WESTWARD TO THE MEKONG RIVER
During the night of December 4, there was a heavy fall of snow and in
the morning we awoke to find ourselves in fairyland. We were living in
a great white palace, with ceiling and walls of filmy glittering webs.
The long, delicate strands of gray moss which draped themselves from
tree to tree and branch to branch were each one converted into threads
of crystal, forming a filigree lacework, infinitely beautiful.
It was hard to break camp and leave that silver palace, for every vista
through the forest seemed more lovely than the one before, but we knew
that another fall of snow would block the passes and shut us out from
the Mekong valley. The _mafus_ even refused to try the direct route
across the mountains to Wei-hsi and insisted on going southward to the
Shih-ku ferry and up the Yangtze River on the main caravan route.
It was a long trip and we looked forward with no pleasure to eight days
of hard riding. The difficulty in obtaining hunters since leaving the
Snow Mountain had made our big game collecting negligible although we
had traveled through some excellent country. The Mekong valley might
not be better but it was an unknown quantity and, whether or not it
yielded specimens, the results from a survey of the mammal distribution
would be none the less important, and we felt that it must be done;
otherwise we should have turned our backs on the north and returned to
Ta-li Fu.
As we rode down the mountain trail we passed caravan after caravan of
Tibetans with heavily loaded horses, all bound for that land of mystery
beyond the snow-capped barriers. Often we tried to stop some of the
red-skinned natives and persuade them to pose for a color photograph,
but usually they only shook their heads stubbornly and hurried past
with averted faces. We finally waylaid a Chinese and a Tibetan who were
walking together. The Chinaman was an amiable fellow and by giving
each of them a glass jam tumbler they halted a moment. As soon as the
photograph had been taken the Chinese indicated that he expected us to
produce one and was thoroughly disgusted when we showed him that it was
impossible.
Repassing the Lolo village, we followed the river gorge at the upper
end of which Chung-tien is located and left the forests when we emerged
on the main road. From the top of a ten thousand foot pass there was
a magnificent view down the cañon to the snow-capped mountains, which
were beautiful beyond description in their changing colors of purple
and gold.
Just after leaving the pass we met a caravan of several hundred horses
each bearing two whole pigs bent double and tied to the saddles. The
animals had been denuded of hair, salted, and sewn up, and soon would
be distributed among the villages somewhere in the interior of Tibet.
On the second day we saw before us seven snow-crowned peaks as sharp
and regular as the teeth of a saw rising above the mouth of the stream
where it spreads like a fan over a sandy delta and empties into the
Yangtze. Here the mighty river, flowing proudly southward from its home
in the wind-blown steppes of the "Forbidden Land," countless ages ago
found the great Snow Mountain range barring its path. Thrust aside, it
doubled back upon itself along the barrier's base, still restlessly
seeking a passage through the wall of rock. Far to the north it bit
hungrily into the mountain's side again, broke through, and swung south
gathering strength and volume from hundreds of tributaries as it rushed
onward to the sea.
For two days we rode along the river bank and crossed at the Shih-ku
ferry. There was none of the difficulty here which we had experienced
at Taku, for the river is wide and the current slow. It required
only two hours to transport our entire caravan while at the other
ferry we had waited a day and a half. Strangely enough, although
there are dozens of villages along the Yangtze and the valley is
highly cultivated, we saw no sign of fishing. Moreover, we passed but
three boats and five or six rafts and it was evident that this great
waterway, which for fifteen hundred miles from its mouth influences the
trade of China so profoundly, is here used but little by the natives.
On the ride down the river we had good sport with the huge cranes
(probably _Grus nigricollis_) which, in small flocks, were feeding
along the river fields. The birds stood about five feet high and we
could see their great black and white bodies and black necks farther
than a man was visible. It was fairly easy to stalk them to within a
hundred yards, but even at that distance they offered a rather small
target, for they were so largely wings, neck, legs, and tail. We were
never within shotgun range and indeed it would be difficult to kill the
birds with anything smaller than BB or buckshot unless they were very
near.
[Illustration: The Gorge of the Yangtze River]
Heller shot our first cranes with his .250-.300 Savage rifle. He stole
upon five which were feeding in a meadow and fired while two were
"lined up." One of the huge birds flapped about on the ground for a few
moments and lay still, but the larger was only wing-tipped and started
off at full speed across the fields. Two _mafus_ left the caravan,
yelling with excitement, and ran for nearly half a mile before they
overtook the bird. Then they were kept at bay for fifteen minutes by
its long beak which is a really formidable weapon. As food the cranes
were perfectly delicious when stuffed with chestnut dressing and
roasted. Each one provided two meals for three of us with enough left
over for hash and our appetites were by no means birdlike.
Although the natives attempt to kill cranes they are not often
successful, for the birds are very watchful and will not allow a man
within a hundred yards. Such a distance for primitive guns or crossbows
might as well be a hundred miles, but with our high-power rifles we
were able to shoot as many as were needed for food.
The birds almost invariably followed the river when flying and fed in
the rice, barley, and corn fields not far from the water. It was an
inspiring sight to see a flock of the huge birds run for a few steps
along the ground and then launch themselves into the air, their black
and white wings flashing in the sunlight. They formed into orderly
ranks like a company of soldiers or strung out in a long thin line
across the sky.
When we disturbed a flock from especially desirable feeding grounds
they would sometimes whirl and circle above the fields, ascending
higher and higher in great spirals until they were lost to sight,
their musical voices coming faintly down to us like the distant shouts
of happy children.
When we returned to Ta-li Fu in early January, cranes were very
abundant in the fields about the lake. They had arrived in late October
and would depart in early spring, according to Mr. Evans. We often
saw the birds on sand banks along the Yangtze, but they were usually
resting or quietly walking about and were not feeding; apparently they
eat only rice, barley, corn, or other grain.
This species was discovered by the great traveler and naturalist,
Lieutenant Colonel Prjevalsky, who found it in the Koko-nor region of
Tibet, and it was later recorded by Prince Henri d'Orleans from Ts'ang
in the Tibetan highlands. Apparently specimens from Yün-nan have not
been preserved in museums and the bird was not known to occur in this
portion of China.
Along the Yangtze on our way westward we shot a good many mallard
ducks (_Anas boscas_) and ruddy sheldrakes (_Casarca casarca_); the
latter are universally known as "brahminy ducks" by the foreigners in
Burma and Yün-nan, but they are not true ducks. The name is derived
from the bird's beautiful buff and rufous color which is somewhat like
that of the robes worn by the Brahmin priests. In America the name
"sheldrake" is applied erroneously to the fish-eating mergansers,
and much confusion has thus arisen, for the two are quite unrelated
and belong to perfectly distinct groups. The mergansers have narrow,
hooked, saw-toothed beaks quite unlike those of the sheldrakes, and
their habits are entirely dissimilar.
The brahminy ducks, although rather tough, are not bad eating. We
usually found them feeding in fields not far from the river or in
flooded rice dykes, and very often sitting in pairs on the sand banks
near the water. They have a bisyllabic rather plaintive note which is
peculiarly fascinating to me and, like the honk of the Canada goose,
awakens memories of sodden, wind-blown marshes, bobbing decoys, and a
leaden sky shot through with V-shaped lines of flying birds.
Mallards were frequently to be found with the sheldrakes, and we had
good shooting along the river and in ponds and rice fields. We also saw
a few teal but they were by no means abundant. Pheasants were scarce.
We shot a few along the road and near some of our camps, but we found
no place in Yün-nan where one could have even a fair day's shooting
without the aid of a good dog. This is strikingly different from Korea
where in a walk over the hillsides a dozen or more pheasants can be
flushed within an hour.
After two and one-half days' travel up the Yangtze we turned westward
toward Wei-hsi and camped on a beautiful flat plain beside a
tree-bordered stream. It was a cold clear night and after dinner and a
smoke about the fire we all turned in.
Both of us were asleep when suddenly a perfect bedlam of angry
exclamations and Chinese curses roused the whole camp. In a few moments
Wu came to our tent, almost speechless with rage and stammered, "Damn
fool soldiers come try to take our horses; say if _mafu_ no give them
horses they untie loads. Shall I tell _mafu_ break their heads?" We did
not entirely understand the situation but it seemed quite proper to
give the _mafus_ permission to do the head-breaking, and they went at
it with a will. After a volley of blows, there was a scamper of feet on
the frozen ground and the soldiers retired considerably the worse for
wear.
When the battle was over, Wu explained matters more fully. It appeared
that a large detachment of soldiers had recently passed up this road
to A-tun-tzu and four or five had remained behind to attend to the
transport of certain supplies. Seeing an opportunity for "graft" the
soldiers were stopping every caravan which passed and threatening to
commandeer it unless the _mafus_ gave a sufficient bribe to buy their
immunity. Our _mafus_, with the protection which foreigners gave them,
had paid off a few old scores with interest. That they had neglected no
part of the reckoning was quite evident when next morning two of the
soldiers came to apologize for their "mistake." One of them had a black
and swollen eye and the other was nursing a deep cut on his forehead;
they were exceedingly humble and did not venture into camp until they
had been assured that we would not again loose our terrible _mafus_
upon them.
Such extortions are every day occurrences in many parts of China and
it is little wonder that the military is cordially hated and feared by
the peasants. The soldiers, taking advantage of their uniform, oppress
the villagers in numberless ways from which there is no redress. If
a complaint is made a dozen soldiers stand ready to swear that the
offense was justified or was never committed, and the poor farmer is
lucky if he escapes without a beating or some more severe punishment.
It is a disgrace to China that such conditions are allowed to exist,
and it is to be hoped that ere many years have passed the country will
awake to a proper recognition of the rights of the individual. Until
she does there never can be a national spirit of patriotism in China
and without patriotism the Republic can be one in name only.