Shooting in the grass-country — An unfortunate mishap —
Doubtful pleasures of a journey — Sources of the Niger — A
curious frontier rock — Bush fires — Bird-life.
IN the northern Konnoh country some good bushcow shooting is
obtainable. In the grass-lands before mentioned these animals are
wont to feed at night and during the early hours of the morning,
and this is the best time to come up with them. When the sun
gets hot they retire into the bush, where they remain till late
in the afternoon. They are generally to be found near water,
and appear to drink in the evening and early morning. I spent a
couple of days after these fine beasts, but did not have as good
sport as I should have had a month or two later, when the grass is
burnt. Bushcow shooting is certainly one of the most exciting forms
of sport with big game. This animal is probably one of the most
dangerous to tackle. A wounded bushcow almost invariably charges,
and is extremely vicious. In cover, such as long grass or bush,
he is exceedingly dangerous. Indeed, it is very foolish to follow
a wounded animal into such places. He will lurk under cover, with
his head turned in the direction from which he expects his enemy,
and charge when within ten yards or so. Many serious accidents
have occurred to sportsmen of late years in this manner. Finding
the grass still so high I did not linger long in this district,
but pushed on for the Tembikunda Range and the sources of the Niger.
The following day I had an unfortunate mishap. It was early in the
morning and I had stopped to have a little sport with some pigeon
in a farm. My small caravan, with the exception of one carrier, had
gone on. I was turning sharply to shoot a bird flying off to my right
when I struck my leg against a stump of a tree. A sharp piece of wood
about three inches long penetrated just under the knee-cap, causing
me to fall down in agony. The stick was firmly wedged in the flesh so
that the united efforts of my carrier and myself were unavailing to
extract it. I accordingly despatched him at once to stop my caravan
and summon my servant with my small medicine-case. After cutting
the flesh I was able to withdraw the piece of wood, but my leg was
now so swollen and painful that I found it impossible to walk. The
sergeant of my escort and my “boy” managed to rig up a hammock
by utilizing one of my blankets and a bamboo, and in this I was
slung, feeling more like a sack of goods than a human being, and
thus transported for the remainder of that day’s march. The next
few days were anything but a pleasant experience. I developed bad
blood-poisoning in the knee and was confined to my hammock. The road
was extremely rough, sometimes leading up the side of a mountain,
which was so steep as to appear like a veritable precipice. When
going up these inclines, in my uncomfortable conveyance, my leg
got jolted unmercifully and I suffered excruciating pain. I think
the worst day was on the 15th of January.
Between the villages of Kondundu and Kundema there is a stretch of
bush for about eight miles, which contains some of the thickest,
most impenetrable cane-brake it has ever been my lot to encounter.
The path I was following was evidently little frequented, and was
some miles east of the usual trade route from the north to the
south of the protectorate. Our road lay along a swampy valley, much
overgrown with this stiff, unyielding reed. The native matchet, which
is universally used for cutting bush, was quite useless against this
stubborn fibrous stuff, and the only alternative was to force our way
through it. Progress was very slow. The carriers in front of me with
loads on their heads had the greatest difficulty in making a path for
themselves, whereas my hammock-men had a far harder task in getting
the unwieldy hammock through without upsetting me in the bush. I
had to be carried by two men whilst the other two bearers hurled
their weight against the reeds and made a path for us to follow.
On the 16th I arrived at a small village in the Tembikunda Range,
about three miles from the spot where the Niger rises. Here I had a
great disappointment; I was informed there was no path leading to
the river source, and that the track lay over exceedingly rough,
precipitous mountains. This information proved to be only too
correct. I was quite unable to walk; and to carry a hammock up those
rugged precipices was quite impossible. I therefore had reluctantly
to give up any idea of seeing the actual source of the great Niger
River. The river is said to rise in a big rock, which is also the
source of four other rivers. These are the Feliko, which flows into
the Niger in French Guinea, the Bagwe, and two smaller rivers. The
Bagwe is one of the biggest rivers in Sierra Leone. The Niger here
is known by the name of Tembiko, or Joliba. In the Susu language,
much spoken on the upper reaches of the stream, the word Joliba
means “He who can run faster than any other man.” There is a
curious legend attached to the source of the Niger. The natives
have a superstition that a devil lurks inside the rock where it
rises. It is said that any man who is intrepid enough to approach
the rock and gaze on it will be killed by this demon. In consequence
of this sinister reputation it is the habit of the local savage
to shun the neighbourhood of the source. By judicious bribery he
can be induced to show a stranger the spot, but his manner of so
doing is peculiar. He will, on nearing the rock, turn round and
walk backwards towards it, at the same time covering his eyes with
one hand, so as not to see the haunted place, while with the other
hand he indicates the point where the river rises.
This rock forms one of the boundary marks on the Anglo-French
frontier, separating Sierra Leone from French Guinea. The stone has
inscribed on it, upon the western side, the fact that that portion
is inside the British border, and the names of the members of the
Boundary Delimitation Commission are here written. On the eastern
side it is stated that that portion is in French territory, and the
names of the Boundary Commission are also here similarly inscribed.
The Niger rises at a height of under 4000 feet, in a very wild,
uninhabited country. The Tembikunda Range is exceedingly rocky
and precipitous. It consists of a rugged, broken mass of peaks;
in many cases hills are separated from each other by steep, narrow
valleys or gullies.
The sides of these mountains are covered with thick, grassy
bush. This grass grows to a height of twelve feet and more in the
rainy season. When ascending a peak it is impossible to see the
summit, not because it is so high, but merely because the vision is
obstructed by this tall grass. Bush fires were just commencing when
I passed through the country. It was a beautiful sight at night to
see the huge flames working their way up the steep mountain-sides,
just like fiery serpents as they coiled and twisted themselves
around some piece of bush a little greener than the rest and able
to resist them for a short moment. These fires are started by
natives in order to clear the ground, by burning down the bush,
so that they can plant their crops. When the Harmatan wind and
the sun have dried the vegetation it burns with ease. A fire thus
started rapidly spreads over many miles of country. It certainly
does a considerable amount of harm by killing a number of beautiful
trees every year; where trees are numerous and many are thus burnt
to the ground, the tendency is naturally to decrease the rainfall
of that district. On the other hand, it is argued that burning the
bush fertilizes the soil through the medium of the ashes of the
leaves and burnt vegetation. In any case it is a very old custom
among West African natives and one which would be extremely hard to
repress. The negro is naturally a lazy man, consequently this mode
of clearing the bush peculiarly appeals to him since it demands so
little effort on his part.
Bird-life is not so abundant as might be expected in Sierra
Leone. The large expanses of almost virgin bush one would almost
imagine to teem with wild birds, but this is far from being the
case. In the forest-country the hornbill is very common. These
birds are generally seen in large flocks, and assimilate well
with the solitude of their surroundings as they hover from one
tree to another with their peculiar flight, uttering their weird,
mournful cry. Their flight reminds one forcibly of a switchback
working very slowly, as they flutter first up and then downwards,
in the motion towards their goal. Hornbills often build their nests
in the trunks or branches of trees. When searching for their nests
it is a common sight to see the young birds peeping out of a snug
nest almost hidden inside the hollow of an old branch.
The violet plantain-eater is a beautiful bird, which is also common
in forest-land. It has a gorgeous colouring. The body is violet and
green, while the wings are a brilliant crimson. This handsome bird
has a peculiar raucous note. It is a curious fact that singing-birds
are exceedingly uncommon in West Africa. I never recollect hearing
any bird with a voice to be compared to our nightingale or black-cap.
In the region of the palm tree the golden oriole is frequently met
with. This little bird builds its nest suspended from the branches
and leaves of the tree; on a single tree as many as twenty or thirty
may be counted. They strip the tree of all its foliage and in time
kill it.
Among game birds the most widely distributed is one of the francolin
partridges, commonly known on the coast as the “bushfowl.”
It is found anywhere in the vicinity of a farm, and particularly
delights to feed on cassada. This bird feeds in the early morning
and again late in the afternoon, but during the heat of the day
it takes refuge from the sun in the thick bush. It has a curious,
hoarse note, by which the cock is often heard calling to his mate
in the early morning. The best time for shooting these birds is
after the grass is burnt, from March to June. Besides, the young
are full-grown by then. They appear to breed in the late autumn,
and birds hatch out in November and December. Guinea-fowl are
found in many parts of the protectorate. Coveys of twenty and
thirty are by no means unusual. Their favourite haunts are the
rice-fields, in which they feed in the morning and evening. They
prefer a feeding-ground which has thick cover on at least one side;
in this they rest during the heat of the day and at night.
Guinea-fowl, like bush fowl, are often seen roosting in trees.
Indeed, with the former, it is more usual to find them sitting
in trees than on the ground. A guinea-fowl is perhaps the most
wary of West African game birds. He has very keen eyesight and
hearing. He will generally have discovered your presence long before
you are aware of his, and in that case he takes alarm and is off
immediately. Guinea-fowl run far more frequently than they fly.
Once they have taken to their heels they are extremely difficult
to overtake; the only plan is to cast dignity to the winds and
run at your best pace after them. Even then your chance of getting
a shot is very remote, and perhaps the wisest course is to leave
them alone. Guinea-fowl in the bush-country are excellent eating,
but I have noticed that these birds when shot in a sandy region
are generally very tough. This is probably due to the different
nature of food they live on. In open country, unless the sportsman
is very keen, it is usually a safer plan to take a long shot with
a rifle, rather than attempt to stalk these very cunning birds
with a shot-gun. In the grass-country on the eastern frontier of
Sierra Leone I came across one or two button-quail. But I think
these birds are uncommon, and I never saw more than one at a time.
A bird locally called the grey pigeon, but in reality a large
ringdove, is very common. It feeds on maize, millet and rice,
and is seen in large numbers when the crops are ripe. In some
parts of the country a native is on duty all day in a farm when
the crops are getting ripe, his business being to scare away the
birds. This individual takes up his position on a raised platform,
built of rough bush-sticks, and placed at a suitable spot in the
farm. He is provided with a whip of some supple bush-creeper, which
he cracks with considerable noise and effect, thereby driving away
any bird which contemplates an attack on the crops.
The green pigeon, or at any rate one variety of it, is found
in certain localities. It is partial to water and high trees.
Frequently seen on the creeks near the sea-coast, it is also
found up-country in the forest belt. This bird is very swift of
flight, generally flying at a considerable height; it affords some
sporting shots. The colouring is a beautiful combination of green,
canary-yellow and French grey. The beak is crimson, while the legs
are yellow. It always appears to be in excellent condition, and is
a dainty morsel for the sportsman’s table.
In the grass-country the lesser bustard is occasionally found.
The bird is sometimes seen in pairs, but more frequently single.
Its flight is slow, making it easy to shoot. The wings of the male
are a rich black and white, and the breast is mottled grey and tan.
A strange bird which frequents the open, rocky bush-country, is the
standard-winged night-jar. It has a peculiar habit of crouching
flat on the ground, with which its nondescript khaki colour well
assimilates. I have often been startled of an evening by the sudden,
silent way in which this creature has risen up from my feet. During
the mating season the male bird has two curious black appendages
to its tail, which add considerably to its strange appearance,
and are evidently meant to attract the female bird he is courting.
The cow-bird is found in all localities where there is much cattle or
game; it serves the useful purpose of consuming the ticks and lice
on the bodies of these animals. It is black, and much resembles a
starling in size and colouring. Its beak is sharp, enabling it to
pick out these insects from their hiding-places. The sight of one
of these little birds, perched on the back of a cow or climbing up
its flanks, is distinctly comical.
The widow-weaver is so common that I had nearly omitted to mention
it. This is a very small black and white bird, with a tail consisting
of two streamers, about twice as long as itself, whose habit is
to flutter about from one wisp of grass to another, in a curious,
laboured fashion, just as if its unwieldy-looking tail were too
heavy for its small body, and threatened every minute to weigh
it down to the ground. These tails, like that of the night-jar,
previously described, grow to their full length in the mating season.