the effect upon our eyes and ears is almost overpowering.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

A MARSHLAND VIEW. AN OSPREY IN AMONG THE REEDS--THE BIRD FOR WHOSE PROTECTION QUEEN ALEXANDRA OF ENGLAND HAS LATELY PLEADED.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

SNOW-WHITE HERONS MADE THEIR NESTS IN THE ACACIAS NEAR MY CAMP AND SHOWED NO MARKED TIMIDITY.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

PREPARING TO SKIN A HIPPOPOTAMUS. THE PRESERVATION OF THE HIDE
OF THIS SPECIMEN PROVED UNSUCCESSFUL. IT IS ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE TO
PRESERVE HIPPOPOTAMUS-HIDES WITHOUT HUGE QUANTITIES OF ALUM AND
SALT, BOTH VERY HARD TO GET IN THE INTERIOR OF AFRICA. THE SKIN
OF THE HEAD IS THINNER AND MORE MANAGEABLE THAN THAT OF THE REST
OF THE BODY.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

HIPPOPOTAMI, POPPING THEIR HEADS OR EARS AND SNOUTS UP ABOVE THE SURFACE OF THE WATER.]

How mortal lives are intertwined and interwoven! The ox-peckers swarm round the buffaloes and protect them from their pests, the ticks and other parasites. The small species of marsh-fowl rely upon the warning cry of the Egyptian geese or on the sharpness of the herons, ever on the alert and signalling always the lightning-like approach of their enemy the falcons (_Falco biarmicus_, Tem., and _F. minor_, Bp.). All alike have sense enough to steer clear of the crocodiles, which have to look to fish chiefly for their nourishment, like almost all the frequenters of these marshy regions.

The quantities of fish I have found in every pool in these swamps defy description--I am anxious to insist upon this point--and this although almost all the countless birds depend on them chiefly for their food. Busy beaks and bills ravage every pool and the whole surface of the lagoon-like swamp for young fish and fry. The herons and darters (_Assingha rufa_, Lacèp. Daud.) manage even to do some successful fishing in the deeper waters of the river. _And yet, in spite of all these fish-eaters, the river harbours almost a superabundance of fish._[2]

Wandering along by the river, we take in all these impressions. For experiences of quite another kind, we have only to make for the neighbouring velt, now arid again and barren, and thence to ascend the steep ridges leading up to the tableland of Nyíka.

Behind us we leave the marshy region of the river and the morass of reeds. Before us rises Nyíka, crudely yellow, and the laterite earth of the velt glowing red under the blazing sun. The contrast is strong between the watery wilderness from which we have emerged and these higher ranges of the velt with their strange vegetation. Here we shall find many species of animals that we should look for in vain down there below, animals that live differently and on scanty food up here, even in the dry season. The buffaloes also know where to go for fresh young grass even when they are in the marshes, and they reject the ripened green grass. The dwellers on the velt are only to be found amidst the lush vegetation of the valley at night time, when they make their way down to the river-side to drink.[3] It is hard to realise, but they find all the food they need on the high velt. When you examine the stomachs of wild animals that you have killed, you note with wonder the amount of fresh grass and nourishing shrubs they have found to eat in what seem the barrenest districts. The natives of these parts show the same kind of resourcefulness. The Masai, for instance, succeeds most wonderfully in providing for the needs of his herds in regions which the European would call a desert. I doubt whether the European could ever acquire this gift. Out here on the velt we shall catch sight of small herds of waterbuck, never to be seen in the marshes. We shall see at midday, under the bare-looking trees, herds of Grant’s gazelles too, and the oryx antelope. Herds of gnus, going through with the strangest antics as they make off in flight, are another feature in the picture, while the fresh tracks of giraffes, eland, and ostriches tell of the presence of all these. Wart-hogs, a herd of zebras in the distance--like a splash of black--two ostrich hens, and a multitude of small game and birds of all descriptions add to the variety. But what delights the ornithologist’s eye more than anything is the charming sight of a golden yellow bird, now mating. Up it flies into the sky from the tree-top, soon to come down again with wings and tail outstretched, recalling our own singing birds. You would almost fancy it was a canary. Only in this one region of the velt have I come upon this exquisite bird (_Tmetothylacus tenellus_, Cal.), nowhere else.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

HEAD OF A HIPPOPOTAMUS (_HIPPOPOTAMUS AFR. ARYSSINICUS_, Less.) WHICH I ENCOUNTERED ON DRY LAND AND WHICH NEARLY “DID” FOR ME.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

MY OLD FRIEND “NGURUMAN,” A WANDOROBO CHIEF. HIS BODY IS SEARED BY MANY SCARS THAT TELL OF ENCOUNTERS WITH ELEPHANTS AND LIONS.]

Thus would I spend day after day, getting to know almost all the wild denizens of East Africa, either by seeing them in the flesh or by studying their tracks and traces, cherishing more and more the wish to be able to achieve some record of all these beautiful phases of wild life. I repeat: as a rule you will carry away with you but one or another memory from your too brief day’s wandering, but there come days when a succession of marvellous pictures seem to be unrolled before your gaze, as in an endless panorama. It is the experience of one such day that I have tried here to place on record. Professor Moebius is right in what he says: “Æsthetic views of animals are based not upon knowledge of the physiological causes of their forms, colouring, and methods of motion, but upon the impression made upon the observer by their various features and outward characteristics as parts of a harmonious whole. The more the parts combine to effect this unity and harmony, the more beautiful the animal seems to us.” Similarly, a landscape seems to me most impressive and harmonious when it retains all its original elements. No section of its flora or fauna can be removed without disturbing the harmony of the whole.

Within a few years, if this be not actually the case already, all that I have here described so fully will no longer be in existence along the banks of the Pangani. When I myself first saw these things, often my thoughts went back to those distant ages when in the lands now known as Germany the same description of wild life was extant in the river valleys, when hippopotami made their home in the Rhine and Main, and elephants and rhinoceroses still flourished.... What I saw there before me in the flesh I learnt to see with my mind’s eye in the long-forgotten past. It is the duty of any one whose good fortune it has been to witness such scenes of charm and loveliness to endeavour to leave some record of them as best he may, and by whatever means he has at his command.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

EGYPTIAN GEESE.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

A WOUNDED BUFFALO.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

FACSIMILE REPRODUCTION OF ONE OF MY HUNTING RECORD-CARDS,
ENUMERATING ALL THE DIFFERENT ANIMALS I SIGHTED ONE DAY (AUGUST
21, 1898) IN THE COURSE OF AN EXPEDITION IN THE VICINITY OF THE
MASIMANI HILLS, HALF-WAY UP THE PANGANI RIVER. THE DOTTED LINE
SHOWS MY ROUTE AND THE NUMBERS INDICATE THE SPOTS AT WHICH I CAME
UPON THE VARIOUS SPECIES OF GAME. AT ANOTHER TIME OF THE YEAR
THIS DISTRICT WOULD BE ENTIRELY DESTITUTE OF WILD LIFE.]

IX

After Elephants with Wandorobo

“Big game hunting is a fine education!” With this opinion of Mr. H. A. Bryden I am in entire agreement, but I cannot assent to the dictum so often cited of some of the most experienced African hunters, to the effect that Equatorial East Africa offers the sportsman no adequate compensation for all the difficulties and dangers there to be faced.

I cannot subscribe to this view, because to my mind these very difficulties and dangers impart to the sport of this region a fascination scarcely to be equalled in any other part of the world. It is only in tropical Africa that you will find the last splendid specimens of an order of wild creation surviving from other eras of the earth’s history. It is not to be denied that you must pay a high price for the joy of hunting them. That goes without saying in a country where your every requisite, great and small, has to be carried on men’s shoulders--no other form of transport being available--from the moment you set foot within the wilderness. I am not now talking of quite short expeditions, but of the bigger enterprises which take the traveller into the interior for a period of months. I hold that this breaking away from all the resources of civilised life should be one of the sportsman’s chief incentives, and one of his chief enjoyments. I can, of course, quite understand experienced hunters taking another view. Many have had such serious encounters with the big game they have shot, and above all such unfortunate experiences of African climates, that they may well have had enough of such drawbacks.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

A POWERFUL OLD HIPPOPOTAMUS ON HIS WAY TO HIS HAUNT IN THE SWAMP AT DAYBREAK. ONE OF MY BEST PHOTOGRAPHS. ]

Their assertions, in any case, tend to make it clear that sport in this East African wilderness is no child’s play. In reality, all depends upon the character and equipment of the man who goes in for it. The apparently difficult game of tennis presents no difficulties to the expert tennis-player. With an inferior player it is otherwise. So it is in regard to hunting in the tropics. It is obvious that experience in sport here at home is of the greatest possible use out there--is, in fact, absolutely essential to one’s success. Only those should attempt it who are prepared to do everything and cope with all obstacles for themselves, who do not need to rely on others, and whose nerves are proof against the extraordinary excitements and strains which out there are your daily experience.

I myself am conscious of a steadily increasing distaste for face-to-face encounters with rhinoceroses, and with elephants still more. There are indeed other denizens of the East African jungle whose defensive and offensive capabilities it would be no less a mistake to under estimate. The most experienced and most authoritative Anglo-Saxon sportsmen are, in fact, agreed that, whether it be a question of going-after lions or leopards or African buffaloes, sooner or later the luck goes against the hunter. Of recent years a large number of good shots have lost their lives in Africa. If one of these animals once gets at you, you are as good as dead. To be chased by an African elephant is as exciting a sensation as a man could wish for. The fierceness of his on-rush passes description. He makes for you suddenly, unexpectedly. The overpowering proportions of the enraged beast--the grotesque aspect of his immense flapping ears, which make his huge head look more formidable than ever--the incredible pace at which he thunders along--all combine with his shrill trumpeting to produce an effect upon the mind of the hunter, now turned quarry, which he will never shake himself rid of as long as life lasts. When--as happened once to me--it is a case not of one single elephant, but of an entire herd giving chase in the open plain (as described in _With Flashlight and Rifle_), the reader will have no difficulty in understanding that even now I sometimes live the whole situation over again in my dreams and that I have more than once awoke from them in a frenzy of terror.

Of course, a man becomes hardened in regard to hunting accidents in course of time, especially if all his adventures have had fortunate issues. When, however, a man has repeatedly escaped destruction by a hairs-breadth only, and when incidents of this kind have been heaped up one on another within a brief space of time, the effects upon the nervous system become so great that even with the utmost self-mastery a man ceases to be able to bear them. As I have already said, the total number of casualties in the ranks of African sportsmen is not inconsiderable.

In Germany, of course, we have time-honoured sports of a dangerous nature too, but these are exceptions--for instance, killing the wild boar with a spear, and mountain-climbing and stalking.

In order to understand fully the mental condition of the sportsman in dangerous circumstances such as I have described, it is necessary to realise the way in which he is affected by his loneliness, his complete severance from the rest of mankind. There is all the difference in the world between the situation of a number of men taking up a post of danger side by side, and that of the man who stands by himself, either at the call of duty or impelled by a sense of daring. He has to struggle with thoughts and fears against which the others are sustained by mutual example and encouragement.

But, as I have said, the great fascination of sport in the tropics lies precisely in the dangers attached. Therein, too, lies the source of that pluck and vigour which the sport-hardened Boers displayed in their struggles with the English. The perils they had faced in their pursuit of big game had made brave men of them.

* * * * *

Now let us set out in company with the most expert hunters of the velt on an expedition of a rather special kind--the most dangerous you can go in for in this part of the world--an elephant-hunt. In prehistoric days the mammoth was hunted with bow and arrow in almost the same fashion as the elephant is to-day by certain tribes of natives. Taking part in one of their expeditions, one feels it easy to go back in imagination to the early eras of mankind. This feeling imparts a peculiar fascination to the experience.

After a good deal of trouble I had got into friendly relations with some of these nomadic hunters. It was a difficult matter, because they fight shy of Europeans and of the natives from the coast, such as my bearers and followers generally. I knew, moreover, that our friendship might be of short duration, for these distrustful children of the velt might disappear at any moment, leaving not a trace behind them. However, I had at least succeeded, by promises of rich rewards in the shape of iron and brass wire, in winning their goodwill. After many days of negotiation they told me that elephants might very likely be met with shortly in a certain distant part of the velt. The region in question was impracticable for a large caravan. Water is very scarce there, rock pools affording only enough for a few men, and only for a short time. At this period of the year the animals had either to make incredibly long journeys to their drinking-places, or else content themselves with the fresh succulent grass sprouting up after the rains, and with the moisture in the young leaves of the trees and bushes.

I set out one day in the early morning for this locality with a few of my men in company with the Wandorobo. After a long and fatiguing march in the heat of the sun, we encamp in the evening at one of the watering-places. To-day, to my surprise, there is quite a large supply of water, owing to rain last night. The elephants, with their unfailing instinct, have discovered the precious liquid. They have not merely drunk in the pool, but have also enjoyed a bath; their tracks and the colour and condition of the water show that clearly. Therefore we do not pitch our camp near the pool, but out in the velt at some distance away, so as not to interfere with the elephants in case they should be moved to return to the water.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

MY WANDOROBO GUIDES ON THE MARCH, WITH ALL THEIR “HOUSEHOLD FURNITURE” ON THEIR BACKS!]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

A PARTY OF WANDOROBO HUNTERS COMING TO MY CAMP. I GOT SEVERAL OF THEM TO ACT FOR ME AS GUIDES.]

But the wily beasts do not come a second time, and we are obliged to await morning to follow their tracks in the hope of luck. The Wandorobo on ahead, I and two of my men following, make up the small caravan, while some of my other followers remain behind at the watering-place in a rough camp. I have provided myself with all essentials for two or three days, including a supply of water contained in double-lined water-tight sacks. For hour after hour we follow the tracks clearly defined upon the still damp surface of the velt. Presently they lead us through endless stretches of shrubs and acacia bushes and bow-string hemp, then through the dried-up beds of rain-pools now sprouting here and there with luxuriant vegetation. Then again we come to stretches of scorched grass, featureless save for the footsteps of the elephants. As we advance I am enabled to note how the animals feed themselves in this desert-like region, from which they never wander any great distance. Here, stamping with their mighty feet, they have smashed some young tree-trunks and shorn them of their twigs and branches; and there, with their trunks and tusks, they have torn the bark off larger trees in long strips or wider slices and consumed them. I observe, too, that they have torn the long sword-shaped hemp-stalks out of the ground, and after chewing them have dropped the fibres gleaming white where they lie in the sun. The sap in this plant is clearly food as well as drink to them. I see, too, that at certain points the elephants have gathered together for a while under an acacia tree, and have broken and devoured all its lower branches and twigs. At other places it is clear that they have made a longer halt, from the way in which the vegetation all around has been reduced to nothing. We go on and on, the mighty footsteps keeping us absorbed and excited. We know that the chances are all against our overtaking the elephants, but the pleasures of the chase are enough to keep up our zest. At any moment, perhaps, we may come up with our gigantic fugitives. Perhaps!

How different is the elephant’s case in Africa from what it is in India and Ceylon! In India it is almost a sacred animal; in Ceylon it is carefully guarded, and there is no uncertainty as to the way in which it will be killed. Here in Africa, however, its lot is to be the most sought-after big game on the face of the earth; but the hunter has to remember that he may be “hoist with his own petard,” for the elephant is ready for the fray and knows what awaits him. With these thoughts in my mind and the way clearer at every step, the Wandorobo move on and on unceasingly in front.

It is astonishing what a small supply of arms and utensils these sons of the velt take with them when starting out for journeys over Nyíka that may take weeks or months. Round their shoulders they carry a soft dressed skin, and, hung obliquely, a strap to which a few implements are attached, as well as a leathern pouch containing odds and ends. Their bow they hold in one hand, while their quivers, filled with poisoned arrows, are also fastened to their shoulders by a strap. In addition they carry a sword in a primitive kind of scabbard. Thus equipped they are ready to cope with all the dangers and discomforts of the velt, and succeed somehow in coming out of them victorious.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

A FEAST OF HONEY. A HONEY-FINDER HAD LED US TO A HIVE, AND HERE MY MEN MAY BE SEEN REJOICING IN THE RESULTS.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

ACACIA TREE DENUDED BY ELEPHANTS.]

A DWARF KUDU (_STREPSICEROS IMBERBIS_, Blyth). I HAVE NEVER YET
SUCCEEDED IN PHOTOGRAPHING THIS ANIMAL ALIVE AND IN FREEDOM. SO
FAR I HAVE BEEN ABLE TO PHOTOGRAPH ONLY SPECIMENS WHICH I HAVE
SHOT.]

How thoroughly the velt is known to them--every corner of it! To live on the velt for any time you must be adapted by nature to its conditions. We Europeans should find it as hard to become acclimatised to it as the Wandorobo would to the conditions of civilised life in Europe. The one thing they are like us in being unable to forego is water--and even that they can do without for longer than we can. The most important factor in their life as hunters is their knowledge where to get water at the different periods of the year. Their intimate acquaintance with the book of the velt is something beyond our faculty for reading print. Our experiences in our recent campaigns in South-West Africa have served to bring home the wonderful way in which the natives decipher and interpret the minutest indications to be found in the ground of the velt and know how to shape their course in accordance with them.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

GIRAFFE STUDIES (_GIRAFFA SCHILLINGSI_, Mtsch.) SECURED BY TELEPHOTO-LENS.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

MY MASAI DONKEYS ARRIVING IN CAMP, ESCORTED BY ARMED MEN. BEARERS ADVANCING TO MEET THEM AND TO UNBURDEN THEM OF THEIR LOADS.]

This had already been brought home to me in the regions through which I had travelled. You must have had the experience yourself to realise the degree to which civilised man has unlearnt the use of his eyes and ears. Whether it be a question of finding one’s bearings or deciding in which direction to go, or of sizing up the elephant-herds from their tracks, or of distinguishing the tracks of one kind of antelope from those of another, or of detecting some faint trace of blood telling us that some animal we are after has been wounded, or of knowing where and when we shall come to some water, or of discovering a bee’s nest with honey in it--in all such matters the native is as clever as we are stupid. We may make some progress in this kind of knowledge and capability, but we shall always be a bad second to the native-born hunter of the velt.

With such men to act as your guides you get to feel that traversing Nyíka is as safe as mountain-climbing under the guidance of skilled mountaineers. You get to feel that you cannot lose your way or get into difficulties about water. One reflection, however, should never be quite absent from your mind--that at any moment these guides of yours may abandon you. That misfortune has never happened to me, and it is not likely to happen when the natives are properly handled. Moreover, your friendship with them can sometimes be strengthened by the establishment of bonds of brotherhood. A time-honoured practice of this kind, held sacred by the natives, can be of the greatest benefit. I am strongly in favour of the observance of these praiseworthy native customs, and have always been most ready to go through with the ceremonies involved.

I endeavour to win the goodwill of my guides by keeping to the pace they set--an easy matter for me. In every other way also I take pains to fall in with the ways and habits of the Wandorobo, so as to attenuate that feeling of antagonism which my uncivilised friends necessarily harbour towards the European. I owe it to this, perhaps, that they did their utmost to find the elephant-tracks for me.

For hour after hour we continue our march, in and out, over velt and brushwood, coming every few hours to a watering-place, and meeting in the hollow of one valley an exceptionally large herd of oryx antelopes. Under cover of the brushwood, and favoured by the wind, I succeed in getting quite near this herd and thus in studying their movements close at hand.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

PEARL-HENS ON AN ACACIA TREE.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

A PAIR OF GRANT’S GAZELLES TAKING TO FLIGHT. ]

In the bush, not far from these oryx antelopes, I come unexpectedly on a small herd of beautiful dwarf kudus. They take to flight, but reappear for a moment in a glade. This kind of sudden glimpse of these timid, pretty creatures is a real delight to one. Their great anxious eyes gaze inquiringly at the intruder, while their large ears stand forward in a way that gives a most curious aspect to their shapely heads. The colouring of their bodies accords in a most remarkable degree with their environment, and this accentuates the individuality of their heads, seen thus by the hunter. Off they scamper again now, in a series of extraordinarily long and high jumps, gathering speed as they go, and unexpectedly darting now in one direction, now in another. It is very exciting work tracking the fugitive kudu, and when it is a question of a single specimen you may very well mark it down in the end; but according to my own experience it is next to impossible to follow up a herd, for one animal after another breaks away from it, seeking safety on its own account.

Now we come again to an open grassy stretch of velt. With a sudden clatter of hoofs a herd of some thirty zebras some hundred paces off take to flight and escape unhurt by us into the security of a distant thicket. The older animals and the leaders of the herd keep looking backwards anxiously with outstretched necks. Even in the thicket their bright colouring makes them discernible at this hour of the day. But our attention is distracted now elsewhere. Far away on the horizon appear the unique outlines of a herd of giraffes. The timorous animals have noted our approach and are already making away--stopping at moments to glance at us--into a dense thorn-thicket. The wind favours us, so I quickly decide to make a detour to the right and cut them off. After a breathless run through the brushwood I succeed in getting within a few paces of one of the old members of the herd. This way of circumventing a herd of giraffes--my followers helping me by moving about all over the place, so as to put them off the scent--has not often proved successful with me, because it can only be managed when both wind and the formation of the country are in one’s favour.

To-day I have no mind to kill the beautiful long-limbed beast, but it is delightful to get into such close touch with him. Now he is off, stepping out again, swinging his long tail, his immense neck dipping and rising like the mast of a sea-tossed ship, and the rest of the herd with him.