RETURN TO THE OVENGA RIVER.--THE MONKEYS AND THEIR FRIENDS THE
BIRDS.--THEY LIVE TOGETHER.--WATCH BY MOONLIGHT FOR GAME.--KILL
AN OSHENGUI.
After wandering through the forest for many days, we reached once more
the banks of the River Rembo Ovenga, the waters of which had fallen
twelve or fifteen feet, for we are in the dry season. The numerous
aquatic birds and waders which come with the dry weather give the river
a lively, pleasant appearance. The white sand which lines many parts of
the shore is beautiful. The mornings are cool, and sometimes foggy. The
dark green of the well-wooded banks had something grand about it. I,
poor and lonely traveler, had a charming scene before me. The stream is
still yellow, but far less so than in the rainy season. Then the rains
were driving down a turbulent tide laden with mud washed down from the
mountains and valleys; now the waters roll on placidly, as though all
was peace and civilization on their borders.
New birds had come. The otters were plentiful, and fed on the fish that
were thick in the stream.
In that great jungle beasts had been scarce for some time, and we had a
hard time to get food.
But what a glorious time we had by ourselves in that forest! Oh how I
enjoyed rambling in that jungle, though toiling hard, and often hungry
and sick! How glad I always was when I returned to the banks of the
Rembo Ovenga! I loved that river, for I knew that its waters, as they
glided down, would disappear in that very ocean whose waves bathed the
shores of both the Old and the New World. At times, when seated on its
banks, I could not help it, I would think of friends absent, but dear to
me. I remembered those I loved--I remembered the boys and girls who were
slowly but surely growing men and women, but who were still young folks
in my memory, though years were flying fast. The lad of the jungle had
become a man also; his mustache had made its appearance, and had grown a
good deal; his face had become older--probably he found it so when
perchance he gazed in the looking-glass he carried with him. Disease,
anxiety, sleepless nights, and traveling under the burning sun had begun
to do their work; but, in despite of all, my heart was still young, and
I loved more than ever those friends I had left behind.
I had come back to Obindji to see if I could get some plantains or
smoked cassada, and then intended to return to the woods in search of
new animals and new insects. King Obindji welcomed me, and was delighted
to see Malaouen, Querlaouen, and Gambo once more, and his wives got food
ready for us. Then we started again for the forest. I took with me lots
of small shot of different sizes for birds, and once more we would get
lost in the jungle, but from time to time we would come back to the
uninhabited banks of the wild Ovenga to look at our river.
One day, wandering in the forest, I spied a queer-looking bird I had not
seen before, and I immediately got ready to chase it. This bird was
called by the natives the monkey-bird (_Buceros albocrystatus_).
[Illustration: WATCHING BIRDS AND MONKEYS.]
As I was looking at that queer bird I spied a monkey, two monkeys, three
monkeys, four, five, six, ten monkeys. These monkeys looked very small,
and were called oshengui by the natives. Then I saw more of the queer
birds, and lo! I perceived they were all playing with these little
monkeys--yes, playing with these oshenguis.
Strange indeed they looked, with their long-feathered tail,
queer-looking body, and strange big beak. They followed those little
monkeys as they leaped from branch to branch; sometimes I thought they
would rest on the backs of the monkeys, but no, they would perch close
to them, and then the monkey and the bird would look at each other. I
never heard a note from the birds--they were as silent as the trees
themselves. The oshengui would look at them and utter a kind of kee,
kee, kee, and then they would move on, and the birds would follow.
Day after day I would meet those birds, and then I would look for the
monkeys, and was sure to see them. No wonder they are called the
monkey-bird. But then I never saw them follow any monkeys but the
oshengui. I wondered why they followed them; I could not imagine the
reason. I never saw them resting on the birds, but I noticed that these
birds were fond of the fruits and berries the oshneguis feed upon. Then
the question arose, Did the birds follow the monkeys, or the monkeys the
birds? I came to the conclusion that the birds followed the monkeys,
whom they could hear telling them, as it were, where they could get food
without searching for it.
I tried to discover where these birds made their nests, but never found
one in the country of the Rembo.
Now let us come to their companions, the monkeys. How small are these
oshenguis! They are the smallest monkeys of that part of Africa. Their
color was of a yellowish tinge; they had long, but not prehensile tails,
for the monkeys with prehensile tails are found in America. It is a
frolicsome and innocent little animal. Strange to say, the common
people, who eat all kinds of monkeys, would not eat that one--why, I
could not tell. His cry is very plaintive and sad, and is not heard far
off, like the cry of other monkeys. As sure as you live, when you meet
them hopping about the branches overhead, you may say that water is not
far off. They always sleep on trees whose branches overhang a
water-course. They all sleep on the same tree. How queer they look, with
their tails hanging down! To see the mother carrying her young, and the
young clinging to the mother, is a sight worth seeing, for these baby
monkeys do not look bigger than rats, and, when quite young, not much
bigger than large mice. Strange to say, though very young monkeys can
not walk, from the very day they are born they seem to be able to cling
with their hands to the breast of their mother; for young monkeys must
help themselves, or they would drop to the ground.
So we may say that the oshengui and the monkey-bird are almost
inseparable friends, and we must let them wander in the great jungle in
search of their food while we look for other birds and animals.
There were also in the forest several varieties of tigercat, the name of
which is very similar to that of the little monkeys, the oshengui, I
have just spoken to you about.
There are several species of these cats, but I am going to speak to you
of the _Genetta Fieldiana_. You will say, "What a queer name!" Not at
all. I have told you that I often remembered him in Africa, and I named
this animal after my friend, Mr. Cyrus W. Field. I described this animal
in the proceedings of the Boston Natural History Society.
These oshenguis are perfect little plagues. They are very sly; they
never sleep at night; they are then wandering in search of prey--of
something to kill. They see better at night than in broad daylight.
During the day they hide in some hollow tree, or in the midst of a
cluster of thick, dead branches, which are so close together that you
can not see what is inside. They will crawl in there and remain till
night comes. The darker the night, the bolder their deeds; for on a dark
night they will come into the villages, knowing that every body is
generally asleep between two or three o'clock in the morning, manage to
get into some poultry-house--I do not know how--and then pounce upon the
poor chickens and strangle them. They will destroy the whole lot of
them, suck their blood, and if they can, they will drag one away. If you
have a parrot they will try to get at it. Sometimes they will climb
trees and get their prey among the birds. The green wild pigeons, the
partridges, the wild ducks and cranes, sleeping on the banks of rivers,
are good food for them, for they are very fond of the feathered tribe.
One morning, on the banks of a creek not far from our camp, I saw the
footprints of an oshengui on the sands. It had been there, I could see,
the night before.
I had two or three chickens, which I kept carefully. I wanted to see if
I could not get a few eggs, for I had not for a long time tasted any,
and I wondered if the oshengui would come and eat my chickens. Poor
chickens! they have to look sharp in that country, for they have many
enemies among the snakes and the species of wild-cats of the forest,
besides the hawks.
The moon was declining, and rose about one o'clock in the morning, and
shone just bright enough to enable me to see. So, towards one o'clock, I
took one of my chickens and tied it to a stick on the bank of the little
creek near our camp, and hid myself, not far off, on the edge of the
forest. I took with me two guns, one loaded with bullets in case I
should meet larger game I did not bargain for, and the other loaded
with shot, which I intended for the oshengui, if it came.
The light from the moon was dim, as I have said, but just enough for me
to see. I hoped that the oshengui would come from the direction opposite
to where I was. The poor fowl began to cackle, frightened at being in a
strange place, and no doubt having an instinctive knowledge of
insecurity. It cackled and cackled from time to time, and then would try
to go to sleep, but could not; it seemed to comprehend impending danger.
At last I saw something coming along the shore whose eyes were like two
bright charcoal fires. It seemed so close to the ground that, if it had
not been for the two fiery eyes, I should have thought it was a big
snake. The legs were so short and so bent that the body touched the
ground. I raised my gun very carefully, and waited. At last I could see
the long muzzle of the oshengui. How sly the animal was! He came on like
a thief, and so carefully looking right and left as he advanced, but
never losing sight of the fowl. The nearer he came, the flatter his body
lay on the ground, until it arrived near the fowl; then there was a
pause; then a sudden spring upon the fowl--there was just one cry; the
fowl was dead. Having aimed carefully, I pulled the trigger--bang! and
down rolled the oshengui on his back, with the fowl in his jaws. A
tremendous shout rose from our camp. Gambo, Querlaouen, and Malaouen
came rushing toward me, and they all cried, "You will kill no more of
our fowls now, Oshengui!" With my prize hung above my head, I went to
sleep, and the next day we made preparations to go up the river.