Our first sight of the Tana River was from the top of a bluff. It flowed
below us a hundred feet, bending at a sharp elbow against the cliff
on which we stood. Out of the jungle it crept sluggishly and into the
jungle it crept again, brown, slow, viscid, suggestive of the fevers and
the lurking beasts by which, indeed, it was haunted. From our elevation
we could follow its course by the jungle that grew along its banks.
At first this was intermittent, leaving thin or even open spaces at
intervals, but lower down it extended away unbroken and very tall. The
trees were many of them beginning to come into flower.
Either side of the jungle were rolling hills. Those to the left made up
to the tremendous slopes of Kenia. Those to the right ended finally in
a low broken range many miles away called the Ithanga Hills. The country
gave one the impression of being clothed with small trees; although
here and there this growth gave space to wide grassy plains. Later we
discovered that the forest was more apparent than real. The small trees,
even where continuous, were sparse enough to permit free walking in all
directions, and open enough to allow clear sight for a hundred yards or
so. Furthermore, the shallow wide valleys between the hills were almost
invariably treeless and grown to very high thick grass.
Thus the course of the Tana possessed advantages to such as we. By
following in general the course of the stream we were always certain
of wood and water. The river itself was full of fish-not to speak of
hundreds of crocodiles and hippopotamuses. The thick river jungle gave
cover to such animals as the bushbuck, leopard, the beautiful colobus,
some of the tiny antelope, waterbuck, buffalo and rhinoceros. Among
the thorn and acacia trees of the hillsides one was certain of impalla,
eland, diks-diks, and giraffes. In the grass bottoms were lions,
rhinoceroses, a half dozen varieties of buck, and thousands and
thousands of game birds such as guinea fowl and grouse. On the plains
fed zebra, hartebeeste, wart-hog, ostriches, and several species of the
smaller antelope. As a sportsman's paradise this region would be hard to
beat.
We were now afoot. The dreaded tsetse fly abounded here, and we had
sent our horses in via Fort Hall. F. had accompanied them, and hoped to
rejoin us in a few days or weeks with tougher and less valuable mules.
Pending his return we moved on leisurely, camping long at one spot,
marching short days, searching the country far and near for the special
trophies of which we stood in need.
It was great fun. Generally we hunted each in his own direction and
according to his own ideas. The jungle along the river, while not the
most prolific in trophies, was by all odds the most interesting. It was
very dense, very hot, and very shady. Often a thorn thicket would fling
itself from the hills right across to the water's edge, absolutely and
hopelessly impenetrable save by way of the rhinoceros tracks. Along
these then we would slip, bent double, very quietly and gingerly,
keeping a sharp lookout for the rightful owners of the trail. Again
we would wander among lofty trees through the tops of which the sun
flickered on festooned serpent-like vines. Every once in a while we
managed a glimpse of the sullen oily river through the dense leaf screen
on its banks. The water looked thick as syrup, of a deadly menacing
green. Sometimes we saw a loathsome crocodile lying with his nose just
out of water, or heard the snorting blow of a hippopotamus coming up for
air. Then the thicket forced us inland again. We stepped very slowly,
very alertly, our ears cocked for the faintest sound, our eyes roving.
Generally, of course, the creatures of the jungle saw us first. We
became aware of them by a crash or a rustling or a scamper. Then we
stood stock listening with all our ears for some sound distinguishing
to the species. Thus I came to recognize the queer barking note of the
bushbuck, for example, and to realize how profane and vulgar that and
the beautiful creature, the impalla, can be when he forgets himself. As
for the rhinoceros, he does not care how much noise he makes, nor how
badly he scares you.
Personally, I liked very well to circle out in the more open country
until about three o'clock, then to enter the river jungle and work
my way slowly back toward camp. At that time of day the shadows were
lengthening, the birds and animals were beginning to stir about. In
the cooling nether world of shadow we slipped silently from thicket
to thicket, from tree to tree; and the jungle people fled from us, or
withdrew, or gazed curiously, or cursed us as their dispositions varied.
While thus returning one evening I saw my first colobus. He was swinging
rapidly from one tree to another, his long black and white fur shining
against the sun. I wanted him very much, and promptly let drive at him
with the 405 Winchester. I always carried this heavier weapon in the
dense jungle. Of course I missed him, but the roar of the shot so
surprised him that he came to a stand. Memba Sasa passed me the
Springfield, and I managed to get him in the head. At the shot another
flashed into view, high up in the top of a tree. Again I aimed and
fired. The beast let go and fell like a plummet. “Good shot,” said I to
myself. Fifty feet down the colobus seized a limb and went skipping away
through the branches as lively as ever. In a moment he stopped to look
back, and by good luck I landed him through the body. When we retrieved
him we found that the first shot had not hit him at all!
At the time I thought he must have been frightened into falling; but
many subsequent experiences showed me that this sheer let-go-all-holds
drop is characteristic of the colobus and his mode of progression. He
rarely, as far as my observation goes, leaps out and across as do
the ordinary monkeys, but prefers to progress by a series of slanting
ascents followed by breath-taking straight drops to lower levels. When
closely pressed from beneath, he will go as high as he can, and will
then conceal himself in the thick leaves.
B. and I procured our desired number of colobus by taking advantage of
this habit-as soon as we had learned it. Shooting the beasts with our
rifles we soon found to be not only very difficult, but also destructive
of the skins. On the other hand, a man could not, save by sheer good
fortune, rely on stalking near enough to use a shotgun. Therefore we
evolved a method productive of the maximum noise, row, barked shins,
thorn wounds, tumbles, bruises-and colobus! It was very simple. We took
about twenty boys into the jungle with us, and as soon as we caught
sight of a colobus we chased him madly. That was all there was to it.
And yet this method, simple apparently to the point of imbecility,
had considerable logic back of it after all; for after a time somebody
managed to get underneath that colobus when he was at the top of a tree.
Then the beast would hide.
Consider then a tumbling riotous mob careering through the jungle as
fast as the jungle would let it, slipping, stumbling, falling flat,
getting tangled hopelessly, disentangling with profane remarks, falling
behind and catching up again, everybody yelling and shrieking. Ahead of
us we caught glimpses of the sleek bounding black and white creature,
running up the long slanting limbs, and dropping like a plummet into the
lower branches of the next tree. We white men never could keep up with
the best of our men at this sort of work, although in the open country I
could hold them well enough. We could see them dashing through the thick
cover at a great rate of speed far ahead of us. After an interval came
a great shout in chorus. By this we knew that the quarry had been
definitely brought to a stand. Arriving at the spot we craned our heads
backward, and proceeded to get a crick in the neck trying to make out
invisible colobus in the very tops of the trees above us. For gaudily
marked beasts the colobus were extraordinarily difficult to see. This
was in no sense owing to any far-fetched application of protective
colouration; but to the remarkable skill the animals possessed
in concealing themselves behind apparently the scantiest and most
inadequate cover. Fortunately for us our boys' ability to see them was
equally remarkable. Indeed, the most difficult part of their task was to
point the game out to us. We squinted, and changed position, and tried
hard to follow directions eagerly proffered by a dozen of the men.
Finally one of us would, by the aid of six power-glasses, make out,
or guess at a small tuft of white or black hair showing beyond the
concealment of a bunch of leaves. We would unlimber the shotgun and send
a charge of BB into that bunch. Then down would plump the game, to
the huge and vociferous delight of all the boys. Or, as occasionally
happened, the shot was followed merely by a shower of leaves and a
chorus of expostulations indicating that we had mistaken the place, and
had fired into empty air.
In this manner we gathered the twelve we required between us. At noon
we sat under the bank, with the tangled roots of trees above us, and the
smooth oily river slipping by. You may be sure we always selected a
spot protected by very shoal water, for the crocodiles were numerous. I
always shot these loathsome creatures whenever I got a chance, whenever
the sound of a shot would not alarm more valuable game. Generally they
were to be seen in midstream, just the tip of their snouts above water,
and extraordinarily like anything but crocodiles. Often it took several
close scrutinies through the glass to determine the brutes. This
required rather nice shooting. More rarely we managed to see them on the
banks, or only half submerged. In this position, too, they were all but
undistinguishable as living creatures. I think this is perhaps because
of their complete immobility. The creatures of the woods, standing quite
still, are difficult enough to see; but I have a notion that the eye,
unknown to itself, catches the sum total of little flexings of the
muscles, movements of the skin, winkings, even the play of wind and
light in the hair of the coat, all of which, while impossible of
analysis, together relieve the appearance of dead inertia. The vitality
of a creature like the crocodile, however, seems to have withdrawn into
the inner recesses of its being. It lies like a log of wood, and for a
log of wood it is mistaken.
Nevertheless the crocodile has stored in it somewhere a fearful
vitality. The swiftness of its movements when seizing prey is most
astonishing; a swirl of water, the sweep of a powerful tail, and the
unfortunate victim has disappeared. For this reason it is especially
dangerous to approach the actual edge of any of the great rivers, unless
the water is so shallow that the crocodile could not possibly approach
under cover, as is its cheerful habit. We had considerable difficulty in
impressing this elementary truth on our hill-bred totos until one day,
hearing wild shrieks from the direction of the river, I rushed down
to find the lot huddled together in the very middle of a sand spit
that-reached well out into the stream. Inquiry developed that while
paddling in the shallows they had been surprised by the sudden
appearance of an ugly snout and well drenched by the sweep of an eager
tail. The stroke fortunately missed. We stilled the tumult, sat down
quietly to wait, and at the end of ten minutes had the satisfaction of
abating that croc.
Generally we killed the brutes where we found them and allowed them to
drift away with the current. Occasionally however we wanted a piece of
hide, and then tried to retrieve them. One such occasion showed very
vividly the tenacity of life and the primitive nervous systems of these
great saurians.
I discovered the beast, head out of water, in a reasonable sized pool
below which were shallow rapids. My Springfield bullet hit him fair,
whereupon he stood square on his head and waved his tail in the air,
rolled over three or four times, thrashed the water, and disappeared.
After waiting a while we moved on downstream. Returning four hours later
I sneaked up quietly. There the crocodile lay sunning himself on the
sand bank. I supposed he must be dead; but when I accidentally broke a
twig, he immediately commenced to slide off into the water. Thereupon
I stopped him with a bullet in the spine. The first shot had smashed
a hole in his head, just behind the eye, about the size of an ordinary
coffee cup. In spite of this wound, which would have been instantly
fatal to any warm-blooded animal, the creature was so little affected
that it actually reacted to a slight noise made at some distance from
where it lay. Of course the wound would probably have been fatal in the
long run.
The best spot to shoot at, indeed, is not the head but the spine
immediately back of the head.
These brutes are exceedingly powerful. They are capable of taking down
horses and cattle, with no particular effort. This I know from my
own observation. Mr. Fleischman, however, was privileged to see
the wonderful sight of the capture and destruction of a full-grown
rhinoceros by a crocodile. The photographs he took of this most
extraordinary affair leave no room for doubt. Crossing a stream was
always a matter of concern to us. The boys beat the surface of the water
vigorously with their safari sticks. On occasion we have even let loose
a few heavy bullets to stir up the pool before venturing in.
A steep climb through thorn and brush would always extricate us from the
river jungle when we became tired of it. Then we found ourselves in a
continuous but scattered growth of small trees. Between the trunks of
these we could see for a hundred yards or so before their numbers closed
in the view. Here was the favourite haunt of numerous beautiful impalla.
We caught glimpses of them, flashing through the trees; or occasionally
standing, gazing in our direction, their slender necks stretched high,
their ears pointed for us. These curious ones were generally the does.
The bucks were either more cautious or less inquisitive. A herd or so
of eland also liked this covered country; and there were always a
few waterbuck and rhinoceroses about. Often too we here encountered
stragglers from the open plains-zebra or hartebeeste, very alert and
suspicious in unaccustomed surroundings.
A great deal of the plains country had been burned over; and a
considerable area was still afire. The low bright flames licked their
way slowly through the grass in a narrow irregular band extending
sometimes for miles. Behind it was blackened soil, and above it rolled
dense clouds of smoke. Always accompanied it thousands of birds wheeling
and dashing frantically in and out of the murk, often fairly at the
flames themselves. The published writings of a certain worthy and
sentimental person waste much sympathy over these poor birds dashing
frenziedly about above their destroyed nests. As a matter of fact they
are taking greedy advantage of a most excellent opportunity to get
insects cheap. Thousands of the common red-billed European storks
patrolled the grass just in front of the advancing flames, or wheeled
barely above the fire. Grasshoppers were their main object, although
apparently they never objected to any small mammals or reptiles that
came their way. Far overhead wheeled a few thousand more assorted
soarers who either had no appetite or had satisfied it.
The utter indifference of the animals to the advance of a big
conflagration always impressed me. One naturally pictures the beasts as
fleeing wildly, nostrils distended, before the devouring element. On
the contrary I have seen kongoni grazing quite peacefully with flames on
three sides of them. The fire seems to travel rather slowly in the tough
grass; although at times and for a short distance it will leap to a wild
and roaring life. Beasts will then lope rapidly away to right or left,
but without excitement.
On these open plains we were more or less pestered with ticks of
various sizes. These clung to the grass blades; but with no invincible
preference for that habitat; trousers did them just as well. Then they
ascended looking for openings. They ranged in size from little red ones
as small as the period of a printed page to big patterned fellows the
size of a pea. The little ones were much the most abundant. At times
I have had the front of my breeches so covered with them that their
numbers actually imparted a reddish tinge to the surface of the cloth.
This sounds like exaggeration, but it is a measured statement. The
process of de-ticking (new and valuable word) can then be done only by
scraping with the back of a hunting knife.
Some people, of tender skin, are driven nearly frantic by these pests.
Others, of whom I am thankful to say I am one, get off comparatively
easy. In a particularly bad tick country, one generally appoints one of
the youngsters as “tick toto.” It is then his job in life to de-tick
any person or domestic animal requiring his services. His is a busy
existence. But though at first the nuisance is excessive, one becomes
accustomed to it in a remarkably short space of time. The adaptability
of the human being is nowhere better exemplified. After a time one gets
so that at night he can remove a marauding tick and cast it forth into
the darkness without even waking up. Fortunately ticks are local
in distribution. Often one may travel weeks or months without this
infliction.
I was always interested and impressed to observe how indifferent the
wild animals seem to be to these insects. Zebra, rhinoceros and giraffe
seem to be especially good hosts. The loathsome creatures fasten
themselves in clusters wherever they can grip their fangs. Thus in
a tick country a zebra's ears, the lids and corners of his eyes, his
nostrils and lips, the soft skin between his legs and body, and between
his hind legs, and under his tail are always crusted with ticks as
thick as they can cling. One would think the drain on vitality would be
enormous, but the animals are always plump and in condition. The
same state of affairs obtains with the other two beasts named. The
hartebeeste also carries ticks but not nearly in the same abundance;
while such creatures as the waterbuck, impalla, gazelles and the smaller
bucks seem either to be absolutely free from the pests, or to have a
very few. Whether this is because such animals take the trouble to rid
themselves, or because they are more immune from attack it would be
difficult to say. I have found ticks clinging to the hair of lions, but
never fastened to the flesh. It is probable that they had been brushed
off from the grass in passing. Perhaps ticks do not like lions,
waterbuck, Tommies, et al., or perhaps only big coarse-grained common
brutes like zebra and rhinos will stand them at all.