The Cape Buffalo is one of the four dangerous kinds of African big game;
of which the other three are the lion, the rhinoceros, and the elephant.
These latter are familiar to us in zoological gardens, although the
African and larger form of the rhinoceros and elephant are seldom or
never seen in captivity. But buffaloes are as yet unrepresented in our
living collections. They are huge beasts, tremendous from any point
of view, whether considered in height, in mass, or in power. At the
shoulder they stand from just under five feet to just under six feet in
height; they are short legged, heavy bodied bull necked, thick in every
dimension. In colour they are black as to hair, and slate gray as to
skin; so that the individual impression depends on the thickness of the
coat. They wear their horns parted in the middle, sweeping smoothly away
in the curves of two great bosses either side the head. A good trophy
will measure in spread from forty inches to four feet. Four men will
be required to carry in the head alone. As buffaloes when disturbed or
suspicious have a habit of thrusting their noses up and forward, that
position will cling to one's memory as the most typical of the species.
A great many hunters rank the buffalo first among the dangerous beasts.
This is not my own opinion, but he is certainly dangerous enough. He
possesses the size, power, and truculence of the rhinoceros, together
with all that animal's keenness of scent and hearing but with a
sharpness of vision the rhinoceros has not. While not as clever as
either the lion or the elephant, he is tricky enough when angered to
circle back for the purpose of attacking his pursuers in the rear or
flank, and to arrange rather ingenious ambushes for the same purpose.
He is rather more tenacious of life than the rhinoceros, and will
carry away an extraordinary quantity of big bullets. Add to these
considerations the facts that buffaloes go in herds; and that, barring
luck, chances are about even they will have to be followed into the
thickest cover, it can readily be seen that their pursuit is exciting.
The problem would be simplified were one able or willing to slip into
the thicket or up to the grazing herd and kill the nearest beast that
offers. As a matter of fact an ordinary herd will contain only two or
three bulls worth shooting; and it is the hunter's delicate task to
glide and crawl here and there, with due regard for sight, scent and
sound, until he has picked one of these from the scores of undesirables.
Many times will he worm his way by inches toward the great black bodies
half defined in the screen of thick undergrowth only to find that he has
stalked cows or small bulls. Then inch by inch he must back out again,
unable to see twenty yards to either side, guiding himself by the
probabilities of the faint chance breezes in the thicket. To right and
left he hears the quiet continued crop, crop, crop, sound of animals
grazing. The sweat runs down his face in streams, and blinds his eyes,
but only occasionally and with the utmost caution can he raise his
hand-or, better, lower his head-to clear his vision. When at last he has
withdrawn from the danger zone, he wipes his face, takes a drink from
the canteen, and tries again. Sooner or later his presence comes to the
notice of some old cow. Behind the leafy screen where unsuspected she
has been standing comes the most unexpected and heart-jumping crash!
Instantly the jungle all about roars into life. The great bodies of the
alarmed beasts hurl themselves through the thicket, smash! bang! crash!
smash! as though a tornado were uprooting the forest. Then abruptly a
complete silence! This lasts but ten seconds or so; then off rushes the
wild stampede in another direction; only again to come to a listening
halt of breathless stillness. So the hunter, unable to see anything,
and feeling very small, huddles with his gunbearers in a compact group,
listening to the wild surging short rushes, now this way, now that,
hoping that the stampede may not run over him. If by chance it does, he
has his two shots and the possibility of hugging a tree while the rush
divides around him. The latter is the most likely; a single buffalo
is hard enough to stop with two shots, let alone a herd. And yet,
sometimes, the mere flash and noise will suffice to turn them, provided
they are not actually trying to attack, but only rushing indefinitely
about. Probably a man can experience few more thrilling moments than he
will enjoy standing in one of the small leafy rooms of an African jungle
while several hundred tons of buffalo crash back and forth all around
him.
In the best of circumstances it is only rarely that having identified
his big bull, the hunter can deliver a knockdown blow. The beast is
extraordinarily vital, and in addition it is exceedingly difficult to
get a fair, open shot. Then from the danger of being trampled down
by the blind and senseless stampede of the herd he passes to the more
defined peril from an angered and cunning single animal. The majority of
fatalities in hunting buffaloes happen while following wounded beasts. A
flank charge at close range may catch the most experienced man; and even
when clearly seen, it is difficult to stop. The buffalo's wide bosses
are a helmet to his brain, and the body shot is always chancy. The beast
tosses his victim, or tramples him, or pushes him against a tree to
crush him like a fly.
He who would get his trophy, however, is not always-perhaps is not
generally-forced into the thicket to get it. When not much disturbed,
buffaloes are in the habit of grazing out into the open just before
dark; and of returning to their thicket cover only well after sunrise.
If the hunter can arrange to meet his herd at such a time, he stands a
very good chance of getting a clear shot. The job then requires merely
ordinary caution and manoeuvring; and the only danger, outside the
ever-present one from the wounded beast, is that the herd may charge
over him deliberately. Therefore it is well to keep out of sight.
The difficulty generally is to locate your beasts. They wander all
night, and must be blundered upon in the early morning before they have
drifted back into the thickets. Sometimes, by sending skilled trackers
in several directions, they can be traced to where they have entered
cover. A messenger then brings the white man to the place, and every one
tries to guess at what spot the buffaloes are likely to emerge for their
evening stroll. It is remarkably easy to make a wrong guess, and the
remaining daylight is rarely sufficient to repair a mistake. And also,
in the case of a herd ranging a wide country with much tall grass and
several drinking holes, it is rather difficult, without very good luck,
to locate them on any given night or morning. A few herds, a very few,
may have fixed habits, and so prove easy hunting.
These difficulties, while in no way formidable, are real enough in their
small way; but they are immensely increased when the herds have been
often disturbed. Disturbance need not necessarily mean shooting. In
countries unvisited by white men often the pastoral natives will so
annoy the buffalo by shoutings and other means, whenever they appear
near the tame cattle, that the huge beasts will come practically
nocturnal. In that case only the rankest luck will avail to get a man
a chance in the open. The herds cling to cover until after sundown and
just at dusk; and they return again very soon after the first streaks of
dawn. If the hunter just happens to be at the exact spot, he may get
a twilight shot when the glimmering ivory of his front sight is barely
visible. Otherwise he must go into the thicket.
As an illustration of the first condition might be instanced an
afternoon on the Tana. The weather was very hot. We had sent three lots
of men out in different directions, each under the leadership of one
of the gunbearers, to scout, while we took it easy in the shade of our
banda, or grass shelter, on the bank of the river. About one o'clock
a messenger came into camp reporting that the men under Mavrouki had
traced a herd to its lying-down place. We took our heavy guns and
started.
The way led through thin scrub up the long slope of a hill that broke
on the other side into undulating grass ridges that ended in a range of
hills. These were about four or five miles distant, and thinly wooded
on sides and lower slopes with what resembled a small live-oak growth.
Among these trees, our guide told us, the buffalo had first been
sighted.
The sun was very hot, and all the animals were still. We saw impalla in
the scrub, and many giraffes and bucks on the plains. After an hour and
a half's walk we entered the parklike groves at the foot of the hills,
and our guide began to proceed more cautiously. He moved forward a few
feet, peered about, retraced his steps. Suddenly his face broke into a
broad grin. Following his indication we looked up, and there in a tree
almost above us roosted one of our boys sound asleep! We whistled at
him. Thereupon he awoke, tried to look very alert, and pointed in the
direction we should go. After an interval we picked up another sentinel,
and another, and another until, passed on thus from one to the next,
we traced the movements of the herd. Finally we came upon Mavrouki and
Simba under a bush. From them, in whispers, we learned that the buffalo
were karibu sana-very near; that they had fed this far, and were now
lying in the long grass just ahead. Leaving the men, we now continued
our forward movement on hands and knees, in single file. It was very hot
work, for the sun beat square down on us, and the tall grass kept off
every breath of air. Every few moments we rested, lying on our faces.
Occasionally, when the grass shortened, or the slant of ground tended
to expose us, we lay quite flat and hitched forward an inch at a time by
the strength of our toes. This was very severe work indeed, and we were
drenched in perspiration. In fact, as I had been feeling quite ill all
day, it became rather doubtful whether I could stand the pace.
However after a while we managed to drop down into an eroded deep little
ravine. Here the air was like that of a furnace, but at least we could
walk upright for a few rods. This we did, with the most extraordinary
precautions against even the breaking of a twig or the rolling of a
pebble. Then we clambered to the top of the bank, wormed our way forward
another fifty feet to the shelter of a tiny bush, and stretched out to
recuperate. We lay there some time, sheltered from the sun. Then ahead
of us suddenly rumbled a deep bellow. We were fairly upon the herd!
Cautiously F., who was nearest the centre of the bush, raised himself
alongside the stem to look. He could see where the beasts were lying,
not fifty yards away, but he could make out nothing but the fact of
great black bodies taking their ease in the grass under the shade of
trees. So much he reported to us; then rose again to keep watch.
Thus we waited the rest of the afternoon. The sun dipped at last toward
the west, a faint irregular breeze wandered down from the hills, certain
birds awoke and uttered their clear calls, an unsuspected kongoni
stepped from the shade of a tree over the way and began to crop the
grass, the shadows were lengthening through the trees. Then ahead of
us an uneasiness ran through the herd. We in the grass could hear the
mutterings and grumblings of many great animals. Suddenly F. snapped his
fingers, stooped low and darted forward. We scrambled to our feet and
followed.
Across a short open space we ran, bent double to the shelter of a big
ant hill. Peering over the top of this we found ourselves within sixty
yards of a long compact column of the great black beasts, moving forward
orderly to the left, the points of the cow's horns, curved up and in,
tossing slowly as the animals walked. On the flank of the herd was a big
gray bull.
It had been agreed that B. was to have the shot. Therefore he opened
fire with his 405 Winchester, a weapon altogether too light for this
sort of work. At the shot the herd dashed forward to an open grass
meadow a few rods away, wheeled and faced back in a compact mass, their
noses thrust up and out in their typical fashion, trying with all their
senses to locate the cause of the disturbance.
Taking advantage both of the scattered cover, and the half light of the
shadows we slipped forward as rapidly and as unobtrusively as we could
to the edge of the grass meadow. Here we came to a stand eighty yards
from the buffaloes. They stood compactly like a herd of cattle, staring,
tossing their heads, moving slightly, their wild eyes searching for us.
I saw several good bulls, but always they moved where it was impossible
to shoot without danger of getting the wrong beast. Finally my chance
came; I planted a pair of Holland bullets in the shoulder of one of
them.
The herd broke away to the right, sweeping past us at close range. My
bull ran thirty yards with them, then went down stone dead. When we
examined him we found the hole made by B.'s Winchester bullet; so that
quite unintentionally and by accident I had fired at the same beast.
This was lucky. The trophy, by hunter's law, of course, belonged to B.
Therefore F. and I alone followed on after the herd. It was now coming
on dusk. Within a hundred yards we began to see scattered beasts. The
formation of the herd had broken. Some had gone on in flight, while
others in small scattered groups would stop to stare back, and would
then move slowly on for a few paces before stopping again. Among these
I made out a bull facing us about a hundred and twenty-five yards away,
and managed to stagger him, but could not bring him down.
Now occurred an incident which I should hesitate to relate were it not
that both F. and myself saw it. We have since talked it over, compared
our recollections, and found them to coincide in every particular.
As we moved cautiously in pursuit of the slowly retreating herd three
cows broke back and came running down past us. We ducked aside and hid,
of course, but noticed that of the three two were very young, while one
was so old that she had become fairly emaciated, a very unusual thing
with buffaloes. We then followed the herd for twenty minutes, or until
twilight, when we turned back. About halfway down the slope we again met
the three cows, returning. They passed us within twenty yards, but paid
us no attention whatever. The old cow was coming along very reluctantly,
hanging back at every step, and every once in a while swinging her head
viciously at one or the other of her two companions. These escorted her
on either side, and a little to the rear. They were plainly urging her
forward, and did not hesitate to dig her in the ribs with their horns
whenever she turned especially obstinate. In fact they acted exactly
like a pair of cowboys HERDING a recalcitrant animal back to its band
and I have no doubt at all that when they first by us the old lady was
making a break for liberty in the wrong direction, AND THAT THE TWO
YOUNGER COWS WERE TRYING TO ROUND HER BACK! Whether they were her
daughters or not is problematical; but it certainly seemed that they
were taking care of her and trying to prevent her running back where
it was dangerous to go. I never heard of a similar case, though Herbert
Ward* mentions, without particulars that elephants AND BUFFALOES will
assist each other WHEN WOUNDED.
* A Voice from the Congo.
After passing these we returned to where B. and the men, who had now
come up, had prepared the dead bull for transportation. We started at
once, travelling by the stars, shouting and singing to discourage the
lions, but did not reach camp until well into the night.