The Land of Footprints

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

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The higher we go in the scale the truer this individualism holds.
We are forced to reason not from the bulk of observations, but
from their averages. If we find ten bucks who will go a mile
wounded to two who succumb in their tracks from similar hurts, we
are justified in saying tentatively that the species is tenacious
of life. But as experience broadens we may modify that statement;
for strange indeed are runs of luck.

For this reason a good deal of the wise conclusion we read in
sportsmen's narratives is worth very little. Few men have
experience enough with lions to rise to averages through the
possibilities of luck. ESPECIALLY is this true of lions. No beast
that roams seems to go more by luck than felis leo. Good hunters
may search for years without seeing hide nor hair of one of the
beasts. Selous, one of the greatest, went to East Africa for the
express purpose of getting some of the fine beasts there, hunted
six weeks and saw none. Holmes of the Escarpment has lived in the
country six years, has hunted a great deal and has yet to kill
his first. One of the railroad officials has for years gone up
and down the Uganda Railway on his handcar, his rifle ready in
hopes of the lion that never appeared; though many are there seen
by those with better fortune. Bronson hunted desperately for this
great prize, but failed. Rainsford shot no lions his first trip,
and ran into them only three years later. Read Abel Chapman's
description of his continued bad luck at even seeing the beasts.
MacMillan, after five years' unbroken good fortune, has in the
last two years failed to kill a lion, although he has made many
trips for the purpose. F. told me he followed every rumour of a
lion for two years before he got one. Again, one may hear the
most marvellous of yarns the other way about-of the German who
shot one from the train on the way up from Mombasa; of the young
English tenderfoot who, the first day out, came on three asleep,
across a river, and potted the lot; and so on. The point is, that
in the case of lions the element of sheer chance seems to begin
earlier and last longer than is the case with any other beast.
And, you must remember, experience must thrust through the luck
element to the solid ground of averages before it can have much
value in the way of generalization. Before he has reached that
solid ground, a man's opinions depend entirely on what kind of
lions he chances to meet, in what circumstances, and on how
matters happen to shape in the crowded moments.

But though lack of sufficiently extended experience has much to
do with these decided differences of opinion, I believe that
misapprehension has also its part. The sportsman sees lions on
the plains. Likewise the lions see him, and promptly depart to
thick cover or rocky butte. He comes on them in the scrub; they
bound hastily out of sight. He may even meet them face to face,
but instead of attacking him, they turn to right and left and
make off in the long grass. When he follows them, they sneak
cunningly away. If, added to this, he has the good luck to kill
one or two stone dead at a single shot each, he begins to think
there is not much in lion shooting after all, and goes home
proclaiming the king of beasts a skulking coward.

After all, on what grounds does he base this conclusion? In what
way have circumstances been a test of courage at all? The lion
did not stand and fight, to be sure; but why should he? What was
there in it for lions? Behind any action must a motive exist.
Where is the possible motive for any lion to attack on sight? He
does not-except in unusual cases-eat men; nothing has occurred
to make him angry. The obvious thing is to avoid trouble, unless
there is a good reason to seek it. In that one evidences the
lion's good sense, but not his lack of courage. That quality has
not been called upon at all.

But if the sportsman had done one of two or three things, I am
quite sure he would have had a taste of our friend's mettle. If
he had shot at and even grazed the beast; if he had happened upon
him where an exit was not obvious; or IF HE HAD EVEN FOLLOWED THE
LION UNTIL THE LATTER HAD BECOME TIRED OF THE ANNOYANCE,
he would very soon have discovered that Leo is not all good nature,
and that once on his courage will take him in against any odds.
Furthermore, he may be astonished and dismayed to discover that
of a group of several lions, two or three besides the wounded
animal are quite likely to take up the quarrel and charge too. In
other words, in my opinion, the lion avoids trouble when he can,
not from cowardice but from essential indolence or good nature;
but does not need to be cornered* to fight to the death when in
his mind his dignity is sufficiently assailed.

*This is an important distinction in estimating the inherent
courage of man or beast. Even a mouse will fight when cornered.

For of all dangerous beasts the lion, when once aroused, will
alone face odds to the end. The rhinoceros, the elephant, and
even the buffalo can often be turned aside by a shot. A lion
almost always charges home.* Slower and slower he comes, as the
bullets strike; but he comes, until at last he may be just
hitching himself along, his face to the enemy, his fierce spirit
undaunted. When finally he rolls over, he bites the earth in
great mouthfuls; and so passes fighting to the last. The death of
a lion is a fine sight.

*I seem to be generalizing here, but all these conclusions must
be understood to take into consideration the liability of
individual variation.

No, I must confess, to me the lion is an object of great respect;
and so, I gather, he is to all who have had really extensive
experience. Those like Leslie Tarleton, Lord Delamere, W. N.
MacMillan, Baron von Bronsart, the Hills, Sir Alfred Pease, who
are great lion men, all concede to the lion a courage and
tenacity unequalled by any other living beast. My own experience
is of course nothing as compared to that of these men. Yet I saw
in my nine months afield seventy-one lions. None of these offered
to attack when unwounded or not annoyed. On the other hand, only
one turned tail once the battle was on, and she proved to be a
three quarters grown lioness, sick and out of condition.

It is of course indubitable that where lions have been much shot
they become warier in the matter of keeping out of trouble. They
retire to cover earlier in the morning, and they keep more than
a perfunctory outlook for the casual human being. When hunters
first began to go into the Sotik the lions there would stand
imperturbable, staring at the intruder with curiosity or
indifference. Now they have learned that such performances are
not healthy-and they have probably satisfied their curiosity.
But neither in the Sotik, nor even in the plains around Nairobi
itself, does the lion refuse the challenge once it has been put
up to him squarely. Nor does he need to be cornered. He charges
in quite blithely from the open plain, once convinced that you
are really an annoyance.

As to habits! The only sure thing about a lion is his
originality. He has more exceptions to his rules than the German
language. Men who have been mighty lion hunters for many years,
and who have brought to their hunting close observation, can only
tell you what a lion MAY do in certain circumstances. Following
very broad principles, they may even predict what he is APT to
do, but never what he certainly WILL do. That is one thing that
makes lion hunting interesting.

In general, then, the lion frequents that part of the country
where feed the great game herds. From them he takes his toll by
night, retiring during the day into the shallow ravines, the
brush patches, or the rocky little buttes. I have, however, seen
lions miles from game, slumbering peacefully atop an ant hill.
Indeed, occasionally, a pack of lions likes to live high in the
tall-grass ridges where every hunt will mean for them a four- or
five-mile jaunt out and back again. He needs water, after
feeding, and so rarely gets farther than eight or ten miles from
that necessity.

He hunts at night. This is as nearly invariable a rule as can be
formulated in regard to lions. Yet once, and perhaps twice, I saw
lionesses stalking through tall grass as early as three o'clock
in the afternoon. This eagerness may, or may not, have had to do
with the possession of hungry cubs. The lion's customary
harmlessness in the daytime is best evidenced, however, by the
comparative indifference of the game to his presence then. From a
hill we watched three of these beasts wandering leisurely across
the plains below. A herd of kongonis feeding directly in their
path, merely moved aside right and left, quite deliberately, to
leave a passage fifty yards or so wide, but otherwise paid not
the slightest attention. I have several times seen this
incident, or a modification of it. And yet, conversely, on a
number of occasions we have received our first intimation of the
presence of lions by the wild stampeding of the game away from a
certain spot.

However, the most of his hunting is done by dark. Between the
hours of sundown and nine o'clock he and his comrades may be
heard uttering the deep coughing grunt typical of this time of
night. These curious, short, far-sounding calls may be mere
evidences of intention, or they may be a sort of signal by means
of which the various hunters keep in touch. After a little they
cease. Then one is quite likely to hear the petulant, alarmed
barking of zebra, or to feel the vibrations of many hoofs. There
is a sense of hurried, flurried uneasiness abroad on the veldt.

The lion generally springs on his prey from behind or a little
off the quarter. By the impetus his own weight he hurls his
victim forward, doubling its head under, and very neatly breaking
its neck. I have never seen this done, but the process has been
well observed and attested; and certainly, of the many hundreds
of lion kills I have taken the pains to inspect, the majority had
had their necks broken. Sometimes, but apparently more rarely,
the lion kills its prey by a bite in the back of the neck. I have
seen zebra killed in this fashion, but never any of the buck. It
may be possible that the lack of horns makes it more difficult to
break a zebra's neck because of the corresponding lack of
leverage when its head hits the ground sidewise; the instances I
have noted may have been those in which the lion's spring landed
too far back to throw the victim properly; or perhaps they were
merely examples of the great variability in the habits of felis
leo.

Once the kill is made, the lion disembowels the beast very neatly
indeed, and drags the entrails a few feet out of the way. He then
eats what he wants, and, curiously enough, seems often to be very
fond of the skin. In fact, lacking other evidence, it is
occasionally possible to identify a kill as being that of a lion
by noticing whether any considerable portion of the hide has been
devoured. After eating he drinks. Then he is likely to do one of
two things: either he returns to cover near the carcass and lies
down, or he wanders slowly and with satisfaction toward his happy
home. In the latter case the hyenas, jackals, and carrion birds
seize their chance. The astute hunter can often diagnose the
case by the general actions and demeanour of these camp
followers. A half dozen sour and disgusted looking hyenas seated
on their haunches at scattered intervals, and treefuls of
mournfully humpbacked vultures sunk in sadness, indicate that the
lion has decided to save the rest of his zebra until to-morrow
and is not far away. On the other hand, a grand flapping,
snarling Kilkenny-fair of an aggregation swirling about one spot
in the grass means that the principal actor has gone home.

It is ordinarily useless to expect to see the lion actually on
his prey. The feeding is done before dawn, after which the lion
enjoys stretching out in the open until the sun is well up, and
then retiring to the nearest available cover. Still, at the risk
of seeming to be perpetually qualifying, I must instance finding
three lions actually on the stale carcass of a waterbuck at
eleven o'clock in the morning of a piping hot day! In an
undisturbed country, or one not much hunted, the early morning
hours up to say nine o'clock are quite likely to show you lions
sauntering leisurely across the open plains toward their lairs.
They go a little, stop a little, yawn, sit down a while, and
gradually work their way home. At those times you come upon them
unexpectedly face to face, or, seeing them from afar, ride them
down in a glorious gallop. Where the country has been much
hunted, however, the lion learns to abandon his kill and seek
shelter before daylight, and is almost never seen abroad. Then
one must depend on happening upon him in his cover.

In the actual hunting of his game the lion is apparently very
clever. He understands the value of cooperation. Two or more will
manoeuvre very skilfully to give a third the chance to make an
effective spring; whereupon the three will share the kill. In a
rough country, or one otherwise favourable to the method, a pack
of lions will often deliberately drive game into narrow ravines
or cul de sacs where the killers are waiting.

At such times the man favoured by the chance of an encampment
within five miles or so can hear a lion's roar.

Otherwise I doubt if he is apt often to get the full-voiced,
genuine article. The peculiar questioning cough of early evening
is resonant and deep in vibration, but it is a call rather than a
roar. No lion is fool enough to make a noise when he is stalking.
Then afterward, when full fed, individuals may open up a few
times, but only a few times, in sheer satisfaction, apparently,
at being well fed. The menagerie row at feeding time, formidable
as it sounds within the echoing walls, is only a mild and gentle
hint. But when seven or eight lions roar merely to see how much
noise they can make, as when driving game, or trying to stampede
your oxen on a wagon trip, the effect is something tremendous.
The very substance of the ground vibrates; the air shakes. I can
only compare it to the effect of a very large deep organ in a
very small church. There is something genuinely awe-inspiring
about it; and when the repeated volleys rumble into silence, one
can imagine the veldt crouched in a rigid terror that shall
endure.

XI. LIONS AGAIN

As to the dangers of lion hunting it is also difficult to write.
There is no question that a cool man, using good judgment as to
just what he can or cannot do, should be able to cope with lion
situations. The modern rifle is capable of stopping the beast,
provided the bullet goes to the right spot. The right spot is
large enough to be easy to hit, if the shooter keeps cool. Our
definition of a cool man must comprise the elements of steady
nerves under super-excitement, the ability to think quickly and
clearly, and the mildly strategic quality of being able to make
the best use of awkward circumstances. Such a man, barring sheer
accidents, should be able to hunt lions with absolute certainty
for just as long as he does not get careless, slipshod or
over-confident. Accidents-real accidents, not merely unexpected
happenings-are hardly to be counted. They can occur in your own
house.

But to the man not temperamentally qualified, lion shooting is
dangerous enough. The lion, when he takes the offensive, intends
to get his antagonist. Having made up his mind to that, he
charges home, generally at great speed. The realization that it
is the man's life or the beast's is disconcerting. Also the
charging lion is a spectacle much more awe-inspiring in reality
than the most vivid imagination can predict. He looks very large,
very determined, and has uttered certain rumbling, blood-curdling
threats as to what he is going to do about it. It suddenly seems
most undesirable to allow that lion to come any closer, not even
an inch! A hasty, nervous shot misses-

An unwounded lion charging from a distance is said to start
rather slowly, and to increase his pace only as he closes.
Personally I have never been charged by an unwounded beast, but I
can testify that the wounded animal comes very fast. Cuninghame
puts the rate at about seven seconds to the hundred yards.
Certainly I should say that a man charged from fifty yards or so
would have little chance for a second shot, provided he missed
the first. A hit seemed, in my experience, to the animal, by
sheer force of impact, long enough to permit me to throw in
another cartridge. A lioness thus took four frontal bullets
starting at about sixty yards. An initial miss would probably
have permitted her to close.

Here, as can be seen, is a great source of danger to a flurried
or nervous beginner. He does not want that lion to get an inch
nearer; he fires at too long a range, misses, and is killed or
mauled before he can reload. This happened precisely so to two
young friends of MacMillan. They were armed with double-rifles,
let them off hastily as the beast started at them from two
hundred yards, and never got another chance. If they had
possessed the experience to have waited until the lion had come
within fifty yards they would have had the almost certainty of
four barrels at close range. Though I have seen a lion missed
clean well inside those limits.

>From such performances are so-called lion accidents built. During
my stay in Africa I heard of six white men being killed by lions,
and a number of others mauled. As far as possible I tried to
determine the facts of each case. In every instance the trouble
followed either foolishness or loss of nerve. I believe I should
be quite safe in saying that from identically the same
circumstances any of the good lion men-Tarleton, Lord Delamere,
the Hills, and others-would have extricated themselves unharmed.

This does not mean that accidents may not happen. Rifles jam, but
generally because of flurried manipulation! One may unexpectedly
meet the lion at too close quarters; a foot may slip, or a
cartridge prove defective. So may one fall downstairs or bump
one's head in the dark. Sufficient forethought and alertness and
readiness would go far in either case to prevent bad results.

The wounded beast, of course, offers the most interesting problem
to the lion hunter. If it sees the hunter, it is likely to charge
him at once. If hit while making off, however, it is more apt to
take cover. Then one must summon all his good sense and nerve to
get it out. No rules can be given for this; nor am I trying to
write a text book for lion hunters. Any good lion hunter knows a
lot more about it than I do. But always a man must keep in mind
three things: that a lion can hide in cover so short that it
seems to the novice as though a jack-rabbit would find scant
concealment there; that he charges like lightning, and that he
can spring about fifteen feet. This spring, coming unexpectedly
from an unseen beast, is about impossible to avoid. Sheer luck
may land a fatal shot; but even then the lion will probably do
his damage before he dies. The rush from a short distance a good
quick shot ought to be able to cope with.

Therefore the wise hunter assures himself of at least twenty
feet-preferably more-of neutral zone all about him. No matter
how long it takes, he determines absolutely that the lion is not
within that distance. The rest is alertness and quickness.

As I have said, the amount of cover necessary to conceal a lion
is astonishingly small. He can flatten himself out surprisingly;
and his tawny colour blends so well with the brown grasses that
he is practically invisible. A practised man does not, of course,
look for lions at all. He is after unusual small patches,
especially the black ear tips or the black of the mane. Once
guessed at, it is interesting to see how quickly the hitherto
unsuspected animal sketches itself out in the cover.

I should, before passing on to another aspect of the matter,
mention the dangerous poisons carried by the lion's claws. Often
men have died from the most trivial surface wounds. The grooves
of the claws carry putrefying meat from the kills. Every sensible
man in a lion country carries a small syringe, and either
permanganate or carbolic. And those mild little remedies he uses
full strength!

The great and overwhelming advantage is of course with the
hunter. He possesses as deadly a weapon: and that weapon will
kill at a distance. This is proper, I think. There are more lions
than hunters; and, from our point of view, the man is more
important than the beast. The game is not too hazardous. By that
I mean that, barring sheer accident, a man is sure to come out
all right provided he does accurately the right thing. In other
words, it is a dangerous game of skill, but it does not possess
the blind danger of a forest in a hurricane, say. Furthermore, it
is a game that no man need play unless he wants to. In the lion
country he may go about his business-daytime business-as though
he were home at the farm.

Such being the case, may I be pardoned for intruding one of my
own small ethical ideas at this point, with the full realization
that it depends upon an entirely personal point of view. As far
as my own case goes, I consider it poor sportsmanship ever to
refuse a lion-chance merely because the advantages are not all in
my favour. After all, lion hunting is on a different plane from
ordinary shooting: it is a challenge to war, a deliberate seeking
for mortal combat. Is it not just a little shameful to pot old
felis leo at long range, in the open, near his kill, and wherever
we have him at an advantage-nine times, and then to back out
because that advantage is for once not so marked? I have so often
heard the phrase, "I let him (or them) alone. It was not good
enough," meaning that the game looked a little risky.

Do not misunderstand. I am not advising that you bull ahead into
the long grass, or that alone you open fire on a half dozen lions
in easy range. Kind providence endowed you with strategy, and
certainly you should never go in where there is no show for you
to use your weapon effectively. But occasionally the odds will be
against you and you will be called upon to take more or less of a
chance. I do not think it is quite square to quit playing merely
because for once your opponent has been dealt the better cards.
If here are too many of them see if you cannot manoeuvre them; if
the grass is long, try every means in your power to get them out.
Stay with them. If finally you fail, you will at least have the
satisfaction of knowing that circumstances alone have defeated
you. If you do not like that sort of a game, stay out of it
entirely.

XII. MORE LIONS

Nor do the last remarks of the preceding chapter mean that you
shall not have your trophy in peace. Perhaps excitement and a
slight doubt as to whether or not you are going to survive do not
appeal to you; but nevertheless you would like a lion skin or so.
By all means shoot one lion, or two, or three in the safest
fashion you can. But after that you ought to play the game.

The surest way to get a lion is to kill a zebra, cut holes in
him, fill the holes with strychnine, and come back next morning.
This method is absolutely safe.

The next safest way is to follow the quarry with a pack of
especially trained dogs. The lion is so busy and nervous over
those dogs that you can walk up and shoot him in the ear. This
method has the excitement of riding and following, the joy of a
grand and noisy row, and the fun of seeing a good dog-fight. The
same effect can be got chasing wart-hogs, hyenas, jackals-or
jack-rabbits. The objection is that it wastes a noble beast in an
inferior game. My personal opinion is that no man is justified in
following with dogs any large animal that can be captured with
reasonable certainty without them. The sport of coursing is
another matter; but that is quite the same in essence whatever
the size of the quarry. If you want to kill a lion or so quite
safely, and at the same time enjoy a glorious and exciting gallop
with lots of accompanying row, by all means follow the sport with
hounds. But having killed one or two by that method, quit. Do not
go on and clean up the country. You can do it. Poison and hounds
are the SURE methods of finding any lion there may be about; and
AFTER THE FIRST FEW, one is about as justifiable as the other. If
you want the undoubtedly great joy of cross country pursuit, send
your hounds in after less noble game.

The third safe method of killing a lion is nocturnal. You lay out
a kill beneath a tree, and climb the tree. Or better, you hitch
out a pig or donkey as live bait. When the lion comes to this
free lunch, you try to see him; and, if you succeed in that, you
try to shoot him. It is not easy to shoot at night; nor is it
easy to see in the dark. Furthermore, lions only occasionally
bother to come to bait. You may roost up that tree many nights
before you get a chance. Once up, you have to stay up; for it is
most decidedly not safe to go home after dark. The tropical night
in the highlands is quite chilly. Branches seem to be quite as
cramping and abrasive under the equator as in the temperate
zones. Still, it is one method.

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