other parts of the earth with their endless profusion in those regions
which the European has not yet opened out. I feel that it sounds almost
incredible when I talk of having sighted hundreds of rhinoceroses with
my own eyes: incredible to the average man, I mean, not to the student
of such matters. Not until the mighty animal has been exterminated will
the facts of its existence--in what numbers it throve, how it lived and
how it came to die--become known to the public through its biographer.
We have no time to trouble about the living nowadays.
For weeks I had not hunted a rhinoceros--I had had enough of them. I
had need of none but very powerful specimens for my collection, and
these were no more to be met with every day than a really fine roebuck
in Germany. It is no mean achievement for the German sportsman to bag
a really valuable roebuck. There are too many sportsmen competing for
the prize--there must be more than half a million of us in all!
It is the same with really fine specimens of the two-horned
bull-rhinoceros. It is curious, by the way, to note that, as with so
many other kinds of wild animals, the cow-rhinoceros is furnished
with longer and more striking-looking horns than the bull, though the
latter’s are thicker and stronger, and in this respect more imposing.
The length of the horns of a full-grown cow-rhinoceros in East
Africa is sometimes enormous--surpassed only by those of the white
rhinoceroses of the South, now almost extinct. The British Museum
contains specimens measuring as much as 53½ inches. I remember well
the doubts I entertained about a 54-inch horn which I saw on sale in
Zanzibar ten years ago, and was tempted to buy. Such a growth seemed
to me then incredible, and several old residents who ought to have
known something about it fortified me in my belief that the Indian
dealer had “faked” it somehow, and increased its length artificially.
It might still be lying in his dimly lit shop instead of forming part
of my collection, only that on my first expedition into the interior
I saw for myself other rhinoceroses with horns almost as long, and on
returning to Zanzibar at once effected its purchase. A second horn of
equal length, but already half decayed when it was found on the velt,
came into my possession through the kindness of a friend. I myself
killed one cow-rhinoceros with very remarkable horns, but not so long
as these.
There is something peculiarly formidable and menacing about these
weapons of the rhinoceros. Not that they really make him a more
dangerous customer for the sportsman to tackle, but they certainly give
that impression. The thought of being impaled, run through, by that
ferocious dagger is by no means pleasant.
In something of the same way, a stag with splendid antlers, a great
maned lion, or a tremendous bull-elephant sends up the sportsman’s zest
to fever-pitch.
It is astonishing how the colossal beast manages to plunge its way
through the densest thicket despite the hindrance of its great horns.
It does so by keeping its head well raised, so that the horn almost
presses against the back of its massive neck, very much after the
style of our European stag. But it is a riddle, in both cases, how they
seem to be impeded so little.
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
AN ELAND, JUST BEFORE I GAVE IT A FINISHING SHOT.]
I felt nearly sure that I could count on finding some gamesome old
rhinoceroses up among the mountains, and my Wandorobo guides kept
declaring that I should see some extraordinary horns. They were not
wrong.
I strongly advise any one who contemplates betaking himself to the velt
after big game to set about the enterprise in the true sporting spirit,
making of it a really genuine contest between man and beast--a genuine
duel--not an onslaught of the many upon the one. Many English writers
support me in this, and they understand the claims of sport in this
field as well as we Germans do at home. The English have instituted
clearly defined rules which no sportsman may transgress. In truth, it
is a lamentable thing to see the _Sonntagsjäger_ importing himself with
his unaccustomed rifle amid the wild life of Africa!
I shall always look back with satisfaction to the great Schöller
expedition which I accompanied for some time in 1896. Not one of the
natives, not one of the soldiers, ventured to shoot a single head of
game throughout that expedition, even in those regions which until
then had never been explored by Europeans. The most rigid control was
exercised over them from start to finish. I have good grounds for
saying that this spirit has prevailed far too little as a general thing
in Africa.
I have invariably maintained discipline among my own followers, and
they have always submitted to it. How difficult it is to deal with
them, however, may be gathered from the following incident which I find
recorded in my diary.
On the occasion of my last journey, a black soldier, an Askari, had
been told off to attach himself for a time to my caravan. Presently
I had to send him back to the military station at Kilimanjaro with a
message. A number of my followers accompanied him, partly to fetch
goods, etc., from my main camp, partly on various other missions that
had to be attended to before we advanced farther into the velt. The
Askari was provided, as usual, with a certain number of cartridges.
When my men returned, a considerable time afterwards, I discovered
quite accidentally that one of them bore marks on his body of having
been brutally lashed with a whip. His back was covered with scars
and open wounds. After the long-suffering manner of his kind, he had
said nothing to me about it until his condition was revealed to me by
chance--for, as he was only one of the hundred and fifty attached to
my expedition, I might never have noticed it. It transpired that not
long after he had set out the Askari, against orders, had shot big game
and, among other animals, had bagged a giraffe, whose head--a valuable
trophy--he had forced my bearers to carry for him to the fort. The
particular bearer in question had quite rightly refused, whereupon
the Askari had thrashed him most barbarously with a hippopotamus-hide
whip--a _sjambok_. I need hardly say that he was suitably punished for
this when I lodged a formal complaint against him. Had it not been for
his ill-treatment of my bearer, however, I should never have heard of
the Askari’s shooting the giraffe, for he had succeeded in terrorising
all the men into silence.
[Illustration: AN ELAND BULL, THE LEADER OF A HERD WHICH AT THE MOMENT
OF THIS PHOTOGRAPH WAS IN CONCEALMENT BEHIND THE THORN-BUSHES.]
Now we move onwards, following the rhinoceros-tracks up the
hill-slopes, where they are clearly marked, and in among the steep
ridges, until they elude us for a while in the wilderness. Presently we
perceive not merely a hollowed-out path wrought in the soft stone by
the tramplings of centuries, but also fresh traces of rhinoceroses that
must have been left this very day. We are in for a first-rate hunt.
We have reached the higher ranges of the hills and are looking down
upon the extensive, scantily-wooded slopes. Are we going to bag our
game to-day?
I could produce an African day-book made up of high hopes and
disappointments. Not, indeed, that returning empty-handed meant
ill-humour and disappointment, or that I expected invariable good luck.
But a day out in the tropics counts for at least a week in Europe, and
I like to make the most of it. Then, too, I had to reserve my hunting
for those hours when I could give myself up to it body and soul. How
often while I have been on the march at the head of heavily laden
caravans have the most tempting opportunities presented themselves
to me, only to be resisted--fine chances for the record-breaker and
irresponsible shot, but merely tantalising to me!
On we go through the wilderness, still upwards. I am the first European
in these regions, which have much of novelty for my eyes. The great
lichen-hung trees, the dense jungle, the wide plains, all charm me.
The heat becomes more and more oppressive, and I and my followers are
beginning to feel its effects. We are wearying for a halt, but we must
lose no time, for we have still a long way before us, whether we return
to our main camp or press onwards to that wooded hollow yonder, four
hours’ march away, there to spend the night.
A vast panorama has been opening out in front of us. We have reached
the summit of this first range of hills, and are looking down on
another deep and extensive valley. My field-glasses enable me to descry
in the far distance a herd of eland making their way down the hill, and
two bush-buck grazing hard by a thicket. But these have no interest
for us to-day: we are in pursuit of bigger game. Suddenly, an hour
later, my men become excited. “Pharu, bwana!” they whisper to me from
behind, pointing down towards a group of acacia trees on a plateau a
few hundred paces away. True enough, there are two rhinoceroses. I
perceive first one, then the other lumbering along, looking, doubtless,
for a suitable resting-place. My field-glasses tell me that they are
a pair, male and female, both furnished with big horns. Now for my
plan of campaign. I have to make a wide circuit which will take me
twenty-five minutes, moving over difficult ground.
Arrived at the point in question, I rejoice to see that the animals
have not got far away from where I first spied them. The wind is
favourable to me here, and there is little danger at this hour of its
suddenly veering round. I examine my rifle carefully. It seems all
right. My men crouch down by my order, and I advance stealthily alone.
I am under a spell now. The rest of the world has vanished from my
consciousness. I look neither to right nor left. I have no thought for
anything but my quarry and my gun. What will the beasts do? Will this
be my last appearance as a hunter of big game? Is the rhinoceros family
at last to have its revenge?
I have another look at them through my field-glasses. The bull has
really fine horns; the cow good enough, but nothing special. I decide
therefore to secure him alone if possible, for his flesh will provide
food in plenty for my men. On I move, as noiselessly as possible, the
wind still in my favour. Up on these heights the rhinoceroses miss
their watchful friends the ox-peckers, so faithful to them elsewhere,
to put them on their guard.
Often have my followers warned me of the presence of a “Ndege baya”--a
bird of evil omen. Many of the African tribes seem to share the old
superstitions of the Romans in regard to birds. Certainly one cannot
help being impressed by the way in which the ox-peckers suddenly
whizz through the air whenever one gets within range of buffalo or
hippopotami.
The unexpected happens. The two huge beasts--how, I cannot tell--have
become aware of my approach. As though moved by a common impulse, they
swing round and stand for a moment motionless, as though carved in
stone, their heads turned towards me.... They are two hundred paces
away. Now I must show myself. Two things can happen: either they will
both come for me full pelt, or else they will seek safety in flight.
An instant later they are thundering down on me in their unwieldy
fashion, but at an incredible pace. These are moments when your life
hangs by a thread. Nothing can save you but a well-aimed bullet. This
time my bullet finds its billet. It penetrates the neck of the leading
animal--the cow, as always is the case--which, tumbling head foremost,
just like a hare, drops as though dead. A wonderful sight, lasting but
a second. The bull pulls up short, hesitates a moment, then swerves
round, and with a wild snort goes tearing down the hill and out of
sight. I keep my rifle levelled still at the female rhinoceros, for
I have known cases when an animal has got up again suddenly, though
mortally wounded, and done damage. But on this occasion the
precaution proves needless. The bullet has done its work, and I become
the possessor of two very fair specimens of rhinoceros horns.
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
RHINOCEROSES SHED THEIR HORNS FROM TIME TO TIME AND DEVELOP NEW
ONES. THE COW-RHINOCEROS IN THIS PHOTOGRAPH HAD SHED BOTH OF
HERS. THE RHINOCEROS WHICH I BROUGHT HOME AND PRESENTED TO THE
BERLIN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS HAS RENEWED HER FRONT HORN SEVERAL
TIMES.]
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
A GOOD SPECIMEN.]
It was scarcely to be imagined that in the course of this same day
I was to get within range of eight more rhinoceroses. It is hard to
realise what numbers of them there are in these mountainous regions.
It is a puzzle to me that this fact has not been proclaimed abroad in
sporting books and become known to everybody. But then, what did we
know, until a few years ago, of the existence of the okapi in Central
Africa? How much do we know even now of its numbers? For that matter,
who can tell us anything definite as to the quantities of walruses in
the north, or the numbers of yaks in the Thibetan uplands, or of elks
and of bears in the impenetrable Alaskan woods?
It seems to be the fate of the larger animals to be exterminated by
traders who do not give away their knowledge of the resources of the
hunting regions which they exploit. English and American authors, among
them so high an authority as President Roosevelt, bear me out in this.
I remember reading as a boy of a traveller, a fur-trader, who happened
to hear of certain remote northern islands well stocked with the wild
life he wanted. He kept the information to himself, and made a fortune
out of the game he bagged; but when he quitted the islands their entire
fauna had been wiped out. The same thing is now happening in Africa.
Our only clue to the extent of the slaughtering of elephants now being
carried on is furnished by the immense quantities of ivory that come
on the market. So it is, too, with the slaughtering of whales and seals
for the purposes of commerce. It is with them as with so many men--we
shall begin to hear of them when they are dead.
But to come back to our rhinoceroses. Not long before sunset I saw
another animal grazing peacefully on a ridge just below me, apparently
finding the short grass growing there entirely to his taste. The
monstrous outlines of the great beast munching away in among the jagged
rocks stood out most strikingly in the red glow of the setting sun.
It would have been no good to me to shoot him, for all my thoughts
were set on finding a satisfactory camping-place for the night. Soon
afterwards I came suddenly upon two others right in my path--a cow
with a young one very nearly full grown. In a moment my men, who were
a little behind, had skedaddled behind a ridge of rocks. I myself
just managed to spring aside in time to escape the cow, putting a
great boulder between us. Round she came after me, and I realised as
never before the degree to which a man is handicapped by his boots in
attempting thus to dodge an animal. It was a narrow escape, but in this
case also a well-aimed bullet did the trick. We left the body where it
lay, intending to come back next morning for the horns. Some minutes
later, after scurrying downhill for a few hundred paces as quickly as
we could, so as to avoid being overtaken by the night, we met three
other rhinoceroses which evidently had not heard my shot ring out.
They were standing on a grassy knoll in the midst of the valley which
we had now reached, and did not make off until they saw us. By the
stream, near which we pitched our camp for the night, we came upon two
more among some bushes, and yet another rushing through a thicket which
we had to traverse on our way to the waterside. In the night several
others passed down the deep-trodden path to the stream, fortunately
heralding their approach by loud, angry-sounding snorts.
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
A SNAPSHOT AT TWENTY PACES WITH A HAND-CAMERA, WHICH I HAD TO THROW
AWAY THE NEXT SECOND, FOR THE “RHINO” MADE FOR ME AND ONLY TURNED ASIDE
WHEN IT HAD GOT WITHIN THREE PACES OF ME!]
Many such nights have I spent out in the wild; but I would not now go
through with such experiences very willingly, for I have heard tell
of too many mishaps to other travellers under such conditions. That
seasoned Rhenish sportsman Niedieck, for instance, in his interesting
book _Mit der Büchse in fünf Weltteilen_, gives a striking account of
a misadventure he met with in the Sudan, near the banks of the Nile.
In very similar circumstances his camp was attacked by elephants
during the night; he himself was badly injured, and one of his men
nearly killed. This danger in regions where rhinoceroses or elephants
are much hunted is by no means to be underestimated. Rather it should
be taken to heart. According to the same writer, the elephants in
Ceylon sometimes “go for” the travellers’ rest-houses erected by the
Government and destroy them. These things have brought it home to
me that I was in much greater peril of my life during those night
encampments of mine on the velt and in primeval forests than I realised
at the time.
In those parts of East Africa there is a tendency to imagine that a
zareba is not essential to safety, and that a camp-fire serves all
right to frighten lions away. It is a remarkable comment on this that
over a hundred Indians employed on the Uganda Railway should have
been seized by lions. In other parts of Africa even the natives are
reluctant to go through the night unprotected by a zareba, because
they know that lions when short of other prey are apt to attack human
beings, and neither the hunter nor his camp-fire have any terrors for
them.
However that may be, the true sportsman and naturalist in the tropics
will continue to find himself obliged to encamp as best he may _à la
belle étoile_, trusting to his lucky star to protect him as he sinks
wearily to sleep.
* * * * *
The long caravan is again on the move, like a snake, over the velt.
Word has come to me that at a distance of a few days’ march there
has been a fall of rain. As by a miracle grass has sprung up, and
plant-life is reborn, trees and bushes have put out new leaves, and
immense numbers of wild animals have congregated in the region.
Thither we are making our way, over stretches still arid and barren.
Watering-places are few and far between and hidden away. But we know
how to find them, and hard by one of them I have to pitch my camp for
a time.
As we go we see endless herds of animals making for the same
goal--zebras, gnus, oryx antelopes, hartebeests, Grant’s gazelles,
impallahs, giraffes, ostriches, as well as numbers of rhinoceroses, all
drawn as though by magic to the region of the rain.
With my taxidermist Orgeich I march at the head of my caravan. My
camera has to remain idle, for once again, as so often happens, we get
no sun. It would be useless to attempt snapshots in such unfavourable
light.
[Illustration: HOW ONE OF MY MEN SOUGHT SHELTER WHEN THE RHINOCEROS
CAME FOR US.]
Suddenly, at last, the entire aspect of the velt undergoes a change,
and we have got into a stretch of country which has had a monopoly
of the downfall. It is cut off quite perceptibly from the parched
districts all around, and its fresh green aspect is refreshing and
soothing to the eye. On and on we march for hour after hour, the wealth
of animal life increasing as we go. Early this morning I had noted two
rhinoceroses bowling along over the velt. They had had a bath and were
gleaming and glistening in the sun.
Now we descry a huge something, motionless upon the velt, looking at
first like the stump of a massive tree or like a squat ant-hill, but
turning out on closer investigation to be a rhinoceros. It may seem
strange that one can make any mistake even at one’s first sight of the
animal, but every one who has gone after rhinoceroses much must have
had the same astonishing or alarming experience.
In this case we have to deal with an unusually large specimen--a
bull. It seems to be asleep. My sporting instincts are aroused. My
men halt and crouch down upon the ground. I hold a brief colloquy
with Orgeich. He also gets to the rear. I advance towards the
rhinoceros over the broken ground between us--the wind favouring me,
and a few parched-looking bushes serving me as cover. I get nearer
and nearer--now I am only a hundred and fifty paces off, now only
a hundred. The great beast makes no stir--it seems in truth to be
asleep. Now I have got within eighty paces, now sixty. Between me and
my adversary there is nothing but three-foot-high parched shrubs,
quite useless as a protection. Ah! now he makes a move. Up goes his
mighty head, suddenly all attention. My rifle rings out. Spitting
and snorting, down he comes upon me in the lumbering gallop I have
learnt to know so well. I fire a second shot, a third, a fourth. It
is wonderful how quickly one can send off bullet after bullet in such
moments. Now he is upon me, and I give him a fifth shot, _à bout
portant_. In imagination I am done for, gashed by his great horn and
flung into the air. I feel what a fool I was to expose myself in this
way. A host of such impressions and reflections flash through my brain.
[Illustration: A RHINOCEROS IN THE DRY SEASON, ITS BODY EMACIATED BY
THE SCANTINESS OF GRAZING-GROUNDS AND DRINKING-PLACES.]
But, as it turns out, my last hour has not yet come. On receipt of my
fifth bullet my assailant swerves round and lays himself open to my
sixth just as he decides to take flight. Off he speeds now, never to
be seen again, though we spend an hour trying to mark him down--a task
which it is the easier for us to undertake in that he has fled in the
direction in which we have to continue our march.
Orgeich, in his good-humoured way, remarks drily, “That was a near
thing.”
Such “near things” may fall to the lot of the African hunter, however
perfectly he may be equipped.
On another occasion, two rhinoceroses that I had not seen until that
moment made for me suddenly. In trying to escape I tripped over a
moss-covered root of a tree, and fell so heavily on my right hip that
at first I could not get up again. Both the animals rushed close by me,
Orgeich and my men only succeeding in escaping also behind trees at the
last moment.
* * * * *
To descry one or two rhinoceroses grazing or resting in the midst of
the bare velt and to stalk them all by yourself, or with a single
follower to carry a rifle for you, is, I really think, as fascinating
an experience as any hunter can desire. At the same time it is one of
the most dangerous forms of modern sport. An English writer remarks
with truth that even the bravest man cannot always control his senses
on such occasions--that he is apt to get dazed and giddy. And the
slightest unsteadiness in his hand may mean his destruction. He has to
advance a long distance on all fours, or else wriggle along on his
stomach like a serpent, making the utmost use of whatever cover offers,
and keeping note all the time of the direction of the wind. He has to
keep on his guard all the time against poisonous snakes. And he has to
trust to his hunter’s instinct as to how near he must get to his quarry
before he fires. I consider that a distance of more than a hundred
paces is very hazardous--above all, if you want to kill outright. I am
thinking, of course, of the sportsman who is hunting quite alone.
[Illustration:
PIECE OF VERY HARD STONE FROM THE SIRGOI MOUNTAIN IN BRITISH
EAST AFRICA, PRESENTED TO ME BY ALFRED KAISER. RHINOCEROSES WHET
THEIR HORNS AGAINST THIS KIND OF STONE, MAKING ITS SURFACE QUITE
SMOOTH.]
To-day I am to have an unlooked-for experience. A number of eland have
attracted my attention. I follow them through the long grass, just as
I did that time in 1896 when the flock of pearl-hens buzzed over me
and I started the two rhinoceroses which nearly “did for” me.[5] These
antelopes claim my undivided attention. The country is undulating in
its formation, and my men are all out of sight. I am quite alone, rifle
in hand. The animals make off to the left and in amidst the high grass.
I stand still and watch them. It would be too far to have a shot at
the leader of the herd, so I merely follow in their tracks, crouching
down. Now I have to get across a crevice. But as I am negotiating it
and penetrating the higher grass on the opposite slope, suddenly,
fifty paces in front of me, I perceive a huge dark object in among the
reeds--a rhinoceros.