ON THE TANA RIVER, THE HOME OF THE RHINO. THE TIMID ARE FRIGHTENED, THE
DANGEROUS KILLED, AND OTHERS PHOTOGRAPHED. MOVING PICTURES OF A RHINO
CHARGE
Down on the Tana River the rhinos are more common than in any
other known section of Africa. In two weeks we saw over one
hundred--perhaps two hundred--of them--so many, in fact, that one of the
chief diversions of the day was to count rhinos. One day we counted
twenty-six, another day nineteen, and by the time we left the district
rhinos had become such fixtures in the landscape as to cause only casual
comment. Perhaps there were some repeaters, ones that were counted
twice, but even allowing for that there were still some left. We saw big
ones and little ones, old ones and young ones, and middle-aged ones;
ones with long ears, short horns, double horns, and single horns; black
ones and red ones--in fact, all the kinds of rhinos that are resident in
British East Africa. One had an ear gone and another had a crook in his
tail. If we had stayed another week we might have got out a Tana River
Rhino Directory, with addresses and tree numbers. We studied them fore
and aft, from in front of trees and from behind them, from close range
and long range, over our shoulders, and through our cameras, every way
whereby a conscientious lover of life and nature can study a prominent
member of the Mammalia. We called the place Rhino Park because the
country looks like a beautiful park studded with splendid trees and
dotted with rhinos.
[Drawing: _A Morning Walk on the Tana River_]
When I went to Africa I was equipped with the following fund of
knowledge concerning the rhinoceros: First, that he is familiarly called
"rhino" by the daring hunters who have written about him; second, that
he is a member of the Perissodactyl family, whose sole representatives
are the horse, the rhino, and the tapir; third, that he savagely charges
human beings who write books about their thrilling adventures in Africa,
and, finally, that he looks like a hang-over from the pterodactyl age.
The books and magazine stories that have come out since Mr. Roosevelt
made African hunting the vogue invariably describe the rhino as being
one of the most dangerous of African animals. A charging rhino, a
wounded lion, a cape buffalo, and a frenzied elephant are the four
terrors of the African hunters. All other forms of danger are slight
compared with these, and I was full to the guards with a vast and
fearful respect for the rhino. I fancied myself spinning around like a
pinwheel with the horn of a rhino as a pivot, and the thought had little
to commend itself to a lover of longevity--such as myself, for instance.
[Photograph: A Comfortable Hammock of Zebra Skin]
[Photograph: Mrs. Akeley and Her Tana River Monkey]
After going to Africa and meeting some of the best members of the rhino
set I was able to form some conclusions of my own, chief of which is the
belief that he is dangerous only if he hits you. As long as you can keep
out of his reach you are in no great danger except from the thorns.
The prevailing estimate of the rhino is that he is an inoffensive
creature who likes to bask under the shade of a tree and watch the years
go parading by. His thick skin and fierce armament of horns seem to make
of him a relic of some long-forgotten age--the last survivor of the time
when mammoths and dinosauruses roamed the manless waste and time was
counted in geological terms instead of days and minutes. His eyes are
dimmed and he sees nothing beyond a few yards away, but his hearing and
sense of smell are keen, and he sniffs danger from afar in case danger
happens to be to windward of him. His sensitive nose is always alert for
foreign and, therefore, suspicious odors, and when he smells the blood
of an Englishman, or even an American, his tail goes up in anger, he
sniffs and snorts and races around in a circle while he locates the
direction where the danger lies--and then, look out. A blind, furious
rush which only a well-sped bullet can prevent causing the untimely end
of whatever happens to be in the way. That is the popular estimate of
the rhino.
[Drawing: _Popular Conception of Rhino_]
Here are some of the conclusions I have formed: If the hunter carefully
approaches the rhino from the leeward he may often come within a few
yards of the animal and might easily shoot him in a leisurely way. The
rhino can see only at close range and can smell only when the wind blows
the scent to him. Consequently he would be defenseless and at the mercy
of the hunter if it were not for one thing. Nature, in her wisdom, has
sent the little rhino bird to act as a sentinel for the great pachyderm.
These little birds live on the back of the rhino and, as recompense for
their vigilance, are permitted to partake of such ticks and insects as
inhabit the hide of their host. Whenever danger, or, in other words,
whenever a hunter tries to approach their own particular rhino from any
direction, windward, leeward, or any other way, the ever alert and
watchful rhino birds sound a tocsin of warning. The rhino pricks up his
ears and begins to show signs of taking notice. He doesn't know where or
what the danger may be, but he knows the C.Q.D. code of danger signals
as delivered to him from the outposts on his back and hastens to get
busy in an effort to locate the foe. As a general thing the little
birds, on sight of danger, begin a wild chatter, rising from the back of
the rhino and flying in an opposite direction from the danger. Then they
return, light on the rhino's back, and repeat, often several times, the
operation of flying away from the danger. If the rhino is a wise rhino
he learns from the birds which is the safe way to go and soon trots
swiftly off. In a measure the habits of the rhino bird are as
interesting as those of the rhino itself, and as an example of the weak
protecting the strong, the Damon and Pythias relationship between bird
and beast is without parallel in the animal kingdom.
[Drawing: _Before and After the Rhino Birds Give the Alarm_]
The rhino is a peaceful animal. He browses on herbs and shrubs and
dwells in friendly relationship with the rest of the animal kingdom.
Perhaps once or twice a day he ambles down to some favorite drinking
place for a drink, but the rest of the time he grazes along a hillside
or stands or lies sleepily under a tree. At such times as the latter he
may be approached quite near without much danger. Each day he also goes
to a favorite wallowing place, where he rolls in the red dirt and
emerges from this dirt bath a dull red rhino. In the rhino country
dozens of these red dirt rolling places may be found, each one trampled
smooth for an area of fifteen or twenty feet in evidence of the great
number of times it has been used by one or more rhinos. This dirt bath
is a defensive measure against the hordes of ticks that infest the
rhino. It is a subject for wonder that the six or eight tick birds do
not keep the rhino free of ticks, and it has even been argued by some
naturalists that the rhino bird does not eat ticks, but merely uses the
rhino as a convenient resting-place. Also perhaps they enjoy the ride.
We had planned to get a rhino bird and perform an autopsy on him in
order to analyze his contents, but did not do so.
[Photograph: The Ford of Tana River]
[Photograph: The Baby Rhino]
After the rhino has taken his dirt wallow, and looks fine in his new red
coat, he then slowly and painstakingly proceeds to kill time during the
rest of the day. If danger threatens he becomes exceedingly nervous and
excited. His anxiety is quite acute. In vain he tries to locate the
danger, rushing one way for a few yards, then the other way, and finally
all ways at once. His tail is up and he is snorting like a steam engine.
When he rushes toward you in this attitude it looks very much as though
he were charging you with the purpose of trampling you to flinders. As a
matter of fact, or, rather, opinion, he is merely trying to locate where
you are in order that he may run the other way. He looks terrifying, but
in reality is probably badly terrified himself. He would give a good
deal to know which way to run, and finally becomes so excited and
nervous that he starts frantically in some direction, hoping for the
best. If this rush happens to be in your direction you call it a charge
from an infuriated rhino; if not, you say that he looked nasty and was
about to charge, but finally ran away in another direction. In most
rhino charges it is my opinion that the rhino is too rattled to know
what he is doing, and, instead of charging maliciously, he is merely
trying to get away as fast as possible. And in such cases the hunter
blazes away at him, wounds him, and the rhino blindly charges the flash.
[Drawing: _Trying to Provoke a Charge_]
It was our wish to get moving pictures of a rhino charge. Mr. Akeley had
a machine and our plan of action was simple. We would first locate the
rhino, usually somnolent under a thorn tree or browsing soberly out in
the open. We would then get to the leeward of him and slowly advance the
machine; Mr. Akeley in the middle and Stephenson and I on each side with
our double-barreled cordite rifles. In case the charge became too
serious to escape we hoped to be able to turn him or kill the rhino with
our four bullets. If we were unsuccessful in doing so--well, we had to
manage the situation by jumping.
Our first experience was most thrilling, chiefly because we expected a
charge. We thought all rhinos charged, as per the magazine articles, and
so prepared for busy doings. A rhino cow and half-grown calf were
discovered on a distant hillside. We stopped in a ravine to adjust the
picture machine and then crept cautiously up the hill until we were
within about seventy yards of the unsuspecting pair. Then the rhino
birds began to flutter and chatter and the two beasts began to sniff
nervously. Finally they turned toward us, with tails erect and noses
sniffing savagely. Now for the charge, we thought, for it was considered
an absolute certainty that a rhino cow accompanied by its calf would
always attack. We moved forward a few yards, clapped our hands to show
where we were, and their attitude at once became more threatening. They
rushed backward and forward a couple of times and faced us again.
By this time we knew that they saw us and our fingers were within the
trigger guards. It was agreed that, if they charged, they should be
allowed to come within forty feet before we fired, thus giving the
picture machine time to get a good record. The situation was intense
beyond description, and seconds seemed hours. When they started trotting
toward us we thought the fatal moment had come, but instead of
continuing the "charge," they swung around and trotted swiftly off in an
opposite direction. As far as we could see them they trotted swiftly and
with the lightness of deer, sometimes zigzagging their course, but
always away from us. The charge had failed in spite of all our efforts
to provoke it. The whistling and hand-clapping which we had hoped would
give them our location without doubt had merely served to tell them the
way not to go.
The moving picture record of a "charging rhino" would have been a
brilliant success but for one thing--the rhino refused to charge.
During the following ten days we made many similar attempts to get a
charge and always with nearly the same results. Once or twice we got
within thirty yards before they finally turned tail after a number of
feints that looked much like the beginning of a nasty charge. It was
always intensely thrilling work because there was the likelihood that we
might get a charge in spite of the fact that a dozen or so previous
experiences had failed to precipitate one.
In several cases the first rush of the rhino was toward us, but instead
of continuing, he would soon swing about and make off, four times as
badly scared as we were. It seemed as though these preliminary rushes
toward us were efforts to verify the location of danger in order to
determine the right direction for escape. In all, we made between
fifteen and twenty different attempts on different rhinos to get a
charge, but with always practically the same result, yet with always the
same thrill of excitement and uncertainty.
[Drawing: _The End of the Charge_]
Comprehensive statistics on a rhino's charges are hard to obtain. The
district commissioner at Embo told me that he had been ordered to reduce
the number of rhinos in his district in the interest of public safety
and that he had killed thirty-five in all. Out of this number five
charged him. That would indicate that one rhino in seven will charge.
Captain Dickinson, in his book, _Big Game Shooting on the Equator_,
tells of a rhino that charged him so viciously that he threw down his
bedding roll and the rhino tossed it and trampled it with great
emphasis, after which it triumphantly trotted away, elated probably in
the thought that it had wiped out its enemy. A number of fatalities are
on record to prove that the rhino is a dangerous beast at times, and so
I must conclude that the rhino experiences we had were exceedingly lucky
ones, and perhaps exceptional ones in that respect.
In only one instance was it necessary for us to kill a rhino and even
then it was done more in the interest of photography than of urgent
necessity. On our game licenses we were each allowed to kill two rhinos,
and as I wanted, one of the Tana River variety it was arranged that I
should try to get the first big one with good horns. After a hunt of
several hours we found two of them together out on the slope of a long
hill. Our glasses showed that one of them was quite large and equipped
with a splendid front horn nearly two feet long and a rear horn about a
foot long. At the lower slope of the hill were two or three trees that
screened our approach so that we were easily enabled to get within about
one hundred and fifty yards of them without danger of discovery. From
the trees onward the country was an open prairie for two or three miles.
Armed with a double-barreled cordite rifle and the comforting reflection
that the chances were seven to one that the rhinos would not charge, I
slowly advanced alone toward the two rhinos. Behind me about fifty yards
was the long range camera and a second gun manned by Mr. Stephenson.
When fifty yards from the rhinos I stopped, but as no offensive tactics
were apparent in the camp of the enemy, I slowly walked forward to
thirty-five yards. Then they saw me. They faced me with what seemed like
an attitude of decided unfriendliness. Their tails were up and they were
snorting like steam engines. When the big one started toward me I fired
and it fell like a log. The other one, instead of thundering away,
according to expectations, became more belligerent. It ran a few steps,
then swung around, and I felt certain that it was going to avenge the
death of its comrade. The camera brigade rushed forward, clapping their
hands to scare it away, as there was no desire to kill both of the
animals. But it refused to go. It would sometimes run a few steps, then
it would turn and come toward us. It was evidently in a fighting mood,
with no intention of deserting the field of action. Finally by firing
shots in the air and yelling noisily it turned and dashed over the side
of the hill. The photograph, taken at the instant the big rhino was
struck, was remarkably dramatic and showed one rhino in an aggressive
attitude and the other just plunging down from the shot of the big
bullet.
The front horn of the dead rhino was twenty and three-quarters inches
long and in many places the animal's hide was over an inch thick. Strips
of this were cut off to make whips, and a large section was removed to
be made into a table top. These table tops, polished and rendered
translucent by the curing processes, are beautiful as well as extremely
interesting. The rhino's tongue is even more delicious to eat than ox
tongue and rhino tail soup is a great luxury on any white man's table;
while the native porters consider rhino meat the finest of any meat to
be had in Africa. The conscience of one who slays a rhino is somewhat
appeased by the fact that a hundred native porters will have a good
square meal of wholesome meat to help build up their systems.
[Drawing: _A Real Rhino Charge_]
Our expedition sustained only one real rhino charge. One day Mr.
Stephenson stumbled on a big cow rhino that was lying in the grass. The
meeting was as unexpected to him as to her, and before he could count
five she was rushing headlong toward him. He clapped his hands,
whistled, and shouted to turn her course, but she came on, snorting
loudly and with head ready to impale everything in its way. Stephenson
did not want to kill her, neither did he desire to be killed, so when
all other means had failed he fired a soft nose bullet into her shoulder
in the hope that it would turn her away without seriously hurting her.
The bullet seemed to have no effect and she did not change her course in
the slightest degree. By this time she was within a short distance of
Stephenson, who was obliged to run a few feet and take refuge behind a
tree.
[Photograph: The Sultan Looked Like an American Indian]
[Photograph: In the Thorn Brush on the Tana]
[Photograph: The Dummy Rhino]
The gunbearers and porters, who had fled in all directions, thought that
Stephenson was caught, but the rhino, passing him with only a small
margin of five feet, continued thunderously on her way. In a few yards
she slowed down, and when last seen was walking. She had evidently been
hit very hard by the soft nose bullet and was already showing signs of
sickness. Suddenly a terrific squealing made the party aware that the
cow rhino had been accompanied by a little rhino calf. The calf, only a
couple of weeks old, charged savagely at every one in sight and every
one in sight took refuge behind trees and bushes. Instead of trying to
escape, the animal turned and continued to attack in all directions
whenever a man showed himself. When a man leaped behind a tree the calf
would charge the tree with such force that it would be hurled back
several feet, only to spring up and charge again. His squealing could be
heard for a mile. After a long time the porters succeeded in capturing
it and they conveyed it back to camp strung on a pole. If that little
rhino was any criterion of rhino pugnacity, then surely the rhino is
born with the instinctive impulse to charge and to fight as savagely as
any animal alive.
We fed our little pet rhino on milk and then swung it in a comfortable
hammock made of zebra skin. In this more or less undignified fashion it
was carried by eight strong porters to Fort Hall, two marches away,
where it lived only a week or ten days and then, to our sorrow and
regret, succumbed from lack of proper nourishment.
[Drawing: _Retiring in Favor of Rhino_]
Sometimes, when the _safari_ is marching through bush country, the rhino
becomes an element of considerable anxiety; An armed party must precede
the caravan and clear the route of rhinos, otherwise the porters are
likely to be scattered by threatened charges. It is no uncommon sight to
see a crowd of heavily laden porters drop their loads and shin up the
nearest tree in record time. Consequently, strong protective measures
are always demanded when a long train of unarmed natives is moving
through bush or scrub country where there are many rhinos.
[Drawing: _Favorite Way of Being Photographed_]
The lower Tana River country is admirably adapted to the life habits of
the rhinos. Formerly the district was well settled by natives, but now,
owing to the fever conditions prevailing there, the natives have all
moved away to more wholesome places and only the forlorn remains of
deserted villages mark where former prosperity reigned. The country has
been abandoned to game, with the result that it has been enormously
increasing during the last few years. In addition to the great numbers
of rhinos there are big herds of buffalo, enormous numbers of hippo in
the river, and many small droves of eland. Waterbuck, bushbuck,
steinbuck, impalla, hartebeest and zebra dwell in comparative immunity
from danger and may be seen in hundreds, grazing on the hills or in the
woods that fringe the river. It is a sportsman's paradise, if he manages
to escape the fever, and we enjoyed it tremendously, even though we shot
only a hundredth part of what we might easily have shot. The charm of
hunting in such a region lies in what one sees rather than in what one
kills.