OSTRICH HUNTING
It is remarkable that in the wide range of territory over which
I journeyed, ostriches were to be found only in one particular
part. I have endeavoured to show, in the preceding chapter, that
on the shores of the desert there are alternating strips of barren
desert and bushland, and it is in the very last belt of bush, which
reaches to the actual edge of the desert, that ostriches are to be
found— roughly between the small forts of Tanout and Aderbissinat
in a scattered bush belt about 80 miles in width. I have seen one
ostrich track within 30 miles of Agades (near Tegguidi cliff) and
some 50 miles north of the usual range, while I have heard reports
of ostriches being near Agades, but in actual experience I have seen
enough to feel satisfied that they do not often range far beyond the
bush belt, which dies out a short distance north of Aderbissinat,
and about 80 miles south of Agades, which is near to the foot of
the Aïr mountains.
In deciding to make camp at Takoukout, I had selected the place
put forward by my camel-men and by the local natives as the most
favourable for the pursuit in view, while at the same time they
warned me that ostriches were not numerous anywhere in the country;
and their judgment eventually proved to be quite sound.
It was March 4th when I reached Takoukout and set about preparing a
permanent camp. I had had an escort of Senegalese soldiers with me
since leaving Zinder, for it is the military rule that no European
shall proceed north of that point unaccompanied by an armed escort,
and from Tanout six soldiers were detailed to go with me to guard
my belongings and person at Takoukout, so that on this occasion
pitching camp was rather an elaborate business, as it required some
defensive arrangement. With the purpose of gaining a little shade,
a clump of bush in a slight hollow was selected, and there camp was
established within a thick brushwood barricade of thorn bushes,
which was erected all around the encampment for protection and
as an enclosing wall. It was difficult to find any local natives
to help in cutting down trees for hut construction, since the
few that existed within visiting distance of the Takoukout wells
were hidden away in solitary bush-camps, and it was difficult,
also, to secure grass in the neighbourhood sufficiently long
for the purpose of covering in the walls and roof of the huts;
but a few Tuaregs of the district came to our aid on the second
day, and a comfortable camp was knocked into shape in due course.
There were then within the zareba: my tent erected for my own use;
a grass-hut workshop; a small cooking shelter for John; and, set
some distance apart, four rough hut sun-shelters for the soldiers,
as well as for Sakari, a local hunter, and a camel-man; while my
horse, and those belonging to escort, and two camels for carrying
water-skins or game on long journeys in the bush, were also within
the enclosure on nights that I happened to be there.
A notable addition to my personnel at this time was a native
hunter, of whom I shall make brief reference. This local warrior,
whose proper name was Dirto, but whom my followers invariably
called Tsofo (old man), was secured for me by the French officer
at Tanout, so that I would have a man familiar with hunting, and,
above all, familiar with the puzzling sameness of the level seas of
low bush-forest which prevailed in the Takoukout region. Tsofo, as
I too called him, since the name fitted so well, had the reputation
of being a great _chasseur_ who had lived his life hunting the wild
animals of the bush with snare and bow and arrows, which primitive
devices are the only ones available to the natives for pursuit of
the chase in the country.
For the purpose of hunting, and, particularly as a means of defence,
bows and arrows are universally in use in Damergou, and an adult
male native is seldom seen abroad, no matter on what business he is
intent, without bow in hand and a leather sheath, containing usually
about fifteen arrows, slung from a cord over the left shoulder. The
same weapon is much used in Damagarim and Kano provinces, but not
to the same extent as in this still more remote and exposed zone,
where the need for an arm for protection is imperative, since among
the natives there is not only lingering dread of robbers descending
across the desert from the north, but also the wild instinct of
very primitive people, in dreadfully primitive surroundings, to wage
war, one against the other, under the grim impulse of an existence
that demands self-protection before all else, and upholds the faith
that life is a struggle for “the survival of the fittest.” The
European law of the country forbids any natives to possess fire-arms.
But, to return to Tsofo, I will endeavour to describe him, for
he was an odd character in appearance and constitution, and at
the same time somewhat typical of many of his kind. When I first
laid eyes on him, I could not believe that the ill-clad, unkempt
creature that stood before me was the chosen hunter that was to
accompany me. Upon my word, I never saw a dirtier native; his
bit of a gown, once white, now a smoked blackish colour, was cast
carelessly over his shoulder and hung in rags about him, full of
rents and badly frayed round the bottom edge; beneath this he wore
an equally discoloured buck-skin loin-cloth and apron. He carried
not a scrap of food when he joined me, and had nothing about his
person except bow and arrows, and a hatchet and hunting-knife of
his own crude making. Undoubtedly he was past his prime, in fact
he was an old man, despite the stalwart framework that remained
of deep chest, and mighty thighs and lower limbs which bespoke an
athlete. His face was so wrinkled with exposure, and with frowning
beneath the fierce rays of the sunlight, and so unkempt that it
would be unkind to estimate his character by it. The coarse hair on
his head and the scrub-beard on his chin were almost entirely grey,
and his watery red-rimmed eyes betrayed declining years.
He wore a broad-brimmed, high-crowned hat, locally woven with dyed
grasses, which was not unlike the garish headgear of a Spanish
muleteer. On his feet he wore rough sandals cut to shape from a
single piece of thick antelope-hide. He was a Beri-Beri native of
a very primitive class, and most of his kind that I have seen have
fine physique, but coarse features of heavy unattractive type,
and I have often doubted the purity of their breeding.
As I have said, it would be unkind to judge Tsofo’s character
by his unprepossessing appearance, so I will tell you how I found
him in daily life. In his favour be it said: he knew perfectly the
bush country where we hunted, and, during many long journeys in
the most difficult bush I have ever encountered, he never failed
to find his way back to the base camp, though he had one or two
occasions for anxiety. On the other hand, Sakari, the Hausa boy,
was quite bewildered in this country, and got separated from us
and lost on three occasions, which goes to show that all natives
have not that marvellous faculty of travelling in a given direction
with animal-like instinct and memory, which is usually their most
striking gift. On account of this shortcoming, it is interesting to
note that Sakari had lived most of his life in Lagos and Kano, and
belonged to a family of shop-keepers, so that no doubt environment,
which has such a powerful influence on the character of mankind as
well as on the lesser creatures of the earth, had much to do with
his loss of natural instinct.
Tsofo’s knowledge of the bush was his greatest asset; as a hunter
he was not a success, for undoubtedly he was too old, as I will
explain below. But he was most eager to serve me and to bag game,
and spared no pains to that end. Also he was on friendly terms with
the few nomad Tuaregs who came about the shallow wells at Takoukout
to water their herds and fill their water-skins. (With them this
old hand at travelling light and camping anywhere bartered part of
his share of the buck-meat killed, so that he could have millet-meal
(_Dawa_) and goat cheese (_Chuku_) to vary his diet.) He was kindly
disposed to all he met, and had always a word and a hand-pat for
children, while he never attempted that domineering attitude which
natives are so prone to assume, when backed by a white man’s
presence, to bully some gift from the frightened bush-people.
Being an old man, long days were too much for Tsofo, but, even so,
he never dropped behind while he hunted, though the efforts of the
day often caused him to groan with pain and complain of sickness when
we got into camp at night. He had wonderful strength and endurance
for his age, and I often found myself admiring his dogged gait,
though it was nothing less than pure animal toughness of the kind
which one associates with tramps, or tinkers in the old country,
who live outdoors the year round, and care little for bodily comfort
and cleanliness so long as they can secure enough to eat.
Tsofo had his limitations: he would eat food in almost any condition
and in large improvident quantities. When he joined my caravan
he was well-nigh in a starving condition, and when a gazelle was
killed for food, the old man fell upon it like a jackal, starting
on the raw entrails, when disembowelling the animal, and thereafter
cooking and eating meat until he was completely gorged. Next day
he was sick and not so greedy, but he soon recovered, and before
long I knew him to be a savage, untamed glutton when he had food
in his possession. The old rascal, I’m sure, had been a very fine
hunter and tracker, for he knew all the “tricks of the trade,”
as it were, and the habits of the animals; but both eyesight and
hearing were impaired to such an extent that he altogether lacked the
acutely keyed keenness of those senses, which are essential to good
hunting. I soon found that he was a blunderer after he had spoilt a
chance or two to shoot in failing to detect the first slight movement
of wary game, while he proved a dreadfully slow tracker, because, by
reason of his bad eyesight, he often overshot the footprints he was
following in the sand, and had to search about to pick up the right
track again. His knowledge of the bush was invaluable, and, besides,
he had an unassuming character that pleased me, so I always took
him out, but when I understood his weakness, I did not allow him to
join me up in front, but bade him follow some hundred yards behind.
Before I proceed to deal with the actual search for ostriches,
I feel I should make reference to the climate, and its fierce
antagonism to comfortable hunting in this part of the world.
I would not like to boldly assert that the climate in the Western
Sudan is unhealthy for Europeans, for such an assertion might
appear unjust in the estimation of some men of very adaptable
and robust constitution, but on the whole I think it can justly
be said that the climate is such as belongs to Central Africa in
general, and that therefore it already has an accepted reputation
for being very hot and trying. North of the neighbourhood of Kano
there is no open water or marsh in the dry season (approximately
from October to July), so that for the greater part of the year no
hanging dampness, no mosquitoes, and no malaria are experienced in
the country with which I am dealing—which is so much to the good.
On the other hand you have a mighty opponent to comfort and health
in the form of the merciless sun, which glares down upon the white
glittering sand-surface of the earth with unmitigated fierceness,
laying an awesome withering breathlessness upon the land which saps
the energy of man and beast, so that they perforce forsake their
occupations for the greater part of the day and seek rest in the
shade; while even the plant life cannot survive the remorseless
moisture-consuming oppressor in the sky, and leaves and grass that
were green in the short rainy season, lie wilted and bleached on
the sand. We Europeans of temperate zones love the sun, but I’m
afraid Old Sol is a graceless and greedy robber of the earth’s
vitality in some climes, and here, where Nature has raised no
compact leafy screen upon the land, nor sends not clouds across
the sky, he well-nigh reigns supreme over smitten wastes that lie
wretchedly subdued because of his unopposed power. On account of
the intense heat, and the exhaustion resultant therefrom, I found
the climate very trying at times, for there are many occasions when
the hunter must be afoot all day in the open, while, even if he
chances to be in camp, the collector seldom enjoys relaxation from
his busy labours by the specimen bench during the valuable hours of
daylight. Records of temperature on 27th March read: 7 a.m., 58%
Fahr.; noon, 105% Fahr.; 8 p.m., 71% Fahr. I have brought up the
subject of climate at this juncture, because it was at Takoukout
that I felt the heat more trying than at any other period—in fact,
it temporarily sapped my strength to such an extent that I came near
collapsing under the strain of day after day searching the stifling
hot waterless country for restless, ever-travelling ostriches.
I will not enter into every incident of the unlucky hunting that
I experienced at Takoukout, but will quote from my diary a few
records of typical days. In all I hunted twenty days for ostriches
and saw sixteen birds, _but never fired a shot at any of them_.
Nevertheless, the general details of hunting them are, I feel sure,
not without peculiar interest, and on that account I am induced to
give some personal experiences.
_7th March._—Away hunting all day. Left camp 6.30 a.m.; returned
5.30 p.m. Set out north-west till noon, then north till 3 p.m.,
then south-east to camp. Searched again for ostriches without
seeing any; a few tracks encountered, all leading westward. In late
afternoon, having seen no ostriches, I decided to break the silence,
which I was particular to preserve so long as there was hope of
coming on any of the great wary birds, and to shoot gazelle, if
the opportunity offered when nearing camp. Now, the country within
the last bush-belt is rich in game, and a day never passed without
seeing some beautiful gazelle-creatures which surely must rank among
the most noble on earth, so delicate in form are they, so superbly
graceful, so joyously alive in activity and in the sheen of health
that casts a glamour over their soft rich coats, so proud with their
finely poised heads and large inquiring eyes and nostrils. There were
three species of them: sometimes dainty little Dorcas Gazelles, pale
fawn in colour, like the dry grass and sand, would be encountered
in small lots of two, four, and five, and occasionally in herds of
about ten to fifteen in the open sandy glades, which they seem to
prefer to frequent; sometimes, again, the rich rufous Red-fronted
Gazelles would be seen among the acacias, usually single, in pairs,
or in threes and fours—never in herds; while yet again the big and
striking Dama Gazelles would be encountered—striking because of the
large amount of conspicuous white which they possess. They are the
largest species of the genus. They were occasionally seen single,
but are much given to associate in herds of ten, twenty, thirty,
or more. (Later on, in August, after the advent of the Rains, which
had caused a tall rank grass to spring up in the bush and gave leaf
to the acacias, so that the country appeared much more enclosed
and vastly changed from the open barrenness which it possessed in
the dry season, those animals appeared to be migrating northward
out into the desert margin; no doubt so that they might breathe the
wind of the open places, and be to some extent free from flies, and
feed on the fresh delicate grasses that were then sprouting forth.
On one notable day, when between Tegguidi and Abellama—before
the bush belt is entered when journeying from the north—I passed
herd after herd of Dama Gazelles, and was able to get close enough
on three occasions to count the numbers. The totals were 37, 44,
and 84, and in each case I probably overlooked a few.
[Illustration: YOUNG OSTRICHES.]
[Illustration: DORCAS GAZELLE.]
The local Hausa names of those three species are: Dorcas Gazelle,
_Matakundi_; Red-fronted Gazelle, _Barewa_; Dama Gazelle, _Mena_,
sometimes _Myna_. The Hausa for ostrich is _Jimmina_.
From the above may be gathered some idea of buck we expected to
see on this evening of which I am writing; true, there were other
kinds, but so rarely seen that, as a general rule, they could
be discounted, though their clean-cut tracks in the sand were
occasionally crossed. As far as my observations go, those others
were White Oryx, Korrigum, and Giraffe.
We were still a fair distance from camp when a nice herd of a
dozen Dama Gazelles were sighted, and, after a certain amount of
running and dodging to keep a screen of bush cover between the
herd and myself, I got a good view of them, and managed to drop the
animal that appeared to have the best head. I got another as they
jumped and paused to ascertain from which direction the danger
threatened, and yet another in following them up a little way;
for, besides wanting specimens, meat was needed in camp for all the
natives—fresh meat and sun-dried. One of the animals was a splendid
male, but, as so often happens, the fine head was spoilt through
one horn being slightly deformed and broken at the tip. However,
one female was a good specimen, and, as both sexes were desirable,
I reserved it for a museum specimen, and told the natives not to
cut it in any way. The other two were disembowelled, and all were
then loaded on to the two camels that had come up from the rear,
where they had been following unseen. The day was then drawing to a
close, but incident was not yet finished with, for, before reaching
camp, I stalked and shot a Red-fronted Gazelle—also a nice museum
specimen—and missed its companion.
_8th March._—In camp all day skinning and preserving two gazelles,
one jackal, and a few small birds.
_9th March._—Left camp at daybreak to continue search for
ostrich. Travelled eastward. Made short halt at 10 a.m. Nothing, so
far, has been seen of our quarry, though four tracks of yesterday’s
making were crossed—three of them leading in a southerly direction
and one in northerly direction. Five Dorcas Gazelles seen about time
of halting. Continued on the move after a brief consultation with
Tsofo, at the same time changing direction more into the north, and
soon entered country where bush was more plentiful, for previously it
had been very open and the scrub thin. But up to noon-time nothing
seen moving; sun blazing hot. Lunched and lay watchful for a time
in the doubtful shade of a poor-leaved tree, while the natives slept.
Resumed search through bush about 2 p.m., about which time some
Dama Gazelles were seen resting in the heat of day. Those animals
were given a wide berth and left undisturbed, as is my unvarying
custom when the search for ostrich is afoot. In my opinion, to
disturb any such game which, for the time being, happen to be of
secondary interest, and set them hurrying away before you in alarm,
is almost as bad as to lose patience and fire an unimportant shot,
for in both cases you stand to spoil the great chance you hope for,
since there is always the possibility of giving warning to the
creatures you seek, and which may at any moment be at hand all
unknown to the hunter.
Close on 4 p.m. we came upon a very fresh ostrich track where a bird
had passed about two hours earlier in the afternoon. Followed track
some distance, but bird not seen, and gave up, as there appeared
no prospect of overtaking it before darkness set in; indeed, so
far as that was concerned, there was no certainty that it would
be overtaken even in a whole day’s travelling, for they are
birds that are incessantly moving on from place to place, while,
if alarmed, they run long distances before assured that they are
safe from their enemies.
Leaving the ostrich tracks, we started on a long wearisome journey
in a westerly direction to camp, while the sun set and the day
finished. I and the natives—Sakari, Tsofo, and the man with the
camels—showed much relief and gladness when at last, after the
trying labour of picking our way over rough unfamiliar country in the
dark, we caught the welcome light of our camp-fires, beckoning from
afar; and we were safely back in camp an hour and a half after dark.
From what I have thus far seen, added to local information gleaned
from more than one quarter, I am satisfied that ostriches are far
from plentiful in this isolated strip of country that they inhabit,
and it has been, and will continue to be, hard hunting to secure
the desired specimens— long arduous days of tracking through
the sand-swept bush, beneath the inextinguishable sun, until
one day, perchance, we meet across each other’s tracks. Tsofo,
the old native hunter, claims that for a number of years hunting
conditions within the territory have been undergoing change owing to
the influx of nomad Tuaregs, with their herds of goats and cattle,
from the neighbourhood of Aïr. Those natives in small numbers are
now scattered about in the bush at distant intervals, and, possibly,
if they were sedentary, no harm would be done, but the necessity
of constantly changing to fresh ground, so that enough food may
be found for their herds, and their own strong nomadic instincts,
lead those Tuaregs to range from place to place continually and
disturb considerable areas, and Tsofo rightly claims that this
circumstance greatly tends to frighten any timid game such as the
ostrich, for nothing is more disturbing to their keen senses than
to come across the tainted trail which clumsy herds of domestic
animals invariably leave behind wherever they happen to pass, or
pause in feeding. Tsofo declares, and no doubt there is a lot of
truth in his statement, that when the French occupied Agades (the
first French military mission visited Agades in 1904), some of the
wild unenthralled Tuaregs of Aïr fled from the country in fear
of the invaders and scattered broadcast on the edge of the desert
as far south as the neighbourhood of Tanout in their secretive,
gipsy-like wanderings.
_10th March._—Hunting as unfruitful as yesterday.
_11th March._—Almost at dark, after a long uneventful tramp through
the bush, I at last sighted ostrich. Crossing from a bare open
glade, and approaching quite close to an edge of fairly thick bush,
I suddenly stood motionless in my stride, for I had seen the head
and neck of an ostrich just within the cover. The acacias awkwardly
blocked further view, and breathlessly I made a short careful creep
forward. When I rose, inch by inch, to peer forward, I found I was
quite close to a great black male ostrich, but, unfortunately, it
stood on the far side of a tree, and the trunk and all intervening
branches and foliage hid it to such an extent that I could not
discern head from tail, nor where to place a fatal shot. Therefore
I tried to change my position very slightly, and was in the act of
doing so, when, of a sudden, another bird on my right, a grey hen
which I had not seen amongst the bushes nor thought of guarding
against, rushed off in alarm, startling the bird I was stalking
and two others. In an instant, almost, they were out of sight among
the bushes, and although I rushed forward hoping that an open space
was not far ahead and that I would get a shot at them making off,
I had no such luck, and never saw them again. My disappointment
was acute, the more so because I had plenty of time to fire from
the first position, after crawling forward, if I had foreseen what
was to follow, and taken the risk of getting a lucky shot home.
Who that is a sportsman does not know disappointment of the kind? I
fancy we all do, and, moreover, have been lured on to stick to
many a difficult quest in once having seen and let escape some
much-prized quarry. Does not the fisherman who has risen a nice
fish and missed it, after many patient hours on the water, go on
thereafter with a new zest and a brighter outlook? It was so in my
case; and, instead of returning to Takoukout, and having sufficient
water on the camels, we camped out in the bush this night with a
new excitement, and hoping to make amends on the morrow.
_12th March._—Camped comfortably overnight.
Hopes awakened by yesterday’s experience doomed to disappointment,
for the day’s hunting brought no reward. Returned to camp in the
afternoon; very tired, for the sun and the glittering sand take it
out of one. The sun seems to hold its fatiguing intensity from 9
a.m. till 4 p.m. at this time of year.
A number of gazelles seen, and tracks in the sand are constantly
crossed. It is splendid country for tracking, and most interesting
to read and study the signs upon the smooth sand.
Sand covers the whole earth in this country, and reminds me much of
a land of snow. The level wastes, that are random planted with wiry,
hard-living thorn trees (acacias), have patches that are wind-swept
and crusted to hardness underfoot, and there are soft driftings in
the slight declivities and about the plant roots, while the grass
is so scant in most places, that the few blades that stand have the
aspect of such as peep above the surface of a country that has been
the victim of a deep fall of snow.
_13th March._—A day in camp. Feeling somewhat overstrained.
Skinned birds all forenoon; collected ten more in afternoon. Giving
bush a rest in hope that I’ll have more luck next outing.
_14th March._—Greater part of day skinning eleven birds. Toward
evening made short hunt to secure meat for camp, and had a few shots
at gazelle, wounding two, but failed to get either of them. I shot
badly: possibly through being overtired.
When about to turn home, I stood on a slight elevation and looked
out across a wide shallow hollow on to an open grass slope similar
to the one I occupied, and carefully scanned the distant view,
more from habit than in hope of seeing anything of particular
interest. My surprise was therefore manifest to the natives with
me when I discovered four black-looking objects, like boulders
or small dark shrubs, in the far distance, that moved and were
undoubtedly ostriches. In an instant the blacks were beside me
imbued with excitement equal to my own as I pointed out the birds.
Immediately, for receding day threatened to frustrate this lucky
chance, I started on a long encircling stalk, since the birds were
in an open position that was difficult to approach unseen, and great
care had to be exercised, for ostriches are endowed with wonderfully
keen eyesight. Unfortunately, when I cast in toward the position of
the quarry, I saw nothing, and thought I had misjudged the place and
was a little too high on the slope. I then cast lower down, but with
no better result, and soon picked up their tracks leading westward
on to the summit of the rise. Perhaps I had been heard by the birds,
for pebbles crunched annoyingly underfoot in places, or perhaps they
had merely shifted onward in feeding; I could not tell, for I had
been out of sight of them almost since the stalk began. They might
still be quite close; but that availed me nothing, for the moments
of daylight, that had been precious, were finished. So there was
nothing for it but to give up and return to camp empty-handed.
_15th March._—Left camp at daybreak, taking with me two mounted
native escort, two camels and camel-men, Tsofo, and Sakari in charge
of my horse. I usually have a horse following behind in case it
should be required in an emergency, but never use it in actual
hunting, for the hoofs resound over loudly for my liking, and I
prefer to be far out ahead of all following, excepting one native
gun-bearer, and, on foot, moving along as quietly as possible. I
took a larger following than usual on this occasion, and camels to
carry skins of water, as I intended to be away some days.
Travelled all day in north-westerly direction, but no ostriches seen,
and only two single tracks of them were crossed.
At dusk shot one gazelle for food, and camped at the kill for
the night.
Gazelle continue to be constantly seen. I have noted that Dama
Gazelles have a remarkable tendency to run up-wind when alarmed,
an impulse so strong that if you know this habit, and make to get
nearly between them and the wind, instead of making directly for
them, they will almost certainly pass you as they run away. As a
general rule they are very alert animals, and more difficult to
stalk than either the Red-fronted or Dorcas Gazelles.
_16th March._—Moved on again at daylight, first heading westward,
then swinging more into the north under the direction of Tsofo,
making for a well on the Agades trail named Tchingaraguen, so
that the horses could be watered and the water-skins refilled.
During the morning oryx and giraffe tracks were seen on the sand,
which were the only incidents of note. Oryx tracks were not uncommon,
but giraffe tracks were seldom seen during my wanderings through
this bush. Neither animal was important to my collections, so that
I did not attempt to follow their tracks.
We reached Tchingaraguen about 11 a.m., and made short halt while
I breakfasted and the horses were watered—the poor brutes were
desperately thirsty. This half-barren, shadeless sand country is not
a land for horses, and they suffer a lot from the heat, while fodder
is miserably poor. I have resolved that when I move on to Agades
I will leave my horse behind at Tanout and henceforth ride a camel.
Leaving Tchingaraguen, we crossed the Agades track and held
south-east. In other words, we had reached the crown of the
huge circular trail we were making through the country, with the
starting-point at Takoukout; we had covered the western side of
that circle, and had now the eastern side to trace in on the
way homeward. The country we entered, once well clear of the
watering-place, held more encouraging signs than hitherto, for a
fair number of footprints were seen upon the sand, sometimes where
an ostrich had passed, sometimes where birds had been feeding on the
bleak acacias or on a little patch of living ground weed; once, too,
I came upon the “form” where a bird had recently had a sand-bath,
and picked up a few feathers which had dropped out while the bird
rolled in the dust. But they are birds that are ever on the move,
here one hour and gone the next; and this day I never sighted a bird.
There is at least one substantial reason at the present time for
the restless wanderings of the ostrich, while I am not at all sure
that it does not account for their scarcity of numbers for the time
being in the territory. It was Tsofo who first drew my attention
to the marked scarcity of ostrich food. Time and again the old
man, who knew this country like a book, though he had not hunted
in it for more than a year back, led me to places where he knew,
from past experience, that there should be good feeding-ground
for the birds. But always when we got to these chosen places where
their favourite plants were expected to be abundant, he would look
sadly about him, for the bushes were almost as bare as dead trees,
and scarcely a plant grew on the soil that was not burnt up. The
good old fellow at such times bravely held his tongue, so that
he would not dishearten me, unaware that it was easy to detect
his disappointments and make one’s own deductions. It was not
difficult to see that the growth was suffering from a water-famine,
and when at last I taxed Tsofo on the poor state of the country,
he confessed his surprise at finding it in such condition, and said
that the cause must lie in the fact that no plentiful rain fell in
the territory last year. At a later date I happened to learn that at
Agades in the same year—1919—small rainfall had occurred only
on two days, and there is little doubt that there was a similar
drought further south, and that Tsofo spoke the truth.
But nevertheless it is difficult to conceive that a land, where so
fierce a sun is dominant, can survive without rainfall for almost
two years (sometimes, the natives declare, they experience drought
for so long as three years in succession), and it is little wonder
that, with such grim set-backs to existence, the ground is largely
barren and the bush-growth stunted.
But that the plants of the earth do not always survive, I can vouch
for, for when I passed east of the mountains of Tarrouaji in Aïr
later in the year, I saw there a belt of standing acacia bush, on
the edge of mountain and desert, that was quite dead, and to all
appearance from no other cause than from lack of nourishment. It
was an eerie sight and a desolate one: every bush dead, the limbs
colourless and lifeless, and the bark hanging therefrom in shreds—a
graveyard, where the struggle for existence had been greater than
could be withstood.
It was not difficult to ascertain which plants the ostriches fed on
at the season I was hunting them, for one could tell by the tracks
in the sand exactly where a bird stopped in the act of feeding,
while careful survey of the foliage further revealed where pieces
had been broken off. I brought home those plants that were known
to me as food of the ostrich so that they might have authoritative
identification, and I give some notes on them herewith; while I
am indebted to Dr. A. B. Rendle, of the British Museum, for their
scientific names:
1. _Cassia_ nr. _obovata_ (Leguminosæ) Hausa: Filasko. “Senegal
Senna.” A small low shrub, with yellow flowers and short flat
pods, which curve in a quarter circle and have a raised saw-edged
rib down their centre. The local natives claim this plant to be
the one most sought after by ostriches.
2. _Cucumis_ sp. (Cucurbitaceæ) Hausa: Gurji. A small
ground-creeping gourd, which has often long-reaching trailers.
Ostriches feed on the leaves of this plant.
3. _Mœrua rigida R. Br._ (Capparidaceæ) Hausa: Chichiwa. A small
tree, with white flowers and tiny elongated leaves.
4. _Oxystelma bornouense R. Br._ (Asclepiadaceæ) Hausa: Hanjin
Rago. A slender, climbing creeper, which flourishes in the topmost
branches of acacia trees, there overreaching and having green
foliage in a thick cluster. When trees are almost bare of leaves,
as often is the case in the dry season, the clumps of green of
this parasite in the tree-tops are conspicuous and easy to find,
which is perhaps a kind provision of Nature, so that the creatures
who seek such food may be guided to it from afar. The leaves of the
plant contain considerable juice, and it is the second favourite
food of the ostrich; while it is also a rich titbit for camels,
who are very fond of it.
Native hunters of the territory know those plants well, and utilise
the knowledge to secure the downfall of many an ostrich; for it is
where they expect birds to feed that they conceal the traps that
are the only means by which they can capture them, for ostriches
are too wary to be shot with bow and arrow. The ostrich trap
is of the same kind as that which the natives use for antelope
(and for wild sheep in Aïr), but it is of a much larger size
and stronger. It is constructed in this way: two wands about the
thickness of half an inch are relaxed in hot water and bent into
the form of a complete circle which has a diameter of 14 in.; those
rods are bound at their meeting points, and allowed to dry and set
in the form of a rigid hoop, whereupon they are laid together, while
closely grouped hard unbending straws, about the length of a pencil,
are inserted between them and stoutly bound in place with strips of
bark; all the straws radiate to the inside centre, but do not quite
meet, so that, though they are held firmly on the circular frame,
they have no support whatever where they converge in the centre,
therefore the finished article is a flat tray of rigid straws,
which is firm around the rim, but is subject to collapse outward
in the centre if any great weight be put upon it. The contrivance
looks a simple enough thing, but there is more in the construction
than first appears. The trap is for ostrich, and on that account
it is desirable that smaller animals shall not “spring it,”
and the resourceful hunters have hit on the solution to a nicety,
simply by increasing the thickness and rigidity of the straws, so
that they will give beneath the weight of an ostrich, while they
will remain undisturbed beneath the footstep of a gazelle.
To set an ostrich trap, a hole is excavated in the sand, say,
beneath an acacia thorn, which bears an attractive cluster of the
plant _Oxystelma bornouense_, and exactly where it is anticipated a
bird will stand that is intent on reaching the choice foliage; this
hole is 10 to 12 in. in diameter, so that when the straw tray is laid
over it, the greater part of the surface lies over the cavity, while
the rim is firmly held on the edge of the pit. When the tray is in
position, a very strong noose made out of plaited raw-hide thongs,
and opened to a diameter similar to the rim of the tray, is laid
over it, and the end attached to a stout log: this log is buried
beneath the sand, while the tray and noose are also concealed by
smoothing the sand surface over them until every sign of disturbance
of the soil is obliterated. If an ostrich chance to visit the place,
and approaches to feed on the small clump of green leaves, with his
eyes fixed upon the coveted morsel, he will almost certainly step
upon the concealed tray; whereupon his foot breaks through it into
the hole, and the noose jumps upward and is around the limb when the
unfortunate bird hurriedly withdraws the foot from the hole. Thus
he is caught; snared so securely that, powerful bird though he is,
he has no hope of breaking loose. He will yet go a long distance, but
trailing the log behind him, and leaving the tell-tale marks of it in
the sand wherever he goes—and his captors will find him in the end.
_17th March._—Off again at daylight. But first searched for a
Dama Gazelle which I had wounded at camp almost at dark on the night
before, and had been unable to find it. Almost where we had given up
tracking it on the previous night we found the animal’s deathbed,
but only pools of blood-discoloured sand, and some green grazings
from the stomach, so completely had the animal been devoured in
the night by jackals and hyenas. I wanted to find the head, for
I thought it was a very fine one when shooting at the animal, and
I had all the natives search the neighbourhood of the kill. But so
complete had been the meal of the night-prowlers, that not a vestige
of anything was found except one solitary piece of shoulder-blade.
To-day travelled south-east, but in morning nothing seen except
gazelle. However, about 10 a.m., advancing cautiously over a low
ridge, I saw at last a single ostrich; but the sharp-eyed brute saw
me at the same time also, and cleared right away, very wild. The
sun was now blazing hot, but we had to keep going incessantly,
as the water-skins were almost empty, and we had a long way to go
to reach Takoukout before sundown.
About noon again sighted ostriches—three of them away to the west
in fairly open country. Made long stalk, keeping out of sight in
the slight hollows, but could not overtake the birds, as they were
moving too rapidly; followed them a long way, but finally had to
give up. Throughout the remainder of the day no more birds were
seen, and we reached Takoukout at sundown, after being three days
in the bush, and having seen, in that time, but four ostriches,
distant and wild. Very glad to get into camp; our water was finished,
and all were very done up with the excessive heat. The poor horses
drank till I thought they would collapse.
_20th and 21st March._—Two fruitless days hunting for ostrich.
Not a bird seen. Travelled north, then west to Eleki, and returned
to camp on second day. Brought back one Dama Gazelle, two Dorcas
Gazelles, one partridge, and four small specimens.
I have endeavoured to give an idea of hard hunting in a dreary belt
of country, and beneath a pitiless sun, where the reward desired
was withheld to the bitter end. It is a chapter of adversity, such
as we all meet at some time or other in our experiences of life,
but may still hold some value, even although the chief pursuit
devolved in failure.