Daily Life and Scenes in the Jungle--How I Passed the Time--What I Had
to Eat--How it was Prepared--How I Slept--My Chimpanzee Companion
I am so frequently asked about the details of my daily life in the
cage, how the time was occupied, and what I saw besides the apes, that
I deem it of interest to relate a few of the events of my sojourn in
that wild spot. I shall, therefore, recount the incidents of a single
day and night; but from day to day of course this routine varied.
About six o’clock, as the sun first peeps into the forest, it finds
me with a tin cup of coffee just made on a little kerosene stove. It
is black and dreggy, but with a little sugar it is not bad. With a
few dry crackers I break my fast of twelve hours and am now ready for
the task of the day. My bed having been rolled up out of the way and
Moses helped to a banana or two, I take my rifle, Moses climbs upon
my shoulder, and we set out for a walk in the bush. When we return we
bring from the spring, some three hundred yards away, a supply of water
for the day. Then Moses climbs about in the bushes and amuses himself,
while I watch for gorillas. Silence is the order of the day. And here
I sit alone,--sometimes for hours,--in a stillness almost as great as
that of a tomb.
[Illustration: STARTING FOR A STROLL (From a Photograph.)]
Presently a rustle of the leaves is heard, and a porcupine comes
waddling into view. He pokes his nose about in search of food, but
he has not yet discovered my presence. He comes closer. The scent or
sight of me startles him, and away he goes. Now a civet comes stealing
through the bush, till he observes me and hastily departs.
After an hour of patient waiting the sound of clashing boughs is
heard. A few minutes later is seen a school of monkeys, led by a
solemn-looking old pilot, who doubtless knows every palm tree that
bears nuts within many miles around. They are now coming to inspect my
cage and see what new thing this is set up in monkeydom.
[Illustration: A Peep at My Cage]
As they draw nearer they become more cautious. They find a strong
bough in the top of a big tree, and the grave old pilot perches himself
far out on it in order to get a good peep at my cage. Just behind him
sits the next in rank, resting his hands on the shoulder of the leader,
while a dozen more occupy similar attitudes behind each other along the
limb. Each one pushes the one just in front of him to make him move up
a little closer, but none of them except the pilot seems to want the
front seat.
They look on in silence, occasionally turning their little heads from
side to side, as if to be certain it is not an illusion. Again they
nudge each other, and move up a little closer, meanwhile squinting
their bright eyes, as if in doubt about the strange sight before them.
They have made such calls before, but have not yet fully determined
what kind of an animal it is that occupies the cage. At each successive
visit they come a little nearer, until they are now not a hundred
feet away. Now they take alarm at something and hurry off in another
direction.
Next comes a pangolin, prowling about for insects among the leaves. He
catches a glimpse of the cage, stands motionless for a moment to see
what it is, and then like a flash he is gone. During this time birds
of divers kinds are flying in all directions. Some of them perch on
the limbs near by, some pick nuts from the palm trees, while others
scream and screech like so many tin whistles or brass horns. The most
conspicuous among them are the noisy toucans and parrots. Many of them
have brilliant and beautiful plumage.
It is now ten o’clock. Not a breath of air stirs a leaf of the great
forest. The heat is sweltering and oppressive. The voices of the birds
grow less and less frequent. Even the insects do not appear to be so
busy as they were in the earlier hours of the day. Moses has abandoned
his rambles in the bush, and sits on a fallen tree, with his arms
folded, as if he had finished work for the day.
Along towards this hour everything in the forest seems to become
quiet and inactive, and continues so until about two o’clock in the
afternoon. I was impressed upon more than one occasion with this
universal rest during the hottest part of the day, and the same thing
seems to prevail among aquatic animals.
I now prepare my repast for midday by opening a can of meat or fish,
and warming it on a tin plate on the little stove. I have no vegetables
or dessert, but with a few crackers broken up and stirred into the
grease, and plenty of water to drink, I make an ample meal. When it
is finished, Moses coils up in his little hammock, swung by my side,
and takes his siesta. The boy, when there, stretches out on the floor
and does likewise. During the hours about noon, few things are astir,
though during that time I have seen some interesting sights.
It must not be supposed that the change is sudden at the beginning or
at the end of this period, for such is not the case. There is no fixed
time for anything to cease activity. It is by slow degrees that one
thing after another becomes quiescent, until life appears to be for a
time almost extinct; but as the sun descends the western sky, life and
activity revive, and by three o’clock everything is again astir. Now, a
lone gorilla comes stalking through the bush, looking for the red fruit
of the _batuna_, a peculiar fruit that grows near the root of the
plant. He plucks a bud of some kind, tears it apart with his fingers,
smells it, and then throws it aside. Now he takes hold of a tall
sapling, looks up at its shaking branches and turns away. He pauses
and looks around as if suspicious of danger. He listens to see if
anything is approaching, but being reassured he resumes his search for
food. Now he gently parts the tangled vines that intercept his way and
creeps noiselessly through them. He hesitates, looks carefully around
him, and then again proceeds. He is coming this way. I see his black
face as he turns his head from side to side, looking for food. What a
brutal visage! It has a scowl upon it, as if he were at odds with all
his race. He is now within a few yards of the cage, but is not aware of
my presence. He plucks a tendril from a vine, smells it, and puts it
into his mouth. He plucks another and another. I shall note that vine
and ascertain what it is. Now he is in a small open space where the
bush has been cut away so as to afford a better view. He seems to know
that this is an unusual thing to find in the jungle. He surveys it with
caution. He comes nearer. Now he has detected me. He sits down upon the
ground and looks at me as if in utter surprise. A moment more he turns
aside, looks over his shoulders, and hurries away into the dense jungle.
It is now four o’clock. I hear a wild pig rooting among the fallen
leaves. I see a small rodent that looks like a diminutive hedgehog. He
is gnawing the bark from a dead limb, possibly to capture some insect
secreted under it. But as rodents usually live upon vegetable diet, he
may have some other reason for this.
It is five o’clock and the shadows in the forest are beginning to
deepen. I see two little gray monkeys playing in the top of a very
tall tree. The birds become monotonous and tiresome. Yonder is a small
snake twined around the limb of a bushy tree. He is probably hunting
for a nest of young birds. The low muttering sound of distant thunder
is heard. Little by little it grows louder. It is the familiar voice of
the coming tornado. I must prepare for it.
The stove is now lighted and a shallow pan of water is set upon it.
Into it is stirred an ounce of desiccated soup. It is heated to the
boiling point, and is then set on the swinging table. A can of mutton
is emptied into another pan of the same kind, and a few crackers are
broken and stirred into the mutton. The soup is eaten while the meat
is being warmed. This is now ready, and the flame of the stove is
turned off. The second course of dinner is now served. It consists of
canned mutton, crackers, and water. The dishes, consisting of three tin
platters and a cup, are thrust into the adjacent bush. The ants and
other insects will clean them during the night.
Moses has now had his supper and has gone to his own little house, to
find shelter from the approaching storm. The curtains are hung up on
the side of the cage towards which the tornado is coming. The leaves
of the forest begin to rustle. It is the first cool breath of the day,
but it is the herald of the furious wind that is rapidly advancing.
The tree-tops begin to sway. Now they are lashing each other as if in
anger. The strong trees are bending from the wind. The lightning is so
vivid that it is blinding. The thunder is terrific. One shaft after
another, the burning bolts are hurled through the moaning forest.
Down the frail wires of my cage the water runs in little rivulets.
Acting as a prism, it refracts the vivid lightning and makes the
whole fabric look like a latticework of molten fire trickling down
from the overhanging boughs. Like invisible demons the shrieking
winds rush through the bending forest, and the unceasing roar of the
thunder reverberates from the dark recesses of the jungle. Amid the
din of storming forces is heard the dull thud of falling trees, and
the crackling limbs are dropping all around. All nature is in a rage.
Every bird and every beast now seeks a place of refuge from the warring
elements. No sign of life is visible. No sound is audible save the
voice of the storm. How unspeakably desolate the jungle is at such
an hour no fancy can depict. How utterly helpless against the wrath
of nature a living creature is no one can realize, except by living
through such an hour in such a place.
On one occasion five large trees were blown down within a radius of a
few hundred feet of my cage. Scores of limbs were broken off by the
wind and scattered like straws. Some of them were six or eight inches
in diameter and ten or twelve feet long. One of them broke the corner
of the bamboo roof over my cage. The limb was broken off a huge cotton
tree near by and fell from a height of about sixty feet. It was carried
by the wind some yards out of a vertical line as it fell, and just
passed far enough to spare my cage. Had it struck the body of it, the
cage would have been partly demolished; the main stem of the bough
was about six inches in diameter and ten feet long. This particular
tornado lasted for nearly three hours and was the most violent of all I
saw during the entire year.
Now the storm subsides, but the darkness is impenetrable. I have no
light of any kind, for that would alarm the inhabitants of the jungle
and attract a vast army of insects from all quarters. Moses is fast
asleep, while I sit listening to the many strange and weird sounds
heard in the jungle at night. The bush crackles near by. A huge leopard
is creeping through it. He is coming this way. Slowly, cautiously, he
approaches. I cannot see him in the deep shadows of the foliage, but
I can locate him by sound, and identify him by his peculiar tread.
Perhaps when he gets near enough he will attack the cage. He is
creeping up closer. He evidently smells prey and is bent on seizing it.
My rifle stands by my elbow. I silently raise it and lay it across my
lap. The brute is now crouching within a few yards of me, but I cannot
see to shoot him. I hear him move again, as if adjusting himself to
spring upon the cage. He surely cannot see it, but by means of scent he
has located me. I hear a low rustling of the leaves as he swishes his
tail preparatory to a leap. If I could only touch a button and turn on
a bright electric light! He remains crouching near, while I sit with
the muzzle of the rifle turned towards him. My hand is on the lock. It
is a trying moment. If he should spring with such force as to break the
frail network that is between us, there could be but one fate for me.
In the brief space of a few seconds a thousand things run through
one’s mind. They are not necessarily prompted by fear, but rather by
suspense. Is it best to fire into the black shadows or to wait for the
leopard’s attack? What is his exact pose? What does he intend? How big
is he? Can he see me? A category of similar questions rises at this
critical moment.
A clash of bushes and he is gone; not with the stealthy, cautious steps
with which he advanced, but in hot haste. He has taken alarm, abandoned
his purpose, and far away can be heard the dry twigs crashing as he
hurries to some remote nook. He flees as if he thought he was being
pursued. He is gone, and I feel a sense of relief.
It is ten o’clock. The low rumbling of distant thunder is all that
remains of the tornado that swept over the forest a few hours ago. The
stars are shining, but the foliage of the forest is so dense, that one
can only see here and there a star peeping through the tangled boughs
overhead. I hear some little waif among the dead leaves, but what it is
or what it wants can only be surmised.
Another hour has passed, and I retire for the night. The sounds of
nocturnal birds are fewer now. I hear a strange, tremulous sound from
the boughs of the bushes near the cage. The leaves are vibrating. The
sound ceases and again begins at intervals. I listen with attention,
for it is a singular sound. It is the movement of a huge python in
search of birds. He reaches out his head, stretches his neck, grasps
the bough of a slender bush, releases his coil from another, and by
contraction draws his slimy body forward. The pliant bough yields to
his heavy weight. The abrasion causes it to tremble and the leaves to
quake.
[Illustration: PREPARING FOR THE NIGHT (From a Photograph.)]
I fall asleep and rest in comfort, while the dew that has fallen upon
the leaves gathers itself into huge drops; their weight bends the
leaves, and they fall from their lofty place, striking with a sharp,
popping sound the big leaves far below them. The hours fly by; but in
the stillness of early morning is heard a most unearthly scream. It is
the voice of a king gorilla. He makes every leaf in the forest tremble
with the sound of his piercing shrieks.
Thus another night is erased from the calendar of time and another
day begins. The dawn awakes to life the teeming forest, and all its
denizens again go forth to join the universal chase for food.
All of the incidents here cited are true in every detail, but they did
not occur every day, nor did all of them occur on the same day, as
might be inferred from the manner in which they are related. But this
recital gives a fair idea of the daily routine in the bosom of the
great forest, although this is a mere glimpse of the scenes of life in
the jungle. By going out for a day or two at a time, hunting on the
plains a few miles away, I often relieved the monotony. My menu was
occasionally varied by a mess of parrot soup, a piece of goat, fish,
or porcupine; but the general average of it was about as has been
described.