The Land of Footprints
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Stewart Edward White >> The Land of Footprints
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The birds proved to be white egrets. Now at home I am strongly
against the killing of these creatures, and have so expressed
myself on many occasions. But, looking from the beautiful white
plumage of these villainous mauraders, to the wrinkled countenance
of the grateful weary old savage, I could not fan a spark of
regret. And from the straight line of their retreating flight I
like to think that the rest of the flock never came back, but
took their toll from the wider fields of the plateau above.
Next day we reentered the game-haunted wilderness, nor did we see
any more native villages until many weeks later we came into the
country of the Wakamba.
XIX. THE TANA RIVER
Our first sight of the Tana River was from the top of a bluff. It
flowed below us a hundred feet, bending at a sharp elbow against
the cliff on which we stood. Out of the jungle it crept
sluggishly and into the jungle it crept again, brown, slow,
viscid, suggestive of the fevers and the lurking beasts by which,
indeed, it was haunted. From our elevation we could follow its
course by the jungle that grew along its banks. At first this was
intermittent, leaving thin or even open spaces at intervals, but
lower down it extended away unbroken and very tall. The trees
were many of them beginning to come into flower.
Either side of the jungle were rolling hills. Those to the left made
up to the tremendous slopes of Kenia. Those to the right ended
finally in a low broken range many miles away called the Ithanga
Hills. The country gave one the impression of being clothed with
small trees; although here and there this growth gave space to
wide grassy plains. Later we discovered that the forest was more
apparent than real. The small trees, even where continuous, were
sparse enough to permit free walking in all directions, and open
enough to allow clear sight for a hundred yards or so.
Furthermore, the shallow wide valleys between the hills were
almost invariably treeless and grown to very high thick grass.
Thus the course of the Tana possessed advantages to such as we.
By following in general the course of the stream we were always
certain of wood and water. The river itself was full of fish-not
to speak of hundreds of crocodiles and hippopotamuses. The thick
river jungle gave cover to such animals as the bushbuck, leopard,
the beautiful colobus, some of the tiny antelope, waterbuck,
buffalo and rhinoceros. Among the thorn and acacia trees of the
hillsides one was certain of impalla, eland, diks-diks, and
giraffes. In the grass bottoms were lions, rhinoceroses, a half
dozen varieties of buck, and thousands and thousands of game
birds such as guinea fowl and grouse. On the plains fed zebra,
hartebeeste, wart-hog, ostriches, and several species of the
smaller antelope. As a sportsman's paradise this region would be
hard to beat.
We were now afoot. The dreaded tsetse fly abounded here, and we
had sent our horses in via Fort Hall. F. had accompanied them,
and hoped to rejoin us in a few days or weeks with tougher and
less valuable mules. Pending his return we moved on leisurely,
camping long at one spot, marching short days, searching the
country far and near for the special trophies of which we stood
in need.
It was great fun. Generally we hunted each in his own direction
and according to his own ideas. The jungle along the river, while
not the most prolific in trophies, was by all odds the most
interesting. It was very dense, very hot, and very shady. Often a
thorn thicket would fling itself from the hills right across to
the water's edge, absolutely and hopelessly impenetrable save by
way of the rhinoceros tracks. Along these then we would slip,
bent double, very quietly and gingerly, keeping a sharp lookout
for the rightful owners of the trail. Again we would wander among
lofty trees through the tops of which the sun flickered on
festooned serpentlike vines. Every once in a while we managed a
glimpse of the sullen oily river through the dense leaf screen on
its banks. The water looked thick as syrup, of a deadly menacing
green. Sometimes we saw a loathsome crocodile lying with his nose
just out of water, or heard the snorting blow of a hippopotamus
coming up for air. Then the thicket forced us inland again. We
stepped very slowly, very alertly, our ears cocked for the
faintest sound, our eyes roving. Generally, of course, the
creatures of the jungle saw us first. We became aware of them by
a crash or a rustling or a scamper. Then we stood stock listening
with all our ears for some sound distinguishing to the species. Thus I
came to recognize the queer barking note of the bushbuck, for
example, and to realize how profane and vulgar that and the beautiful
creature, the impalla, can be when he forgets himself. As for the
rhinoceros, he does not care how much noise he makes, nor how
badly he scares you.
Personally, I liked very well to circle out in the more open
country until about three o'clock, then to enter the river jungle
and work my way slowly back toward camp. At that time of day the
shadows were lengthening, the birds and animals were beginning to
stir about. In the cooling nether world of shadow we slipped
silently from thicket to thicket, from tree to tree; and the
jungle people fled from us, or withdrew, or gazed curiously, or
cursed us as their dispositions varied.
While thus returning one evening I saw my first colobus. He was
swinging rapidly from one tree to another, his long black and
white fur shining against the sun. I wanted him very much, and
promptly let drive at him with the 405 Winchester. I always
carried this heavier weapon in the dense jungle. Of course I
missed him, but the roar of the shot so surprised him that he
came to a stand. Memba Sasa passed me the Springfield, and I
managed to get him in the head. At the shot another flashed into
view, high up in the top of a tree. Again I aimed and fired. The
beast let go and fell like a plummet. "Good shot," said I to
myself. Fifty feet down the colobus seized a limb and went
skipping away through the branches as lively as ever. In a moment
he stopped to look back, and by good luck I landed him through
the body. When we retrieved him we found that the first shot had
not hit him at all!
At the time I thought he must have been frightened into falling;
but many subsequent experiences showed me that this sheer
let-go-all-holds drop is characteristic of the colobus and his
mode of progression. He rarely, as far as my observation goes,
leaps out and across as do the ordinary monkeys, but prefers to
progress by a series of slanting ascents followed by
breath-taking straight drops to lower levels. When closely
pressed from beneath, he will go as high as he can, and will then
conceal himself in the thick leaves.
B. and I procured our desired number of colobus by taking
advantage of this habit-as soon as we had learned it. Shooting
the beasts with our rifles we soon found to be not only very
difficult, but also destructive of the skins. On the other hand,
a man could not, save by sheer good fortune, rely on stalking
near enough to use a shotgun. Therefore we evolved a method
productive of the maximum noise, row, barked shins, thorn wounds,
tumbles, bruises-and colobus! It was very simple. We took about
twenty boys into the jungle with us, and as soon as we caught
sight of a colobus we chased him madly. That was all there was to
it.
And yet this method, simple apparently to the point of
imbecility, had considerable logic back of it after all; for
after a time somebody managed to get underneath that colobus when
he was at the top of a tree. Then the beast would hide.
Consider then a tumbling riotous mob careering through the jungle
as fast as the jungle would let it, slipping, stumbling, falling
flat, getting tangled hopelessly, disentangling with profane
remarks, falling behind and catching up again, everybody yelling
and shrieking. Ahead of us we caught glimpses of the sleek
bounding black and white creature, running up the long slanting
limbs, and dropping like a plummet into the lower branches of the
next tree. We white men never could keep up with the best of our
men at this sort of work, although in the open country I could
hold them well enough. We could see them dashing through the
thick cover at a great rate of speed far ahead of us. After an
interval came a great shout in chorus. By this we knew that the
quarry had been definitely brought to a stand. Arriving at the
spot we craned our heads backward, and proceeded to get a crick
in the neck trying to make out invisible colobus in the very tops
of the trees above us. For gaudily marked beasts the colobus were
extraordinarily difficult to see. This was in no sense owing to
any far-fetched application of protective colouration; but to the
remarkable skill the animals possessed in concealing themselves
behind apparently the scantiest and most inadequate cover.
Fortunately for us our boys' ability to see them was equally
remarkable. Indeed, the most difficult part of their task was to
point the game out to us. We squinted, and changed position, and
tried hard to follow directions eagerly proffered by a dozen of
the men. Finally one of us would, by the aid of six
power-glasses, make out, or guess at a small tuft of white or
black hair showing beyond the concealment of a bunch of leaves.
We would unlimber the shotgun and send a charge of BB into that
bunch. Then down would plump the game, to the huge and vociferous
delight of all the boys. Or, as occasionally happened, the shot
was followed merely by a shower of leaves and a chorus of
expostulations indicating that we had mistaken the place, and had
fired into empty air.
In this manner we gathered the twelve we required between us. At
noon we sat under the bank, with the tangled roots of trees above
us, and the smooth oily river slipping by. You may be sure we
always selected a spot protected by very shoal water, for the
crocodiles were numerous. I always shot these loathsome creatures
whenever I got a chance, whenever the sound of a shot would not
alarm more valuable game. Generally they were to be seen in
midstream, just the tip of their snouts above water, and
extraordinarily like anything but crocodiles. Often it took
several close scrutinies through the glass to determine the
brutes. This required rather nice shooting. More rarely we
managed to see them on the banks, or only half submerged. In this
position, too, they were all but undistinguishable as living
creatures. I think this is perhaps because of their complete
immobility. The creatures of the woods, standing quite still, are
difficult enough to see; but I have a notion that the eye,
unknown to itself, catches the sum total of little flexings of
the muscles, movements of the skin, winkings, even the play of
wind and light in the hair of the coat, all of which, while
impossible of analysis, together relieve the appearance of dead
inertia. The vitality of a creature like the crocodile, however,
seems to have withdrawn into the inner recesses of its being. It
lies like a log of wood, and for a log of wood it is mistaken.
Nevertheless the crocodile has stored in it somewhere a fearful
vitality. The swiftness of its movements when seizing prey is
most astonishing; a swirl of water, the sweep of a powerful tail,
and the unfortunate victim has disappeared. For this reason it is
especially dangerous to approach the actual edge of any of the
great rivers, unless the water is so shallow that the crocodile
could not possibly approach under cover, as is its cheerful
habit. We had considerable difficulty in impressing this
elementary truth on our hill-bred totos until one day, hearing
wild shrieks from the direction of the river, I rushed down to
find the lot huddled together in the very middle of a sand spit
that-reached well out into the stream. Inquiry developed that
while paddling in the shallows they had been surprised by the
sudden appearance of an ugly snout and well drenched by the sweep
of an eager tail. The stroke fortunately missed. We stilled the
tumult, sat down quietly to wait, and at the end of ten minutes
had the satisfaction of abating that croc.
Generally we killed the brutes where we found them and allowed
them to drift away with the current. Occasionally however we
wanted a piece of hide, and then tried to retrieve them. One such
occasion showed very vividly the tenacity of life and the
primitive nervous systems of these great saurians.
I discovered the beast, head out of water, in a reasonable sized
pool below which were shallow rapids. My Springfield bullet hit
him fair, whereupon he stood square on his head and waved his tail
in the air, rolled over three or four times, thrashed the water,
and disappeared. After waiting a while we moved on downstream.
Returning four hours later I sneaked up quietly. There the
crocodile lay sunning himself on the sand bank. I supposed he
must be dead; but when I accidentally broke a twig, he
immediately commenced to slide off into the water. Thereupon I
stopped him with a bullet in the spine. The first shot had
smashed a hole in his head, just behind the eye, about the size
of an ordinary coffee cup. In spite of this wound, which would
have been instantly fatal to any warm-blooded animal, the
creature was so little affected that it actually reacted to a
slight noise made at some distance from where it lay. Of course
the wound would probably have been fatal in the long run.
The best spot to shoot at, indeed, is not the head but the spine
immediately back of the head.
These brutes are exceedingly powerful. They are capable of taking
down horses and cattle, with no particular effort. This I know
from my own observation. Mr. Fleischman, however, was privileged
to see the wonderful sight of the capture and destruction of a
full-grown rhinoceros by a crocodile. The photographs he took of
this most extraordinary affair leave no room for doubt. Crossing
a stream was always a matter of concern to us. The boys beat the
surface of the water vigorously with their safari sticks. On
occasion we have even let loose a few heavy bullets to stir up
the pool before venturing in.
A steep climb through thorn and brush would always extricate us
from the river jungle when we became tired of it. Then we found
ourselves in a continuous but scattered growth of small trees.
Between the trunks of these we could see for a hundred yards or
so before their numbers closed in the view. Here was the
favourite haunt of numerous beautiful impalla. We caught glimpses
of them, flashing through the trees; or occasionally standing,
gazing in our direction, their slender necks stretched high,
their ears pointed for us. These curious ones were generally the
does. The bucks were either more cautious or less inquisitive. A
herd or so of eland also liked this covered country; and there were
always a few waterbuck and rhinoceroses about. Often too we here
encountered stragglers from the open plains-zebra or
hartebeeste, very alert and suspicious in unaccustomed
surroundings.
A great deal of the plains country had been burned over; and a
considerable area was still afire. The low bright flames licked
their way slowly through the grass in a narrow irregular band
extending sometimes for miles. Behind it was blackened soil, and
above it rolled dense clouds of smoke. Always accompanied it
thousands of birds wheeling and dashing frantically in and out of
the murk, often fairly at the flames themselves. The published
writings of a certain worthy and sentimental person waste much
sympathy over these poor birds dashing frenziedly about above
their destroyed nests. As a matter of fact they are taking greedy
advantage of a most excellent opportunity to get insects cheap.
Thousands of the common red-billed European storks patrolled the
grass just in front of the advancing flames, or wheeled barely
above the fire. Grasshoppers were their main object, although
apparently they never objected to any small mammals or reptiles
that came their way. Far overhead wheeled a few thousand more
assorted soarers who either had no appetite or had satisfied it.
The utter indifference of the animals to the advance of a big
conflagration always impressed me. One naturally pictures the
beasts as fleeing wildly, nostrils distended, before the
devouring element. On the contrary I have seen kongoni grazing
quite peacefully with flames on three sides of them. The fire
seems to travel rather slowly in the tough grass; although at
times and for a short distance it will leap to a wild and roaring
life. Beasts will then lope rapidly away to right or left, but
without excitement.
On these open plains we were more or less pestered with ticks of
various sizes. These clung to the grass blades; but with no
invincible preference for that habitat; trousers did them just as
well. Then they ascended looking for openings. They ranged in
size from little red ones as small as the period of a printed
page to big patterned fellows the size of a pea. The little ones
were much the most abundant. At times I have had the front of my
breeches so covered with them that their numbers actually
imparted a reddish tinge to the surface of the cloth. This sounds
like exaggeration, but it is a measured statement. The process of
de-ticking (new and valuable word) can then be done only by
scraping with the back of a hunting knife.
Some people, of tender skin, are driven nearly frantic by these
pests. Others, of whom I am thankful to say I am one, get off
comparatively easy. In a particularly bad tick country, one
generally appoints one of the youngsters as "tick toto." It is
then his job in life to de-tick any person or domestic animal
requiring his services. His is a busy existence. But though at
first the nuisance is excessive, one becomes accustomed to it in
a remarkably short space of time. The adaptability of the human
being is nowhere better exemplified. After a time one gets so
that at night he can remove a marauding tick and cast it forth
into the darkness without even waking up. Fortunately ticks are
local in distribution. Often one may travel weeks or months
without this infliction.
I was always interested and impressed to observe how indifferent
the wild animals seem to be to these insects. Zebra, rhinoceros
and giraffe seem to be especially good hosts. The loathsome
creatures fasten themselves in clusters wherever they can grip
their fangs. Thus in a tick country a zebra's ears, the lids and
corners of his eyes, his nostrils and lips, the soft skin between
his legs and body, and between his hind legs, and under his tail
are always crusted with ticks as thick as they can cling. One
would think the drain on vitality would be enormous, but the
animals are always plump and in condition. The same state of
affairs obtains with the other two beasts named. The hartebeeste
also carries ticks but not nearly in the same abundance; while
such creatures as the waterbuck, impalla, gazelles and the
smaller bucks seem either to be absolutely free from the pests,
or to have a very few. Whether this is because such animals take
the trouble to rid themselves, or because they are more immune
from attack it would be difficult to say. I have found ticks
clinging to the hair of lions, but never fastened to the flesh.
It is probable that they had been brushed off from the grass in
passing. Perhaps ticks do not like lions, waterbuck, Tommies, et
al., or perhaps only big coarse-grained common brutes like zebra
and rhinos will stand them at all.
XX. DIVERS ADVENTURES ALONG THE TANA
Late one afternoon I shot a wart-hog in the tall grass. The beast
was an unusually fine specimen, so I instructed Fundi and the
porters to take the head, and myself started for camp with Memba
Sasa. I had gone not over a hundred yards when I was recalled by
wild and agonized appeals of "Bwana! bwana!" The long-legged
Fundi was repeatedly leaping straight up in the air to an
astonishing height above the long grass, curling his legs up
under him at each jump, and yelling like a steam-engine.
Returning promptly, I found that the wart-hog had come to life at
the first prick of the knife. He was engaged in charging back and
forth in an earnest effort to tusk Fundi, and the latter was
jumping high in an equally earnest effort to keep out of the way.
Fortunately he proved agile enough to do so until I planted
another bullet in the aggressor.
These wart-hogs are most comical brutes from whatever angle one
views them. They have a patriarchal, self-satisfied, suburban
manner of complete importance. The old gentleman bosses his harem
outrageously, and each and every member of the tribe walks about
with short steps and a stuffy parvenu small-town
self-sufficiency. One is quite certain that it is only by
accident that they have long tusks and live in Africa, instead of
rubber-plants and self-made business and a pug-dog within
commuters' distance of New York. But at the slightest alarm this
swollen and puffy importance breaks down completely. Away they
scurry, their tails held stiffly and straightly perpendicular,
their short legs scrabbling the small stones in a frantic effort
to go faster than nature had intended them to go. Nor do they
cease their flight at a reasonable distance, but keep on going
over hill and dale, until they fairly vanish in the blue. I used
to like starting them off this way, just for the sake of
contrast, and also for the sake of the delicious but impossible
vision of seeing their human prototypes do likewise.
When a wart-hog is at home, he lives down a hole. Of course it
has to be a particularly large hole. He turns around and backs
down it. No more peculiar sight can be imagined than the
sardonically toothsome countenance of a wart-hog fading slowly in
the dimness of a deep burrow, a good deal like Alice's Cheshire
Cat. Firing a revolver, preferably with smoky black powder, just
in front of the hole annoys the wart-hog exceedingly. Out he
comes full tilt, bent on damaging some one, and it takes quick
shooting to prevent his doing so.
Once, many hundreds of miles south of the Tana, and many months
later, we were riding quite peaceably through the country, when
we were startled by the sound of a deep and continuous roaring in
a small brush patch to our left. We advanced cautiously to a
prospective lion, only to discover that the roaring proceeded
from the depths of a wart-hog burrow. The reverberation of our
footsteps on the hollow ground had alarmed him. He was a very
nervous wart-hog.
On another occasion, when returning to camp from a solitary walk,
I saw two wart-hogs before they saw me. I made no attempt to
conceal myself, but stood absolutely motionless. They fed slowly
nearer and nearer until at last they were not over twenty yards
away. When finally they made me out, their indignation and
amazement and utter incredulity were very funny. In fact, they
did not believe in me at all for some few snorty moments. Finally
they departed, their absurd tails stiff upright.
One afternoon F. and I, hunting along one of the wide grass
bottom lands, caught sight of a herd of an especially fine
impalla. The animals were feeding about fifty yards the other
side of a small solitary bush, and the bush grew on the sloping
bank of the slight depression that represented the dry stream
bottom. We could duck down into the depression, sneak along it,
come up back of the little bush, and shoot from very close range.
Leaving the gunbearers, we proceeded to do this.
So quietly did we move that when we rose up back of the little
bush a lioness lying under it with her cub was as surprised as we
were!
Indeed, I do not think she knew what we were, for instead of
attacking, she leaped out the other side the bush, uttering a
startled snarl. At once she whirled to come at us, but the brief
respite had allowed us to recover our own scattered wits. As she
turned I caught her broadside through the heart. Although this
shot knocked her down, F. immediately followed it with another
for safety's sake. We found that actually we had just missed
stepping on her tail!
The cub we caught a glimpse of. He was about the size of a setter
dog. We tried hard to find him, but failed. The lioness was an
unusually large one, probably about as big as the female ever
grows, measuring nine feet six inches in length, and three feet
eight inches tail at the shoulder.
Billy had her funny times housekeeping. The kitchen department
never quite ceased marvelling at her. Whenever she went to the
cook-camp to deliver her orders she was surrounded by an
attentive and respectful audience. One day, after holding forth
for some time in Swahili, she found that she had been standing
hobnailed on one of the boy's feet.
"Why, Mahomet!" she cried. "That must hurt you! Why didn't you
tell me?"
"Memsahib," he smiled politely, "I think perhaps you move some
time!"
On another occasion she was trying to tell the cook, through
Mahomet as interpreter, that she wanted a tough old buffalo steak
pounded, boarding-house style. This evidently puzzled all hands.
They turned to in an earnest discussion of what it was all about,
anyway. Billy understood Swahili well enough at that time to
gather that they could not understand the Memsahib's wanting the
meat "kibokoed"-FLOGGED. Was it a religious rite, or a piece of
revenge? They gave it up.
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