SOMETIMES ALMOST IMPENETRABLE TO MAN.]
For weeks I had had natives on the look-out for elephants. They could
only tell me, however, of small herds composed of cows and young
bulls, and that was not good enough from the point of view of either
sportsman or photographer. However, I made several excursions round
the Kilepo Hill from my camp, never taking more than a few men with
me--it so often happens that one’s followers spoil the chase, perhaps
quite frustrate it. This is well known to natives and experienced
elephant-hunters.
I soon became familiar with the district and its vegetation. For
hours I followed paths which led through thick undergrowth, and I had
some unpleasant encounters with rhinoceroses. I knew well that the
neighbourhood of the hills, with its tall impenetrable growth, was a
most likely one for astute and cautious bull-elephants to haunt.
Hunting elephants in this fashion, day after day, with only a few
followers, is a delightful experience. It happens, perhaps, that one
has to pass the night in the forest under the free vault of heaven,
with the branches of a huge tree as shelter. The faint glow of the
camp-fire fades and flickers, producing weird effects in the network of
the foliage. How quickly one falls victim to atavistic terrors of the
night! Terrors of what? Of the “pepo ya miti,” the spirit of the woods,
or of some other mysterious sprite? No, of wild animals--the same kind
of fear that little children have in the dark of something unknown,
dangerous and threatening. My followers betake themselves to their
slumbers with indifference, for they have little concern for probable
dangers. But the imaginative European is on the look-out for peril--the
thought of it holds and fascinates him.... Somewhere in the distance,
perhaps, the heavens are illuminated with a bright light. Far, far
away a conflagration is raging, devastating miles upon miles of the
vale below. The sky reflects the light, which blazes up now purple,
now scarlet! Often it will last for days and nights, nay weeks, whole
table-lands being in flames and acting as giant beacons to light up
the landscape!... My thoughts would turn towards the bonfires which in
Germany of old flashed their message across the land--news, perhaps, of
the burial of some great prince.... So, now, it seemed to me that those
distant flames told of the last moments of some monarch of the wild.
At last I received good news. A huge bull-elephant had been seen for a
few minutes in the early morning hours in the vicinity of the Kilepo
Hill. This overjoyed me, for I was quite certain that in a few days now
we should meet them above on the hill.
I left my camp to the care of the greater part of my caravan, but sent
a good many of my men back into the inhabited districts of the northern
Kilimanjaro to get fresh provisions from Useri. I myself went about a
day’s journey up Kilepo Hill, accompanied by a few of my men, resolved
to get a picture _coûte que coûte_.
It was characteristic of my scouts that they could only give me
details about elephants. As often as I asked them about other game I
could get nothing out of them, for what were giraffes, buffaloes,
and rhinoceroses to them, and what interest could they have in such
worthless creatures! The whole mind of the natives has been for many
years past directed by us Europeans upon ivory. Native hunters in
scantily populated districts dream and think only of “jumbe”--ivory,
and always more ivory, as the Esquimaux yearns for seal blubber and
oil and the European for gold, gold, gold! In these parts giraffes and
rhinoceroses count for nothing in comparison with the elephant--the
native thinks no more of them than one of our own mountaineers would
think of a rabbit or a hare. Only those who have seen this for
themselves can realise how quickly one gets accustomed to the point
of view! In the gameless and populous coast districts the appearance
of a dwarf antelope or of a bustard counts for a good deal, and holds
out promise to the sportsman of other such game--waterbuck, perhaps.
I have read in one of the coast newspapers the interesting news that
Mr. So and So was fortunate enough to kill a bustard and an antelope.
That certainly was quite good luck, for you may search long in populous
districts and find nothing. As you penetrate into the wilder districts
conditions change rapidly, and after weeks and months of marching in
the interior you get accustomed to expecting only the biggest of big
game. The other animals become so numerous that the sight of them no
longer quickens the pulse.
I have already remarked that elephants are much less cautious by night
than by day. The very early morning hours are the best for sighting
elephants, before they retire into their forest fastnesses to escape
the burning rays of the sun. But as at this time of the year the sun
hardly ever penetrated the thick bank of clouds, there was a chance of
seeing the elephants at a later hour and in the bush. So every morning
either I or one of my scouts was posted on one of the hills--Kilepo
especially--to keep a sharp look-out. It needed three hours in the
dark and two in the daylight to get up the hill. It was not a pleasant
climb. We were always drenched to the skin by the wet grass and bushes,
and it was impossible to light a fire to dry ourselves, for the
animals would certainly have scented it. We had to stay there in our
wet clothes, hour after hour, watching most carefully and making the
utmost of the rare moments when the mist rolled away in the valley and
enabled us to peer into the thickets. It may seem surprising that we
should have found so much difficulty in sighting the elephants, but one
must remember that they emerge from their mud-baths with a coating that
harmonises perfectly with the tree-trunks and the general environment,
and are therefore hard to descry. Besides, the conditions of light in
the tropics are very different from what we are accustomed to in our
own northern clime, and are very deceptive.
When fortune was kind I could just catch a glimpse during a brief
spell of sunshine of a gigantic elephant’s form in the deep valley
beneath. But only for a few instants. The next moment there was nothing
to be seen save long vistas of damp green plants and trees. The deep
rain-channels stood out clear and small in the landscape from where I
stood. The mightiest trees looked like bushes; the hundred-feet-high
trunks of decayed trees which stood up out of the undergrowth here
and there looked like small stakes. In the ever-changing light one
loses all sense of the vastness of things and distances.
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
A VELT FIRE. THE BONES OF AN ELEPHANT SOON TO BECOME FOOD FOR THE
FLAMES.]
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
A VELT FIRE.]
For once the mist rolls off rapidly; a gust of wind drives away
the clouds. The sun breaks through. Look! there is a whole herd
of elephants below us in the valley! But in another second the
impenetrable forest of trees screens them from my camera. At last
they become clearly visible again, and I manage to photograph two
cow-elephants in the distance. The sun vanishes again now, and an hour
later I have at last the whole herd clearly before me in the hollow.
How the little calves cling to their mothers! How quietly the massive
beasts move about, now disappearing into the gullies, now reappearing
and climbing up the hillside with a sureness of foot that makes them
seem more like automatons than animals. Every now and again the ruddy
earth-coloured backs emerge from the mass of foliage. A wonderful and
moving picture! For I know full well that the gigantic mothers are
caring for their children and protecting them from the human fiend who
seeks to destroy them with pitfalls, poisoned arrows, or death-dealing
guns. How cautiously they all move, scenting the wind with uplifted
trunks, and keeping a look-out for pitfalls! Every movement shows
careful foresight; the gigantic old leaders have evidently been through
some dire experiences.
Suddenly a warning cry rings out. Immediately the whole herd disappears
noiselessly into the higher rain-channels of the hill--the “Subugo
woods” of the Wandorobo hunters.
* * * * *
Had the elephants not got these places of refuge to fly to they
would have died out long ago! This is the only means by which they
are still able to exist in Africa. I feel how difficult it is to
depict accurately the constant warfare that is going on between man
and beast, and can only give others a vague idea of what it is like.
Many secrets of the life and fate and the speedy annihilation of the
African elephants will sink into the grave with the last commercial
elephant-hunters. And once again civilisation will have done away with
an entire species in the course of a single century. The question as to
how far this was necessary will provide ample material for pamphlets
and discussions in times to come.
When one knows the “subugo,” however, one understands how it has been
possible for elephants in South Africa to have held out so long in
the Knysna and Zitzikama forests until European hunters began to go
after them with rifles in expert fashion. Fritsch visited the Knysna
forests in 1863. “It is easy,” he says, “to understand how elephants
have managed to remain in their forests for weeks together before one
of their number has fallen, even when hundreds of men have been after
them. There are spots in these forests--regular islands completely
surrounded by water--where they take refuge, and where no one can get
at them.”
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
AN OLD ACACIA TREE.]
Of course, Fritsch speaks of a time when the art of shooting was in
its infancy. One must not forget that nowadays ruthless marksmen
will reach the mighty beasts even in these islands of refuge--marksmen
who shoot at a venture with small-calibre rifles, and who find the
dead elephant later somewhere in the neighbourhood, with vultures
congregated round the corpse.[10]
* * * * *
Now perhaps I may have to wait in vain for hours, days, and even
weeks! Some mornings there is absolutely nothing to be seen--the
animals have gone down to the lake to drink, or have taken refuge in
one of the little morasses at the foot of the hill. Judging by their
nocturnal wanderings it seems as if they must have other accessible
drinking-places in the vicinity. A search for these places, however, is
not to be thought of. If I were to penetrate to these haunts they would
immediately note my footsteps and take to flight for months, perhaps,
putting miles between themselves and their would-be photographer.
For to-day, at any rate, all is over. The sun only breaks through the
heavy masses of cloud for a few minutes at a time, and great sombre
palls of mist hang over the forests, constantly changing from one shape
to another.
To obtain a picture by means of the telephoto-lens did not seem at all
feasible. But a photo of bull-elephants and giraffes together!--so long
as there was the faintest chance of it I would not lose heart. It was
not easy, but I _must_ succeed! So, wet through and perishing with
cold, I wandered every morning through the tall grass to the top of the
hill and waited and waited....
The elephants seemed to have completely disappeared; no matter how
far I extended my daily excursions, they were nowhere to be seen. At
length I came across a fairly big herd, but they had taken up their
stand in such an impenetrable thicket that it was quite impossible to
sight them. After much creeping and crawling through the elephant and
rhinoceros paths in the undergrowth I managed to get just for a few
minutes a faint glimpse of the vague outline of single animals, but so
indistinct that it was impossible to determine their age, size, or sex.
In East Africa elephants are generally seen under these unfavourable
conditions. Very seldom does one come upon a good male tusk-bearing
specimen, as well-meaning but inexperienced persons, such as I myself
was at one time, would desire.
There is something very exciting and stimulating in coming face to
face with these gigantic creatures in the thick undergrowth. All
one’s nerves are strained to see or hear the faintest indication of
the whereabouts of the herd; the sultry air, the dense tangle through
which we have to move, and which hinders every step, combine to excite
us. We can only see a few paces around. The strong scent of elephant
stimulates us. The snapping and creaking of branches and twigs, the
noises made by the beasts themselves, especially the shrill cry of
warning given out from time to time by one of the herd--all add to
the tension. The clanging, pealing sound of this cry has something
particularly weird in it in the stillness of the great forest.
At such a signal the whole herd moves forward, to-day quietly without
noise, and to-morrow in wild blustering flight. It is very seldom
that one can catch them up on the same day, and then only after long
hours of pursuit.... These forest sanctuaries, together with their own
caution, have done more to stave off the extermination of the species
than have all the sporting restrictions that have been introduced.
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
THE TWO ELEPHANTS.]
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
THE TUSKS OF THE ELEPHANTS SEEMED EVEN LARGER THAN THEY REALLY
WERE, AND OUT OF All PROPORTION TO THE SIZE OF THE ELEPHANTS,
THOUGH THESE WERE EXCEPTIONALLY BIG BEASTS, NEARLY 12 FEET IN
HEIGHT. THE GIRAFFE COMES OUT CURIOUSLY IN THIS PICTURE, RIGHT AT
THE BOTTOM.]
Every morning I returned to my post of observation on the hill. I could
easily have killed one or other of the herd. But I did not wish to
disturb the elephants, and I had also good reason for believing that
there were no very large tusks among them. Morning after morning I
returned disappointed to my camp, only to find my way back on the next
day to my sentry-box at the edge of the forest on the hill. Days went
by and nothing was seen save the back or head of an elephant emerging
from the “subugo.” This “subugo” knows well how to protect its inmates.
Every morning the same performance. At my feet the mist-mantled forest,
and near me my three or four blacks, to whom my reluctance to shoot the
elephants and my preoccupation with my camera were alike inexplicable.
Whenever the clouds rolled away over the woods and valley it was
necessary to keep the strictest watch. Then I discovered smaller herds
of giraffes with one or two elephants accompanying them. But this would
be for a few seconds only. The heavy banks of cloud closed to again. A
beautiful large dove (_Columba aquatrix_) flew about noisily, and like
our ringdove, made its love-flights round about the hill, and cooed its
deep notes close by. Down below in the valley echoed the beautiful,
resonant, melancholy cry of the great grey shrike; cock and hen birds
answered one another in such fashion that the call seemed to come from
only one bird. There was no other living thing to see or hear.
But now! At last! I shall never forget how suddenly in one of
the brilliant bursts of sunshine the mighty white tusks of two
bull-elephants shone out in the hollow so dazzlingly white that one
must have beheld them to understand their extraordinary effect, seen
thus against that impressive background. Close by was a bull-giraffe.
Vividly standing out from the landscape, they would have baffled
any artist trying to put them on the canvas. I understood then why
A. H. Neumann, one of the most skilful English elephant-hunters, so
often remarked on the overwhelming impression he received from these
snow-white, shining elephant-tusks. So white do they come out in the
photographs that the prints look as though they had been touched up.
But these astonishing pictures are as free from any such tampering as
are all the rest of my studies of animal life.[11]
Before I succeeded in getting my first picture of the elephants and
giraffes consorting together, I was much tempted to kill the two huge
bull-elephants. They came so often close to the foot of my hill that I
had plenty of opportunities of killing them without over-much danger
to myself or my men. As I caught sight of that rare trio I must
honestly confess I had a strong desire to shoot. This desire gave way,
however, before my still keener wish to photograph them. The temptation
to use my rifle came from the thought of the satisfaction with which I
should see them placed in some museum. It might be possible to prepare
their skins here on this very spot. In short, I had a hard struggle
with myself.
[Illustration:
_C. G. Shillings, phot._
THE TWO ELEPHANTS.]
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
A QUAINT COMPANIONSHIP--ELEPHANT AND GIRAFFE. THE GIRAFFE MAY BE JUST
MADE OUT IN THE FOREGROUND, AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PHOTOGRAPH.]
But the wish to secure the photographs triumphed. No museum in the
world had ever had such a picture. That thought was conclusive.
The accompanying illustrations give both the colossal beasts in
different attitudes. The giraffe stands quite quiet, intent on its own
safety, or gazes curiously at its companions. What a contrast there
is between the massive elephants and the slender, towering creature
whose colouring harmonises so entirely with its surroundings! Wherever
you see giraffes they always blend with their background. They obey
the same laws as leopards in this respect, and leopards are the best
samples of the “mimicry” of protective colouring.
What long periods of hunger must have gone to the formation of the
giraffe’s neck!
It would seem as though these survivors of two prehistoric species had
come together thus, at a turning-point in the history of their kind,
for the special purpose of introducing themselves by means of their
photographs to millions of people. I owe it to an extraordinary piece
of good fortune that I was able to take another picture of them during
a second burst of sunshine which lit up the forest.
It is the event of a lifetime to have been the witness of so strange
and unsuspected a condition of things as this friendship between two
such dissimilar animals. The extent of my good luck may be estimated
from the fact that the famous traveller Le Vaillant, more than
seventy years ago, wished so ardently to see a giraffe in its natural
surroundings, _if only once_, that he went to South Africa for that
purpose, and that, having achieved it on a single occasion, as he
relates in his work, he was quite overjoyed. Although I was aware that
herds of giraffes frequented this region without fear of the elephants,
it was a complete revelation to me to find an old bull-giraffe living
in perfect harmony for days together with two elephants for the sake
of mutual protection. I can only account for this strange alliance by
the need for such mutual protection. The giraffe is accustomed to use
its eyes to assure itself of its safety, whilst elephants scent the
breeze with their trunks, raised like the letter S for the purpose. In
these valleys the direction of the wind varies very often. The struggle
for existence is here very vividly brought before us. How often in
the course of centuries must similar meetings have occurred in Africa
and in other parts of the world, before I was able to record this
observation for the first time? These pictures are a good instance of
the value of photography as a means of getting and giving information
in regard to wild life.
Kilepo Hill will always stand out vividly in my memory. Elephants
may still climb up to the small still lake shut in by the wall-like
hillsides, as they have done for ages, to quench their thirst at
its refreshing waters. For hundreds of years the Masai, for the
sake of their cattle herds, contested with them the rights of this
drinking-place. Then the white man came and the Masai vanished, and
again the elephants found their way to the Kilepo valley. Later, white
settlers came--Boers, ruthless in their attitude towards wild life--and
took up their abode in the Kilimanjaro region. The day cannot now be
far distant when the last of the elephants will have gone from the
heart of Kilepo Hill. But these two, long since killed, no doubt, will
continue to live on in my pictures for many a year to come.
[Illustration: THE YOUNG LION THAT I MANAGED TO CAPTURE AND BRING ALIVE
INTO CAMP.]
[Illustration: A STUDY IN PROTECTIVE “MIMICRY.”]
XIII
A Vanishing Feature of the Velt
“When men and beasts first emerged from the tree called
‘Omumborombongo,’ all was dark. Then a Damara lit a fire, and zebras,
gnus, and giraffes sprang frightened away, whilst oxen, sheep, and
dogs clustered fearlessly together.” So Fritsch told us forty years
ago, from the ancient folk-lore of the Ova-Herero, one of the most
interesting tribes of South-West Africa.
If the photographing of wild life is only to be achieved when
conditions are favourable, and is beset with peculiar difficulties in
the wilderness of Equatorial Africa, one might at least suppose that
such huge creatures as elephants, rhinoceroses, and giraffes could be
got successfully upon the “plate.” But they “spring frightened away”!
The cunning, the caution, and the shyness of these animals make all
attempts at photographing them very troublesome indeed; for to
secure a good result you need plenty of sunlight, besides the absence
of trees between you and the desired object. And when everything seems
to favour you, there is sure to be something wanting--very probably
the camera itself. Fortune favours the photographer at sudden and
unexpected moments, and then only for a very short while. One instant
too late, and you may have to wait weeks, months, even years for your
next opportunity. I would give nine-tenths of the photos I have taken
of animal life for some half-dozen others which I was unable to take
because I did not have my camera to hand just at the right moment. Thus
it was with the photographing of the three lions I killed on January
25, 1897, and of the four others I saw on the same day, on the then
almost unknown Athi plains in the Wakikuju country. Also with that
great herd of elephants which so nearly did for me, and which I should
have dearly liked to photograph just as they began their onrush. (I
have told the story in _With Flashlight and Rifle_.) I remember, too,
the sight of a giraffe herd of forty-five head which I came across
on November 4, 1897,[12] about two days’ journey north-west of the
Kilimanjaro. The hunter of to-day would travel over the velt for a
very long while before meeting with anything similar. In earlier
days immense numbers of long-necked giraffe-like creatures, now
extinct, lived on the velt; the rare Okapi, that was discovered in the
Central African forests a short time ago, has aroused the interest of
zoologists as being a relative of that extinct species.
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
A GIRAFFE IN FULL FLIGHT.]
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
A GIRAFFE BULL IN AN ACACIA GROVE.]