LEOPARDS AND RHINOS
There is a general belief firmly fixed in the popular mind by constant
repetition that the ostrich is a very stupid bird. A man might well
expect easy hunting of a bird that tried to hide by the traditional
method of sticking its head in the sand. But I found that the ostrich,
like other African animals, did not always realize its obligation to
tradition or abide by the rules set down for its behaviour. I went a
long way into the waterless desert of Somaliland after ostriches. We
were just across the Haud and were camped in a "tug" or dry stream
bed where by digging we could get water for our sixty men and the
camels. During two days of hunting in the dry bush of this desert I
had seen many ostriches, but none of them had put its head into the
ground and left its big black-and-white plumed body for me to shoot at.
On the contrary, in this my first experience with them I found them
exceedingly wary. They kept their bodies hidden behind the bush. Only
their heads were exposed, each head only about large enough to carry
a pair of very keen eyes and much too small to serve as a target at
the distance that they maintained. As a result of being continually
outwitted by them for two days I began to think ill of the man who
originally started the story about their stupidity.
With the difficulties of the chase firmly in mind I set out early on
the third day to see if I could get a specimen. Concluding that the
smaller the party the better the opportunity, I took only a mule and my
pony boy. When only a half mile from camp I met an old hyena who was
loafing along after a night out. He looked like a good specimen, but
after I shot him, one look at his dead carcass was enough to satisfy
me that he was not as desirable as I had thought, for his skin was
badly diseased. I had very good reason to think of this very hard later
in the day. A little farther along I shot a good wart hog for our
scientific collection. Leaving the specimen where it lay, I marked the
spot and continued in search of the plume-bearers.
Soon after this I climbed to the top of a termite hill about eight
feet high to look the country over with field glasses. As I held the
glasses to my eyes while adjusting the focus, I suddenly realized
that the letter S that I was focussing on was the head and neck of
an ostrich and that there was a second letter S beside it. The birds
remained perfectly motionless watching and I did likewise, locating
their position meanwhile by the termite hills which were nearly in line
between us. Suddenly the heads ducked and disappeared behind the bush.
I dropped from my perch and ran rapidly to where they had been, but
found only their trail in the sand.
When I had given up tracking them and was about to start farther
afield I came into an opening in the bush that was about thirty yards
wide and two hundred yards long. Near the centre of the opening was a
dense green bush a dozen feet in diameter. A beautiful cock ostrich
broke into the clearing at full speed just below the bush and as I
raised my rifle he disappeared behind the bush. I held ready to catch
him as he passed out from behind it on the other side, where there was
fifteen or twenty yards of clear ground before he would reach cover
again. I stood there ready with my gun up until I felt foolish. Then I
ran quickly to the bush expecting to find him just on the other side.
He was nowhere in sight, but his trail told the story. As he had come
into the open he had seen me and when behind the bush he had stopped
short, as indicated by a great hole and swirl of sand where he had
caught himself by one foot, had turned at right angles and run straight
away the length of the clearing, keeping the bush between himself and
his enemy. I have not known many animals to do a more clever thing than
this. I got one shot at him later--putting my sights at three hundred
yards--but the bullet struck in the sand between his legs.
We returned to camp later in the afternoon and after a little rest and
refreshment I started out again with only the pony boy and carrying
the necessary tools to get the head of the wart hog that I had shot
in the morning. We had no difficulty in finding the place where I had
shot him, but there was nothing to be seen of the pig. The place was
strewn with vulture features, but surely vultures could not make away
with the head. A crash in the bushes at one side led me in a hurry in
that direction and a little later I saw my pig's head in the mouth of a
hyena travelling up the slope of a ridge out of range. That meant that
my wart hog specimen was lost, and, having got no ostriches, I felt it
was a pretty poor day.
The sun was setting, and with little to console us the pony boy and I
started for camp. As we came near to the place where I had shot the
diseased hyena in the morning, it occurred to me that perhaps there
might be another hyena about the carcass, and feeling a bit "sore" at
the tribe for stealing my wart hog, I thought I might pay off the score
by getting a good specimen of a hyena for the collections. The pony
boy led me to the spot, but the dead hyena was nowhere in sight. There
was the blood where he had fallen, and in the dusk we could make out a
trail in the sand where he had been dragged away.
Advancing a few steps, a slight sound attracted my attention, and
glancing to one side I got a glimpse of a shadowy form going behind
a bush. I then did a very foolish thing. Without a sight of what I
was shooting at, I shot hastily into the bush. The snarl of a leopard
told me what kind of a customer I was taking chances with. A leopard
is a cat and has all the qualities that gave rise to the "nine lives"
legend. To kill him you have got to kill him clear to the tip of his
tail. Added to that, a leopard, unlike a lion, is vindictive. A wounded
leopard will fight to a finish practically every time, no matter how
many chances it has to escape. Once aroused, its determination is
fixed on fight, and if a leopard ever gets hold, it claws and bites
until its victim is in shreds. All this was in my mind, and I began
looking about for the best way out of it, for I had no desire to try
conclusions with a possibly wounded leopard when it was so late in the
day that I could not see the sights of my rifle. My intention was to
leave it until morning and if it had been wounded, there might then be
a chance of finding it. I turned to the left to cross to the opposite
bank of a deep, narrow _tug_ and when there I found that I was on an
island where the _tug_ forked, and by going along a short distance to
the point of the island I would be in position to see behind the bush
where the leopard had stopped. But what I had started the leopard was
intent on finishing. While peering about I detected the beast crossing
the _tug_ about twenty yards above me. I again began shooting, although
I could not see to aim. However, I could see where the bullets struck
as the sand spurted up beyond the leopard. The first two shots went
above her, but the third scored. The leopard stopped and I thought
she was killed. The pony boy broke into a song of triumph which was
promptly cut short by another song such as only a thoroughly angry
leopard is capable of making as it charges. For just a flash I was
paralyzed with fear, then came power for action. I worked the bolt of
my rifle and became conscious that the magazine was empty. At the same
instant I realized that a solid point cartridge rested in the palm of
my left hand, one that I had intended, as I came up to the dead hyena,
to replace with a soft nose. If I could but escape the leopard until I
could get the cartridge into the chamber!
[Illustration: The dotted line indicates Mr. Akeley's movement during
his encounter with the leopard. The dashes show the route taken by the
leopard. At position (1), Mr. Akeley fired into the bush. Of the three
shots fired at position (2), two went above the leopard and the third
inflicted only a skin wound. The hand-to-hand combat took place at
position (3).]
As she came up the bank on one side of the point of the island, I
dropped down the other side and ran about to the point from which
she had charged, by which time the cartridge was in place, and I
wheeled--to face the leopard in mid-air. The rifle was knocked flying
and in its place was eighty pounds of frantic cat. Her intention was
to sink her teeth into my throat and with this grip and her forepaws
hang to me while with her hind claws she dug out my stomach, for this
pleasant practice is the way of leopards. However, happily for me, she
missed her aim. Instead of getting my throat she was to one side. She
struck me high in the chest and caught my upper right arm with her
mouth. This not only saved my throat but left her hind legs hanging
clear where they could not reach my stomach. With my left hand I caught
her throat and tried to wrench my right arm free, but I couldn't do
it except little by little. When I got grip enough on her throat to
loosen her hold just a little she would catch my arm again an inch or
two lower down. In this way I drew the full length of the arm through
her mouth inch by inch. I was conscious of no pain, only of the sound
of the crushing of tense muscles and the choking, snarling grunts of
the beast. As I pushed her farther and farther down my arm I bent over,
and finally when it was almost freed I fell to the ground, the leopard
underneath me, my right hand in her mouth, my left hand clutching her
throat, my knees on her lungs, my elbows in her armpits spreading her
front legs apart so that the frantic clawing did nothing more than tear
my shirt. Her body was twisted in an effort to get hold of the ground
to turn herself, but the loose sand offered no hold. For a moment there
was no change in our positions, and then for the first time I began to
think and hope I had a chance to win this curious fight. Up to that
time it had been simply a good fight in which I expected to lose, but
now if I could keep my advantage perhaps the pony boy would come with
a knife. I called, but to no effect. I still held her and continued to
shove the hand down her throat so hard she could not close her mouth
and with the other I gripped her throat in a strangle hold. Then I
surged down on her with my knees. To my surprise I felt a rib go. I
did it again. I felt her relax, a sort of letting go, although she was
still struggling. At the same time I felt myself weakening similarly,
and then it became a question as to which would give up first. Little
by little her struggling ceased. My strength had outlasted hers.
After what seemed an interminable passage of time I let go and tried to
stand, calling to the pony boy that it was finished. He now screwed up
his courage sufficiently to approach. Then the leopard began to gasp,
and I saw that she might recover; so I asked the boy for his knife. He
had thrown it away in his fear, but quickly found it, and I at last
made certain that the beast was dead. As I looked at her later I came
to the conclusion that what had saved me was the first shot I had fired
when she went into the bush. It had hit her right hind foot. I think
it was this broken foot which threw out the aim of her spring and made
her get my arm instead of my throat. With the excitement of the battle
still on me I did not realize how badly used up I was. I tried to
shoulder the leopard to carry it to camp, but was very soon satisfied
to confine my efforts to getting myself to camp.
When I came inside the _zareba_, my companions were at dinner before
one of the tents. They had heard the shots and had speculated on the
probabilities. They had decided that I was in a mix-up with a lion
or with natives, but that I would have the enemy or the enemy would
have me before they could get to me; so they had continued their
dinner. The fatalistic spirit of the country had prevailed. When I
came within their range of vision, however, my appearance was quite
sufficient to arrest attention, for my clothes were all ripped, my arm
was chewed into an unpleasant sight, and there was blood and dirt all
over me. Moreover, my demands for all the antiseptics in camp gave
them something to do, for nothing was keener in my mind than that the
leopard had been feeding on the diseased hyena that I had shot in the
morning. To the practical certainty of blood poisoning from any leopard
bite not quickly treated was added the certainty that this leopard's
mouth was particularly foul with disease. While my companions were
getting the surgical appliances ready, my boys were stripping me and
dousing me with cold water. That done, the antiseptic was pumped into
every one of the innumerable tooth wounds until my arm was so full of
the liquid that an injection in one drove it out of another. During the
process I nearly regretted that the leopard had not won. But it was
applied so quickly and so thoroughly that it was a complete case.
Later in the evening they brought the leopard in and laid it beside my
cot. Her right hind foot showed where the first shot had hit her. The
only other bullet that struck her was the last before she charged and
that had creased her just under the skin on the back of the neck, from
the shock of which she had instantly recovered.
[Illustration: MR. AKELEY AND THE LEOPARD HE KILLED BARE HANDED]
[Illustration: A LEOPARD SPEARED BY THE NATIVES]
This encounter took place fairly soon after our arrival on my first
trip to Africa. I have seen a lot of leopards since and occasionally
killed one, but I have taken pains never to attempt it at such close
quarters again. In spite of their fighting qualities I have never
got to like or respect leopards very much. This is not because of my
misadventure; I was hurt much worse by an elephant, but I have great
respect and admiration for elephants. I think it is because the leopard
has always seemed to me a sneaking kind of animal, and also perhaps
because he will eat carrion even down to a dead and diseased hyena. A
day or two before my experience with the leopard someone else had shot
a hyena near our camp and had left him over night. The next morning
the dead hyena was lodged fifteen feet from the ground in the crotch
of a tree at some distance from where he was killed. A leopard, very
possibly my enemy, had dragged him along the ground and up the tree and
placed him there for future use. While such activities cannot increase
one's respect for the taste of leopards, they do give convincing
evidence of the leopard's strength, for the hyena weighed at least as
much as the leopard.
The leopard, like the elephant, is at home in every kind of country in
East Africa--on the plains, among the rocky hills, among the bamboo,
and in the forest all the way up to timber line on the equatorial
mountains. Unlike the lion, the leopard is a solitary beast. Except
for a mother with young, I have never seen as many as two leopards
together. It is my belief that like the lion they do their hunting
at night almost exclusively, and I am quite sure that this is their
general habit despite the fact that the only unmistakable evidence
of day hunting I ever saw myself in Africa was done by a leopard. I
was out one day in some tall grass and came upon the body of a small
antelope. As I came up I heard an animal retreat and I thought I
recognized a leopard's snarl. The antelope was still warm. It had
evidently just been killed and the tracks around it were those of a
leopard.
One of the leopard's chief sources of food supply consists of monkeys
and baboons. I remember a certain camp we had near the bottom of a
cliff. Out of this cliff grew a number of fig trees in which the
baboons were accustomed to sleep fairly well out of reach of the
leopards. They were, however, not completely immune, and we could hear
the leopards at the top of the cliff almost every night, and once
in a while the remnants of a baboon testified to the success of the
leopard's night prowling. Besides monkeys and baboons, leopards seem
inordinately fond of dogs. A pack of dogs like Paul Rainey's can make
short work of a leopard, but on the other hand a leopard can make short
work of a single dog and seemingly takes great pleasure in doing so.
One night in a shack in Nyiri, a settler sat talking to his neighbour,
while his dog slept under the table. Suddenly, and quite unannounced, a
leopard slipped in through the open door. Confusion reigned supreme for
a moment and then the men found themselves on the table. The leopard
was under the table killing the dog and somehow in the excitement
the door had been closed. One after the other the men fled out of the
window, leaving the dog to his fate. A traveller had a similar but more
painful experience with a leopard at the Dak Bungalow at Voi. Voi is a
station on the Uganda Railroad where there was, and I suppose still is,
a railroad hotel of a rather primitive kind known as the Dak Bungalow.
One night a man was sleeping in one of the Bungalow rooms and, hearing
a commotion outside, he started out to see what it was. As he passed
through the open doorway on to the porch he was attacked by the leopard
that had evidently come stalking his dogs.
Leopards are not particularly afraid of man. I never knew one to attack
a man unprovoked except when caught at such close quarters as the case
at Voi, but they prowl around man's habitation without compunction. I
had a camp in Somaliland once where the tents were surrounded by two
thorn thickets--the inner and outer _zareba_. A leopard came in one
night, killed a sheep, dragged it under the very fly of my tent on the
way out, jumped the _zareba_, and got away. Fifteen years ago, when
Nairobi was a very small place, the daughter of one of the government
officers went into her room one evening to dress. As she opened the
door she heard a noise and looking she noticed the end of a leopard's
tail sticking out from under the bed with the tip gently moving from
side to side. With great presence of mind the young lady quietly went
out and closed the door. Nairobi had many possibilities of thrills in
those days. It was about the same time that a gentleman hurrying from
town up to the Government House one evening met a lion in the middle of
the street to the embarrassment of both parties.
There are some phrases in Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade" that
put me in mind of the rhinoceros, or "rhino," as everyone calls him in
Africa.
"Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die."
But it is stupidity, not duty, that keeps the rhino from reasoning. He
is the stupidest old fellow in Africa. I know that many experienced
hunters likewise consider him one of the most dangerous animals in
Africa. I can't quite agree with this. Of course, if he runs over you
not only is it dangerous, but it is also likely to be fatal. It is
also true that as soon as he smells man he is likely to start charging
around in a most terrifying manner, but the rhino is never cunning
like the elephant, nor is his charge accurate like that of a lion, nor
is the rhino vindictive like the buffalo or the leopard. Most men's
estimates of the relative dangers of African animals are based upon
their own experiences. The animals that have mauled them worst or
scared them worst they hold most dangerous. I have been mauled by an
elephant, chewed by a leopard, and scared half to death a dozen times
by lions, so that I have the very firmest convictions about the dangers
of these animals. On the other hand, I have twice been caught by rhinos
in positions where an elephant, a lion, or a leopard would have had me
in no time, and both times the rhinos left me unmolested.
When I first went to Africa I had the same experience as everyone
else. Rhinos getting wind of me would charge me and to save myself I'd
shoot. I suppose I had stood off twenty of these charges with my rifle
before I discovered that if I did not shoot it would not necessarily be
fatal. I discovered the fact, of course, quite by accident. I was going
along the bank of the Tana River one day with my camera. My gun boys
were some distance behind so as not to disturb any animal that might
afford a picture. Suddenly I was set all a-quiver by the threshings
and snortings of a rhino coming through the bushes in my direction. I
very hastily took stock of the situation. There was nothing to climb.
Between me and the thicket from which the rhino was coming was about
twenty-five feet of open space. Behind me was a 30-foot drop to the
crocodile-infested waters of the Tana. The only hope I saw was a bush
overhanging the brink which looked as if it might or might not hold
me if I swung out on it. I decided to try the bush and let the rhino
land in the river, trusting to luck that I wouldn't join him there. The
bushes were thrust aside and he came full tilt into the opening where
he could see me. Everything was set for the final act. He suddenly
stopped with a snort. His head drooped. His eyes almost closed. He
looked as if he were going to sleep. The terrible beast had become
absolutely ludicrous. While this was going on I felt a poke in my back.
I reached behind and took my rifle from the gun boy who had come
up with equal celerity and bravery. I drew a bead on the old fellow
but I could not shoot. A stupider or more ludicrous looking object I
never saw. I began talking to him, but it did not rouse him from his
lethargy. There he stood, half asleep and totally oblivious, while
I, with the gun half aimed, talked to him about his ugly self. About
this time my porters came into hearing on a path behind the rhino. He
pricked up his ears and blundered off in that direction. I heard the
loads dropping as the porters made for the trees. The rhino charged
through the _safari_ and off into the bush.
At another time, somewhat later, three of them charged me when I was
sitting down and unarmed. I couldn't rise in time to get away or
reach a gun, so I merely continued to sit. This time they didn't stop
and doze, but they went by on both sides ten or fifteen feet away.
Such a charge was much more pleasing to me and apparently quite as
satisfactory to them as one in which they were successful in their
attack. These experiences have led me to think that in his blundering
charges the rhino has no clear objective, as a lion has, for instance.
Even his blundering charge is dangerous, of course, if you are in the
way, but I firmly believe that the rhino is too stupid to be either
accurate in his objective, fixed in his purpose, or vindictive in his
intentions.
This does not mean that a lot of people have not been killed by rhinos.
They have; but I do believe that compared with other African animals
the danger of the rhino is generally exaggerated. When he smells
something he comes toward the scent until he sees what it is. As he
can't see very far, no man with a gun is likely to let him come within
seeing distance without shooting. So the stupid old beast goes charging
around hoping to see the source of what he smells and in addition to
getting himself shot has made a reputation for savagery. In fact, he
has blundered around and been shot so much that old rhinos with big
horns are growing scarce.
I remember coming up over the top of a little rise one day and seeing
across the plain an old rhino standing motionless in the shade of a
solitary acacia about two hundred yards away. The usual tick birds sat
on his back. It was a typical rhino pose. As I stood looking for more
entertainment, a second rhino came mouching along between me and number
one. Number one evidently heard him. The birds flew off his back, he
pricked up his ears, and broke into a charge toward number two. Number
two reciprocated. Their direction was good and they had attained full
speed. I longed for a camera to photograph the collision. But the
camera would have done me no good. The collision did not happen. When
about twenty feet from each other they stopped dead, snorted, and
turned around, number one returning to doze under his tree and number
two continuing the journey which had been interrupted. I suppose that
rhinos have acquired the habit of charging whenever they smell anything
because until the white man came along they could investigate in this
peculiar manner with impunity. Everything but an elephant or another
rhino would get out of the way of one of these investigating rushes,
and of course an elephant or another rhino is big enough for even the
rhino's poor eyes to see before he gets into trouble.
The coming of the white man with the rifle upset all this, but the
rhino has learned less about protecting himself from man than the
other animals. Man went even further in breaking the rules of rhino
existence. The railroad was an even worse affront than the rifle. The
rhino furnished some of the comedy of the invasion of the game country
by the Uganda Railway. In the early days of that road a friend of
mine was on the train one day when a rhino charged it. The train was
standing still out in the middle of the plain. An old rhino, either
hearing it or smelling man, set out on the customary charge. The train
didn't move and he didn't swerve. He hit the running board of one car
at full speed. There was a terrific jolt. My friend rushed to the
platform. As he reached it the rhino was getting up off his knees. He
seemed a little groggy but he trotted off, conscious, perhaps, that
railroad trains cannot be routed by the rhino's traditional method of
attack.