MONKEY HUNTING
Our most exciting sport at the Nam-ting camp was hunting monkeys. Every
morning we heard querulous notes which sounded much like the squealing
of very young puppies and which were followed by long, siren wails;
when the shrill notes had reached their highest pitch they would sink
into low mellow tones exceedingly musical.
The calls usually started shortly after daylight and continued until
about nine o'clock, or later if the day was dark or rainy. They would
be answered from different parts of the jungle and often sounded from
half a dozen places simultaneously. The natives assured us that the
cries were made by _hod-zu_ (monkeys) and several times we started in
pursuit, but they always ceased long before we had found a way through
the jungle to the spot from which they came. At last we succeeded in
locating the animals.
We were inspecting a line of traps placed along a trail which led up
a valley to a wide plateau. Suddenly the puppy-like squealing began,
followed by a low tremulous wail. It seemed almost over our heads but
the trees were empty. We stole silently along the trail for a hundred
yards and turned into a dry creek bed which led up the bottom of the
forested ravine. With infinite caution, breathing hard from excitement,
we slipped along, scanning the top of every tree. A hornbill sitting
on a dead branch caught sight of us and flapped heavily away emitting
horrid squawks. A flock of parrots screamed overhead and a red-bellied
squirrel followed persistently scolding at the top of its voice, but
the monkeys continued to call.
The querulous squealing abruptly ceased and we stood motionless beside
a tree. For an instant the countless jungle sounds were hushed in a
breathless stillness; then, low and sweet, sounded a moaning wail which
swelled into deep full tones. It vibrated an instant, filling all the
forest with its richness, and slowly died away. Again and again it
floated over the tree tops and we listened strangely moved, for it was
like the music of an exquisite contralto voice. At last it ceased but,
ere the echoes had reached the valley, the jungle was ringing with an
unlovely siren screech.
The spell was broken and we moved on, alert and tense. The trees
stretched upward full one hundred and fifty feet, their tops spread out
in a leafy roof. Long ropelike vines festooned the upper branches and a
luxuriant growth of parasitic vegetation clothed the giant trunks in a
swaying mass of living green. Far above the taller trees a gaunt gray
monarch of the forest towered in splendid isolation. In its topmost
branches we could just discern a dozen balls of yellow fur from which
proceeded discordant squeals.
It was long range for a shotgun but the rifles were all in camp. I
fired a charge of B.B.'s at the lowest monkey and as the gun roared out
the tree tops suddenly sprang into life. They were filled with running,
leaping, hairy forms swinging at incredible speed from branch to
branch; not a dozen, but a score of monkeys, yellow, brown, and gray.
The one at which I had shot seemed unaffected and threw itself full
twenty feet to a horizontal limb, below and to the right. I fired again
and he stopped, ran a few steps forward and swung to the underside
of the branch. At the third charge he hung suspended by one arm and
dropped heavily to the ground stone dead.
We tossed him into the dry creek bed and dashed up the hill where the
branches were still swaying as the monkeys traveled through the tree
tops. They had a long start and it was a hopeless chase. At every
step our clothes were caught by the clinging thorns, our hands were
torn, and our faces scratched and bleeding. In ten minutes they had
disappeared and we turned about to find the dead animal. Suddenly
Yvette saw a splash of leaves in the top of a tree below us and a big
brown monkey swung out on a pendent vine. I fired instantly and the
animal hung suspended, whirled slowly around and dropped to the ground.
Before I had reloaded my gun it gathered itself together and dashed off
through the woods on three legs faster than a man could run. The animal
had been hiding on a branch and when we passed had tried to steal away
undiscovered.
We found the dead monkey, a young male, in the creek bed and sat down
to examine it. It was evidently a gibbon (_Hylobates_), for its long
arms, round head, and tailless body were unmistakable, but in every
species with which I was familiar the male was black. This one was
yellow and we knew it to be a prize. That there were two other species
in the herd was certain for we had seen both brown and gray monkeys
as they dashed away among the trees, but the gibbons were far more
interesting than the others.
[Illustration: The Head of a Gibbon Killed on the Nam-ting River]
[Illustration: A Civet]
Gibbons are probably the most primitive in skull and teeth of all
the anthropoid, or manlike, apes,--the group which also includes the
gorilla, chimpanzee, and orangutan. They are apparently an earlier
offshoot of the anthropoid stem, as held by most authorities, and the
giant apes and man are probably a later branch. Gibbons are essentially
Oriental being found in India, Burma, Siam, Tonking, Borneo, and the
Islands of Hainan, Sulu, Sumatra, and Java.
For the remainder of our stay at the Nam-ting River camp we devoted
ourselves to hunting monkeys and soon discovered that the three species
we had first seen were totally different. One was the yellow gibbon,
another a brown baboon (_Macacus_), and the third a huge gray ape with
a long tail (_Pygathrix_) known as the "langur." On the first day all
three species were together feeding upon some large green beans and
this happened once again, but usually they were in separate herds.
The gibbons soon became extremely wild. Although the same troop could
usually be found in the valley where we had first discovered them, they
chose hillsides where it was almost impossible to stalk them because
of the thorny jungle. Usually when they called, it was from the upper
branches of a dead tree where they could not only scan every inch
of the ground below, but were almost beyond the range of a shotgun.
Sometimes we climbed upward almost on our hands and knees, grasping
vines and creepers, drawing ourselves up by tree trunks, crawling under
thorny shrubs and bushes, slipping, falling, scrambling through the
indescribable tangle. We went forward only when the calls were echoing
through the jungle, and stood motionless as the wailing ceased. But in
spite of all our care they would see or hear us. Then in sudden silence
there would be a tremor of the branches, splash after splash of leaves,
and the herd would swing away through the trackless tree tops.
The gibbons are well named _Hylobates_ or "tree-walkers" for they
are entirely arboreal and, although awkward and almost helpless on
the ground, once their long thin hands touch a branch they become
transformed as by a miracle.
They launch themselves into space, catch a limb twenty feet away,
swing for an instant, and hurl themselves to another. It is possible
for them to travel through the trees faster than a man can run even on
open ground, and when one examines their limbs the reason is apparent.
The fore arms are so exceedingly long that the tips of the fingers can
touch the ground when the animal stands erect, and the slender hands
are longer than the feet.
The gibbons were exceedingly difficult to kill and would never drop
until stone dead. Once I shot an old male with my 6-1/2 mm. Mannlicher
rifle at about one hundred yards and, even though the ball had gone
clear through his body, he hung for several minutes before he dropped
into a tangle of vines.
It was fifteen minutes before we were able to work our way through
the jungle to the spot where the animal had fallen, and we had been
searching for nearly half an hour when suddenly my wife shouted that
a monkey was running along a branch above our heads. I fired with the
shotgun at a mass of moving leaves and killed a second gibbon which had
been hiding in the thick foliage. Instead of running the animals would
sometimes disappear as completely as though they had vanished in the
air. After being fooled several times we learned to conceal ourselves
in the bushes where we could watch the trees, and sooner or later the
monkeys would try to steal away.
The langurs and baboons were by no means as wild as the gibbons and
were found in larger herds. Some of the langurs were carrying babies
which clung to their mothers between the fore legs and did not seem to
impede them in the slightest on their leaps through the tree tops.
The young of this species are bright orange-red and strangely unlike
the gray adults. As they grow older the red hair is gradually replaced
by gray, but the tail is the last part of the body to change. Heller
captured one of the tiny red monkeys and brought it back to camp in his
coat pocket. The little fellow was only a few days old, and of course,
absolutely helpless.
When it was wrapped in cotton with only its queer little wizened face
and blue eyes visible it had a startling resemblance to a human baby
until its long tail would suddenly flop into sight and dispel the
illusion. It lived only four days in spite of constant care.
There are fifty-five species of langurs (_Pygathrix_) all of which are
confined to the Orient. In some parts of India the animals are sacred
and climb about the houses or wander in the streets of villages quite
without fear. At times they do so much damage to crops that the natives
who do not dare to kill the animals themselves implore foreigners to
do so. The langurs are not confined to the tropics, but in the Tibetan
mountains range far up into the snow and enjoy the cold weather. In the
market at Li-chiang we saw several skins of these animals which had
been brought down by the Tibetans; the hair was long and silky and was
used by the Chinese for rugs and coats.
The species which we killed at the Nam-ting River camp, like all
others of the genus _Pygathrix_, was interesting because of the long
hairs of the head which form a distinct ridge on the occiput. We never
heard the animals utter sounds, but it is said that the common Indian
langur, _Pygathrix entellus_, gives a loud whoop as it runs through the
tree tops. Often when a tiger is prowling about the jungle the Indian
langurs will follow the beast, keeping in the branches just above its
head and scolding loudly.
The baboon, or macaque, which we killed on the Nam-ting was a close
relative of the species (_Macacus rhesus_) which one sees parading
solemnly about the streets of Calcutta, Bombay, and other Indian
cities. In Agra, the home of the beautiful Taj Mahal, the Monkey Temple
is visited by every tourist. A large herd of macaques lives in the
grounds and at a few chuckling calls from the native attendants will
come trooping over the walls for the food which is kept on sale at the
gate. These animals are surprisingly tame and make most amusing pets.
On one of our hunts my wife and I discovered a water hole in the midst
of a dense jungle where the mud was trodden hard by sambur, muntjac,
wild boar, and other animals. We decided to spend a night watching
beside it, but the "Dying Rabbit" who was enthusiastic in the day time
lost his courage as the sunlight waned. Very doubtfully he consented to
go.
Although the trip netted us no tangible results it was an experience of
which we often think. We started just at dusk and installed ourselves
in the bushes a few yards from the water hole. In half an hour the
forest was enveloped in the velvety blackness of the tropic night. Not
a star nor a gleam of light was visible and I could not see my hand
before my face.
We sat absolutely motionless and listened to the breath of the jungle,
which although without definite sound, was vibrant with life. Now and
then a muntjac barked hoarsely and the roar of a sambur stag thrilled
us like an electric shock. Once a wild boar grunted on the opposite
bank of the river, the sound coming to us clear and sharp through the
stillness although the animal was far away.
Tiny forest creatures rustled all about us in the leaves and a small
animal ran across my wife's lap, leaping frantically down the hill as
it felt her move. For five hours we sat there absolutely motionless.
Although no animals came to the water hole we were silent with a great
happiness as we groped our way back to camp, for we had been close
to the heart of the jungle and were thrilled with the mystery of the
night.