The Land of Footprints

S >> Stewart Edward White >> The Land of Footprints

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"All right," said Mahomet patiently at last. "He say he do it.
WHICH ONE IS IT?"

Part of our supplies comprised tins of dehydrated fruit. One
evening Billy decided to have a grand celebration, so she passed
out a tin marked "rhubarb" and some cornstarch, together with
suitable instructions for a fruit pudding. In a little while the
cook returned.

"Nataka m'tund-I want fruit," said he.

Billy pointed out, severely, that he already had fruit. He went
away shaking his head. Evening and the pudding came. It looked
good, and we congratulated Billy on her culinary enterprise.
Being hungry, we took big mouthfuls. There followed splutterings
and investigations. The rhubarb can proved to be an old one
containing heavy gun grease!

When finally we parted with our faithful cook we bought him a
really wonderful many bladed knife as a present. On seeing it he
slumped to the ground-six feet of lofty dignity-and began to
weep violently, rocking back and forth in an excess of grief.

"Why, what is it?" we inquired, alarmed.

"Oh, Memsahib!" he wailed, the tears coursing down his cheeks, "I
wanted a watch!"

One morning about nine o'clock we were riding along at the edge of
a grass-grown savannah, with a low hill to our right and another
about four hundred yards ahead. Suddenly two rhinoceroses came to
their feet some fifty yards to our left out in the high grass,
and stood looking uncertainly in our direction.

"Look out! Rhinos!" I warned instantly.

"Why-why!" gasped Billy in an astonished tone of voice, "they
have manes!"

In some concern for her sanity I glanced in her direction. She
was staring, not to her left, but straight ahead. I followed the
direction of her gaze, to see three lions moving across the face
of the hill.

Instantly we dropped off our horses. We wanted a shot at those
lions very much indeed, but were hampered in our efforts by the
two rhinoceroses, now stamping, snorting, and moving slowly in
our direction. The language we muttered was racy, but we dropped
to a kneeling position and opened fire on the disappearing lions.
It was most distinctly a case of divided attention, one eye on
those menacing rhinos, and one trying to attend to the always
delicate operation of aligning sights and signalling from a
rather distracted brain just when to pull the trigger. Our
faithful gunbearers crouched by us, the heavy guns ready.

One rhino seemed either peaceable or stupid. He showed no
inclination either to attack or to depart, but was willing to
back whatever play his friend might decide on. The friend charged
toward us until we began to think he meant battle, stopped,
thought a moment, and then, followed by his companion, trotted
slowly across our bows about eighty yards away, while we
continued our long range practice at the lions over their backs.

In this we were not winning many cigars. F. had a 280-calibre
rifle shooting the Ross cartridge through the much advertised
grooveless oval bore. It was little accurate beyond a hundred
yards. Memba Sasa had thrust the 405 into my hand, knowing it for
the "lion gun," and kept just out of reach with the long-range
Springfield. I had no time to argue the matter with him. The 405
has a trajectory like a rainbow at that distance, and I was
guessing at it, and not making very good guesses either. B. had
his Springfield and made closer practice, finally hitting a leg
of one of the beasts. We saw him lift his paw and shake it, but
he did not move lamely afterward, so the damage was probably
confined to a simple scrape. It was a good shot anyway. Then they
disappeared over the top of the hill.

We walked forward, regretting rhinos. Thirty yards ahead of me
came a thunderous and roaring growl, and a magnificent old lion
reared his head from a low bush. He evidently intended mischief,
for I could see his tail switching. However, B. had killed only
one lion and I wanted very much to give him the shot. Therefore,
I held the front sight on the middle of his chest, and uttered a
fervent wish to myself that B. would hurry up. In about ten
seconds the muzzle of his rifle poked over my shoulder, so I
resigned the job.

At B.'s shot the lion fell over, but was immediately up and
trying to get at us. Then we saw that his hind quarters were
paralyzed. He was a most magnificent sight as he reared his fine
old head, roaring at us full mouthed so that the very air
trembled. Billy had a good look at a lion in action. B. took up a
commanding position on an ant hill to one side with his rifle
levelled. F. and I advanced slowly side by side. At twelve feet
from the wounded beast stopped, F. unlimbered the kodak, while I
held the bead of the 405 between the lion's eyes, ready to press
trigger at the first forward movement, however slight. Thus we
took several exposures in the two cameras. Unfortunately one of
the cameras fell in the river the next day. The other contained
but one exposure. While not so spectacular as some of those
spoiled, it shows very well the erect mane, he wicked narrowing
of the eyes, the flattening of the ears of an angry lion. You
must imagine, furthermore, the deep rumbling diapason of his
growling.

We backed away, and B. put in the finishing shot. The first
bullet, we then found, had penetrated the kidneys, thus
inflicting a temporary paralysis.

When we came to skin him we found an old-fashioned lead bullet
between the bones of his right forepaw. The entrance wound had so
entirely healed over that hardly the trace of a scar remained.
>From what I know of the character of these beasts, I have no
doubt that this ancient injury furnished the reason for his
staying to attack us instead of departing with the other three
lions over the hill.

Following the course of the river, we one afternoon came around a
bend on a huge herd of mixed game that had been down to water.
The river, a quite impassable barrier lay to our right, and an
equally impassable precipitous ravine barred their flight ahead.
They were forced to cross our front, quite close, within the
hundred yards. We stopped to watch them go, a seemingly endless
file of them, some very much frightened, bounding spasmodically
as though stung; others more philosophical, loping easily and
unconcernedly; still others to a few-even stopping for a moment to
get a good view of us. The very young creatures, as always,
bounced along absolutely stiff-legged, exactly like wooden
animals suspended by an elastic, touching the ground and
rebounding high, without a bend of the knee nor an apparent
effort of the muscles. Young animals seem to have to learn how to
bend their legs for the most efficient travel. The same is true
of human babies as well. In this herd were, we estimated, some
four or five hundred beasts.

While hunting near the foothills I came across the body of a
large eagle suspended by one leg from the crotch of a limb. The
bird's talon had missed its grip, probably on alighting, the
tarsus had slipped through the crotch beyond the joint, the eagle
had fallen forward, and had never been able to flop itself back
to an upright position!

XXI. THE RHINOCEROS

The rhinoceros is, with the giraffe, the hippopotamus, the
gerenuk, and the camel, one of Africa's unbelievable animals.
Nobody has bettered Kipling's description of him in the Just-so
Stories: "A horn on his nose, piggy eyes, and few manners." He
lives a self-centred life, wrapped up in the porcine contentment
that broods within nor looks abroad over the land. When anything
external to himself and his food and drink penetrates to his
intelligence he makes a flurried fool of himself, rushing madly
and frantically here and there in a hysterical effort either to
destroy or get away from the cause of disturbance. He is the
incarnation of a living and perpetual Grouch.

Generally he lives by himself, sometimes with his spouse, more
rarely still with a third that is probably a grown-up son or
daughter. I personally have never seen more than three in
company. Some observers have reported larger bands, or rather
collections, but, lacking other evidence, I should be inclined to
suspect that some circumstances of food or water rather than a
sense of gregariousness had attracted a number of individuals to
one locality.

The rhinoceros has three objects in life: to fill his stomach
with food and water, to stand absolutely motionless under a bush,
and to imitate ant hills when he lies down in the tall grass.
When disturbed at any of these occupations he snorts. The snort
sounds exactly as though the safety valve of a locomotive had
suddenly opened and as suddenly shut again after two seconds of
escaping steam. Then he puts his head down and rushes madly in
some direction, generally upwind. As he weighs about two tons,
and can, in spite of his appearance, get over the ground nearly
as fast as an ordinary horse, he is a truly imposing sight,
especially since the innocent bystander generally happens to be
upwind, and hence in the general path of progress. This is
because the rhino's scent is his keenest sense, and through it he
becomes aware, in the majority of times, of man's presence. His
sight is very poor indeed; he cannot see clearly even a moving
object much beyond fifty yards. He can, however, hear pretty
well.

The novice, then, is subjected to what he calls a "vicious
charge" on the part of the rhinoceros, merely because his scent
was borne to the beast from upwind, and the rhino naturally runs
away upwind. He opens fire, and has another thrilling adventure
to relate. As a matter of fact, if he had approached from the
other side, and then aroused the animal with a clod of earth, the
beast would probably have "charged" away in identically the same
direction. I am convinced from a fairly varied experience that
this is the basis for most of the thrilling experiences with
rhinoceroses.

But whatever the beast's first mental attitude, the danger is
quite real. In the beginning he rushes, upwind in instinctive
reaction against the strange scent. If he catches sight of the
man at all, it must be after he has approached to pretty close
range, for only at close range are the rhino's eyes effective.
Then he is quite likely to finish what was at first a blind dash
by a genuine charge. Whether this is from malice or from the
panicky feeling that he is now too close to attempt to get away,
I never was able determine. It is probably in the majority of
cases the latter. This seems indicated by the fact that the
rhino, if avoided in his first rush, will generally charge right
through and keep on going. Occasionally, however, he will whirl
and come back to the attack. There can then be no doubt that he
actually intends mischief.

Nor must it be forgotten that with these animals, AS WITH ALL
OTHERS, not enough account is taken of individual variation.
They, as well as man, and as well as other animals, have their
cowards, their fighters, their slothful and their enterprising.
And, too, there seem to be truculent and peaceful districts.
North of Mt. Kenia, between that peak and the Northern Guaso
Nyero River, we saw many rhinos, none of which showed the
slightest disposition to turn ugly. In fact, they were so
peaceful that they scrabbled off as fast as they could go every
time they either scented, heard, or SAW us; and in their flight
they held their noses up, not down. In the wide angle between the
Tana and Thika rivers, and comprising the Yatta Plains, and in
the thickets of the Tsavo, the rhinoceroses generally ran nose
down in a position of attack and were much inclined to let their
angry passions master them at the sight of man. Thus we never had
our safari scattered by rhinoceroses in the former district,
while in the latter the boys were up trees six times in the
course of one morning! Carl Akeley, with a moving picture
machine, could not tease a charge out of a rhino in a dozen
tries, while Dugmore, in a different part of the country, was so
chivied about that he finally left the district to avoid killing
any more of the brutes in self-defence!

The fact of the matter is that the rhinoceros is neither animated
by the implacable man-destroying passion ascribed to him by the
amateur hunter, nor is he so purposeless and haphazard in his
rushes as some would have us believe. On being disturbed his
instinct is to get away. He generally tries to get away in the
direction of the disturbance, or upwind, as the case may be. If
he catches sight of the cause of disturbance he is apt to try to
trample and gore it, whatever it is. As his sight is short, he
will sometimes so inflict punishment on unoffending bushes. In
doing this he is probably not animated by a consuming destructive
blind rage, but by a naturally pugnacious desire to eliminate
sources of annoyance. Missing a definite object, he thunders
right through and disappears without trying again to discover
what has aroused him.

This first rush is not a charge in the sense that it is an attack
on a definite object. It may not, and probably will not, amount
to a charge at all, for the beast will blunder through without
ever defining more clearly the object of his blind dash. That
dash is likely, however, at any moment, to turn into a definite
charge should the rhinoceros happen to catch sight of his
disturber. Whether the impelling motive would then be a mistaken
notion that on the part of the beast he was so close he had to
fight, or just plain malice, would not matter. At such times the
intended victim is not interested in the rhino's mental
processes.

Owing to his size, his powerful armament, and his incredible
quickness the rhinoceros is a dangerous animal at all times, to
be treated with respect and due caution. This is proved by the
number of white men, out of a sparse population, that are
annually tossed and killed by the brutes, and by the promptness
with which the natives take to trees-thorn trees at that!-when
the cry of faru! is raised. As he comes rushing in your
direction, head down and long weapon pointed, tail rigidly erect,
ears up, the earth trembling with his tread and the air with his
snorts, you suddenly feel very small and ineffective.

If you keep cool, however, it is probable that the encounter will
result only in a lot of mental perturbation for the rhino and a
bit of excitement for yourself. If there is any cover you should
duck down behind it and move rapidly but quietly to one side or
another of the line of advance. If there is no cover, you should
crouch low and hold still. The chances are he will pass to one
side or the other of you, and go snorting away into the distance.
Keep your eye on him very closely. If he swerves definitely in
your direction, AND DROPS HIS HEAD A LITTLE LOWER, it would be
just as well to open fire. Provided the beast was still far
enough away to give me "sea-room," I used to put a small bullet
in the flesh of the outer part of the shoulder. The wound thus
inflicted was not at all serious, but the shock of the bullet
usually turned the beast. This was generally in the direction of
the wounded shoulder, which would indicate that the brute turned
toward the apparent source of the attack, probably for the
purpose of getting even. At any rate, the shot turned the rush to
one side, and the rhinoceros, as usual, went right on through.
If, however, he seemed to mean business, or was too close for
comfort, the point to aim for was the neck just above the lowered
horn.

In my own experience I came to establish a "dead line" about
twenty yards from myself. That seemed to be as near as I cared to
let the brutes come. Up to that point I let them alone on the
chance that they might swerve or change their minds, as they
often did. But inside of twenty yards, whether the rhinoceros
meant to charge me, or was merely running blindly by, did not
particularly matter. Even in the latter case he might happen to
catch sight of me and change his mind. Thus, looking over my
notebook records, I find that I was "charged" forty odd
times-that is to say, the rhinoceros rushed in my general
direction. Of this lot I can be sure of but three, and possibly
four, that certainly meant mischief. Six more came so directly at
us, and continued so to come, that in spite of ourselves we were
compelled to kill them. The rest were successfully dodged.

As I have heard old hunters of many times my experience, affirm
that only in a few instances have they themselves been charged
indubitably and with malice aforethought, it might be well to
detail my reasons for believing myself definitely and not blindly
attacked.

The first instance was that when B. killed his second trophy
rhinoceros. The beast's companion refused to leave the dead body
for a long time, but finally withdrew. On our approaching,
however, and after we had been some moments occupied with the
trophy, it returned and charged viciously. It was finally killed
at fifteen yards.

The second instance was of a rhinoceros that got up from the
grass sixty yards away, and came headlong in my direction. At the
moment I was standing on the edge of a narrow eroded ravine, ten
feet deep, with perpendicular sides. The rhinoceros came on
bravely to the edge of this ravine-and stopped. Then he gave an
exhibition of unmitigated bad temper most amusing to
contemplate-from my safe position. He snorted, and stamped, and
pawed the earth, and tramped up and down at a great rate. I sat on
the opposite bank and laughed at him. This did not please him a
bit, but after many short rushes to the edge of the ravine, he
gave it up and departed slowly, his tail very erect and rigid.
>From the persistency with which he tried to get at me, I cannot
but think he intended something of the sort from the first.

The third instance was much more aggravating. In company with
Memba Sasa and Fundi I left camp early one morning to get a
waterbuck. Four or five hundred yards out, however, we came on
fresh buffalo signs, not an hour old. To one who knew anything of
buffaloes' habits this seemed like an excellent chance, for at
this time of the morning they should be feeding not far away
preparatory to seeking cover for the day. Therefore we
immediately took up the trail.

It led us over hills, through valleys, high grass, burned
country, brush, thin scrub, and small woodland alternately.
Unfortunately we had happened on these buffalo just as they were
about changing district, and they were therefore travelling
steadily. At times the trail was easy to follow and at other
times we had to cast about very diligently to find traces of the
direction even such huge animals had taken. It was interesting
work, however, and we drew on steadily, keeping a sharp lookout
ahead in case the buffalo had come to a halt in some shady
thicket out of the sun. As the latter ascended the heavens and
the scorching heat increased, our confidence in nearing our
quarry ascended likewise, for we knew that buffaloes do not like
great heat. Nevertheless this band continued straight on its way.
I think now they must have got scent of our camp, and had
therefore decided to move to one of the alternate and widely
separated feeding grounds every herd keeps in its habitat. Only
at noon, and after six hours of steady trailing, covering perhaps
a dozen miles, did we catch them up.

>From the start we had been bothered with rhinoceroses. Five times
did we encounter them, standing almost squarely on the line of
the spoor we were following. Then we had to make a wide quiet
circle to leeward in order to avoid disturbing them, and were
forced to a very minute search in order to pick up the buffalo
tracks again on the other side. This was at once an anxiety and a
delay, and we did not love those rhino.

Finally, at the very edge of the Yatta Plains we overtook the
herd, resting for noon in a scattered thicket. Leaving Fundi, I,
with Memba Sasa, stalked down to them. We crawled and crept by
inches flat to the ground, which was so hot that it fairly burned
the hand. The sun beat down on us fiercely, and the air was close
and heavy even among the scanty grass tufts in which we were
trying to get cover. It was very hard work indeed, but after a
half hour of it we gained a thin bush not over thirty yards from
a half dozen dark and indeterminate bodies dozing in the very
centre of a brush patch. Cautiously I wiped the sweat from my
eyes and raised my glasses. It was slow work and patient work,
picking out and examining each individual beast from the mass.
Finally the job was done. I let fall my glasses.

"Monumookee y'otey-all cows," I whispered to Memba Sasa.

We backed out of there inch by inch, with intention of circling a
short distance to the leeward, and then trying the herd again
lower down. But some awkward slight movement, probably on my
part, caught the eye of one of those blessed cows. She threw up
her head; instantly the whole thicket seemed alive with beasts.
We could hear them crashing and stamping, breaking the brush,
rushing headlong and stopping again; we could even catch
momentary glimpses of dark bodies. After a few minutes we saw the
mass of the herd emerge from the thicket five hundred yards away
and flow up over the hill. There were probably a hundred and
fifty of them, and, looking through my glasses, I saw among them
two fine old bulls. They were of course not much alarmed, as only
the one cow knew what it was all about anyway, and I suspected
they would stop at the next thicket.

We had only one small canteen of water with us, but we divided
that. It probably did us good, but the quantity was not
sufficient to touch our thirst. For the remainder of the day we
suffered rather severely, as the sun was fierce.

After a short interval we followed on after the buffaloes. Within
a half mile beyond the crest of the hill over which they had
disappeared was another thicket. At the very edge of the thicket,
asleep under an outlying bush, stood one of the big bulls!

Luck seemed with us at last. The wind was right, and between us
and the bull lay only four hundred yards of knee-high grass. All
we had to do was to get down on our hands and knees, and, without
further precautions, crawl up within range and pot him. That
meant only a bit of hard, hot work.

When we were about halfway a rhinoceros suddenly arose from the
grass between us and the buffalo, and about one hundred yards
away.

What had aroused him, at that distance and upwind, I do not know.
It hardly seemed possible that he could have heard us, for we
were moving very quietly, and, as I say, we were downwind.
However, there he was on his feet, sniffing now this way, now
that, in search for what had alarmed him. We sank out of sight
and lay low, fully expecting that the brute would make off.

For just twenty-five minutes by the watch that rhinoceros looked
and looked deliberately in all directions while we lay hidden
waiting for him to get over it. Sometimes he would start off
quite confidently for fifty or sixty yards, so that we thought at
last we were rid of him, but always he returned to the exact spot
where we had first seen him, there to stamp, and blow. The
buffalo paid no attention to these manifestations. I suppose
everybody in jungleland is accustomed to rhinoceros bad temper
over nothing. Twice he came in our direction, but both times gave
it up after advancing twenty-five yards or so. We lay flat on our
faces, the vertical sun slowly roasting us, and cursed that
rhino.

Now the significance of this incident is twofold: first, the fact
that, instead of rushing off at the first intimation of our
presence, as would the average rhino, he went methodically to
work to find us; second, that he displayed such remarkable
perseverance as to keep at it nearly a half hour. This was a
spirit quite at variance with that finding its expression in the
blind rush or in the sudden passionate attack. From that point of
view it seems to me that the interest and significance of the
incident can hardly be overstated.

Four or five times we thought ourselves freed of the nuisance,
but always, just as we were about to move on, back he came, as
eager as ever to nose us out. Finally he gave it up, and, at a
slow trot, started to go away from there. And out of the three
hundred and sixty degrees of the circle where he might have gone
he selected just our direction. Note that this was downwind for
him, and that rhinoceroses usually escape upwind.

We laid very low, hoping that, as before, he would change his
mind as to direction. But now he was no longer looking, but
travelling. Nearer and nearer he came. We could see plainly his
little eyes, and hear the regular swish, swish, swish of his
thick legs brushing through the grass. The regularity of his trot
never varied, but to me lying there directly in his path, he
seemed to be coming on altogether too fast for comfort. From our
low level he looked as big as a barn. Memba Sasa touched me
lightly on the leg. I hated to shoot, but finally when he loomed
fairly over us I saw it must be now or never. If I allowed him to
come closer, he must indubitably catch the first movement of my
gun and so charge right on us before I would have time to deliver
even an ineffective shot. Therefore, most reluctantly, I placed
the ivory bead of the great Holland gun just to the point of his
shoulder and pulled the trigger. So close was he that as he
toppled forward I instinctively, though unnecessarily of course,
shrank back as though he might fall on me. Fortunately I had
picked my spot properly, and no second shot was necessary. He
fell just twenty-seven feet-nine yards -from where we lay!

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