Kāmin (implement for climbing)—On top of the gum-trees—Hunting the
wallaby—The spear of the natives—Bird life in the open
country—Jungle-hens—Cassowary.
A few days after my arrival at Herbert Vale, the natives were to
undertake a hunt of the wallaby, and with two black companions I
presented myself at the place where the hunt was to begin. We left home
in the morning. The forenoon was devoted to hunting for small mammals,
which during the daytime keep themselves concealed in the high trees.
With kind words and tobacco I induced my blacks to climb up one immense
gum-tree after the other.
The Australian black on the Herbert river was more skilful in climbing
than any of the other natives I had seen up to this time. If he has to
climb a high tree, he first goes into the scrub to fetch a piece of the
Australian calamus (_Calamus australis_), which he partly bites, partly
breaks off; he first bites on one side and breaks it down, then on the
other side and breaks it upwards—one, two, three, and this tough whip is
severed. At one end of it he makes a knot, the other he leaves as it is.
This implement, which is usually sixteen to eighteen feet long, is
called a kāmin.
After wiping his hands in the grass so as to remove all moisture from
perspiration, he takes the knot in his left hand, throws the kāmin
around the big tree-trunk, and tries to catch the other end with his
right hand. When, after a couple of abortive efforts, he has succeeded
in this, he winds this end a few times around the right arm and thus
gets a secure hold. The right foot is planted against the tree, the arms
are extended directly in front of him, the body is bent back, so that it
is kept as far as possible away from the tree, and then the ascent
begins. He keeps throwing the kāmin up the tree, and at the same time he
himself ascends about as easily as a sailor uses an accommodation
ladder, but as climbing by means of the kāmin is of course much harder
work, he is compelled to stop every few moments to take breath. When he
has reached the branches of the tree he hangs the kāmin on one of them,
while he examines the holes in the trunk.
It seemed to me that he placed his kāmin so carelessly that it might
easily fall down while he was engaged in the hunt for animals in the
tree. If this should happen, I hardly know how he could get down those
high and smooth trees. But with the aid of the kāmin it is easy enough.
He walks down backwards very rapidly. If it is a very large tree, and
the bark very smooth, he chops niches in it for his big toe. He takes
his tomahawk in his mouth, and when he wants to use it removes the kāmin
from his right arm and winds it around his right thigh, whereupon with
his free hand he cuts the next niche or two in the bark of the tree.
Thus we see the importance of having a knot in one end of the kāmin and
none in the other. This arrangement has also another advantage, that the
kāmin can be used in a tree of unequal thickness, and in different
trees; for the native usually carries this implement with him and uses
it in a number of trees. Instead of rolling it together, or winding—it
into a coil, he draws it behind him, simply holding on to the knotted
end. Strange to say, this is the most practical way of carrying it, for
the kāmin is hard and smooth, so that it never sticks fast in the
brushwood. Rolled into a ring it would doubtless be a great source of
trouble in the dense scrub. No tree is too high or too smooth for the
Australian native to climb, provided its circumference is not too great.
But my blacks climbed the high gum-trees in vain. They did not succeed
in discovering a single opossum, flying-squirrel,[6] or any other
nocturnal animal that hides in tree-trunks. The reason for this, in the
opinion of the blacks, was a circumstance unknown to me, viz. that both
the opossum and the flying-squirrel disappear in the summer time and do
not return before the rainy season, at which time they are abundant. At
first I had grave doubts in regard to this explanation, and made my
natives climb a number of trees, but as I did not find a single
specimen, I came to the conclusion that they were right. The opossum
(_Irichosurus vulpecula_) and the flying-squirrel leave the bottom of
the valley in the summer. I do not know what becomes of the former, but
I found _Petauroides volans_ and several species of _Petaurus_ in the
middle of the summer on the open grass plains in the mountain regions
near Herbert Vale. In the rainy season the opossum and the
flying-squirrels were very numerous about the station.
Footnote 6:
The marsupial flying-phalanger is so called by the Australians.
Late in the afternoon I arrived with my companions at the spot where the
wallaby hunt was to take place. It was a large plain, surrounded on all
sides by scrub and overgrown with high dense grass. The wallabies
(_Macropus agilis_) are very numerous in the Herbert river bottoms, but
keep themselves concealed during the day. The usual way of hunting these
animals is by setting fire to the grass; this starts them up and they
try to escape. The natives stand on guard ready to attack the flying
animals, and try to kill them with spears while they, fleet as the wind,
run by. As a rule the hunt is postponed until the afternoon, for there
is so much dew in the morning that the grass looks as if there had been
a shower of rain; but after noon it is quite dry again.
I looked in vain for my black hunting companions, but soon discovered
that they were just crossing the river, which flowed among the scrubs
below the plain. I rode to the bank and discovered one group after the
other coming into view behind the trees on the other side, the women
peeping curiously from behind the bushes to catch a glimpse of the white
man. They looked timid, and deemed it safest to cross the river higher
up, where they came over each with her children on her shoulders and a
basket on her back. Some of them had fire with them, carrying burning
sticks in their hands. The men waded across at the place where I stood.
It interested me to watch them in their natural nakedness as they
gradually gathered around me on the bank of the river, but as usual it
was necessary to be watchful of the long spears which they bore.
They soon separated, some of them stationing themselves on the outside
of the field, while the rest remained to set fire to the grass. Jacky,
one of my blacks, indicated to me that for the sake of the horse I had
better remain where I was. He himself went with the other men, and took
his station on the side of the field. Soon those who had remained behind
spread themselves out, set fire to the grass simultaneously at different
points, and then quickly joined the rest. The dry grass rapidly blazed
up, tongues of fire licked the air, dense clouds of smoke rose, and the
whole landscape was soon enveloped as in a fog.
I fastened up my horse and went into this semi-darkness, watching the
blacks, who ran about like shadows, casting their spears after the
animals that fled from the flames. But though many spears whizzed
through the air, and though a large field was burned, not a single
wallaby was slain.
The Australians have the reputation of being able to hurl the spear
skilfully; they do much damage to the white man’s cattle, and many a
white man is killed by this weapon; but, strange to say, I have never
observed any remarkable skill in its use among the blacks of Herbert
river. This may be explained by the fact that in a great measure they
find their food in the scrubs, where spears cannot be used. Of course it
is difficult to hit an animal running at full speed, but I have often
seen them miss sitting shots. On the other hand, it sometimes happens
that they kill three or four during a hunt.
This time all the booty consisted of a few bandicoots (_Peramelidæ_),
which were dug out of the ground between the roots of a large gum-tree.
While the men were busy doing this the women stood ready to receive the
game and take it home. The bandicoots are good eating even for
Europeans, and in my opinion are the only Australian mammals fit to eat.
They resemble pigs, and the flesh tastes somewhat like pork.
[Illustration:
WALLABY HUNT.
]
During the whole chase the women took the greatest delight in watching
the sport of the men. At the same time they were busily occupied in
pulling up the roots of acacias, inside which a larva (_Eurynassa
australis_) is concealed, which is eagerly sought after, and is regarded
by the natives as a most delicate morsel. The larva when found was
immediately roasted in the red-hot ashes lying everywhere on the ground,
and was at once devoured.
On grassy plains the hunt of the wallaby, which is the sport most dear
to the men, is always carried on in the manner above described, that is,
by burning the grass or simply by wandering about hunting for the
sleeping animals. The wallabies have excellent ears, and start at the
least noise. They may sit for a few moments moving their large ears to
catch any suspicious sound; but, as a rule, even the catlike steps of
the blacks are too noisy to enable them to approach sufficiently near
the wallaby. When it rains they do not hear so well, and it is then
easier to kill them.
These wallabies, the large kangaroos, and the white man’s cattle are the
only animals which the blacks near Herbert Vale kill with their spears,
though the latter are their most important weapons. The spear, usually
eight to ten feet long, consists of two parts—the front, which is
sharp-pointed, made of a heavy hard kind of wood, and the butt end,
which is usually the longer of the two, of _Xanthorrhœa_ or a similar
light material. These two parts are joined and bound together with wood
fibres, or with sinews of the kangaroo’s tail, and beeswax heated over
the fire. The point is never envenomed, as they know little or nothing
about poison. Nor is there any flint point attached, as is often the
case in Australia. In Northern Queensland I have occasionally seen the
point of the spear furnished with a barb of fish bones for a length of
one or two feet up the spear. Such javelins were thicker and shorter
than the common ones and were used only for fishing.
The spear is thrown with the help of a throwing-stick, which is equal to
a quarter or a fifth part of the whole length of the weapon, and has a
hook at one end made of wood, likewise fastened with beeswax and fibres
of wood or the sinews of the kangaroo’s tail. This hook is attached to
the butt end of the spear, which has a socket fitting the hook. Thus the
stick lies along the under side of the spear. When the latter is to be
thrown, the stick and the weapon itself are seized with the first three
fingers. Both are carried back as far as possible, and the spear is
thrown with the force of a sling.
[Illustration:
WALLABY NET FROM HERBERT RIVER (⅛ size).
]
In the wallaby chase the blacks on Herbert river also use nets with
large meshes, placing them in a line between posts to which they are
fastened. Such a net is fifteen to twenty feet long, and the meshes are
about four inches each way.
The chase took place in the so-called open country on Herbert river,
which, to the superficial observer, does not differ in any striking
manner from that of Southern Queensland. The high gum-trees are found
here, but the country is more fertile, and the grass is so high that it
is difficult to get through it. On this moist soil grow whole forests of
the screw-palm (_Pandanus_, p. 95). The country altogether does not look
so dry as farther south; small swamps exist here and there, and brooks
often cross one’s path.
I found fewer birds in this open country than I used to see elsewhere in
Australia. Nor did I ever meet in the bottoms of Herbert river valley
with those birds which seem to belong inseparably to an Australian
forest landscape, such as the piping crow (_Gymnorhina tibicen_), the
butcher-bird (_Cracticus nigrogularis_), or the Australian wagtail
(_Grallina picata_). Parrots were also scarce, but in the scrubs up the
mountains I saw plenty of them. The bird _Centropus_, which is common in
all Queensland, is found here in great numbers. Although it really is a
cuckoo, the colonists call it the “swamp-pheasant,” because it has a
tail like a pheasant. It is a very remarkable bird, with stiff feathers,
and flies with difficulty on account of its small wings. The
“swamp-pheasant” has not the family weakness of the cuckoo, for it does
not lay its eggs in the nests of other birds. It has a peculiar clucking
voice, which reminds one of the sound produced when water is poured from
a bottle—a sound familiar to all who have camped beneath the gum-trees
of Australia.
[Illustration:
THE SCREW-PALM (_Pandanus_).
]
The open country was therefore not the best territory for me, for there
was but little game. On the other hand I reaped a more abundant harvest
in the scrubs, where there is a greater variety of animal life; and to
wander with the blacks in these almost impenetrable jungles in the wide
river valley was very interesting. Nothing escapes their notice. On one
occasion, in the middle of September, when I made an excursion with one
of them, he made me understand that he wished to go away for a moment to
look for something. Time passed, and I became impatient, but when I
began to shout for him I was not a little surprised to hear his response
coming from the far distance above. Approaching, I discovered him in the
top of an immensely high tree. He threw down to me two large young of
the gigantic wader Jabiru (_Mycteria australis_). Quickly, and with the
dexterity of an acrobat, he descended, laying hold with his hands of the
twining plants which hung like natural ropes down the trunk of the tree.
It is not easy to penetrate this scrub, which is so dense that one has
scarcely elbow-room; but along the rivers there is more breathing space.
Here beautiful landscapes are often disclosed to view; the most varied
trees vie with each other for a place along the quiet stream; while
creeping and twining plants hang in beautiful festoons over the water.
On first entering the scrub, the solemn quiet and solitude which reign
there are striking. You work your way through it by the sweat of your
brow; you startle a bird, which at once disappears, and your prevailing
impression is that there is no life. But if you come there in the early
morning or towards evening, and sit down quietly, it is surprising to
see the birds approaching gently, as if they had been called, and
disappearing as noiselessly as they came. Silence as a rule reigns in
the scrubs, and the song of birds is rarely heard; though the doves coo
in the evening, and sometimes the melancholy note of the jungle-hen is
to be heard, or even, if you are lucky, the thundering voice of the
cassowary.
One of the first birds you notice is the cat-bird (_Ælurœdus
maculosus_), which makes its appearance towards evening, and has a voice
strikingly like the mewing of a cat. The elegant metallic-looking
“glossy starlings” (_Callornis metallica_) greedily swoop with a
horrible shriek upon the fruit of the Australian cardamom[7] tree. The
ingenious nests of this bird were found in the scrubs near Herbert
Vale—a great many in the same tree. Although this bird is a starling,
the colonists call it “weaver-bird.”
Footnote 7:
This is a fictitious name, as are the names of many Australian plants
and animals. The tree belongs to the nutmeg family, and its real name
is _Myristica insipida_. The name owes its existence to the similarity
of the fruit to the real cardamom. But the fruit of the _myristica_
has not so strong and pleasant an odour as the real cardamom, and
hence the tree is called _insipida_.
There are few birds that look better in the green tree-tops than the
Torres Strait pigeons (_Carpophaga spilorrhoa_), which is white, like a
ptarmigan in winter dress, with the exception of its wings and tail,
which are black. In November a pair of them built their nest in a high
tree near the, scrub, and like several other varieties of birds, had
just arrived from the northernmost part of Queensland and New Guinea;
for it was now spring, and all the birds that migrate northward in the
winter had returned, such as the celebrated Australian giant cuckoos
(_Scythrops novæ-hollandiæ_), whose terrible shrieks are heard at a
great distance when in scores they gorge themselves in the large
fig-trees. On the banks of a stream I shot a specimen of the very small
kingfisher (_Ceyx pusilla_), which belongs to New Guinea and Northern
Australia. It was the only specimen I saw on Herbert river. The
racket-tail kingfisher (_Tanysiptera_) has also been shot in the scrubs
here.
But what especially gives life and character to these woods are the
jungle-hens (mound-builders), which I have already mentioned. The weird,
melancholy cry of these birds once heard is not easily forgotten; at
sunset and in the twilight of the evening it is in perfect harmony with
the stillness and repose of nature. The bird is of a brownish hue, with
yellow legs and immensely large feet; hence its name _Megapodius_. It is
very shy, and therefore it is not easy to get a glimpse of it, but its
remarkable nests, which are formed of large heaps of earth and decayed
leaves, like those of the talegalla, are frequently to be found in the
scrubs. From my own experience I venture to assert that the mounds of
the jungle-hen are larger than those of the talegalla. For many years
they were thought to be the burying-grounds of the natives, says Mr.
Eden, who mentions one which was sixteen feet high and sixty-two feet in
circumference at the base. One would hardly think that birds could build
so large a mound.
In these scrubs the proud cassowary, the stateliest bird of Australia,
is also to be found. I had already made several vain attempts to secure
a specimen of this beautiful and comparatively rare creature. We had
frequently seen traces of it under the large fig-trees, the fruit of
which it eats. The excrement of the cassowary looks more like that of a
horse than of a bird, and I saw large heaps under the fig-trees. We
often approached without seeing it, for it is exceedingly shy and
departs on the slightest noise, consequently it is very difficult to get
a shot.
[Illustration:
YOUNG CASSOWARY.
]
On October 6 the natives brought me two eggs and a young bird just
hatched. I at once requested one of them to guide me to the nest,
whither I took it, hoping thereby to attract the old bird. Near the
nest, which was formed of a not very soft bed of loose leaves massed
together, we placed the young one and then stepped aside to see what
would happen. It first began to run after us, but as it soon lost sight
of us, commenced to cry violently. After a lapse of about ten minutes we
suddenly heard the voice of the cassowary, which usually sounds like
thunder in the distance, but now, when calling its young, it reminded us
of the lowing of a cow to its calf. The sound came nearer and nearer,
and soon the beautiful blue and red neck of the bird appeared among the
trees, and its black body became visible. It stopped and scanned its
surroundings carefully in the dense scrub, but a charge of No. 3 shot,
fired from a distance of fifteen paces, laid it low.
My black companion gave a shout of victory, and ran back to the camp to
get some men to carry the precious burden home. Six natives took turns
in carrying it to the station, where I at once set to work skinning it.
The blacks made a feast of its flesh, and the skin formed a valuable
addition to my collection. It was an unusually fine specimen of a male,
who thus appears to care for the young, at least in the early stage. The
eggs, three[8] in number, are frequently laid at long intervals. In this
instance there was a bird just hatched, an egg almost hatched, and
another egg the contents of which could easily be blown out. Thus we see
that the young are not hatched at the same time, and that the male must
therefore care for them while the female is busy brooding. After the
third egg is hatched, the male and female probably share the burden of
supporting the family.
Footnote 8:
The colour, which is a light green, varies in shade in the three eggs.
The first specimen of this variety of cassowary (_Casuarius australis_)
was shot in these same scrubs near the close of the sixties.
Its eyes, which cannot fail to be admired, form the most beautiful
feature of the cassowary. Their expression is defiant and proud, as that
of the eagle’s eyes. The natives hunt the bird with the aid of their
dingoes, which are able to kill the half-grown and sometimes even the
old birds. The flesh tastes very much like beef, and is very fat. In the
rainy season the cassowary is sometimes compelled to take to the water,
and proves itself to be a good swimmer.
The blacks claim that their hands become white if washed in the contents
of its stomach at the season of the year when it mainly feeds on a fruit
which they call _tobola_. I give this for what it is worth; but I have
seen natives having on their hands white spots which they insisted were
produced in this manner; no doubt these spots were nothing more than
_vitiligo_ or _leucopathia acquisita_, found among all races of men.