The rhinoceros is, with the giraffe, the hippopotamus, the gerenuk, and
the camel, one of Africa's unbelievable animals. Nobody has bettered
Kipling's description of him in the Just-so Stories: “A horn on his
nose, piggy eyes, and few manners.” He lives a self-centred life,
wrapped up in the porcine contentment that broods within nor looks
abroad over the land. When anything external to himself and his food
and drink penetrates to his intelligence he makes a flurried fool of
himself, rushing madly and frantically here and there in a hysterical
effort either to destroy or get away from the cause of disturbance. He
is the incarnation of a living and perpetual Grouch.
Generally he lives by himself, sometimes with his spouse, more rarely
still with a third that is probably a grown-up son or daughter. I
personally have never seen more than three in company. Some observers
have reported larger bands, or rather collections, but, lacking other
evidence, I should be inclined to suspect that some circumstances of
food or water rather than a sense of gregariousness had attracted a
number of individuals to one locality.
The rhinoceros has three objects in life: to fill his stomach with food
and water, to stand absolutely motionless under a bush, and to imitate
ant hills when he lies down in the tall grass. When disturbed at any
of these occupations he snorts. The snort sounds exactly as though the
safety valve of a locomotive had suddenly opened and as suddenly shut
again after two seconds of escaping steam. Then he puts his head down
and rushes madly in some direction, generally upwind. As he weighs
about two tons, and can, in spite of his appearance, get over the ground
nearly as fast as an ordinary horse, he is a truly imposing sight,
especially since the innocent bystander generally happens to be upwind,
and hence in the general path of progress. This is because the rhino's
scent is his keenest sense, and through it he becomes aware, in the
majority of times, of man's presence. His sight is very poor indeed; he
cannot see clearly even a moving object much beyond fifty yards. He can,
however, hear pretty well.
The novice, then, is subjected to what he calls a “vicious charge” on
the part of the rhinoceros, merely because his scent was borne to the
beast from upwind, and the rhino naturally runs away upwind. He opens
fire, and has another thrilling adventure to relate. As a matter of
fact, if he had approached from the other side, and then aroused the
animal with a clod of earth, the beast would probably have “charged”
away in identically the same direction. I am convinced from a fairly
varied experience that this is the basis for most of the thrilling
experiences with rhinoceroses.
But whatever the beast's first mental attitude, the danger is quite
real. In the beginning he rushes, upwind in instinctive reaction against
the strange scent. If he catches sight of the man at all, it must be
after he has approached to pretty close range, for only at close range
are the rhino's eyes effective. Then he is quite likely to finish what
was at first a blind dash by a genuine charge. Whether this is from
malice or from the panicky feeling that he is now too close to attempt
to get away, I never was able determine. It is probably in the majority
of cases the latter. This seems indicated by the fact that the rhino, if
avoided in his first rush, will generally charge right through and keep
on going. Occasionally, however, he will whirl and come back to the
attack. There can then be no doubt that he actually intends mischief.
Nor must it be forgotten that with these animals, AS WITH ALL OTHERS,
not enough account is taken of individual variation. They, as well as
man, and as well as other animals, have their cowards, their fighters,
their slothful and their enterprising. And, too, there seem to be
truculent and peaceful districts. North of Mt. Kenia, between that peak
and the Northern Guaso Nyero River, we saw many rhinos, none of which
showed the slightest disposition to turn ugly. In fact, they were so
peaceful that they scrabbled off as fast as they could go every time
they either scented, heard, or SAW us; and in their flight they held
their noses up, not down. In the wide angle between the Tana and Thika
rivers, and comprising the Yatta Plains, and in the thickets of the
Tsavo, the rhinoceroses generally ran nose down in a position of attack
and were much inclined to let their angry passions master them at the
sight of man. Thus we never had our safari scattered by rhinoceroses
in the former district, while in the latter the boys were up trees six
times in the course of one morning! Carl Akeley, with a moving picture
machine, could not tease a charge out of a rhino in a dozen tries, while
Dugmore, in a different part of the country, was so chivied about that
he finally left the district to avoid killing any more of the brutes in
self-defence!
The fact of the matter is that the rhinoceros is neither animated by the
implacable man-destroying passion ascribed to him by the amateur hunter,
nor is he so purposeless and haphazard in his rushes as some would have
us believe. On being disturbed his instinct is to get away. He generally
tries to get away in the direction of the disturbance, or upwind, as the
case may be. If he catches sight of the cause of disturbance he is apt
to try to trample and gore it, whatever it is. As his sight is short,
he will sometimes so inflict punishment on unoffending bushes. In doing
this he is probably not animated by a consuming destructive blind rage,
but by a naturally pugnacious desire to eliminate sources of annoyance.
Missing a definite object, he thunders right through and disappears
without trying again to discover what has aroused him.
This first rush is not a charge in the sense that it is an attack on a
definite object. It may not, and probably will not, amount to a charge
at all, for the beast will blunder through without ever defining more
clearly the object of his blind dash. That dash is likely, however, at
any moment, to turn into a definite charge should the rhinoceros happen
to catch sight of his disturber. Whether the impelling motive would then
be a mistaken notion that on the part of the beast he was so close he
had to fight, or just plain malice, would not matter. At such times the
intended victim is not interested in the rhino's mental processes.
Owing to his size, his powerful armament, and his incredible quickness
the rhinoceros is a dangerous animal at all times, to be treated with
respect and due caution. This is proved by the number of white men,
out of a sparse population, that are annually tossed and killed by the
brutes, and by the promptness with which the natives take to trees-thorn
trees at that!-when the cry of faru! is raised. As he comes rushing in
your direction, head down and long weapon pointed, tail rigidly erect,
ears up, the earth trembling with his tread and the air with his snorts,
you suddenly feel very small and ineffective.
If you keep cool, however, it is probable that the encounter will
result only in a lot of mental perturbation for the rhino and a bit
of excitement for yourself. If there is any cover you should duck down
behind it and move rapidly but quietly to one side or another of the
line of advance. If there is no cover, you should crouch low and hold
still. The chances are he will pass to one side or the other of you, and
go snorting away into the distance. Keep your eye on him very closely.
If he swerves definitely in your direction, AND DROPS HIS HEAD A LITTLE
LOWER, it would be just as well to open fire. Provided the beast was
still far enough away to give me “sea-room,” I used to put a small
bullet in the flesh of the outer part of the shoulder. The wound thus
inflicted was not at all serious, but the shock of the bullet usually
turned the beast. This was generally in the direction of the wounded
shoulder, which would indicate that the brute turned toward the apparent
source of the attack, probably for the purpose of getting even. At
any rate, the shot turned the rush to one side, and the rhinoceros, as
usual, went right on through. If, however, he seemed to mean business,
or was too close for comfort, the point to aim for was the neck just
above the lowered horn.
In my own experience I came to establish a “dead line” about twenty
yards from myself. That seemed to be as near as I cared to let the
brutes come. Up to that point I let them alone on the chance that they
might swerve or change their minds, as they often did. But inside of
twenty yards, whether the rhinoceros meant to charge me, or was merely
running blindly by, did not particularly matter. Even in the latter case
he might happen to catch sight of me and change his mind. Thus,
looking over my notebook records, I find that I was “charged” forty odd
times-that is to say, the rhinoceros rushed in my general direction. Of
this lot I can be sure of but three, and possibly four, that certainly
meant mischief. Six more came so directly at us, and continued so to
come, that in spite of ourselves we were compelled to kill them. The
rest were successfully dodged.
As I have heard old hunters of many times my experience, affirm that
only in a few instances have they themselves been charged indubitably
and with malice aforethought, it might be well to detail my reasons for
believing myself definitely and not blindly attacked.
The first instance was that when B. killed his second trophy rhinoceros.
The beast's companion refused to leave the dead body for a long time,
but finally withdrew. On our approaching, however, and after we had
been some moments occupied with the trophy, it returned and charged
viciously. It was finally killed at fifteen yards.
The second instance was of a rhinoceros that got up from the grass
sixty yards away, and came headlong in my direction. At the moment I
was standing on the edge of a narrow eroded ravine, ten feet deep, with
perpendicular sides. The rhinoceros came on bravely to the edge of this
ravine-and stopped. Then he gave an exhibition of unmitigated bad temper
most amusing to contemplate-from my safe position. He snorted, and
stamped, and pawed the earth, and tramped up and down at a great rate.
I sat on the opposite bank and laughed at him. This did not please him
a bit, but after many short rushes to the edge of the ravine, he gave
it up and departed slowly, his tail very erect and rigid. From the
persistency with which he tried to get at me, I cannot but think he
intended something of the sort from the first.
The third instance was much more aggravating. In company with Memba Sasa
and Fundi I left camp early one morning to get a waterbuck. Four or five
hundred yards out, however, we came on fresh buffalo signs, not an hour
old. To one who knew anything of buffaloes' habits this seemed like an
excellent chance, for at this time of the morning they should be feeding
not far away preparatory to seeking cover for the day. Therefore we
immediately took up the trail.
It led us over hills, through valleys, high grass, burned country,
brush, thin scrub, and small woodland alternately. Unfortunately we had
happened on these buffalo just as they were about changing district, and
they were therefore travelling steadily. At times the trail was easy to
follow and at other times we had to cast about very diligently to
find traces of the direction even such huge animals had taken. It was
interesting work, however, and we drew on steadily, keeping a sharp
lookout ahead in case the buffalo had come to a halt in some shady
thicket out of the sun. As the latter ascended the heavens and the
scorching heat increased, our confidence in nearing our quarry
ascended likewise, for we knew that buffaloes do not like great heat.
Nevertheless this band continued straight on its way. I think now they
must have got scent of our camp, and had therefore decided to move to
one of the alternate and widely separated feeding grounds every herd
keeps in its habitat. Only at noon, and after six hours of steady
trailing, covering perhaps a dozen miles, did we catch them up.
From the start we had been bothered with rhinoceroses. Five times did
we encounter them, standing almost squarely on the line of the spoor we
were following. Then we had to make a wide quiet circle to leeward in
order to avoid disturbing them, and were forced to a very minute search
in order to pick up the buffalo tracks again on the other side. This was
at once an anxiety and a delay, and we did not love those rhino.
Finally, at the very edge of the Yatta Plains we overtook the herd,
resting for noon in a scattered thicket. Leaving Fundi, I, with Memba
Sasa, stalked down to them. We crawled and crept by inches flat to the
ground, which was so hot that it fairly burned the hand. The sun beat
down on us fiercely, and the air was close and heavy even among the
scanty grass tufts in which we were trying to get cover. It was very
hard work indeed, but after a half hour of it we gained a thin bush not
over thirty yards from a half dozen dark and indeterminate bodies dozing
in the very centre of a brush patch. Cautiously I wiped the sweat
from my eyes and raised my glasses. It was slow work and patient work,
picking out and examining each individual beast from the mass. Finally
the job was done. I let fall my glasses.
“Monumookee y'otey-all cows,” I whispered to Memba Sasa.
We backed out of there inch by inch, with intention of circling a short
distance to the leeward, and then trying the herd again lower down. But
some awkward slight movement, probably on my part, caught the eye of
one of those blessed cows. She threw up her head; instantly the whole
thicket seemed alive with beasts. We could hear them crashing and
stamping, breaking the brush, rushing headlong and stopping again; we
could even catch momentary glimpses of dark bodies. After a few minutes
we saw the mass of the herd emerge from the thicket five hundred yards
away and flow up over the hill. There were probably a hundred and fifty
of them, and, looking through my glasses, I saw among them two fine old
bulls. They were of course not much alarmed, as only the one cow knew
what it was all about anyway, and I suspected they would stop at the
next thicket.
We had only one small canteen of water with us, but we divided that. It
probably did us good, but the quantity was not sufficient to touch our
thirst. For the remainder of the day we suffered rather severely, as the
sun was fierce.
After a short interval we followed on after the buffaloes. Within a half
mile beyond the crest of the hill over which they had disappeared
was another thicket. At the very edge of the thicket, asleep under an
outlying bush, stood one of the big bulls!
Luck seemed with us at last. The wind was right, and between us and the
bull lay only four hundred yards of knee-high grass. All we had to
do was to get down on our hands and knees, and, without further
precautions, crawl up within range and pot him. That meant only a bit of
hard, hot work.
When we were about halfway a rhinoceros suddenly arose from the grass
between us and the buffalo, and about one hundred yards away.
What had aroused him, at that distance and upwind, I do not know. It
hardly seemed possible that he could have heard us, for we were moving
very quietly, and, as I say, we were downwind. However, there he was
on his feet, sniffing now this way, now that, in search for what had
alarmed him. We sank out of sight and lay low, fully expecting that the
brute would make off.
For just twenty-five minutes by the watch that rhinoceros looked and
looked deliberately in all directions while we lay hidden waiting for
him to get over it. Sometimes he would start off quite confidently for
fifty or sixty yards, so that we thought at last we were rid of him, but
always he returned to the exact spot where we had first seen him,
there to stamp, and blow. The buffalo paid no attention to these
manifestations. I suppose everybody in jungleland is accustomed to
rhinoceros bad temper over nothing. Twice he came in our direction, but
both times gave it up after advancing twenty-five yards or so. We lay
flat on our faces, the vertical sun slowly roasting us, and cursed that
rhino.
Now the significance of this incident is twofold: first, the fact that,
instead of rushing off at the first intimation of our presence, as would
the average rhino, he went methodically to work to find us; second, that
he displayed such remarkable perseverance as to keep at it nearly a
half hour. This was a spirit quite at variance with that finding its
expression in the blind rush or in the sudden passionate attack. From
that point of view it seems to me that the interest and significance of
the incident can hardly be overstated.
Four or five times we thought ourselves freed of the nuisance, but
always, just as we were about to move on, back he came, as eager as ever
to nose us out. Finally he gave it up, and, at a slow trot, started to
go away from there. And out of the three hundred and sixty degrees of
the circle where he might have gone he selected just our direction. Note
that this was downwind for him, and that rhinoceroses usually escape
upwind.
We laid very low, hoping that, as before, he would change his mind as to
direction. But now he was no longer looking, but travelling. Nearer
and nearer he came. We could see plainly his little eyes, and hear
the regular swish, swish, swish of his thick legs brushing through the
grass. The regularity of his trot never varied, but to me lying there
directly in his path, he seemed to be coming on altogether too fast
for comfort. From our low level he looked as big as a barn. Memba Sasa
touched me lightly on the leg. I hated to shoot, but finally when he
loomed fairly over us I saw it must be now or never. If I allowed him to
come closer, he must indubitably catch the first movement of my gun
and so charge right on us before I would have time to deliver even an
ineffective shot. Therefore, most reluctantly, I placed the ivory bead
of the great Holland gun just to the point of his shoulder and pulled
the trigger. So close was he that as he toppled forward I instinctively,
though unnecessarily of course, shrank back as though he might fall on
me. Fortunately I had picked my spot properly, and no second shot was
necessary. He fell just twenty-seven feet-nine yards--from where we lay!
The buffalo vanished into the blue. We were left with a dead rhino,
which we did not want, twelve miles from camp, and no water. It was
a hard hike back, but we made it finally, though nearly perished from
thirst.
This beast, be it noted, did not charge us at all, but I consider him
as one of the three undoubtedly animated by hostile intentions. Of the
others I can, at this moment, remember five that might or might not have
been actually and maliciously charging when they were killed or dodged.
I am no mind reader for rhinoceros. Also I am willing to believe in
their entirely altruistic intentions. Only, if they want to get the
practical results of their said altruistic intentions they must really
refrain from coming straight at me nearer than twenty yards. It has been
stated that if one stands perfectly still until the rhinoceros is just
six feet away, and then jumps sideways, the beast will pass him. I never
happened to meet anybody who had acted on this theory. I suppose that
such exist: though I doubt if any persistent exponent of the art is
likely to exist long. Personally I like my own method, and stoutly
maintain that within twenty yards it is up to the rhinoceros to begin to
do the dodging.