HINTS ON EAST AFRICAN STALKING, DRIVING, ETC.
BY F. J. JACKSON
In East Africa, up to the present, all shooting has been done entirely
on foot, as horses have not yet been introduced into the country, with
the exception of two or three which have been sent up to Uganda. It is
to be hoped that when horses are more generally employed (and there is
no reason at present known why they should not be, provided the belts
of ‘fly’ country are avoided), they will not be used in the pursuit of
the herds of game, as they have been and still are in South Africa and
the Somali country. There can be little doubt that it is owing to this
almost universal custom in South Africa of riding down game that it has
been exterminated or driven away from so many parts of the country; and
it is not improbable that in the Somali country a similar result will
follow from the same cause. When pursued on horseback, game is for the
most part on the move when shot at, often at full gallop, and at much
longer ranges than when stalked, and therefore many more beasts are
wounded and lost when horses are used than when fairly outwitted by the
stalker and shot at when standing still.
It is supposed by a good many people that the tsétsé fly only exists
where game beasts, especially buffaloes, are most plentiful, and that
the fly disappears as the game is killed off or driven away. This
may be so in South Africa, but it is certainly not the case in East
Africa, as the belts of fly country in East Africa are almost devoid
of game, with the exception of the river Tana. As, however, the open,
undulating, grassy plains of the Masai country, and other places of a
like nature, are the headquarters of by far the greatest quantity and
variety of game, and are entirely free from the tsétsé fly, and as they
are also well adapted to hunting on horseback, the game would very soon
be exterminated if pursuit on horseback were permitted, and I trust
that when the game laws which will doubtless be drawn up for this,
probably the finest game country in the world, are drafted, a clause
will be introduced which will make the pursuit of game in this manner
altogether illegal.
My first trip to East Africa was undertaken in the years 1884 to 1887,
when that country was perhaps at its best with regard to the quantity
of game. Within the last few years, however, since the country has been
opened up, and the terrifying accounts of the dangers of entering the
Masai country have proved to be absurdly exaggerated, various sporting
expeditions have been undertaken, and large bags have been made. Some
of the game is certainly reduced in quantity, especially rhinoceroses,
owing to the ease with which these beasts can be stalked.
Buffaloes, too, have been almost destroyed by a kind of anthrax,
the same disease which carried off nearly all the native cattle in
1891. This disease, I am told, was fatal to other species of game,
including giraffe, eland, and lesser kudu, and even elephants; but as
my informants could not speak from personal knowledge, but only from
native reports, I am unable to vouch for their accuracy. However, game
is still to be found in enormous quantities--indeed few countries,
if any, can offer such a grand or varied field for sport. Within the
limits of British East Africa there are forty-seven species, including
no fewer than thirty-three species of antelopes and gazelles, which
come under the head of big game. In addition to big game there are
a great number and variety of game-birds, including ten species of
francolin, four species of guinea-fowl, four of florican, five of
sand-grouse, and two of quail, as well as enormous hosts of duck and
geese of various kinds on the lakes and large lagoons, together with
two species of snipe. All these add very considerably to the charm of
a shooting trip, and afford a pleasant change from the rifle to the
shot-gun, besides agreeably altering the monotonous menu of antelope
venison or tough rhinoceros or buffalo steak.
As then, all the big game in British East Africa should be killed by
honest stalking, without the aid of horses, and as the first principles
of stalking have been dealt with elsewhere in these volumes, it only
remains for me to call attention to a few points peculiar to stalking
in East Africa.
To deal first with the wind, which here, as elsewhere, is the first
matter for a stalker to consider, it may be said that in the plains
and fairly open country the wind is generally steady in one quarter or
another between the hours of eight or nine A.M. and sundown, except
when the monsoons are beginning to change, and then it is constantly
chopping and veering round from point to point throughout the day. In
the early morning, between daylight and about eight o’clock, it is
also steady and constant from one quarter, but between eight and nine
it often chops about before settling into the quarter from which it
will continue to blow for the rest of the day. That is to say, when
the sportsman leaves camp at daylight the wind may be blowing from
the south-east and will continue so up to any time between seven and
nine o’clock, when, after chopping about for a short time, it will
settle into another quarter, say north-east, for the rest of the
day. In forest, thick bush, and long grass, it is often apt, at all
times of the day, to be very changeable and uncertain, and may chop
round in eddies when least expected, and this is what often makes
shooting in these places so disappointing. It is therefore necessary
to constantly test the wind. The most convenient and effectual way of
doing this is to pick up and let fall from the hand a little sand,
dust, or pulverised leaves. On a very still calm day, when there is
not enough wind to affect dust or dry leaves, a puff of smoke from a
pipe or from a match, will serve the same purpose if struck and blown
out immediately. The smell of the tobacco smoke is in no way likely
to frighten game, as, if a beast is able to detect it, it is equally
certain that he will be able to wind the stalker. Personally, I use a
pipe as a wind-finder more than anything else, and I have had a lighted
pipe in my mouth at the time of firing at more than half of the game I
have killed.
Before commencing a stalk up to dangerous game, the stalker should
_always_ put two or three cartridges for his big rifles into his pocket
in order to have them handy and to render him perfectly independent of
his gun-bearers. Even the best gun-bearers might fail him one day when
in a critical position, and the want of a cartridge might be the cause
of a very serious accident.
As elsewhere, so in Africa, one of the great secrets of success in
big game shooting is to be up early and on the feeding grounds at
daylight, when everything is in favour of the stalker. In the early
morning most game will be found feeding, and will be more easily seen
when so occupied than later on in the day when lying down in the shade
of a tree or bush, with only one of the herd standing up. This beast,
if it is the sentinel of a herd, will in all probability be a female,
or a male with an inferior head, as the old bulls and bucks rarely act
sentry; or it may be a solitary individual not worth stalking. The
stalker, being possibly a long way off at the time of sighting it, and
unable to see whether there is a herd lying concealed near it in the
grass or not, may miss a good chance at a beast with a first-rate head
through a pardonable dislike to going a long way out of his track on an
off-chance. But when feeding the stalker has a good chance of examining
with his binoculars each individual beast in the herd, he can compare
one with another, and mark those with the best heads.
Then, again, in the early-morning the air is fresh and the ground cool,
and a long stalk is not nearly so fatiguing then as later on; whilst
in the cool hours of the early morning it is much easier to judge
distances, as the air is clear and there is no haze. This haze, which
only appears after the sun is well up, is caused by the moisture of the
earth being evaporated by the sun. It is most noticeable after a heavy
dew or a shower of rain, and is not only very apt to deceive even the
most experienced in regard to distances, but as it makes everything
appear to be in a perpetual quiver, it renders shooting very difficult.
When taking a sight under such conditions the beast aimed at will often
appear very indistinct, and will seem to move about in front of the
muzzle of the rifle.
There is still another argument in favour of early morning stalks,
and that is, that as all game beasts are thoroughly awake, and on the
alert, even though engrossed in feeding, the stalker knows that he
must exercise all his wits to the very utmost to keep out of sight,
not only of the beast or beasts he may be stalking, but of other game
which may be either to the right or left of him. This knowledge saves
a man from carelessness, and makes him do his very utmost in that keen
rivalry between animal instincts and human skill, in which lies the
whole charm of big game shooting. But although the early morning has
its advantages, a good many of which are of the nature of personal
convenience and comfort to the stalker, and has also its many charms,
which are not to be experienced later on in the day, it certainly has
a fair amount of disadvantages. To begin with, as a rule, game is not
so easy to approach when feeding as when standing about or lying down.
When feeding beasts are constantly moving, and although they may be in
a capital position when the stalker first tries to circumvent them,
they very often move into an unapproachable one by the time he gets
up to within range of where they had been; and of course, as before
suggested, all beasts are very wide awake in the early hours of the
morning, whilst, instead of being protected by only one sentinel as at
other times, the whole herd is more or less on the _qui vive_, and the
stalker may be detected at any moment by any beast which may happen to
raise its head, or which may wander in his direction after some dainty
morsel of grass and keep him waiting-in an awkward position.
The beast with the best head is not unfrequently in an awkward position
for a shot, or out of range, and the stalker, being unable to improve
his position or get nearer for fear of being seen by some of the other
beasts, has either to risk a long shot at the best head or content
himself with an easier and more certain shot at an inferior one. In
this case, it is far better to give up the stalk for the time, and try
your luck another day.
As an example of what can be done by a little patience and
perseverance, I was successful in bagging the finest specimen of a
bull eland ever shot by a European in East Africa, after a very long
and tedious stalk on five consecutive days. This grand beast was
accompanied by three cows, and each day they were found in the same
locality, never more than a mile from the place at which I left them
the previous day. This was a narrow strip of open plain, some two miles
long by about a mile in width, which opened out at each end into a
large open plain. The narrow strip was bordered on each side by thick
bush and clumps of forest trees, and this appeared to be used by the
enormous herds of game as a passage from one plain to the other. As I
always found these four elands standing out well towards the middle of
the strip, where there were only a few isolated mimosa-trees dotted
about, the stalking was very tedious work, and as there was no covert
but grass twelve to eighteen inches high, it was necessary to make a
long crawl from the very outskirts of the bush. On each of the first
three days I almost succeeded in getting within range, when the elands
were alarmed by a shot fired in the distance and moved off, afterwards
standing in such an exposed position that a stalk was quite impossible.
On the fourth morning I was stalking them across the wind, which was
blowing from my left, and was again nicely reducing the distance
between myself and the bull, who was standing by himself under the
shade of a thorn-tree, whilst the cows were quietly feeding some twenty
yards beyond him.
As I lay under the shade of a small bush, which was within about 300
yards of the elands, taking a short rest, I noticed all four beasts
suddenly raise their heads and stare hard up wind, evidently on the
alert. At first I could not see anything to alarm them, and felt
quite sure that they had not got a taint of my wind. On getting into
a sitting position behind the bush, I saw a dark object in the grass
dead to windward of the elands, and about the same distance from them
as I was. My first idea was that it was a man, and I concluded that
the fellow must be an idiot to attempt to stalk down wind, when I
suddenly got a better view, and with the aid of my binoculars made
out a lion and lioness, and saw that they were actually on the same
business as myself. Wishing to see the result, I sat still and watched
them, and could just manage to follow their movements, though I could
only distinguish a small piece of the dark mane of the lion above the
grass as he crawled slowly along. When the lions came to a tuft of
rather longer grass they both raised their heads for a second, but the
elands apparently took no notice of them, as they still stood perfectly
motionless. As the lions crept on very slowly they came to another tuft
of slightly taller grass, and the lion again raised his head, but this
time he was seen by the elands, which all turned round and trotted off
straight down wind. The lions then stood up, and after watching the
elands a short time lay down in the grass; but before I could crawl up
to them and get a shot, they went off for the bush on the other side
of the plain. The elands were then thoroughly on the alert and in a
bad position for a further stalk, and although I believe I could have
got up to within a couple of hundred yards of them, rather than risk
a long shot, and perhaps only frighten them away from the locality
altogether, I left them in peace for the fourth time. Returning on the
fifth morning very early, while skirting along outside the edge of the
bush, keeping a sharp look-out, I found them in a grand position for a
stalk, as they were not more than 400 yards from the edge of the bush
on my side of the plain. The bull was lying down, one cow stood close
by him, evidently on the look-out, whilst the other two were quietly
feeding. Entering the bush, I skirted along inside the edge until I
was just opposite to the elands. I then saw that between them and the
bush in which I stood, with the wind blowing straight from them to
me, there was a largish piece of bush some twenty yards long, though
rather narrow and very thin, and not more than eighty yards from where
the bull was lying. Between this patch and myself there was little or
no covert of any kind, excepting grass which was about a foot high and
very scanty, and one small skeleton bush within about twenty yards of
the larger patch. I managed, however, by crawling flat on my stomach,
followed by my pet gun-bearer, to get up to this scanty covert, and
could just see through the larger patch that the bull was still lying
down. At this moment, and before I could get any nearer, to my disgust
I heard a shot fired in the distance. The bull stood up, and as he
stared in the direction from which the shot had come I heard another
report; but, as great good luck would have it, instead of bolting all
four elands began to walk quietly towards where I lay. Exchanging my
.500 Express for the 8-bore, as I wished to make certain of getting the
bull, I waited, and thought they never would appear round the corner of
the bush in front of me, as they kept stopping to look round every few
paces.
In a short time a cow appeared round the corner within thirty yards
of where I lay. I could still see the bull lagging behind, and was
terribly afraid that this cow would detect me before he appeared;
but she took no notice of me and walked straight on. Soon after this
another cow appeared, and I could see the bull standing just on the
other side of the bush, but would not risk a shot at him through it. At
last his grand head appeared, but nothing more, and he again stopped.
I shall never forget my feeling of intense excitement during those few
seconds. I was in a most awkward position, lying flat on my face, and
literally aching with suspense and suppressed excitement, and yet I
dare not move to get into a better position for a shot, for fear of
being seen by either of the two cows. At last the bull took a few steps
forward, and I wriggled myself into a sitting position, gave him both
barrels, one after the other, and after running about sixty yards he
fell over dead. Never shall I forget my joy when I saw him drop. He was
a grand beast with horns 31⅝ and 31 ins. respectively in length, and 25
ins. from tip to tip. His heart was encased in a solid piece of fat,
which, after the heart had been cut out of it, and after it had been
exposed to the sun for four hours, was found to weigh 18 lbs.
[Illustration: ‘At last the bull took a few steps forward’]
On the fourth day after the lions’ visit I went up to where they had
stood, and followed the well-marked track which they had made as they
crept along, for a considerable distance. The track clearly showed what
their intentions were. They had evidently seen the elands from the
other side of the plain, and had attempted to cut them off by stalking
across the wind as I was doing. Had the elands continued their course
up wind and not stopped where they did they would have passed pretty
close to where the lions lay in a thick patch of grass. On seeing that
the elands had stopped, the lions had crept diagonally across and down
the wind, until the elands detected them.
But to go back to the best time of day for shooting. Of course
shooting in the heat of the day has its advantages and disadvantages,
and some men advocate it in preference to the early morning. After
feeding, which is always in the early morning, and again in the
evening, as well as throughout the night (though some species of game,
notably zebra and several antelopes, continue to feed at all hours of
the day and night), game take up their quarters for the day either in
the shade of a tree or bush or quite out in the open. When once they
have found a place to suit them, they will lie down, or stand about
ruminating, and enjoying their siesta, and are not likely to wander
about and get into awkward positions.
Game, too, is less watchful in the hot hours, and even the sentinel
has every appearance of being drowsy and off guard, as it stands at
ease on three legs (nearly always with its back to the wind), with
ears drooping or lying back, and a look of general contentment and
repose about it, as if conscious that its feline enemies are not likely
to disturb it, and that it has little else to fear. Even should the
herd be lying rather scattered about, with their heads facing in all
directions, they do not appear to be so keen at detecting the approach
of the stalker as in the morning. Possibly they are either dozing or
their senses are dulled from general lassitude, and they rely mostly
on the sentinel; or it may be that the haze, which is thicker close to
the ground, affects their vision in the same way as it does that of
the stalker. Whether their senses are dulled from the effects of the
heat, or whether they are less watchful because their natural enemies
are unlikely to be abroad at that time, is difficult to conjecture.
At all events, if several stalks were made under the same conditions
with regard to the place, covert, and wind, some of them up to a herd
feeding in the early morning, and the others when they were lying down
and standing about in the heat of the day, I think that the stalker
would find that he would have to exercise his wits against the game’s
instinct far less, and would also find the beasts much easier to
circumvent during the heat of the day than in the cool of the morning.
In the matter of physical exertion, however, the later stalks are
much the most trying and fatiguing. Anyone who has done many long and
tedious stalks will, I think, admit that being compelled to crawl two
or three hundred yards, or more, flat on his stomach in the bare open
plains (where game is generally most plentiful) is terribly trying work
during the heat of the day. What with the sun pouring down on the back
and nape of the neck, and the scorching heat of the ground striking
upwards into the face, together with the burnt grass dust, &c., which
get into the mouth and nostrils, and nearly choke him in his desperate
efforts to prevent coughing or sneezing, such a stalk requires not only
great physical endurance, but the most stoical patience on the part of
the stalker. Moreover, stalks under such trying circumstances (and they
are by no means uncommon), even though they may be successful, are apt
to end in a splitting headache, which may develop into an attack of
fever, and knock the sportsman out of time for several days.
And there is yet another argument in favour of early stalks, altogether
apart from their advantages from a stalker’s point of view, and this
is that for a few hours after dawn Nature is at her very best. The air
is deliciously cool, and as it is clear, excepting at certain seasons
and at high altitudes, everything stands out sharp and well defined,
and all the surrounding scenery is seen to the best advantage. If
the sportsman is, as he ought to be, anything of a naturalist, he
will see all nature under the most interesting aspects. Besides the
various species of big game to be met with, he will observe many of the
nocturnal animals still abroad after their night’s peregrinations, and
these he will see at no other time. He will see the ubiquitous hyæna,
as he slinks along across the plain to his hiding-place, and will
be able to form no other opinion of him than that he is a skulking,
contemptible-looking brute, and will possibly feel a desire to have
a shot at him, but will refrain from doing so, knowing that he is
not worth a bullet, that the shot may disturb better game, and that,
after all, the beast does little harm, but, as a scavenger, a vast
deal of good. The cunning-looking little jackal, which by its howling
during the night has disturbed the sportsman’s well-earned rest, and
called forth language more forcible than polite, may be seen at dawn
trotting along to his earth, looking as unconcerned and innocent as
possible, while various species of the larger ichneumons and that
curious unwieldy creature, the ratel, will also be abroad. The ratel,
by the way, with the porcupine (the latter, though plentiful, rarely
seen) is responsible for the numerous shallow burrowings that may be
observed so frequently, often in the middle of a well-beaten footpath
which is as hard as a brickbat. These burrowings are made by the ratel
and porcupine when searching for food. Perhaps, too, in the early
morning the stalker will see a curious little ground squirrel, which
is rarely found far from its retreat, and which on being disturbed
scuttles away, and, if not too frightened, on arriving at its burrow,
sits bolt upright to scrutinise the intruder like a marmot, before
finally disappearing with a flick of its tail. He may see, too, that
quaint and most interesting little beast, the brown mongoose, which
is so common in East Africa, and goes about in large family parties.
This jolly little creature, which is the personification of curiosity,
makes a most amusing and intelligent pet. As they trot along, sticking
their noses into or under everything that is at all likely to shelter
or hide anything that is eatable, these mongooses keep up a constant
low squeaking noise. I have often watched them, and have had them come
close up to me, sitting up on their hind legs, trying to make out what
I was. It is one of the funniest sights to see them scampering along
in a desperate hurry on being frightened, and diving one after the
other into the chimney-like holes of an ant-heap, in which they nearly
always live. There are scores of other interesting little animals, too
numerous to mention, all of which add consider ably to the pleasures of
a day’s shooting to anyone who is at all keen to observe the habits of
little-known creatures.
Bird life is particularly in evidence in the early morning, and
everything that has a voice seems to make use of it to the utmost,
though with the exception of the yellow-vented bul-bul and one or two
other small birds, few can lay claim to anything but a call note,
which in most instances is neither melodious nor agreeable to the ears
of ordinary people, though to a lover of nature there is something
very pleasant even about these. The first bird to make itself heard
is the bush cuckoo (_Centropus monachus_), whose curious guttural
rolling note may often be heard on a moonlight night, and nearly
always for a few minutes about 4 A.M., after which it becomes quiet
again till dawn. The next to wake up is the small kingfisher (_Halcyon
chelicutensis_), whose pleasant though plaintive voice is also the last
to be heard in the evening, before the nightjar starts his monotonous
sewing-machine-like chatter. No sooner is it daylight than all the
game-birds in the vicinity begin to call and answer each other. There
is the grating cackle of the guinea-fowl (_Numida coronata_) which
is by far the most plentiful of the four species, excepting _N.
ptilorhyncha_, which, however, is not found in any great numbers south
of Lake Baringo, where it is very plentiful. There is the harsh and
defiant scream of the bush francolin (_F. Grantii_); the less harsh and
more pleasing call of the plain francolin (_F. coquei_); the strident
guttural voice of the florican (_Otis canicollis_); the curious
indescribable call of the yellow-throated spur fowl (_Pternestes
infuscatus_); and later on, between eight and nine o’clock, the shrill
scream of the small sand-grouse (_Pterocles decoratus_) and the
guttural chuckle of the larger kind (_P. gutteralis_) as they fly high
overhead on their way to their favourite drinking-place. Most of the
above-mentioned game-birds, besides being heard, will probably be seen
during a morning’s tramp, together with innumerable small birds, which
keep up a perpetual chatter. In fact, everything appears to be full
of life and energy. Later on, in the middle of the day, everything is
quiet and skulking in the shade; all nature seems dead or asleep, with
the exception of the butterflies which flit about, and the myriads of
other insects which keep up an incessant hum and ‘sissing’ noise.
Having thus fairly considered all the pros and cons, I am decidedly
of opinion that the stalker will get more pleasure and more game by
stalking between daylight and 10 or 11 A.M., and again between 3.30
P.M. and sundown, than at any other time.
There are some places where game, although plentiful, is so wild, and
the ground so absolutely devoid of any covert, that stalking is an
impossibility. Under such circumstances, and more particularly if the
game sought after is scarce, or carries a particularly fine head, there
are ways of circumventing it which are admissible, and which cannot in
any way be considered unsportsmanlike. These are driving, the Bushman’s
stratagem of the stalking ostrich, and sitting up at night near a
drinking-place. The two former I have myself tried successfully.
[Illustration: THE BUSHMAN’S STRATAGEM]
It will be found that most antelopes are very partial to certain
localities, where they are seen day after day in or quite near to the
same place. They are also sure to have certain lines of retreat in
case of danger; a habit very much in the sportsman’s favour should he
decide on a drive. To find this line of retreat is very necessary, and
it can only be done by making one or two test drives without either the
sportsman or ‘stops’ in position. Of course all game should be driven
down or across the wind. The beaters, from ten to fifteen in number,
should be formed into a long line, and should then slowly advance on
the game. On no account should the beaters proceed too quickly, lest
the game should become thoroughly scared, and (if in a herd) split up
and driven in different directions. On the second day the same tactics
may be tried again, and it will be found in all probability that the
game will make off by exactly the same line of retreat. The third
day the sportsman and the ‘stops’ can take up their positions in the
line which the game seems likely to take, behind the most convenient
shelter available, which may be artificial if there should be no
natural covert, such as a bush, ant-heap, or tuft of grass large enough
to conceal them. The ‘stops,’ who are generally gun-bearers, these
being as a rule more intelligent than the ordinary porters, should be
directed to take up their positions on either side of the sportsman,
each at a distance of about 200 yards from him. They should be told
to keep well out of sight, and not to show themselves unless they see
that the game is coming too much in their direction, and is likely
to pass out of range of the sportsman. In this case they must show
themselves for about a second, as that will be quite enough to turn
the game away from them. Most antelopes, if approached quietly, start
off at a trot when they are first moved, sometimes even at a gallop,
then settle down into a walk, and finally stop altogether. This they
always do after going a short distance, to have a look round at the
cause of their alarm. As the beaters draw up, the game will continue
to advance in this manner, and may pull up just out of range of the
sportsman to have another look round. The beaters should, therefore,
be told beforehand to stop when they see that the game is approaching
within range of the ambushes. Should they advance instead of stopping
at this juncture, the game will start off again at a trot, possibly at
a gallop, and may rush past the sportsman all huddled together, the
best head in the middle of the herd, and well protected from a shot by
several intervening females; whereas, if the beaters stop when they
see the game getting near the ambushes, the game, after having a good
look at the beaters, will continue to advance at a walk, and may stop
altogether within range, and give a capital chance for a successful
shot. To a man who is at all excitable this form of sport is perhaps
more trying to the nerves than stalking. To see a fine bull eland or
buck _G. Grantii_ with a grand head slowly drawing nearer and nearer,
at one time appearing likely to pass out of range, at another time
coming straight for the ambush behind which the sportsman is concealed,
is very exciting. There is the uncertainty as to whether the beast or
beasts will pass him at a gallop, trot, or walk; as to whether they
will stop altogether when within range: there is the absolute necessity
of keeping still, however uncomfortable the position the sportsman
may be in, combined with his eagerness to secure a grand trophy; and
all these things tend to intensify the excitement. In stalking it is
different, as the exertion of crawling and making himself as invisible
as possible, a tax both on body and mind, helps to make the stalker
forget his ‘jumpiness.’
The second device for securing game otherwise unapproachable is that of
the stalking ostrich, which can be made out of any kind of long thin
pliable sticks formed into the shape and size of an ostrich’s body,
and covered with the common trade cloth (Americani), dyed the colour
of a hen bird with mud from the nearest stream or puddle. The whole
thing when complete will much resemble the shell of a large tortoise.
The neck and head should be separate from the body, as, when in use,
the actions of an ostrich while feeding should be imitated as nearly
as possible. I only used this device twice, but each time with the
greatest success, and on both occasions in the Rombo plains on the
eastern side of Kilimanjaro, shortly after the grass had been burnt,
and when there was absolutely no covert of any kind. The _G. Grantii_
carry particularly fine heads on these plains, and would not allow me
to approach nearer than 350 to 400 yards.
Although the construction of this ostrich excited much amusement
amongst the men, and although I noticed a good deal of grinning and
chuckling amongst them as I went out, they were very greatly astonished
at the result. From the camp I could see two _G. Grantii_ standing out
in the open about a mile off. Within half a mile of them and on my left
there was a slight rise in the ground, which I took advantage of, and
thus got within about 600 yards of them before donning the ostrich.
Directly I appeared over the top of the rise the gazelles saw me, but I
soon allayed their suspicions by pretending to feed and pick about. I
then went on, stopping every now and again ‘to feed,’ and without the
least trouble walked up to within 90 yards of them, and got both with a
right and left shot To show how successful the imitation was, I passed
two wart-hogs within 60 yards on my right and a couple of greater
bustards (_Otis kori_) within 40 yards on my left, and none of them
showed the slightest signs of fear until after I had gone by them, when
the wind exposed the deception.
The next day I approached a large herd of some thirty-five _G.
Grantii_, got within 40 yards, and killed the best buck, a magnificent
beast, in spite of three or four does which stood within 25 yards of
me. After the shot, instead of revealing myself, I picked up the neck
of the ostrich, which I had been obliged to drop in order to take the
shot, and rushed after the retreating herd. When they stopped after
going about 600 yards, the feigned alarm of the ostrich was apparently
so real that they allowed me to run straight up to within 60 yards of
them. However, I was so pumped from the run, and tired by the first
long walk up to the herd in a cramped and stooping position, trying
to assimilate my height to that of an ostrich’s body, that I was very
unsteady, and a shot at the next best buck missed him clean, and away
went the herd.
I have only twice tried sitting over a water-hole or other drinking
place, a method perhaps less sporting than any other, although a very
favourite way of killing game in South Africa in former days; and
my attempts at this form of sport met with such poor success that I
know little or nothing about it. There can be no doubt but that the
Kilimanjaro district and suchlike places are not favourable to this
form of shooting, as there is so much water about, that game cannot
be relied upon to drink at the same place two nights running. To be
successful, water should be scarce, and there should certainly not be
a running stream, with its numerous and well-used drinking-places,
within at least eight or ten miles of the place to be watched. Although
my two attempts were failures, this plan would no doubt be well worth
trying, more especially when there were lions about. Other game, such
as rhinoceroses, buffaloes, and various antelopes, if not to be found
on their feeding grounds in the open at daylight, can be tracked into
the bush, &c. The spoor of a lion, however, excepting in soft ground,
is so difficult to see that it is almost useless to attempt to follow
it.
If a well-used water-hole could be found where game was in sufficient
quantities to attract lions, it would be advisable to watch it on the
chance of getting a shot at a lion--a chance which may not be offered
for months by daylight, though lions may be heard roaring near the camp
night after night.
And now to deal with the last feature of a stalk--the shot. It may be
taken as a general rule that all big game should be shot behind the
shoulder.
Roughly speaking, a bullet placed in the lateral centre of the body,
or a trifle below the centre, and a few inches behind the shoulder in
a perpendicular line with the back of the foreleg, will kill anything,
provided, of course, the bullet has sufficient penetration; as, even if
the heart is not touched, the lungs, which are a much larger mark, and
almost equally vital, certainly will be. The chest shot when the beast
is facing the sportsman is equally good. With elephants, however, when
at close quarters, which would be either in long grass or thick bush,
the head shot is preferable, as a bullet in the brain will be instantly
fatal, and the risk of a charge under conditions unfavourable to the
stalker will be avoided. The danger of a charge in such circumstances,
more especially on a calm day, is greatly increased by the dense cloud
of smoke caused by the explosion of ten or twelve drachms of powder,
which hangs in the air and prevents the stalker from seeing the result
of his shot.
With all one’s care to avoid the infliction of needless pain, cases
occur from time to time in every sportsman’s experience in which it
seems almost impossible to despatch a mortally wounded beast with
anything except a shot in the brain or in the vertebræ of the neck. The
wounded animal appears in these cases quite impervious to all sense of
pain, being apparently in a state of semi-consciousness after the first
shot, the shock of each subsequent shot seeming to have no further
effect upon its nervous system, yet in nineteen cases out of twenty
a beast hit in the same spot and at the same angle would die almost
immediately.
Several cases of the kind have come under my own observation. At one
time I thought that this extraordinary vitality was confined to the
antelopes, but I have seen the same peculiarity displayed twice by
buffaloes, once by an elephant, once by a rhinoceros, and once by a
zebra. I used to be of opinion that a beast so wounded was reduced to
a state of semi-paralysis, and was incapable of moving from the spot
on which it was standing when hit, but I have proved that this is not
always the case.
When first struck in such cases, the beast almost invariably drops its
head, and sometimes stands with open mouth in the same manner that a
beast stands after it has been shot through the stomach.
From my own observations, the shots which have thrown a beast into this
curious condition have invariably struck it low down, through the lower
edge of one or both lungs. The shot, however, has not necessarily been
fired when the beast has been standing in one particular position, as I
have known these shots fired when the beast was broadside on, stern on,
and facing me.
If there is any doubt as to whether the animal is hit through the
stomach or low down in the lungs, the sportsman should take advantage
of the beast as it stands with its head down, and either give it
another shot immediately or carefully approach nearer to make quite
certain of placing his bullet in the right spot. Should he then be
quite satisfied that his second bullet has struck the right spot behind
the shoulder, and should the beast still continue to stand in the same
position, or move on only a short distance, he can be pretty sure that
the case is one of those I allude to, and he had better either finish
with a shot in the brain or the vertebræ of the neck, or leave it to
die quietly, as it very soon will do. Any more shoulder shots would be
simply thrown away. Of course a beast shot in the stomach should be
killed with the shoulder shot at once, as it is always likely to pull
itself together for a while and travel for miles.
[Illustration: A baby elephant]