home, and among them some gnus which I had been able to obtain from
an Arab through the friendly help of Captain Merker. It reminded one
of pictures of old patriarchal days to see the animals greet their
expectant calves and kids. It was always interesting, too, to watch
the skilful handling of the cattle by the Masai herdsmen. The cows in
Africa all come from Asia, and belong to the zebu family. They will
only give milk when their calves have first been allowed to suck. Only
then can the cow be milked, and that with difficulty, whilst a second
herdsman holds the calf for a while a little distance off. Thus it was
I obtained, very sparingly at first, the necessary milk for my young
rhinoceros. Some days there was a grand show of varied animal life.
Cows, bullocks, sheep, goats, my rhinoceros, young lion-cubs, hyenas,
jackals, servals and monkeys, hens, francolins and marabou, geese, and
other frequenters of the velt were in the camp, some at liberty and
some chained, which caused many little jealousies and much that was
interesting to notice.
My kitchen garden was invaded by tame geese and storks, which lived on
the best of terms with the cook. It was irresistibly funny to see the
sage old marabou acting as cook’s assistant, gravely crouching near
him and watching all his movements. Very often the tame animals in my
camp had visitors in the shape of wild storks and geese, which came and
mixed among the others, so that often one could not distinguish which
were wild and which tame. We could see all kinds of animals coming
close to the camp. I have even followed the movements of rhinoceroses
with my field-glasses for some time.
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
MY RHINOCEROS AS SHE IS TO-DAY IN THE BERLIN “ZOO,” AND--]
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
--AS SHE WAS IN MY VELT CAMP.]
Some of my captives were not to be tamed at any price. We had a young
hyena, for instance, which struggled obstinately with its chain.
On the other hand, some hyenas, especially spotted ones, became so
domesticated that they followed me about like dogs.
A young lion which I had had in my camp for some time, and which had
grown into quite a fine specimen, often made itself so noticeable at
night that, as my watchman told me, it was answered by other lions
from outside. This made it necessary to take active precautions for
the night, and my menagerie was brought into the centre of my camp for
greater safety.
Many of the friendships which I formed with my _protégés_ have been
kept up. My marabou still remembers me, and greets me with great joy
in his cage in the Berlin Zoological Garden, much to the irritation
of his neighbour in the cage next door. I have no need to avoid the
grip of his powerful beak, which the keeper has learnt to fear. He has
never used this weapon against me. In whatever dress I may approach him
he always recognises me, and greets me with lively demonstrations of
pleasure. Even the rhinoceros seems to recognise his one-time master,
although one cannot be quite sure of this in so uncouth a creature.
It is very difficult to know how to manage a rhinoceros. It was quite
a long time before I succeeded in discovering its best diet. Young
rhinoceroses almost always succumb in captivity, though seemingly
so robust. We have not yet succeeded in bringing an elephant from
German or British East Africa to Europe, or indeed any of the other
animals, such as giraffes and buffaloes and antelopes, which live in
the same districts. It appears that it is just these interesting wild
animals which are the most difficult to accustom to captivity and to
keep alive. The attempt to bring home alive a couple of the wonderful
Kilimanjaro Colobus apes (_Colobus caudatus_, Thos.) resulted in one of
the monkeys dying a few days after my arrival; the other lived for two
years only, and was the sole specimen of its kind ever seen in Europe.
Every zoologist and lover of animals who goes into the colonies has a
wide field of activity open before him in this respect. If only more
people could be made to take an interest in these things we might buoy
ourselves up with the hope of obtaining and keeping some of the best
and rarest specimens of African animal life, perhaps even a full-grown
gorilla from the West Coast--perhaps even an Okapi!
I was only able to keep my little menagerie together for a few weeks at
a time, as I had to be constantly setting out on fresh expeditions. On
these occasions I was accustomed to leave the animals in some village
under the care of trustworthy blacks, so that I could take them again
on my return journey to the coast. The weeks and months I spent in camp
with my animals were a great source of pleasure to me. At night-time
there were occasions when “rhinos” and “hippos” paid us visits, as
could be plainly seen by the tracks found the next morning.[18]
Hyenas and jackals came very often, and even lions sometimes came to
within a short distance of the camp. Thus my zoological garden, in
spite of its size, could well boast of being, so to speak, the most
_primitive_ in the world.
[Illustration: HOW MY CAPTIVE YOUNG “RHINO” WAS CARRIED TO CAMP.]
[Illustration: CARRYING A DEAD LEOPARD, TO AN ACCOMPANIMENT OF
IMPROVISED SONGS.]
[Illustration: “FATIMA” (AS I CHRISTENED MY “RHINO”) AND HER TWO
COMPANIONS ON THEIR WAY TO THE COAST.]
[Illustration: A YOUNG HYENA, WHICH I HAD EXTRACTED FROM ITS LAIR,
RESISTED AT FIRST ALL EFFORTS AT TAMING IT.]
But we had our anxious moments. Death levied its toll among my people,
and the continual rumours of uprisings and attacks from outside gave
plenty to talk about during the whole day, and often far on into the
night over the camp-fire. When one of these charming African moonlit
nights had set in over my homestead, when the noise of the bearers
with their chatter and clatter had ceased, and my work, too, was done,
then I used to sit awhile in front of the flickering flames and think.
Or I would wander from fire to fire to exchange a few words with my
watchmen, to learn their news and their wishes and to ask much that I
wanted to know. This is the hour when men are most communicative, and
unless there be urgent need of sleep the conversation may continue far
into the night.
There is something strangely beautiful about those nights in the
wilderness. My thoughts go back to an encampment I once made at the
foot of the volcanic mountain of Gelei, close to a picturesque rocky
gorge, in the depths of which was a small stream--a mere trickle during
the hot weather. Its source lay in the midst of an extensive acacia
wood, which tailed off on one side into the bare, open “boga,” while
on the other it became merged in a dense thicket of euphorbia trees,
creepers, and elelescho bushes, impenetrable to men but affording a
refuge to animals, even to elephants. On the day before I had noted the
fact that Masai warriors had recently encamped in the neighbourhood,
with cattle which they had got hold of on a marauding expedition (and
some of which they had here slaughtered), and that with their booty
they had betaken themselves over the English frontier. It was quite
on the cards that roaming young Masai warriors would suddenly turn
up while I was there. It was several days’ journey to the nearest
inhabited region. For weeks together one would see no human soul save
for a nomadic hunter every now and again.
The great barren wilderness, which then in the dry season could boast
of no verdure save the evergreen Hunger-plant, so well suited to the
arid velt; the romantic site of my camp; the beautiful moonlight
night, darkened over from time to time by great masses of clouds,
heralding the approach of rain; the dangers lurking all around:
everything conspired to produce a wonderful effect upon the mind. The
night had come upon us silently, mysteriously, jet-black. Before the
moon rose, one’s fancy foreshadowed some sudden incursion into the
death-like darkness, the bodeful silence. There was something weird and
unnatural about the stillness--it suggested the calm before the storm.
Faint rustlings and cracklings and voices inaudible by day now made
themselves heard. The world of the little living things came by its
own, and crackled and rustled among plants and branches and reeds and
grass. Hark! Is that the sound of a cockchafer or a mouse, or is it the
footstep of a foe?... Even within my tent there are evidences
of life. Rats bestir themselves upon their daring enterprises, to
meet their end, here and there, in my traps. Emin Pasha has told us
how he experienced the same kind of thing. How dormice and beautiful
Sterkulien made their home in his camp, gleefully climbing up and
down the canvas of his tent during the night--doubtless gazing at the
strange white man with their great, dark, wide-open eyes, as they did
at me.... Save for these sounds there is complete stillness, broken
only by the voice of the night-jar, mournful and monotonous, as it
wings its eerie, noiseless flight in and out of the firelight and round
and round the camp.
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
VULTURES ON THE WING.]
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
VULTURES HOVERING OVER THE CARCASE OF A GNU WHICH HAD BEEN KILLED BY A
LION.]
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
VULTURES MOVING AWAY FROM A CARCASE, STARTLED AT MY APPROACH. (WHEN
FIGHTING OVER A CARCASE, THEY GIVE OUT A HISSING KIND Of SOUND.)]
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
MY PELICANS (_TANTALUS IBIS_, L.), WHICH AFTERWARDS TOOK UP THEIR ABODE
IN THE BERLIN ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS.]
[Illustration: A SIESTA IN CAMP. THE MIDDAY HOUR.]
Beyond the glow of the camp-fire our eyes cannot travel--we cannot see
what is happening outside the camp, even quite close at hand. This
intensifies one’s feeling of insecurity, for I know well how suddenly
and with what lightning speed the great felines manage their attacks.
It is in just such circumstances that so many men fall victims to
lion and leopard. One evening a leopard will snatch a small dog from
your feet, the next it will carry off one of the native women before
the eyes of the whole population of your camp. You must have had such
things happen to you, or hear of them from eye-witnesses, to realise
the danger.
Near my tent stand two hoary old trees all hung with creepers. In the
uncertain firelight they seem to be a-quiver with life, and they throw
phantom-like shadows. I hear the soft footsteps of the watch--they
recall me to actualities. Now the moon emerges, and suddenly sheds its
brilliant radiance over the entire velt. It is like the withdrawing of
a pall. My thoughts wander away upon the moonbeams, and travel on and
on, over land and sea, like homing birds.... The reader who would steep
himself in the beauty and strangeness of this African camp-life should
turn to the pages of that splendid work _Caput Nili_, by my friend
Richard Kandt. There he will find it all described by a master-hand
in a series of exquisite nature-pictures. In language full of poetic
beauty he gives us the very soul of the wilderness. These studies and
sketches, from the pen of the man who discovered the sources of the
Nile, are a veritable work of art. It is easier for the nature-lover to
give himself up to the charms of this African solitude than to
set them forth adequately in words.
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
A STRANGE FRIENDSHIP SPRANG UP BETWEEN A SMALL APE AND A GOSHAWK THAT
I HAD AT HOME AT AN EARLIER DATE. THE APE USED OFTEN TO PULL THE BIRD
ABOUT PLAYFULLY, WHILE TWO STORKS LOOKED ON WITH INTEREST.]
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
“FATIMA” PROWLING ROUND. SHE WAS ON PARTICULARLY GOOD TERMS WITH THE
MARABOU.]
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
CARRYING A FINE LEOPARD, WEIGHING 145 POUNDS, INTO CAMP. IT HAD BEEN
TRAPPED.]
[Illustration:
THE BEARERS ALWAYS LIKE TO “KILL” THE GAME IN ACCORDANCE WITH
MOHAMMEDAN RITES, EVEN WHEN DEATH HAS ALREADY BEEN ENSURED BY
THE HUNTERS AND HAS BEGUN TO SET IN. WHEN THESE RITES CANNOT BE
FULFILLED, THEY WILL SOMETIMES REFUSE TO EAT THE FLESH.]
[Illustration: WHILE THE GAME IS BEING CUT UP, THE NATIVES OFTEN HAVE
RECOURSE TO INNOCENT HORSEPLAY BY WAY OF VENTING THEIR HIGH SPIRITS.]
Wonderful, indeed, is the beauty of those African moonlight nights.
Their radiant splendour is a thing never to be forgotten. How taint and
faded in comparison seem our moonlight nights at home!
[Illustration: A TRAPPED LEOPARD.]
Through the camp, past the smouldering and flickering fires, the Askari
sentry wanders noiselessly. He is a man well on in years--a tried man
who has often been with me before. Years ago he vowed he would never
again return to the wilderness with a “Safari,” yet every time I
revisit Africa the spell of the wild has come over him anew, and he has
been unable to resist.
He comes to me now and says, as he has had so often to say before:
“Master, do you hear the lions yonder in the distance?” And he makes
his way towards the great fire in the centre of the camp and throws
some fresh logs upon it. Flames spring up, blazing and flickering in
the moonlight.
[Illustration: THE BABOON AND THE LITTLE BLACK LADY.]
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
MOONLIGHT ON THE VELT.]
[Illustration: A FOWL OF THE VELT (_PTEROCLES GUTTURALIS SATURATIOR_,
Hart).]
XV
Night Photography under Difficulties
There is a notion prevalent, due to superficial observers, that there
are certain drinking-places to which the wild animals are bound to come
to quench their thirst, in all circumstances, during the hot season.
Were this so the animals would have ceased ere now to exist. The
poisoned arrow of the native, or the rifle of the white man, would long
since have exterminated them. It is the case, however, that you can
count upon finding game at specific drinking-places in the hot weather
under certain circumstances, though much depends upon the direction of
the wind and other things. The appearance of the larger beasts of prey
by the waterside is enough, for instance, to make the others keep their
distance for a considerable time.
When I have encamped in such localities it has generally been with a
view to securing specimens of rare birds, and apart from this I have
confined myself to making observations of the life of the animals. Very
large bull-elephants were the only kind of big game that I had any mind
to shoot, for I was never at a loss for other kinds. Elephants roam
about in the hot season from one watering-place to another, sometimes
covering great distances. They know the danger they run in frequenting
any one particular watering-place too regularly. This is true of herds
of other animals as well.
These watering-places are, of course, very productive to the natives,
who make no account of time and who spread themselves out over a number
of them during the hot weather, thus multiplying their chances. But the
havoc worked among the wild animals by their poisoned arrows or the
other methods of hunting which they practise, when they have not taken
to powder and shot, is not serious. They have been hunting in this way
since prehistoric ages, and yet have been able to hand over the animal
kingdom to us Europeans in all the fulness and abundance that have
aroused our wonder and admiration wherever we have set foot for the
first time.
In the course of my last journey I encamped for the second time at the
foot of the Donje-Erok mountain (the circuit of which is a two-days’
march), to the north-west of Kilimanjaro. The region had been well
known to me since 1899. Previously to then it had been traversed only
by Count Teleki’s expedition. His comrade, the well-known geographer
Ritter von Höhnel, had marked its outlines on the map. No one, however,
had penetrated into the interior, and here a wonderful field offered
itself to the sportsman and explorer. A number of small streams take
their rise on the Donje-Erok. In the dry weather these are speedily
absorbed by the sun-dried soil of the velt, but in the wet season
they have quite a long course, and combine to form a series of small
swamps. When these have gradually begun to dry and have come to be
mere stretches of blackish mud, they reveal the tracks of the herds
of animals that have waded through them, elephants and rhinoceroses
especially--mighty autographs imprinted like Runic letters upon wax.
[Illustration: A RIVER-HORSE RESORT.]
In the dry season great numbers of animals made always for a
source--very speedily dried up--to the south of the mountain. It was in
this vicinity that I proposed to secure my pictures of wild life.
My caravan was very much on the _qui vive_ when at last, after a long
march, we were able to strike camp. We had been attacked by a band of
Masai warriors during the night and had driven them off. It was only
natural, therefore, that we should exercise some caution. But our
fatigue overcame all anxiety as to another attack. We had made a long
forced march, and were worn out with our exertions and our sufferings
from thirst and the heat. Some of the bearers, succumbing under the
weight of their burdens, had remained behind. We had started on the
previous morning, each of us provided as well as was practicable with
water, and had marched until dark, passing the night waterless and
pressing on at daybreak. It was absolutely essential now to get to
a watering-place, so we put out all our efforts, just succeeding in
reaching our goal after nightfall. This march was the more exhausting
in that we had had only two hours’ sleep before the fray with the
Masai. The bearers we had been obliged to leave behind were afterwards
brought into camp safely by a relief party.
On exploring our vicinity next morning we found that our camp,
which was to some degree safeguarded by a thorn-fence--a so-called
“boma”--adjoined several earlier camps of native elephant-hunters,
protected by strong palisades: a thing that had often happened to us
before. These camps are to be recognised by the empty powder-casks left
about or by the erection somewhere near of a fetich or charm to ward
off evil, or something of the kind. It is only the natives who use
firearms that have resort to such practices. So far as I know neither
the Wakamba nor the Wandorobo are addicted to them. In this particular
case the charm took the shape of an arrangement of large snail-shells
in the midst of a small enclosure four feet square. That it proved
efficacious was suggested by the spectacle of the skulls and remains
of some twenty recently killed rhinoceroses within a few paces of the
camp.... I had met with just the same state of things in 1900. These
“sanctioned” elephant-hunters--or, to use the recognised term, these
“trustworthy Fundi”--are an absolute pest. The arch exterminator of the
elephants in the Kilimanjaro region was Schundi, the former slave of
a Kavirondo chief. Schundi, in his capacity as a political agent and
licensed elephant-hunter, scoured the entire country with his men from
1893 to 1900.[19]
[Illustration: ONE OF THE PEAKS OF DONJE-EROK, IN THE VICINITY OF
KILIMANJARO.]
In the heart of the thicket we came suddenly upon a quite recent camp
of native hunters of some kind--not Wandorobo, we judged, from utensils
which they left behind, of a sort the Wandorobo never use. I was aware
that other tribes had taken to hunting the animals in this region,
the Masai themselves setting about it quite in the Wandorobo fashion.
Our chief “find” in the camp, however, was a collection of some forty
zebra-hides, quite freshly secured, and about the same number of hides
of gnus as well as others of smaller game. Most of these skins were
stretched out on the ground to dry, fixed with pegs. Probably the
fugitives had taken a number of others away with them. I came to the
conclusion that the natives were of the class that hunt on behalf of
Indian, Greek, and other traders--a class far too numerous nowadays.
The traders pay them very little for their labours, and themselves make
huge profits out of it all.
I took possession of the skins, prepared the best of them very
thoroughly and carefully, and then sent them to Moschi, for despatch
to the Berlin Museum. This task occupied me for two days, but I
undertook it with gusto, for I knew that by reason of the variety of
species of zebras and gnus frequenting this region, this big collection
of skins was of great scientific value. And I rejoiced the more
over my treasure-trove in that it exempted me from shooting any more
zebras or gnus myself. But my calculations were all to be upset. On my
notification to the station that I had not bagged the animals myself,
but had found them lying about in a bush-camp where they had been
abandoned by nomadic native hunters, it was decided that they could not
be recognised as my property without further proceedings. Eventually
the matter was decided in my favour by a governmental decree, but
in the meantime the skins were considerably damaged by insects and
otherwise. Could I have foreseen this, I should not have been at the
trouble and serious expense of saving them, but should have left them
as a welcome feast to the hyenas and jackals. What I was still able to
save out of the lot I sent later to the Berlin Museum.
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
WHEN STARTING ON A LONG “TELEKESA-MARCH”--A MARCH OF MORE THAN
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS BEFORE REACHING THE NEXT WATERING-PLACE--MY MEN
PROVIDED THEMSELVES WITH AS MUCH WATER AS THEY COULD CARRY.]
[Illustration: VULTURES.]
Near some of the drinking-places along the river I found the cleverly
contrived reed-shelters behind which the natives take refuge. The
immense numbers of vultures and jackals and hyenas showed that these
gluttonous creatures had found an abundance of provender, especially
near the deserted camp. The vultures, which were of various species,
came down from their perches on the trees and settled on the ground
quite near us. It was brooding-time for some of the larger species, and
presently I found a great number of their nests with young birds in
them. It was very interesting to watch the old birds and their young
together.
It took me about a week to decide on the spots best suited for my
flashlight photographs. After a good deal of really hard work, and
after any number of unsuccessful efforts, I was at last satisfied that
my three cameras were so placed as to promise good results if I had any
luck. But the fates seemed against me. There were hundreds of different
drinking-places along the course of the stream, and with so great a
choice at their disposal the animals appeared to give my camera a wide
berth.
Some days later we had an unpleasant surprise. One of my Askaris had
gone at daybreak, as was his custom, to examine one of my jackal traps.
Suddenly we heard the sound of shots in the direction of the trap,
about twenty minutes’ walk from the camp. As in view of my strict
orders against shooting at game there could be no question of this, we
at once assumed that we had to reckon with an attack by natives. In a
trice I had all my arrangements made. Dividing my armed followers
into two sections, I set out instantly with one of them in the
direction of the Askari, leaving the other with Orgeich to defend the
camp.
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
FLASHLIGHT PHOTOGRAPHS.]
[Illustration:
_C. G. Schillings, phot._
FLASHLIGHT PHOTOGRAPHS OF HYENAS (_HYÆNA SCHILLINGSI_, Mtsch.) AND
JACKALS.]
What had happened? It was the old story, so familiar to all experienced
travellers, and showing how easily one may be drawn into a fight, yet
how easily trouble may be avoided if one takes the right line. My
Askari, normally a very steady and reliable man who had been in the
service of the Government, had been startled by the sudden apparition
right in front of him of a great band of Masai warriors armed with
spears. They had raised their spears, no doubt instinctively, at the
sight of the rifle-bearing soldier. He, for his part, and his two
unarmed comrades, jumped simultaneously to the conclusion that these
were the same Masai who had previously attacked us. He decided at once
to fire. In an instant the Masai vanished in every direction.
It was not a laughing matter. There had been recent fights in the
neighbourhood of my camp between Masai warriors and the inhabitants of
the Uferi district--the remains of men who had been killed in these
frays bore witness to the truth of what my guides had told me about
them. And it was not long since certain European cattle-dealers, at a
spot some two days’ journey farther on, had been murdered by the Masai.
These facts, taken in connection with the night-attack, made us realise
the need of caution.