‘At last the bull took a few steps forward’
‘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 adesire 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 4a.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, exceptingN. 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 theshade; 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 11a.m., and again between 3.30p.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.
THE BUSHMAN’S STRATAGEM
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 grasslarge 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 buckG. Grantiiwith 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 absolutenecessity 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. TheG. Grantiicarry 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 twoG. Grantiistanding 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 leftshot 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-fiveG. 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 shotseeming 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.
A baby elephant
A baby elephant
By F. J. Jackson
The African elephant (E. Africanus), known to the natives of Zanzibar as Tembo, to the natives of Mombasa and to the north as Ndovu, has, I venture to think, on account of its truly colossal size, majestic bearing, and sagacity, a much better claim to the position of king of beasts than the lion. It has disappeared from many parts of Africa since the introduction of firearms and the advance of civilisation, but in British East Africa, in certain localities, it is still to be found in enormous numbers. It may be hoped that whoever has the making of laws for that country will strenuously endeavour topreserve the elephants and protect them from professional hunters, who shoot everything—bulls, cows, and half-grown calves alike—utterly regardless of the size of the ivory, even though the tusks be little bigger than the lower incisor teeth of a bull hippo.
In the dry weather elephants take up their quarters in the thick forests at high altitudes—from 6,000 to 9,000 feet—such as Kikuyu, Mau, and Lykepia, and in the belts of forest on Kilimanjaro, Kenia, Elgon, and Ruwenzori, rather, perhaps, for the sake of food and water—both plentiful in such places—than for the sake of the shade. In the wet weather they leave the forests and roam out into the open, where food and water have again become abundant, and they are quite as likely as not to be found during the heat of the day standing in long grass with no shade of any kind. It is difficult for a man who has never hunted elephants, or seen places where they have stopped to feed, to realise the tremendous havoc they play in those places which are much frequented by them, and the amount of wilful damage they do for no apparent reason. When hunting them I have often come across places where the herd I was following had stopped and scattered about to feed, and the amount of wreckage created in the short time before they had again moved on was astounding. Trees of various kinds had been broken down and uprooted in all directions for the sake of a few twigs and young shoots which could have been plucked off equally well whilst the trees stood; bushes had been pulled up and thrown on one side with scarcely a leaf off; branches of larger trees had been torn off without a twig or piece of bark having been eaten; wisps of long grass lay all round, pulled up by the roots, but otherwise untouched, whilst the grass where the herd had stood was knocked down and trampled under foot by their huge feet. In fact, the whole place had more the appearance of a playground than of a feeding-place, and I am inclined to think that a good deal of the damage caused by elephants is done simply for amusement. I have come acrossother places where an equal amount of damage has befallen the same kind of trees and bushes, but with every proof that the elephants really have fed. The trees have been well cropped of their branches and twigs; bushes that have been torn up have been devoid of leaves, and their stems well chewed; the upper part of the wisps of grass have been missing, and the branches of large trees and the trees themselves have been stripped of their bark, which was left lying about in all directions after being chewed, &c. When in Uganda I once had an opportunity of watching a grand old bull elephant amusing himself. He was one of a large herd which I had no difficulty in getting within 150 yards of, but which I could not approach nearer, as they were standing quite out in the open. As I sat on the top of an ant-heap waiting for them to get into a better position, I watched this bull through my binoculars for about twenty minutes trying to destroy another ant-heap for no apparent cause, as he did not pick up the earth to dust himself, but simply dug his tusks into the heap, and with a sideways movement of the head sent the clods of earth flying away on each side of him. Had he thrown the earth upwards on to his back, or picked it up with his trunk to give himself a sand-bath, there would have been nothing strange about his proceedings. When the herd moved off, I went up to the ant-heap and found that the bull had knocked it about in a manner almost incredible even for such a huge and powerful beast. There can be little doubt that a great deal of the uprooted long grass which is found where elephants have stood is torn up simply for the purpose of dusting themselves, as I have twice had an excellent opportunity of watching them. On one occasion I got within 100 yards of five elephants standing in long grass in a hollow, and watched them for some time from the top of a rock whilst they had a dust-bath. This they did by simply twisting their trunks round wisps of grass, which they pulled up by the roots and threw up into the air over their backs. The weight of the earth in the roots caused these wisps of grass to descend roots downwards, and as they landed on the elephants’ backs, a good shower of dry earth, sand, and dust was the result.
Tracking in East Africa is rather an unusual method of finding other kinds of game, excepting in very thick bush, or when the particular game sought after is scarce, as game can generally be found in the open, provided the sportsman is on the feeding grounds early enough in the morning. With elephants the case is different, as they are great wanderers, and tracking is the universal method of finding them, the nature of the country in which they are found (generally forest, bush, or tall cane-like grass) being very unfavourable for seeing them at any distance. It is therefore necessary to make an early start, as much time is often lost before finding spoor sufficiently fresh to follow. Even when found, and though it appears to indicate that the elephants have just passed, the sportsman may have to follow it for several hours before coming up with them. Perhaps few things will try perseverance and endurance more than elephant hunting, as even though the spoor seems not more than a few minutes old, and though there is apparently every hope of approaching the beasts very shortly, delays are often caused by having to pick out the spoor of particular animals from a number of other tracks, and the knowledge that the beasts are in all probability gaining on him during these delays is decidedly trying to a man’s patience. After such delays the sportsman may manage to get on at a good pace, which, together with the rough going, soon tells on him, and after three or four hours (by no means an unusual time) he begins to feel a little down on his luck, and to despair of ever seeing the game again, when possibly he comes across the place where they have stood or stopped to feed. Here he may find fresh dung, into which some of his men will eagerly thrust their toes to try whether it is still warm or not. If it is, he starts off with renewed energy and buoyed up with fresh hope. Further on may be indications that the elephants have again stopped to feed, and the hunter’s spirits go up with a bound at the knowledge that he must have gained on them, only to be damped a little later on when he finds that they have again moved on. Though feeling inclined to throw up the whole thing in despair, he decides to follow a little longer, realising by this time that a stern chase is a long one. At last, as he plods wearily along, he comes across dung that is actually smoking, a sure sign that he is now pretty close to his game. A little further on the welcome sound of a branch being snapped, or the rumbling noise peculiar to the elephant, catches his ear; then he realises that he may see the beasts themselves at any moment, and is therefore thoroughly on the alert. Taking one of his heavy rifles from a gun-bearer and putting two or three spare cartridges into his pocket, if he has not already done so, and telling his gun-bearer to keep close up, while the rest of the men remain behind until they either hear a shot or a signal to come on, he pushes forward with the greatest caution, a curious mixture of coolness and intense excitement.
Should the nature of the ground in which the sportsman finds them be open, so as to prevent his getting nearer than 40 yards, the shoulder shot is the best to take at elephants, and I believe is almost universally recommended by all old elephant hunters. Should the beasts, however, be found standing in dense bush or tall cane-like grass (and they are very partial to these places) where it is impossible to see them until within 20 yards or less, and where even then all but the head and outline of the back is hidden, the temple is the best shot, and a shot anywhere between the eye and a little dark mark which indicates the orifice of the ear would be instantly fatal. When elephants are standing in thick bush and long grass, unless a sportsman has had a good deal of experience with them, the fact of seeing their huge backs towering above the covert is rather apt to deceive him in regard to the position of their heart and lungs. The great depth of their bodies would probably lead him to shoot too high, and a bullet placed too high, although it might eventually prove fatal, would not prevent the beast getting clean away at the time.
The hunt after the first elephant I ever killed is a very fair example of many which I have had, though I regret to say a very large proportion have not been so successful as this was.
In May 1887 I was encamped on one of the numerous streams on the southern slopes of Kilimanjaro, below Kiboso, with my friend Mr. H. C. V. Hunter.
This country, as I have said elsewhere, is very undulating, and the covert on it very varied, brush and grass 10 to 12 ft. high alternating with open forest of table-topped mimosa or dense clumps of bush and large forest trees. It is, however, decidedly an unfavourable country for sport, as the wind is very uncertain and can never be relied upon to keep steady, owing probably to the proximity of the mountain, which causes the cross currents and eddies that constantly betray the sportsman’s presence. Mr. Hunter and I were three weeks in this country, and I think we each came up with elephants nearly every day we were out; but one of these cross currents or eddies in the wind betrayed us before we could see the beasts in the dense covert. When we did see them, they were nearly always in the densest bush or long grass, and we got very few good shots compared with the number of times we were actually within shooting range. On the morning of the 29th I left camp with thirteen men, very early, with the intention of following up the spoor of a grand bull which I had severely wounded the day before. This beast I had followed up until he brought me round in a circle to within a couple of miles of camp, and as it was late in the afternoon and I was pretty well knocked up at the time, I gave up the hunt for the day, intending to take up the spoor again on the following morning. Unfortunately, there was heavy rain during the night, which, however, stopped just about an hour before we started from camp, and when we picked up the spoor we found that all traces of blood, which had been very conspicuous the day before, had been completely washed away. However, there was no mistaking the spoor of this beast on account of its size; we managed to get along at a good pace, and had gone about three miles when we found that a big herd had subsequently got on to the same track, and had completely obliterated the spoor of the wounded bull. As this herd had passed since the rain had stopped, evidently within about two hours, I decided to follow them, but had not gone more than half a mile before we found that they had split up, five big fellows going off to the left, up wind, whilst the rest of the herd kept straight on, across the wind. After a short consultation, we decided to follow these five big ones, and we went off at a killing pace through the long grass, in spite of the ploughed-up condition of the path, and at the end of an hour and a half came to a small deep stream which the elephants had crossed. As I was already wet through from the grass, and as my boots were worn out and full of holes, which prevented them holding water and making a ‘squishing’ noise, I waded across this stream, and ascended the steep bank on the other side, which was covered with dense bush and thick forest trees. Here we came across a small mud-hole where the elephants had rolled, whilst a little further on they had stopped to rub themselves against the trees. They had then left this belt of bush and forest, and gone on across undulating country covered with long cane-like grass and a few small trees, one or two of which they had torn down, and had loitered to feed on the young shoots and twigs. We also found fresh dung which was still warm inside when I kicked off the outer surface and tested it with the back of my hand. This was decidedly encouraging, and we pushed on as fast as we could plod through the heavy ground. A little further on we received a check, as another small herd had got on to the track, but fortunately had turned off in a different direction after going a few hundred yards, and we were once more able to get along and make up for lost time. About eleven o’clock I sat down to have a short rest, but on starting again and arriving at the top of a big rise, from which I had a good view of the surrounding country, I felt inclined to give in, as I could see no covert in which the elephants were likely to take up their quarters for the day.
We went on, however, and shortly afterwards came to a patch of dense bush down in a hollow, which I had been unable to see before, where they had again waited for a time. At 12.30 we came to the top of another rise, and I saw a large bit of forest and dense bush lying in the hollow below us. My spirits began to rise, but before entering it I sat down for another short rest, feeling quite sure that the elephants were inside, as we had just found some dung that was quite warm. As I sat smoking a pipe I heard the crack of a branch being broken ring through the forest. Jumping up and putting two or three cartridges both for the 4-bore and 8-bore into my pockets, we entered the dense bush, which was some 15 to 20 ft. high, and soon afterwards heard the crack of another branch right ahead of us. Thinking the elephants might be scattered about feeding, and not wishing to run the risk of any of them getting our wind, I sent one of my gun-bearers up a tall thin tree to see if he could make out their whereabouts. He soon spotted them, well to windward of us, about 150 yards off, and on coming down from the tree reported that they were all together, moving along slowly and feeding as they went. Taking the 4-bore from the second gun-bearer, I crept forward with my head gun-bearer carrying the 8-bore, and on coming to a place where the covert was rather more open, I saw a large dark bush violently shaken some 70 yards ahead of us, and at the same time heard another branch being torn off a tree more to my right.
I then sent my gun-bearer through a small gap in the bush on my right to see if he could sight the beast that had broken the branch, and in a very few seconds he signalled to me by snapping his fingers (the usual method of attracting attention). As I crept through the gap I saw two elephants about 70 yards off in a small open hollow, one standing stern end on, the other, a grand beast, broadside on, but with only his head showing from behind a big bush. As 70 yards is too far for a head shot, T crept forward to within 40yards of him; but at that moment he stepped out clear of the bush, giving me a grand chance, of which I immediately availed myself, and before he knew where he was he had received a 4-bore bullet behind the shoulder, but a trifle too high. The dense cloud of smoke hanging in the damp heavy atmosphere prevented me from getting a shot at the other one before he disappeared in the bush. On going up to where the one I shot at had stood there was no difficulty in finding blood, and on following up his spoor we came across him in about 200 yards, standing in dense bush, evidently very sick and unable to move, and another couple of shots killed him. He was a splendid beast, the finest I have ever killed, but as I only had a small steel yard measure with me I was unable to measure him properly. His tusks were 7 ft. and 6 ft. 9 in. long respectively, and weighed about 60 lbs. apiece; his forefeet measured 54 in. in circumference, and the length of his ear was 5 ft. 4 in.
RESTING THE 4-BORE ON THE FALLEN TREE
RESTING THE 4-BORE ON THE FALLEN TREE
Although the hunting of elephants is as a rule very hard and trying work, there is always the possibility of getting them without much trouble, as happened to myself one day in Turkwel, a district in the Suk country east of Mount Elgon. While the camp was being pitched a porter came up to say that when collecting firewood in the bush he had seen elephants close by, and had left them quietly feeding and standing about. Though it seemed very improbable that I should find them after all the noise that had been and still was going on amongst the men, I went out and found a herd of some twenty-five elephants, standing within 600 yards of camp. The country was undulating and very open, and as the grass had lately been burnt there was no covert excepting table-topped mimosa trees, while to make matters worse the elephants were much scattered and standing on the other side of a swampy hollow, with the exception of one bull, which was standing in it. With great difficulty I managed to crawl up to a fallen tree on the edge of the swamp, and within about 80 yards of where the bull was standing. Resting the 4-bore on the fallen tree, I took a steady shot at himas he was in the act of drinking, and gave him another bullet from the 8-bore far back in the ribs, which, as he turned, raked forward into his vitals. Running forward into the swamp, I gave a fine cow a good shot behind the shoulder with the left barrel, and again getting hold of the 4-bore gave another cow a shot, but too far back and low down, and before I could get through the swamp the herd went off. The bull after going less than 100 yards fell over dead, and another couple of shots finished the first cow; then followed a long chase after the other cow, which I finally got witha shot almost in the ear-hole, after giving her a great number of ineffectual body shots.
Dead elephant
Dead elephant
By F. J. Jackson
The African buffalo (B. caffa), known to the natives as ‘Mboga’ or ‘Nyati,’ is, I consider, on account of its enormous strength and vitality, combined with great pluck and natural cunning, the most dangerous beast in East Africa, and I believe this opinion is shared by the majority of men who have hunted it to any extent. As it rarely happens that a beast of any kind charges without provocation, excepting the rhinoceros, to which I shall come later on, I use the word ‘dangerous’ as applied to a beast after it has been wounded. Compared with an elephant, a buffalo is of course inferior both in size and strength; as compared with a lion, in activity only. When wounded all these three beasts will endeavour to get into thick covert to hide themselves. This is greatly in their favour when they are being tracked by the sportsman, more particularly so in the case of a buffalo or a lion. All ‘dangerous’ beasts, such as elephants, buffaloes, lions, rhinoceroses, &c., are more likely to charge when taken unawares and at close quarters, and under these circumstances a charge by a buffalo is not only the most dangerous of all, but more probable for the following reasons. Thick bush 5½ ft. high (whether in large belts or small patches and clumps) will hide a buffalo when it is standing up, even if only a few feet away from the sportsman, and should it be lying down, thick covert only 3 ft. to 3 ft. 6 in. high will conceal it quite as effectually.
With an elephant, which would never lie down, the bush or long grass must be exceptionally high and thick to render it invisible at 15 to 20 yards distance. A lion would of course be more difficult to see than either. A buffalo, whether it is standing up or lying down, will never give the sportsman the slightest indication of its proximity, and to detect it he has to trust almost entirely to his own or gun-bearer’s eyesight, unless perhaps the beast’s lungs are badly injured by the shot, when it may breathe heavily enough to be heard at some little distance. The same may be said of an elephant, but there is a greater chance of seeing it on account of its enormous size. A lion, on the other hand, will very often, if not always, warn the sportsman of its presence by a low growl when at a distance of some 15 to 20 yards.
A buffalo has a better chance of seeing the sportsman than the sportsman has of seeing it, as bush is usually thinner a foot or two from the ground than higher up, and a buffalo, standing with his head much lower than a man’s, can therefore see under it. A sportsman will generally see an elephant first, and can dodge and creep about in the bush, which, if only 5 feet high or even less, will enable him to keep out of sight. A lion has a still better chance than either, as his head is much nearer to the ground, whether the beast is standing or lying down, and he has both a better chance of seeing and of hearing the sportsman’s approach.
A buffalo, if it sees or hears the sportsman approaching at a distance, is as likely to stop to fight it out as to bolt away. The same with an elephant. A lion will generally give a low growl and slink off. Therefore a sportsman, taking it all round, is more likely to come unexpectedly to very close quarters with a buffalo than with a lion or an elephant.
In the event of a charge by one of these three beasts, covert that would stop a lion would stop neither a buffalo nor an elephant.
A buffalo may not at all improbably be within a few feet before a shot can be fired, owing to the sportsman’s inability to see it sooner. The chances are against this with an elephant. A lion is not likely to wait until the sportsman is quite close up, but will come on, if it comes on at all, from a greater distance, and the greater distance a beast comes from the better chance the sportsman has of pulling himself together and taking a steady shot.
Bull buffalo
Bull buffalo
When hit, the difficulties of killing, stopping, or even turning a buffalo are greater than with an elephant or lion. A buffalo holds its head up, with its forehead almost horizontal, too high to enable one to get a shot at the brain, and there is a great chance of the bullet ricochetting off the horns. A shot at the chest when at close quarters is almost an impossibility, as the beast is so very low on its legs. In the open this is the best shot to take, as by kneeling down the sportsman is more on a level with the animal, and the head is not so much in the way. An elephant also holds its head up, and the chancesof a shot at the head proving fatal as the beast charges are so remote as to be almost infinitesimal. An elephant’s head, however, is a large mark, and a bullet striking it in the centre of the base of the trunk, if it does not penetrate to the brain, will knock it down, or at all events turn it. The chest is a better mark in the open, but when in thick covert cannot often be taken advantage of. Even if this shot should not be fatal, it would nine times out of ten stop or turn the beast. A lion being a much smaller beast than either, and being more active, is naturally more difficult to hit, but when hit is more easily disabled, and not so tenacious of life.
Should a buffalo charge and miss the sportsman, it will hunt him as a terrier does a rabbit, and will rarely leave him as long as it can see or smell him. An elephant has poorer eyesight than a buffalo, and there is a better chance of escaping observation in covert after being missed, as an elephant, being less active, cannot turn so quickly and would overrun itself. It will, however, also hunt him and beat about the covert to try and catch sight of him or scent him. A lion would be less easy to dodge than either, but, as it is possessed of less pluck, would be more easily cowed and less likely to renew the attack.
Buffaloes were at one time exceedingly plentiful throughout British East Africa, and in some districts, where the country was best suited to their habits, were to be found in enormous herds. Towards the end of the year 1890, and in the early part of 1891, they unfortunately contracted a kind of anthrax, the same disease which carried off nearly all the native cattle, and they were almost destroyed by it. On my way down from Uganda in July 1890, between Lakes Baringo and Naivasha, I saw in one day’s march as many as six herds of buffaloes, varying in number from 100 to 600 head in a herd. In this same district in the following March, my friend Mr. Gedge, on his way down to the coast, saw nothing but carcases, and in one day counted as many as fifteen lying rotting in the grass, close to the footpath. In 1892 the officers of the Mombasa and Victoria Nyanza Railway Survey onlysaw on two different occasions the spoor of a single beast, although they traversed a great part of the country where buffaloes were once so plentiful. Amongst other places where this grand beast was particularly abundant was the Arusha-wa-Chini district, now in German territory, to the south of Kilimanjaro, and the Njiri plains to the north of the mountain; Turkwel, in the Suk country to the east of Mount Elgon; the extensive undulating plains on the top of the Mau and Elgeyo escarpments; Lykepia, to the west of Mount Kenia; the banks of the river Tana, and the thick bush country on the mainland near Lamu. There can be little doubt that it will take many years for them to recover to any extent, if they ever do so. A sportsman intending to visit this country must therefore not be disappointed at being unable to add one of these beasts to his bag, though of course he may have the luck to meet with an odd one here and there. It is to be hoped, however, that everyone who goes out to shoot will endeavour to give them a fair chance of increasing by scrupulously refraining from shooting at any cow that may be met with. Buffaloes feed out in the open during the night and early morning, and retire to the bush or other covert where they lie up during the heat of the day. In places where they were unlikely to be disturbed I have seen them lying out in the open in the middle of the day, although there was plenty of thick bush within a mile or less. This may be accounted for, partly by the fact that these particular countries were uninhabited, and therefore undisturbed, but more probably by a desire on the part of the buffaloes to escape from the incessant torments of the various species of noxious horse-flies.
Old bulls, whether solitary or when in parties of two or three, as is so often the case, have the reputation of being more savage and dangerous to approach than when in a herd, but I am quite sure that this is not so. An old solitary bull when wounded is no more dangerous than a wounded one that has been picked out of a herd, which will then nearly always turn out and go off by itself. Solitary bulls are much more easily approached than others,as the cows in a herd, more especially if they have calves with them, are very watchful, and when feeding are often scattered about in all directions. But whether in herds or solitary, the sportsman must never forget that he is dealing with a most formidable beast, and should always endeavour to get up to it close enough to insure his putting a bullet as near as possible to the spot aimed at, in order to kill or render it helpless at once. The greatest caution should be exercised in the approach, and the stalker should endeavour to keep out of sight not only before butaftertaking a shot, as a beast is far less likely to charge if it is quite ignorant of the stalker’s whereabouts before it is fired at and wounded than when aware of his presence beforehand, and though perhaps unable quite to decide what he is, is given his exact whereabouts by the dense cloud of smoke. Personally I have never been charged at close quarters by buffaloes, although I have had many encounters with them quite exciting enough to assure me that a wounded buffalo is a beast that is not to be trifled with. I owe this immunity primarily to the fact of my having used very heavy rifles—a single 4-bore for the first shot, with a double 8-bore in reserve, and I have generally succeeded in getting within 80 yards, far more often indeed within 50 yards of them before firing. Then again, when a beast has been wounded, I have always endeavoured to keep it in sight, in order to save myself from being taken at a disadvantage, and also to avoid the loss of time spent in following up the blood-spoor. Whenever a beast has got into thick covert where it was quite impossible to watch its movements, I have nearly always waited a short time before taking up the spoor to give it time to lie down, become stiff, and partly forget its fear and trouble. But perhaps I owe my safety principally to my having had the good luck always to see the beast before or at the same time that it saw me, when I have at once saluted it with a 4-bore or 8-bore bullet, which has knocked out of it, whatever inclination it may have had to charge.
In buffalo shooting it is perhaps more important to be up early and on the feeding grounds by daylight than in any other kind of big game shooting, as it can be taken as a general rule that buffaloes, after feeding in the open plains and glades during the night and early morning, enter and lie up in bush or other thick covert during the day. In the first place, when they are in the open they are easier to see, a herd of buffaloes, or even a single one, being a very conspicuous object at a long distance. In the very early morning they are generally to be found, when in a herd, moving along in a fairly compact body (nearly always led by a cow), and not wasting much time in feeding on their way from their drinking-place, but heading in the direction of the covert they intend to lie up in during the day; or they may be found on the outskirts of the bush, still feeding, before turning in for the day. This is the best time to come across them, as the stalker, when he finds them pretty close together, has a good opportunity of examining them and marking the best bulls. When found feeding in the open close to the bush, or in open bush, they are, with an ordinary amount of care and trouble, easy enough to stalk. It is, however, very often aggravating work to follow on the outskirts of a herd, waiting for a favourable opportunity to crawl on to get a shot at the best bull, but unable to do so from the fact that several cows are feeding between the stalker and the bull. Should they, however, be quite out on the open, and unapproachable, the only thing to be done is to wait patiently inside the cover of the bush they are likely to make for to lie up in, keeping as near to them as possible as they move along, and attempt to cut them off as they enter the bush. I have tried sending men round to move them, but only once succeeded in cutting them off after a long run, and found it much better to wait patiently, as they will generally give the stalker a fair idea of the place at which they will enter the bush. A large herd of buffaloes filing slowly past at a steady walk, within a range of 30 or 40 yards of you, is a grand sight, and it is decidedly exciting, after waiting for the bull you have marked, to take your shot and listen to the tremendous commotion and crashing of the bush which follows it as the herd stampedes.
Shooting buffaloes in thick bush, when the only means of finding them is by tracking, is not only intensely exciting works but most dangerous, and as a rule most unsatisfactory. It is exciting because in thick covert the stalker must make up his mind that there will be little chance of his seeing a beast until he is pretty close up to it, and if he is at all ‘jumpy,’ as he steals carefully along, avoiding sticks and dry crackling leaves and loose stones, or brushing up against the bush, he has ample time to think about and realise the dangers he is possibly running. Most men will agree that the deep guttural grunts of buffaloes, as they stand and lie about, which can be heard at long distances in the stillness of the bush, are not calculated to soothe the nerves of even the coolest and most experienced, while doubtless a good many have felt their hearts thumping against their ribs to an extent which is not conducive to good shooting. Again, as the herd is probably scattered about, there is a possibility that some of them may be on either side of the tracks you are following, and there is also some uncertainty as to whether in their first stampede on detecting danger some of the buffaloes which have neither seen nor smelt you may not be coming towards you instead of rushing away from you. This kind of sport is dangerous, as the chances are for the most part in favour of the buffalo, should it turn vicious. The stalker may not see it until at close quarters, when it has probably already seen or heard him, and a beast which has become aware of the enemy is far more likely to charge on being fired at and wounded (unless of course it is disabled) than it would be if it was altogether unaware of his presence. As it is quite impossible to tell where beasts may or may not be when the herd is scattered, there is the possibility that some of them are on either side of the tracks which the stalker is following, and should one of these be a bad-tempered old bull, or a cow with a calf, he or she might, on being taken by surprise at close quarters, charge in self-defence from a quarter from which the stalker least expects attack. As I have said before, the charge of an infuriated buffalo is very difficult to stop, owing to the position in which it carries its head, and if the stalker fails to stop or turn it, and has to bolt, he may be so hampered in his movements by the bush, a single creeper, like so much packthread to a buffalo and yet quite strong enough to hold the stalker fast or trip him up, that he may be unable to get out of the way. Following buffaloes into bush sufficiently open to enable the stalker to see and get a shot at them at a range of 30 or 40 yards is not attended with nearly so much danger as following them into dense bush, where, owing to the dark shadows, it is almost impossible to distinguish a beast from its surroundings. Although the spoor of a beast may be seen leading directly up to a bush, which looks a likely spot for a buffalo to lie down in, the stalker may not be able to discover whether the beast is there or not, and if it is there, he may be quite sure that the buffalo, as it is standing or lying down in the shade, has a far better chance of seeing him, as he stands more or less in the open, than he has of seeing it. As the chances are so much against the stalker seeing the beast until he gets within a few yards of it; as the difficulties of stopping it should it charge are so great; and as, if it misses him in the first charge, it will hunt him, I repeat, as a terrier does a rabbit, it remains for the sportsman, however keen he may be, to consider whether these risks are worth running, even on the chance of being rewarded by an exceptionally fine trophy. In any case he should not attempt to follow up a buffalo unless he is properly armed with a heavy rifle.
Again, such sport is unsatisfactory, because in thick covert the wind is very changeable, and is apt to chop round when least expected. Such a change in the wind, even though quite imperceptible to the stalker, is quite enough to reveal his presence to the buffaloes, and away they will crash without giving him a chance, just at the critical moment when he is close up and expecting to see one of them at any moment. As a buffalo is a very difficult beast to see when standing or lying in the dark shade, the stalkerhas in most cases to fire as soon as he sees it, and even though he kills it, it may as often as not turn out that the beast is only a cow or a young bull, with a head not worth keeping as a trophy.
I think there can be little doubt that very old bulls, which are almost invariably solitary, become nearly if not quite deaf, and it is partly owing to this infirmity that many accidents have happened to unarmed natives, and occasionally to caravan porters prowling in the bush in search of firewood, &c. The buffalo, being deaf, is not aware of the approach of an enemy, and when he perceives one close to him is so startled that he charges in self-defence, his onslaught being so quick and furious that the man (equally taken by surprise) is unable to get out of the way. In support of this theory as to deafness I remember when in Turkwel, in the Suk country, on December 14, 1889, the camp had been pitched at least two hours, and some 400 porters had been roaming about collecting firewood and water, shouting and yelling, as their custom is, when a man came into camp to say that a buffalo was lying under a tree within 200 yards of us. The man’s story appeared so improbable, although he pointed out the exact tree, which I could see as I sat in my tent, that I did not credit it in spite of his earnest protestations of ‘Queli, bwana, queli’ (True, master, true), so I sent my head gun-bearer to verify it. In a few minutes he returned and reported that a bull buffalo was certainly there apparently lying asleep at the foot of an ant-heap under the tree. I immediately went out, and walked straight up to the ant-heap, on the top of which there was a large leafless bush, and on crawling up the side of the heap I saw the buffalo within five yards of me. Just at that moment he turned his head, and, seeing me, stood up, had a look at me, and turned to bolt, but before he had got many yards I knocked him over all in a heap with an 8-bore bullet which raked him from stern to stem. On another occasion, in the Kidong Valley (July 30, 1890), when camp was being pitched with its attendant turmoil, a porter came in to say that a buffalo was lying asleep close at hand.Accompanied by Dr. Mackinnon, medical officer to the expedition, I went out, and we were led by the man direct to the beast, which was lying evidently asleep under a small bush, and so close to camp that we could distinctly hear the orders being given to the men. We were within 20 yards of him before we could see him, and at first thought that he was dead, he lay so still, and I could detect no movement of his side even with the aid of binoculars; but a bullet from an 8-bore brought him to his feet with a plunge, and two more killed him. Both these beasts were very old, judging from the smoothness of the frontlet or palm of their horns, the usual ruggedness being quite worn away.