Chapter IV: Part 4

Had the elephants not got these places of refuge to fly to they would have died out long ago! This is the only means by which they are still able to exist in Africa. I feel how difficult it is to depict accurately the constant warfare that is going on between man and beast, and can only give others a vague idea of what it is like. Many secrets of the life and fate and the speedy annihilation of the African elephants will sink into the grave with the last commercial elephant-hunters. And once again civilisation will have done away with an entire species in the course of a single century. The question as to how far this was necessary will provide ample material for pamphlets and discussions in times to come.

When one knows the “subugo,” however, one understands how it has been possible for elephants in South Africa to have held out so long in the Knysna and Zitzikama forests until European hunters began to go after them with rifles in expert fashion. Fritsch visited the Knysna forests in 1863. “It is easy,” he says, “to understand how elephants have managed to remain in their forests for weeks together before one of their number has fallen, even when hundreds of men have been after them. There are spots in these forests--regular islands completely surrounded by water--where they take refuge, and where no one can get at them.”

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

AN OLD ACACIA TREE.]

Of course, Fritsch speaks of a time when the art of shooting was in its infancy. One must not forget that nowadays ruthless marksmen will reach the mighty beasts even in these islands of refuge--marksmen who shoot at a venture with small-calibre rifles, and who find the dead elephant later somewhere in the neighbourhood, with vultures congregated round the corpse.[10]

* * * * *

Now perhaps I may have to wait in vain for hours, days, and even weeks! Some mornings there is absolutely nothing to be seen--the animals have gone down to the lake to drink, or have taken refuge in one of the little morasses at the foot of the hill. Judging by their nocturnal wanderings it seems as if they must have other accessible drinking-places in the vicinity. A search for these places, however, is not to be thought of. If I were to penetrate to these haunts they would immediately note my footsteps and take to flight for months, perhaps, putting miles between themselves and their would-be photographer.

For to-day, at any rate, all is over. The sun only breaks through the heavy masses of cloud for a few minutes at a time, and great sombre palls of mist hang over the forests, constantly changing from one shape to another.

To obtain a picture by means of the telephoto-lens did not seem at all feasible. But a photo of bull-elephants and giraffes together!--so long as there was the faintest chance of it I would not lose heart. It was not easy, but I _must_ succeed! So, wet through and perishing with cold, I wandered every morning through the tall grass to the top of the hill and waited and waited....

The elephants seemed to have completely disappeared; no matter how far I extended my daily excursions, they were nowhere to be seen. At length I came across a fairly big herd, but they had taken up their stand in such an impenetrable thicket that it was quite impossible to sight them. After much creeping and crawling through the elephant and rhinoceros paths in the undergrowth I managed to get just for a few minutes a faint glimpse of the vague outline of single animals, but so indistinct that it was impossible to determine their age, size, or sex. In East Africa elephants are generally seen under these unfavourable conditions. Very seldom does one come upon a good male tusk-bearing specimen, as well-meaning but inexperienced persons, such as I myself was at one time, would desire.

There is something very exciting and stimulating in coming face to face with these gigantic creatures in the thick undergrowth. All one’s nerves are strained to see or hear the faintest indication of the whereabouts of the herd; the sultry air, the dense tangle through which we have to move, and which hinders every step, combine to excite us. We can only see a few paces around. The strong scent of elephant stimulates us. The snapping and creaking of branches and twigs, the noises made by the beasts themselves, especially the shrill cry of warning given out from time to time by one of the herd--all add to the tension. The clanging, pealing sound of this cry has something particularly weird in it in the stillness of the great forest. At such a signal the whole herd moves forward, to-day quietly without noise, and to-morrow in wild blustering flight. It is very seldom that one can catch them up on the same day, and then only after long hours of pursuit.... These forest sanctuaries, together with their own caution, have done more to stave off the extermination of the species than have all the sporting restrictions that have been introduced.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

THE TWO ELEPHANTS.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

THE TUSKS OF THE ELEPHANTS SEEMED EVEN LARGER THAN THEY REALLY
WERE, AND OUT OF All PROPORTION TO THE SIZE OF THE ELEPHANTS,
THOUGH THESE WERE EXCEPTIONALLY BIG BEASTS, NEARLY 12 FEET IN
HEIGHT. THE GIRAFFE COMES OUT CURIOUSLY IN THIS PICTURE, RIGHT AT
THE BOTTOM.]

Every morning I returned to my post of observation on the hill. I could easily have killed one or other of the herd. But I did not wish to disturb the elephants, and I had also good reason for believing that there were no very large tusks among them. Morning after morning I returned disappointed to my camp, only to find my way back on the next day to my sentry-box at the edge of the forest on the hill. Days went by and nothing was seen save the back or head of an elephant emerging from the “subugo.” This “subugo” knows well how to protect its inmates.

Every morning the same performance. At my feet the mist-mantled forest, and near me my three or four blacks, to whom my reluctance to shoot the elephants and my preoccupation with my camera were alike inexplicable. Whenever the clouds rolled away over the woods and valley it was necessary to keep the strictest watch. Then I discovered smaller herds of giraffes with one or two elephants accompanying them. But this would be for a few seconds only. The heavy banks of cloud closed to again. A beautiful large dove (_Columba aquatrix_) flew about noisily, and like our ringdove, made its love-flights round about the hill, and cooed its deep notes close by. Down below in the valley echoed the beautiful, resonant, melancholy cry of the great grey shrike; cock and hen birds answered one another in such fashion that the call seemed to come from only one bird. There was no other living thing to see or hear.

But now! At last! I shall never forget how suddenly in one of the brilliant bursts of sunshine the mighty white tusks of two bull-elephants shone out in the hollow so dazzlingly white that one must have beheld them to understand their extraordinary effect, seen thus against that impressive background. Close by was a bull-giraffe. Vividly standing out from the landscape, they would have baffled any artist trying to put them on the canvas. I understood then why A. H. Neumann, one of the most skilful English elephant-hunters, so often remarked on the overwhelming impression he received from these snow-white, shining elephant-tusks. So white do they come out in the photographs that the prints look as though they had been touched up. But these astonishing pictures are as free from any such tampering as are all the rest of my studies of animal life.[11]

Before I succeeded in getting my first picture of the elephants and giraffes consorting together, I was much tempted to kill the two huge bull-elephants. They came so often close to the foot of my hill that I had plenty of opportunities of killing them without over-much danger to myself or my men. As I caught sight of that rare trio I must honestly confess I had a strong desire to shoot. This desire gave way, however, before my still keener wish to photograph them. The temptation to use my rifle came from the thought of the satisfaction with which I should see them placed in some museum. It might be possible to prepare their skins here on this very spot. In short, I had a hard struggle with myself.

_C. G. Shillings, phot._

THE TWO ELEPHANTS.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

A QUAINT COMPANIONSHIP--ELEPHANT AND GIRAFFE. THE GIRAFFE MAY BE JUST MADE OUT IN THE FOREGROUND, AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PHOTOGRAPH.]

But the wish to secure the photographs triumphed. No museum in the world had ever had such a picture. That thought was conclusive.

The accompanying illustrations give both the colossal beasts in different attitudes. The giraffe stands quite quiet, intent on its own safety, or gazes curiously at its companions. What a contrast there is between the massive elephants and the slender, towering creature whose colouring harmonises so entirely with its surroundings! Wherever you see giraffes they always blend with their background. They obey the same laws as leopards in this respect, and leopards are the best samples of the “mimicry” of protective colouring.

What long periods of hunger must have gone to the formation of the giraffe’s neck!

It would seem as though these survivors of two prehistoric species had come together thus, at a turning-point in the history of their kind, for the special purpose of introducing themselves by means of their photographs to millions of people. I owe it to an extraordinary piece of good fortune that I was able to take another picture of them during a second burst of sunshine which lit up the forest.

It is the event of a lifetime to have been the witness of so strange and unsuspected a condition of things as this friendship between two such dissimilar animals. The extent of my good luck may be estimated from the fact that the famous traveller Le Vaillant, more than seventy years ago, wished so ardently to see a giraffe in its natural surroundings, _if only once_, that he went to South Africa for that purpose, and that, having achieved it on a single occasion, as he relates in his work, he was quite overjoyed. Although I was aware that herds of giraffes frequented this region without fear of the elephants, it was a complete revelation to me to find an old bull-giraffe living in perfect harmony for days together with two elephants for the sake of mutual protection. I can only account for this strange alliance by the need for such mutual protection. The giraffe is accustomed to use its eyes to assure itself of its safety, whilst elephants scent the breeze with their trunks, raised like the letter S for the purpose. In these valleys the direction of the wind varies very often. The struggle for existence is here very vividly brought before us. How often in the course of centuries must similar meetings have occurred in Africa and in other parts of the world, before I was able to record this observation for the first time? These pictures are a good instance of the value of photography as a means of getting and giving information in regard to wild life.

Kilepo Hill will always stand out vividly in my memory. Elephants may still climb up to the small still lake shut in by the wall-like hillsides, as they have done for ages, to quench their thirst at its refreshing waters. For hundreds of years the Masai, for the sake of their cattle herds, contested with them the rights of this drinking-place. Then the white man came and the Masai vanished, and again the elephants found their way to the Kilepo valley. Later, white settlers came--Boers, ruthless in their attitude towards wild life--and took up their abode in the Kilimanjaro region. The day cannot now be far distant when the last of the elephants will have gone from the heart of Kilepo Hill. But these two, long since killed, no doubt, will continue to live on in my pictures for many a year to come.

XIII

A Vanishing Feature of the Velt

“When men and beasts first emerged from the tree called ‘Omumborombongo,’ all was dark. Then a Damara lit a fire, and zebras, gnus, and giraffes sprang frightened away, whilst oxen, sheep, and dogs clustered fearlessly together.” So Fritsch told us forty years ago, from the ancient folk-lore of the Ova-Herero, one of the most interesting tribes of South-West Africa.

If the photographing of wild life is only to be achieved when conditions are favourable, and is beset with peculiar difficulties in the wilderness of Equatorial Africa, one might at least suppose that such huge creatures as elephants, rhinoceroses, and giraffes could be got successfully upon the “plate.” But they “spring frightened away”! The cunning, the caution, and the shyness of these animals make all attempts at photographing them very troublesome indeed; for to secure a good result you need plenty of sunlight, besides the absence of trees between you and the desired object. And when everything seems to favour you, there is sure to be something wanting--very probably the camera itself. Fortune favours the photographer at sudden and unexpected moments, and then only for a very short while. One instant too late, and you may have to wait weeks, months, even years for your next opportunity. I would give nine-tenths of the photos I have taken of animal life for some half-dozen others which I was unable to take because I did not have my camera to hand just at the right moment. Thus it was with the photographing of the three lions I killed on January 25, 1897, and of the four others I saw on the same day, on the then almost unknown Athi plains in the Wakikuju country. Also with that great herd of elephants which so nearly did for me, and which I should have dearly liked to photograph just as they began their onrush. (I have told the story in _With Flashlight and Rifle_.) I remember, too, the sight of a giraffe herd of forty-five head which I came across on November 4, 1897,[12] about two days’ journey north-west of the Kilimanjaro. The hunter of to-day would travel over the velt for a very long while before meeting with anything similar. In earlier days immense numbers of long-necked giraffe-like creatures, now extinct, lived on the velt; the rare Okapi, that was discovered in the Central African forests a short time ago, has aroused the interest of zoologists as being a relative of that extinct species.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

A GIRAFFE IN FULL FLIGHT.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

A GIRAFFE BULL IN AN ACACIA GROVE.]

Within the last hundred or even fifty years, the giraffe itself was to be found in large herds in many parts of Africa. The first giraffe of which we know appeared in the Roman arena. About two hundred years ago we are told some specimens were brought over to Europe, and caused much astonishment. The Nubian menageries some years ago brought a goodly number of the strange beasts to our zoological gardens.[13] But how many people have seen giraffes in their native haunts? When, in 1896, I saw them thus for the first time, I realised how thin and wretched our captive specimens are by the side of the splendid creatures of the velt. Le Vaillant, in his accounts of his travels in Cape Colony and the country known to-day as German South-West Africa, gives a spirited description of these animals, and tells how after much labour and trouble he managed to take a carefully dried skin to the coast and to send it to Germany. That was seventy years ago. Since then many Europeans have seen giraffes, but they have told us very little about them. The German explorer Dr. Richard Böhm has given us wonderfully accurate information about them and their ways. But the beautiful water-colours so excellently drawn by a hand so soon to be disabled in Africa, were lost in that dreadful conflagration in which his hunting-box on the peaceful Wala River and most of his diaries were destroyed. Dr. Richard Kandt, whilst on his expeditions in search of the sources of the Nile, found the charred remains of the hut. “Ubi sunt, qui ante nos in mundo fuere?”

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

A SUCCESSFUL PHOTOGRAPH, TAKEN AFTER A LONG PURSUIT AND MANY FAILURES.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

TELEPHOTO STUDIES OF GIRAFFES (_GIRAFFA SCHILLINGSI_, Mtsch.).]

Zoological experts tell us that there are several species of giraffe inhabiting separate zoological regions. In the districts I traversed, I came across an entirely new species.... Their life and habits interested me beyond measure. I often think of them still--moving about like phantoms among the thorny bushes, and in and out the sunlit woods, or standing out silhouetted against the horizon.

Though by nature peaceful, the giraffe is not defenceless--a kick from one of its immense legs, or a blow sideways with the great thick-necked head of a bull, would be quite enough to kill a mere man. But this gigantic beast, whose coat so much resembles that of the blood-thirsty tiger, leopard, and jaguar, never attacks, and only brings its forces into play for purposes of defence. It harms no man, and it has lived on the velt since time immemorial. It is the more to be deplored, therefore, that it should disappear now so quickly and so suddenly.

I have already remarked several times on the way giraffes and other African mammals harmonise in their colouring with their environment. Professor V. Schmeil has pointed out how my opinion in this respect accords with that of earlier observers.[14] The way in which giraffes mingle with their surroundings as regards not only their colour but also their form, is especially astonishing. The illustration on page 550 proves this in a striking manner, for it shows how the outlines of the giraffe correspond exactly with those of the tree close to it.

One may spend days and weeks on the velt trying to get near giraffes without result. Far away on the horizon you descry the gigantic “Twigga”--as the Waswahili call it--but every attempt to approach is in vain. Then, all of a sudden it may happen--as it did once to me near the Western Njiri marshes, Nov. 29, 1898--that a herd of giraffes passes quite near you without fear. On the occasion in question, as is so often the case, I had not my photographic apparatus at hand. I could have got some excellent pictures with quite an ordinary camera. The giraffes came towards me until within sixty paces. They then suddenly took wildly to flight. The little herd consisted of nine head: an old very dark-spotted bull, a light-spotted cow, three younger cows with a calf each, and finally a young dark-spotted bull. Orgeich and I had been able to observe the animals quietly as they stood, as if rooted to the spot, with their long necks craned forward, their eyes fixed upon us.[15] I cannot explain why the animals were so fearless on that occasion. It was a most unusual occurrence, for ordinarily giraffes manage to give the sportsman a wide berth.

Again, it may happen, especially about midday, that the hunter will sight a single giraffe or a whole herd at no very great distance. At these times, if one is endowed with good lungs and is in training, one may get close enough to the creatures before they take to flight.

_Hauptmann Merker, phot._

GIRAFFE STUDIES.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

GIRAFFE STUDIES.]

Or it may happen that you will sight giraffes about noontide sheltering under the fragrant acacia trees. I remember one occasion especially, in the neighbourhood of the Gelei volcanic hills. I had hardly penetrated for more than about a hundred and twenty paces into an acacia wood, when I suddenly saw the legs of several gigantic giraffes--their heads were hidden in the crowns of mimosa. The wind was favourable. I might within a few minutes find myself in the middle of the herd! But, a moment later, I felt the ground tremble and the huge beasts with their hard hoofs were thumping over the sun-baked ground. They crashed through the branches and fled to the next shelter of mimosa trees. Although I might easily have killed some of them, it was absolutely impossible to take a photograph. But I was at times more fortunate in snapshotting single specimens. Carefully and cautiously, I would creep forward, of course alone, leaving my people behind, until I came within about twenty paces of the giraffe. By dodging about the trees or shrubs near which it stood I have sometimes managed to obtain good pictures of the animal making off in its queer way. The utmost caution was necessary. I had to consider not only the place where the animal was but the position of the sun, and that most carefully. The possibility of photographing giraffes with the telephoto lens is very slight indeed. One’s opportunities are turned to best account by the skilful use of an ordinary hand-camera.

In this way, also, I managed to get pictures of the peculiar motion of giraffes in full flight. My negatives are a proof of the comparative ease with which native hunters may hunt giraffes with poisoned arrows. I have often met natives in possession of freshly killed giraffe flesh.

In most cases bushes and trees are a great hindrance to the taking of photographs, especially of large herds. At such times it was as good as a game of chess between the photographic sportsman and the animals. For hours I have followed them with a camera ready to snapshot, but the far-sighted beasts have always frustrated my plans. Thus passed hours, days and weeks. But good luck would come back again, and I was sometimes able to develop an excellent negative in a camp swarming with mosquitoes.

It is especially in the peculiar light attendant on the rainy season and amidst tall growths that giraffes mingle so with their surroundings. It is only when the towering forms are silhouetted against the sky that they can be clearly seen on the open velt. At midday, when the velt is shimmering with a thousand waves of light, when everything seems aglow with the dazzling sun, even the most practised eye can scarcely distinguish the outlines of single objects. By such a light the sandy-coloured oryx antelopes and the stag-like waterbuck look coal-black; the uninitiated take zebras for donkeys--they appear so grey--and rhinoceroses resting on the velt for ant-hills. But giraffes especially mingle with the surrounding mimosa woods at this hour in such a way as only those who have seen it could believe possible.

When you see these animals in their wild state, your thoughts naturally revert to the penned-up tame specimens in zoological gardens or those preserved in museums. Well do I remember that the first wild zebra I saw looked to me little like a tame specimen in a zoological garden.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

A HERD OF GIRAFFES: THE LEADER, A POWERFUL OLD BULL, IN THE FOREGROUND.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

TWO GIRAFFES OUT OF A HERD I CAME UPON IN THE VICINITY OF THE
MASAI COLONY CALLED KIRARAGUA, NOW ALMOST BEREFT OF WILD LIFE
OWING TO THE IMMIGRATION OF THE BOERS. THE ANIMALS MAY HERE
BE SEEN IN VERY CHARACTERISTIC SURROUNDINGS, ACACIA WOODS
ALTERNATING WITH WIDE EXPANSES COVERED WITH BOWSTRING HEMP.]

HEAD OF A GIRAFFE (_GIRAFFA RETICULATA_ De Winton), KILLED IN
SOUTH SOMALILAND BY THE EXPLORER CARLO VON ERLANGER. (BY KIND
PERMISSION OF THE BARONESS VON ERLANGER.)]

The death-knell of the giraffe has tolled. This wonderful and harmless animal[16] is being completely annihilated! Fate has decreed that a somewhat near relative should be discovered in later days--namely the Okapi, which inhabits the Central African forests. It may be safely asserted that these unique animals will exist long after the complete extermination of the real giraffe. The species of giraffe, however, which has been dying out in the north and south of the African continent will be represented in the future by pictures within every man’s reach. Every observation as to their habits, every correct representation obtained, every specimen preserved for exhibition is of real value. And this I would impress on every intelligent man who has the opportunity of doing any of these things out in the wild.

Professor Fritsch saw giraffes in South Africa as late as 1863. Shortly before these lines were printed he gave a glowing account of the impression they then made on him, an impression which was renewed when he saw my pictures.

Large herds of giraffes still flourish in remote districts. My friend Carlo von Erlanger, whose early death is much to be regretted, found the animals particularly timid in South Somaliland when he traversed it for the first time. A fine stuffed specimen of these beautifully coloured giraffes is to be found in the Senckenberg Museum in Frankfort-on-Maine. An illustration gives the head of a giraffe killed by my late friend, and proves to the reader how much the two species differ--namely the South Somaliland giraffe as here depicted,[17] and that which I was the first to discover in Masailand. We have in Erlanger’s diary and in this illustration the only existing information about the presence of the giraffe in South Somaliland, a region which none but my daring friend and his companions have so far traversed.

Hilgert, Carlo von Erlanger’s companion, mentions the frequent presence of the South Somali giraffe, but says that they showed themselves so shy that the members of the expedition generally had to content themselves with the numerous tracks of the animals or with the sight of them in the far distance.

Meanwhile an effort is being made to save and protect what remains of the giraffe species in Africa. But there is little hope of ultimate success. I do trust, however, that a wealth of observations, illustrations, and specimens may be secured for our museums before it is too late. In this way, at least, a source of pleasure and information will be provided for future generations, and the giraffe will not share the fate of so many other rare creatures which no gold will ever give back to us.

With sad, melancholy, wondering eyes the giraffe seems to peer into the world of the present, where there is room for it no longer. Whoever has seen the expression in those eyes, an expression which has been immortalised by poets in song and ballad for thousands of years, will not easily forget it, any more than he will forget the strong impression made on him when he looked at the “Serafa” of the Arabs in the wilderness.

_Hauptmann, Merker phot._

GIRAFFE STUDY.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

A TELEPHOTOGRAPH TAKEN AT A DISTANCE OF 200 PACES.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

_GIRAFFA SCHILLINGSI_, Mtsch. ]

The day cannot be far distant when the beautiful eyes of the last “Twigga” will close for ever in the desert. No human skill will be able to prevent this, in spite of the progress of human knowledge and human technique. The giraffe can never enter the little circle of domesticated animals. Therefore it must go. Perhaps its eyes will close in the midst of the Elelescho jungle, thus lessening still further the fascination of that survival from the youth of the world.

XIV

Camping out on the Velt

Among the happiest days of my life I reckon those which I spent camping out in the heart of the Nyíka.

Nearly every hour there had something fresh to arouse my interest, not only in the life of the wild animals that roamed at large all about, but also in that of the specimens which I had caught or my men had brought to me, and whose habits and ways I could observe within the enclosure of the camp. Of course our unique menagerie could not boast members of all the most attractive species of the African fauna, but it included some very rare and interesting animals which Europe has never seen. To know these one must go and live in wildest Africa and see them at home.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

PITCHING CAMP WITH A VIEW TO A LONG STAY.]

My camp at times was like a little kingdom. Many of my people went out for weeks together to barter for fruits and vegetables with agrarian tribes. With the rest, I spent my days out in the open, hunting, collecting, and observing. My zoological collection increased daily, time flew by with all the many jobs there were to be done--drying, preserving, preparing, sorting, labelling, and sending off specimens. The primitive camp life was full of interest in spite of its seeming monotony. It was like ruling and ordering a little State. I thoroughly enjoyed this simple existence, in which I seemed to forget the artificial worries of civilisation and to be able to give myself up to my love for nature.

Then I learned to appreciate the natives. Of course they are not to be judged from a European standpoint as regards habits and customs, but I shall always remember with pleasure certain strong and good characters among my followers.

Nomadic hunters--shy and suspicious as the animals they hunted--sometimes paid us passing visits, whilst the whole world of beasts and birds thronged around our “outpost of civilisation,” so suddenly planted in their midst.

My goods and chattels were stowed away in a hut which I had put up myself, and which was protected from wind, rain, and sun by masses of reeds and velt grasses. This hut was of the simplest construction, but I was very proud of it. It was useful not only for protecting zoological collections from the all-pervading rays of the sun, and from rain and cold, but also from the numerous little fiends of insects against which continual warfare has to be waged. The destructive activity of ants is a constant source of annoyance to travellers and collectors; I remember how my one-time fellow-traveller Prince Johannes Löwenstein had the flag on his tent destroyed by them in a single night. In one night also these ants bit through the ticket-threads by which my specimens were classified; in one night, again, the tiny fiends destroyed the bottoms of several trunks which had been carelessly put away!

One has to wage constant warfare against destroyers of every kind.

My cow, which was very valuable to me, not only as giving milk to my people, but also for nourishing young wild animals, was penned at night-time within a thick thorn hedge. My people made themselves more or less skilfully constructed shelters under the bushes and trees. Thus a miniature village grew up, of which I was the despotic ruler. The native hunters who visited us would sometimes accompany me on long expeditions.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

TERMITEN ANT-HILLS.]

For me there are no “savages.” When an intelligent man comes across a tribe hitherto unknown to him he will carefully study their seemingly strange habits, and thus will soon recognise that they have their own customs and laws which they regard as sacred and immutable, and which order their whole existence. He will no longer desire the natives to adopt the manners and customs of the white man, for which they are absolutely unsuited.

But by the time I got friendly with these nomads they were off again. It is against their habits to stay long in one place, and they do not willingly enter into close relations with a European--or indeed with any one. Suddenly one fine morning we find their sleeping quarters empty; they have disappeared, never to return. No obligation, no command, would ever bind these wanderers to one place. Children of the moment, children of the wilderness, their lives are spent in constant roaming.

I hardly ever had a leisure hour, for there was much to arrange and see to in my camp. I had many functions to perform. I was my own commissioner of public safety; I looked after the commissariat; I was doctor and judge. I supervised all the other offices and pursued a number of handicrafts. Like Hans Sach I followed with pride the avocations of shoemaker, tailor, joiner, and smith, my very scanty acquaintance with all these various trades being put to astonishingly good use. I was like the one-eyed man among the blind.

What judgments of Solomon have I not given! Once two of my best people quarrelled, an Askari and his wife. The serious character of the quarrel could be estimated from the noise of weeping and the sound of blows that had proceeded from their tent. The man wished to separate from his wife.

“Why did you beat your wife last night?”

The Askari (who has served under both German and English masters) stands to attention.

“Because she was badly behaved--I will not keep her any more--I am sending her away.”

“But why--rafiki yangu?--my friend? Such things will happen at times, but it is not always so bad--see? Who will look after you? who will prepare your meals? Look at her once more; she is very pretty--don’t you think so? And she cooks very well” (both parties, as well as the bystanders, are smiling by now). “Go along, then, and make friends.”

And they go and make friends.

A deputation of the Waparis come to the camp. They crouch down near my tent and beg for a “rain charm” to bring down showers upon their fields. It is somewhat difficult to help them. I take the gifts which they bring to pay for the charm and make them a more valuable return, and by means of the barometer I am able to foretell rain. They gaze at the wizard and his charm wonderingly, and come again later to see them both.

AN UNUSUALLY LARGE ANT-HILL. INSIDE THIS STRONGHOLD THE “QUEEN”
ANT IS TO BE FOUND WALLED UP IN A SMALL CELL. SHE IS CONSIDERABLY
LARGER THAN THE OTHER ANTS AND DEVOTES HERSELF EXCLUSIVELY TO HER
TASK OF LAYING EGGS. THE KING ON THE OTHER HAND, NOT MUCH LARGER
THAN THE REST, IS IN COMMAND OF THE “WORKERS” AND THE SOLDIERS.]

Countless similar events succeed one another, and ever the everyday monotony of the simple camp life has its delights.

THE ANT-HILLS ARE SO STRONGLY BUILT AND SO HARD THAT THEY OFFER
AN EXTRAORDINARILY STRONG RESISTANCE TO ALL EFFORTS TO DESTROY
THEM BY PICK AND SHOVEL.]

Day by day my menagerie increases. To-day it is a young lion I add to it, to-morrow a hyena, a jackal, a monkey, a marabou, geese, and other velt-dwellers, all of which I instal as members of my little community and try to become friends with. My efforts have sometimes been amply rewarded. Once during the early morning hours we discovered a large troop of baboons. It was cool: the cold, damp morning mist grew into a drizzling rain; the animals huddled up closely together for the sake of warmth. Later they came down to seek their food. Cautiously we posted ourselves as if we had not noticed the monkeys. But remembering their long sight, I organised a battue, which succeeded admirably and secured me several young ones. At first the comical creatures obstinately withstood all efforts to tame them. Soon, however, they got to recognise their attendant, and became attached to him. Unlike other species of monkeys, baboons are full of character. Like some dogs, they are devoted to their masters but antagonistic to other people. They show their dislike for strangers very clearly. I was always much touched, when I came back from a long tramp on the velt, to be met with outbursts of joy by my chained-up baboons. They recognised their master in the far distance, reared themselves on their hind legs, and gave demonstrations of joy in every possible way as they saw him approaching.

Sometimes, too, other inmates of my camp evinced their pleasure at my appearance. This was especially the case with a marabou which I had caught when fully grown. As he had been slightly hurt in the process of capture, I tended him myself most carefully, and experienced great satisfaction on his restoration to health. From the time of his recovery the bird was faithful to me, and did not leave the camp any more, although he was only caged at night-time! He attached himself to my headman, and tried to bite both men and beasts whom he considered as not to be trusted, and generally sat very solemnly in the vicinity of my camp and greeted me on my home-comings by wagging his head and flapping his wings. Such a clatter he made as he gravely rushed backwards and forwards! Not until I caressed him would he be quiet. After a time he began to build himself a nest under the shade of a bush quite close to my tent. The dimensions of this nest gradually increased in an extraordinary manner. This eyrie he defended to the utmost, and would not allow my blacks to go near it, or any of his animal companions. Great battles took place, but he always made his opponents take to their heels, and even the poor old donkey, if it happened to come his way. On the other hand, he was very friendly with my young rhinoceros. It was an extraordinary sight to see the rhinoceros with its friends, the goats and the solemn bird. Two fine Colobus monkeys, three young lions, young ostriches, geese, and various other creatures made up my little zoological garden. They all were good friends among themselves and with my tame hens, which used to prefer to lay their eggs in my tent and in those of the bearers. Sometimes I used to entrust some francolin eggs to these hens. (Hardly any of the many beautiful East African species of francolins have so far been brought alive to Europe.) Once I had for weeks the pleasure of seeing some beautiful yellow-throated francolins (_Pternistes leucosepus infuscatus_, Cab.) running about perfectly tame among the other animals in camp.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

ONE OF MY MARABOUS, NOW IN THE BERLIN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS, BUILT A GREAT NEST IN MY CAMP.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

TWO DENIZENS OF THE VELT WHO BECAME MEMBERS OF MY CAMP AND ARE NOW IN THE BERLIN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

A RATHER MIXED-UP PHOTOGRAPH! MY YOUNG RHINOCEROS, WITH HER TWO COMPANIONS THE GOAT AND THE KID.]

I was often able to contemplate idyllic scenes among my quaint collection of animals. The behaviour of my baby rhinoceros interested me greatly. It was the pet of my caravan, and I was very proud of having reared it, for I had longed for two years for such a little creature, and had made many vain attempts to obtain one. Its friendship with two goats I have already mentioned in my previous book. They formed a strange trio. Very often the kid used the rhinoceros as a cushion, and all three were inseparable. The beast and the two goats often made little excursions out into the immediate neighbourhood of my camp. At these times they were carefully guarded by two of my most trustworthy people. The “rhino” was provided with its accustomed vegetable foods. When the little beast was in a good humour it would play with me like a dog, and would scamper about in the camp snorting in its own peculiar way. Such merry games alternated with hours of anxiety, during which I was obliged to give my foster-child food and medicine with my own hands, and to fight the chigoes (_Sarcopsylla penetrans_, L.), commonly called “jiggers,” those horrible tormentors which Africa has received from America.

In the evening my flocks and herds of sheep, goats and cattle came home, and among them some gnus which I had been able to obtain from an Arab through the friendly help of Captain Merker. It reminded one of pictures of old patriarchal days to see the animals greet their expectant calves and kids. It was always interesting, too, to watch the skilful handling of the cattle by the Masai herdsmen. The cows in Africa all come from Asia, and belong to the zebu family. They will only give milk when their calves have first been allowed to suck. Only then can the cow be milked, and that with difficulty, whilst a second herdsman holds the calf for a while a little distance off. Thus it was I obtained, very sparingly at first, the necessary milk for my young rhinoceros. Some days there was a grand show of varied animal life. Cows, bullocks, sheep, goats, my rhinoceros, young lion-cubs, hyenas, jackals, servals and monkeys, hens, francolins and marabou, geese, and other frequenters of the velt were in the camp, some at liberty and some chained, which caused many little jealousies and much that was interesting to notice.

My kitchen garden was invaded by tame geese and storks, which lived on the best of terms with the cook. It was irresistibly funny to see the sage old marabou acting as cook’s assistant, gravely crouching near him and watching all his movements. Very often the tame animals in my camp had visitors in the shape of wild storks and geese, which came and mixed among the others, so that often one could not distinguish which were wild and which tame. We could see all kinds of animals coming close to the camp. I have even followed the movements of rhinoceroses with my field-glasses for some time.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

MY RHINOCEROS AS SHE IS TO-DAY IN THE BERLIN “ZOO,” AND--]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

--AS SHE WAS IN MY VELT CAMP.]

Some of my captives were not to be tamed at any price. We had a young hyena, for instance, which struggled obstinately with its chain. On the other hand, some hyenas, especially spotted ones, became so domesticated that they followed me about like dogs.

A young lion which I had had in my camp for some time, and which had grown into quite a fine specimen, often made itself so noticeable at night that, as my watchman told me, it was answered by other lions from outside. This made it necessary to take active precautions for the night, and my menagerie was brought into the centre of my camp for greater safety.

Many of the friendships which I formed with my _protégés_ have been kept up. My marabou still remembers me, and greets me with great joy in his cage in the Berlin Zoological Garden, much to the irritation of his neighbour in the cage next door. I have no need to avoid the grip of his powerful beak, which the keeper has learnt to fear. He has never used this weapon against me. In whatever dress I may approach him he always recognises me, and greets me with lively demonstrations of pleasure. Even the rhinoceros seems to recognise his one-time master, although one cannot be quite sure of this in so uncouth a creature.

It is very difficult to know how to manage a rhinoceros. It was quite a long time before I succeeded in discovering its best diet. Young rhinoceroses almost always succumb in captivity, though seemingly so robust. We have not yet succeeded in bringing an elephant from German or British East Africa to Europe, or indeed any of the other animals, such as giraffes and buffaloes and antelopes, which live in the same districts. It appears that it is just these interesting wild animals which are the most difficult to accustom to captivity and to keep alive. The attempt to bring home alive a couple of the wonderful Kilimanjaro Colobus apes (_Colobus caudatus_, Thos.) resulted in one of the monkeys dying a few days after my arrival; the other lived for two years only, and was the sole specimen of its kind ever seen in Europe. Every zoologist and lover of animals who goes into the colonies has a wide field of activity open before him in this respect. If only more people could be made to take an interest in these things we might buoy ourselves up with the hope of obtaining and keeping some of the best and rarest specimens of African animal life, perhaps even a full-grown gorilla from the West Coast--perhaps even an Okapi!

I was only able to keep my little menagerie together for a few weeks at a time, as I had to be constantly setting out on fresh expeditions. On these occasions I was accustomed to leave the animals in some village under the care of trustworthy blacks, so that I could take them again on my return journey to the coast. The weeks and months I spent in camp with my animals were a great source of pleasure to me. At night-time there were occasions when “rhinos” and “hippos” paid us visits, as could be plainly seen by the tracks found the next morning.[18] Hyenas and jackals came very often, and even lions sometimes came to within a short distance of the camp. Thus my zoological garden, in spite of its size, could well boast of being, so to speak, the most _primitive_ in the world.

But we had our anxious moments. Death levied its toll among my people, and the continual rumours of uprisings and attacks from outside gave plenty to talk about during the whole day, and often far on into the night over the camp-fire. When one of these charming African moonlit nights had set in over my homestead, when the noise of the bearers with their chatter and clatter had ceased, and my work, too, was done, then I used to sit awhile in front of the flickering flames and think. Or I would wander from fire to fire to exchange a few words with my watchmen, to learn their news and their wishes and to ask much that I wanted to know. This is the hour when men are most communicative, and unless there be urgent need of sleep the conversation may continue far into the night.

There is something strangely beautiful about those nights in the wilderness. My thoughts go back to an encampment I once made at the foot of the volcanic mountain of Gelei, close to a picturesque rocky gorge, in the depths of which was a small stream--a mere trickle during the hot weather. Its source lay in the midst of an extensive acacia wood, which tailed off on one side into the bare, open “boga,” while on the other it became merged in a dense thicket of euphorbia trees, creepers, and elelescho bushes, impenetrable to men but affording a refuge to animals, even to elephants. On the day before I had noted the fact that Masai warriors had recently encamped in the neighbourhood, with cattle which they had got hold of on a marauding expedition (and some of which they had here slaughtered), and that with their booty they had betaken themselves over the English frontier. It was quite on the cards that roaming young Masai warriors would suddenly turn up while I was there. It was several days’ journey to the nearest inhabited region. For weeks together one would see no human soul save for a nomadic hunter every now and again.

The great barren wilderness, which then in the dry season could boast of no verdure save the evergreen Hunger-plant, so well suited to the arid velt; the romantic site of my camp; the beautiful moonlight night, darkened over from time to time by great masses of clouds, heralding the approach of rain; the dangers lurking all around: everything conspired to produce a wonderful effect upon the mind. The night had come upon us silently, mysteriously, jet-black. Before the moon rose, one’s fancy foreshadowed some sudden incursion into the death-like darkness, the bodeful silence. There was something weird and unnatural about the stillness--it suggested the calm before the storm. Faint rustlings and cracklings and voices inaudible by day now made themselves heard. The world of the little living things came by its own, and crackled and rustled among plants and branches and reeds and grass. Hark! Is that the sound of a cockchafer or a mouse, or is it the footstep of a foe?... Even within my tent there are evidences of life. Rats bestir themselves upon their daring enterprises, to meet their end, here and there, in my traps. Emin Pasha has told us how he experienced the same kind of thing. How dormice and beautiful Sterkulien made their home in his camp, gleefully climbing up and down the canvas of his tent during the night--doubtless gazing at the strange white man with their great, dark, wide-open eyes, as they did at me.... Save for these sounds there is complete stillness, broken only by the voice of the night-jar, mournful and monotonous, as it wings its eerie, noiseless flight in and out of the firelight and round and round the camp.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

VULTURES ON THE WING.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

VULTURES HOVERING OVER THE CARCASE OF A GNU WHICH HAD BEEN KILLED BY A LION.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

VULTURES MOVING AWAY FROM A CARCASE, STARTLED AT MY APPROACH. (WHEN FIGHTING OVER A CARCASE, THEY GIVE OUT A HISSING KIND Of SOUND.)]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

MY PELICANS (_TANTALUS IBIS_, L.), WHICH AFTERWARDS TOOK UP THEIR ABODE IN THE BERLIN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS.]

Beyond the glow of the camp-fire our eyes cannot travel--we cannot see what is happening outside the camp, even quite close at hand. This intensifies one’s feeling of insecurity, for I know well how suddenly and with what lightning speed the great felines manage their attacks. It is in just such circumstances that so many men fall victims to lion and leopard. One evening a leopard will snatch a small dog from your feet, the next it will carry off one of the native women before the eyes of the whole population of your camp. You must have had such things happen to you, or hear of them from eye-witnesses, to realise the danger.

Near my tent stand two hoary old trees all hung with creepers. In the uncertain firelight they seem to be a-quiver with life, and they throw phantom-like shadows. I hear the soft footsteps of the watch--they recall me to actualities. Now the moon emerges, and suddenly sheds its brilliant radiance over the entire velt. It is like the withdrawing of a pall. My thoughts wander away upon the moonbeams, and travel on and on, over land and sea, like homing birds.... The reader who would steep himself in the beauty and strangeness of this African camp-life should turn to the pages of that splendid work _Caput Nili_, by my friend Richard Kandt. There he will find it all described by a master-hand in a series of exquisite nature-pictures. In language full of poetic beauty he gives us the very soul of the wilderness. These studies and sketches, from the pen of the man who discovered the sources of the Nile, are a veritable work of art. It is easier for the nature-lover to give himself up to the charms of this African solitude than to set them forth adequately in words.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

A STRANGE FRIENDSHIP SPRANG UP BETWEEN A SMALL APE AND A GOSHAWK THAT I HAD AT HOME AT AN EARLIER DATE. THE APE USED OFTEN TO PULL THE BIRD ABOUT PLAYFULLY, WHILE TWO STORKS LOOKED ON WITH INTEREST.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

“FATIMA” PROWLING ROUND. SHE WAS ON PARTICULARLY GOOD TERMS WITH THE MARABOU.]

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

CARRYING A FINE LEOPARD, WEIGHING 145 POUNDS, INTO CAMP. IT HAD BEEN TRAPPED.]

THE BEARERS ALWAYS LIKE TO “KILL” THE GAME IN ACCORDANCE WITH
MOHAMMEDAN RITES, EVEN WHEN DEATH HAS ALREADY BEEN ENSURED BY
THE HUNTERS AND HAS BEGUN TO SET IN. WHEN THESE RITES CANNOT BE
FULFILLED, THEY WILL SOMETIMES REFUSE TO EAT THE FLESH.]

Wonderful, indeed, is the beauty of those African moonlight nights. Their radiant splendour is a thing never to be forgotten. How taint and faded in comparison seem our moonlight nights at home!

Through the camp, past the smouldering and flickering fires, the Askari sentry wanders noiselessly. He is a man well on in years--a tried man who has often been with me before. Years ago he vowed he would never again return to the wilderness with a “Safari,” yet every time I revisit Africa the spell of the wild has come over him anew, and he has been unable to resist.

He comes to me now and says, as he has had so often to say before: “Master, do you hear the lions yonder in the distance?” And he makes his way towards the great fire in the centre of the camp and throws some fresh logs upon it. Flames spring up, blazing and flickering in the moonlight.

_C. G. Schillings, phot._

MOONLIGHT ON THE VELT.]

XV

Night Photography under Difficulties