A BAT CAVE IN THE BIG RAVINE
A few days after our arrival in Yen-ping we went with Mr. Caldwell and
his son Oliver to a Taoist temple seven miles away in a lonely ravine
known as Chi-yuen-kang. The walk to the temple in the early morning
was delightful. The "bamboo chickens" and francolins were calling all
about us and on the way we shot enough for our first day's dinner. Both
these birds are abundant in Fukien Province but it is by no means easy
to kill them for they live in such thick cover that they can only be
flushed with difficulty.
Early in the morning we frequently heard the francolins crowing in the
trees or on the top of a hill and when a cock had taken possession of
such a spot the intrusion of another was almost sure to cause trouble
which only ended when one of them had been driven off.
For two miles and a half the Big Ravine is a narrow cut between
perpendicular rock walls thickly clothed to their very summits with
bamboo and a tangle of thorny vines. In the bottom of the gorge a
mountain torrent foams among huge bowlders but becomes a gentle, slow
moving stream when it leaves the cool darkness of the cañon to spread
itself over the terraced rice fields.
About a mile from the entrance two old temples nestle into the
hillside. One stands just over the water, but the other clings to the
rock wall three hundred feet above the river, and it was there that we
made our camp.
The old priest in charge did not appear especially delighted to see us
until I slipped a Mexican dollar into his hand--then it was laughable
to see his change of face. The far end of the balcony was given up to
us while Mr. Caldwell and Oliver put up their beds at the feet of a
grinning idol in the main temple.
We had come to Chi-yuen-kang to hunt serow (_see_ Chapter XVII) and
had brought with us only a few traps for small mammals. Harry had seen
several serow exhibited for sale on market days in towns along the
river, and all were reported to have been killed near this ravine.
There was a village of considerable size at the upper end and here we
collected a motley lot of beaters with half a dozen dogs to drive the
top of a mountain which towered about two thousand five hundred feet
above the river.
Never will we forget that climb! We tried to start at daylight but it
was well toward six o'clock before we got our men together. A Chinaman
would drive an impatient man to apoplexy and an early grave for it is
well-nigh impossible to get him started within an hour of the appointed
time, and with a half dozen the difficulty is multiplied as many times.
Just when you think all is ready and that there can be no possible
reason for delaying longer, the whole crowd will disappear suddenly and
you discover that they have gone for "chow." Then you know that the end
is really in sight, for chow usually is the last thing.
We waited nearly two hours on this particular morning before we started
on the long climb to the top of the mountain. The sun was simply
blazing, and in fifteen minutes we were soaked with perspiration. When
we were half way up the dogs disappeared in a small ravine overgrown
with bamboo and sword grass and suddenly broke into a chorus of yelps.
They had found a fresh trail and were driving our way.
Harry ran to a narrow opening in the jungle, shouting to us to watch
another higher up. We were hardly in position when his rifle banged,
followed by such a bedlam of yells and barks that we thought he
must have killed nothing less than one of the hunters. Before we
reached them Harry appeared, smiling all over, and dragging a muntjac
(_Muntiacus_) by the fore legs. He had just made a beautiful shot,
for the clearing he had been watching was not more than ten feet wide
and the muntjac flashed across it at full speed. Caldwell fired while
it was in mid-air and his bullet caught the animal at the base of the
neck, rolling it over stone dead.
This beautiful little deer in Fukien is hardly larger than a fox.
Its antlers are only two or three inches in length and rise from an
elongated skin-covered pedicel instead of from the base of the skull as
in all other members of the deer family. On each side of the upper jaw
is a slender tusk, about two inches long, which projects well beyond
the lips and makes a rather formidable weapon.
We hoped that this muntjac was going to prove a "good joss," but
instead a disappointing day was in store for us. When we had worked our
way to the very summit of the mountain under a merciless sun and over
a trail which led through a smothering bamboo jungle, we saw dozens of
fresh serow tracks. The animals were there without a doubt and we were
on the _qui vive_ with excitement.
[Illustration: A Chinese Hunter and a Muntjac]
[Illustration: Brigands Killed in the Yen-ping Rebellion]
We selected positions and the men made a long circuit to drive toward
us as Caldwell had directed. After half an hour had passed we heard
them yelling as they closed in, but what was our disgust to see them
solemnly parading in single file up the bottom of the valley on an open
trail and carefully avoiding all thickets where a serow could possibly
be. As Harry expressed it, "all the animals had to do was to sit tight
and watch the noble procession pass." The beaters very evidently knew
nothing whatever about driving nor were we able to teach them, for they
seriously objected to leaving the open trails and going into the bush.
We worked hard for serow but the men were hopeless and it was
impossible to "still hunt" the animals at that time of the year. The
natives say that in September when the mushrooms are abundant in the
lower forests the serow leave the mountain tops and thick cover to
feed upon the fungus, and that they may be killed without the aid of
beaters, but at any time the hunt would involve a vast amount of labor
with only a moderate chance of success. After we had left Fukien,
Mr. Caldwell purchased a fine male and female serow for us which
are especially interesting as they represent a different subspecies
(_Capricornis sumatrensis argyrochætes_) from those we killed in
Yün-nan.
Chi-yuen-kang did yield us results, however, for we discovered a
wonderful bat cave less than a mile from our temple. Its entrance was
a low round hole half covered with vegetation, and opening into a high
circular gallery; from this three long corridors branched off like
fingers from the palm of a giant's hand. The cave was literally alive
with bats. There must have been ten thousand and on the first day we
killed a hundred, representing seven species and at least four genera.
This was especially remarkable as it is unusual to find more than two
or three species living together.
The cave was a regular bat apartment house for each corridor was
divided by rock partitions into several small rooms in every one of
which bats of different species were rearing their families. The young
in most instances were only a few days old but were thickly clustered
on the walls and ceilings, and each and every one was squeaking at the
top of its tiny lungs. The place must have been occupied for scores, if
not hundreds, of years for the floor was knee-deep with dung.
When we returned the day after our first visit we found that many of
the young bats had been removed by their parents and in some instances
entire rooms had been vacated. After the first day the odor of the cave
was so nauseating that to enable us to go inside it was necessary to
wear gauze pads of iodoform over our noses.
The bats at this place were killed with bamboo switches but later we
always used a long gill net which had been especially made in New York.
We could hang the net over the entrance to a cave and, when all was
ready, send a native into the galleries to stir up the animals. As they
flew out they became entangled in the net and could be caught or killed
before they were able to get away. It was sometimes possible to catch
every specimen in a cavern, and moreover, to secure them in perfect
condition without broken skulls or wings.
If a bat escaped from the net it would never again strike it, for
the animals are wonderfully accurate in flight and most expert
dodgers. Even while in a cave, where hundreds of bats were in the
air, they seldom flew against us, although we might often be brushed
by their wings; and it was a most difficult thing to hit them with a
bamboo switch. Their ability in dodging is without doubt a necessary
development of their feeding habits for, with the exception of a few
species, bats live exclusively upon insects and catch them in the air.
It is a rather terrifying experience for a girl to sit in a bat cave
especially if the light has gone out and she is in utter darkness. Of
course she has a cap tightly pulled over her ears, for what girl, even
if she be a naturalist's wife, would venture into a den of evil bats
with one wisp of hair exposed!
All about is the swish of ghostly wings which brush her face or neck
and the air is full of chattering noises like the grinding of hundreds
of tiny teeth. Sometimes a soft little body plumps into her lap and
if she dares to take her hands from her face long enough to disengage
the clinging animal she is liable to receive a vicious bite from
teeth as sharp as needles. But, withal, it is good fun, and think how
quickly formalin jars or collecting trays can be filled with beautiful
specimens!