Billy had a good look at a lion in action. B. took up a
commanding position on an ant hill to one side with his rifle
levelled. F. and I advanced slowly side by side. At twelve feet
from the wounded beast stopped, F. unlimbered the kodak, while I
held the bead of the 405 between the lion's eyes, ready to press
trigger at the first forward movement, however slight. Thus we
took several exposures in the two cameras. Unfortunately one of
the cameras fell in the river the next day. The other contained
but one exposure. While not so spectacular as some of those
spoiled, it shows very well the erect mane, he wicked narrowing
of the eyes, the flattening of the ears of an angry lion. You
must imagine, furthermore, the deep rumbling diapason of his
growling.
We backed away, and B. put in the finishing shot. The first
bullet, we then found, had penetrated the kidneys, thus
inflicting a temporary paralysis.
When we came to skin him we found an old-fashioned lead bullet
between the bones of his right forepaw. The entrance wound had so
entirely healed over that hardly the trace of a scar remained.
>From what I know of the character of these beasts, I have no
doubt that this ancient injury furnished the reason for his
staying to attack us instead of departing with the other three
lions over the hill.
Following the course of the river, we one afternoon came around a
bend on a huge herd of mixed game that had been down to water.
The river, a quite impassable barrier lay to our right, and an
equally impassable precipitous ravine barred their flight ahead.
They were forced to cross our front, quite close, within the
hundred yards. We stopped to watch them go, a seemingly endless
file of them, some very much frightened, bounding spasmodically
as though stung; others more philosophical, loping easily and
unconcernedly; still others to a few-even stopping for a moment to
get a good view of us. The very young creatures, as always,
bounced along absolutely stiff-legged, exactly like wooden
animals suspended by an elastic, touching the ground and
rebounding high, without a bend of the knee nor an apparent
effort of the muscles. Young animals seem to have to learn how to
bend their legs for the most efficient travel. The same is true
of human babies as well. In this herd were, we estimated, some
four or five hundred beasts.
While hunting near the foothills I came across the body of a
large eagle suspended by one leg from the crotch of a limb. The
bird's talon had missed its grip, probably on alighting, the
tarsus had slipped through the crotch beyond the joint, the eagle
had fallen forward, and had never been able to flop itself back
to an upright position!
XXI. THE RHINOCEROS
The rhinoceros is, with the giraffe, the hippopotamus, the
gerenuk, and the camel, one of Africa's unbelievable animals.
Nobody has bettered Kipling's description of him in the Just-so
Stories: "A horn on his nose, piggy eyes, and few manners." He
lives a self-centred life, wrapped up in the porcine contentment
that broods within nor looks abroad over the land. When anything
external to himself and his food and drink penetrates to his
intelligence he makes a flurried fool of himself, rushing madly
and frantically here and there in a hysterical effort either to
destroy or get away from the cause of disturbance. He is the
incarnation of a living and perpetual Grouch.
Generally he lives by himself, sometimes with his spouse, more
rarely still with a third that is probably a grown-up son or
daughter. I personally have never seen more than three in
company. Some observers have reported larger bands, or rather
collections, but, lacking other evidence, I should be inclined to
suspect that some circumstances of food or water rather than a
sense of gregariousness had attracted a number of individuals to
one locality.
The rhinoceros has three objects in life: to fill his stomach
with food and water, to stand absolutely motionless under a bush,
and to imitate ant hills when he lies down in the tall grass.
When disturbed at any of these occupations he snorts. The snort
sounds exactly as though the safety valve of a locomotive had
suddenly opened and as suddenly shut again after two seconds of
escaping steam. Then he puts his head down and rushes madly in
some direction, generally upwind. As he weighs about two tons,
and can, in spite of his appearance, get over the ground nearly
as fast as an ordinary horse, he is a truly imposing sight,
especially since the innocent bystander generally happens to be
upwind, and hence in the general path of progress. This is
because the rhino's scent is his keenest sense, and through it he
becomes aware, in the majority of times, of man's presence. His
sight is very poor indeed; he cannot see clearly even a moving
object much beyond fifty yards. He can, however, hear pretty
well.
The novice, then, is subjected to what he calls a "vicious
charge" on the part of the rhinoceros, merely because his scent
was borne to the beast from upwind, and the rhino naturally runs
away upwind. He opens fire, and has another thrilling adventure
to relate. As a matter of fact, if he had approached from the
other side, and then aroused the animal with a clod of earth, the
beast would probably have "charged" away in identically the same
direction. I am convinced from a fairly varied experience that
this is the basis for most of the thrilling experiences with
rhinoceroses.
But whatever the beast's first mental attitude, the danger is
quite real. In the beginning he rushes, upwind in instinctive
reaction against the strange scent.
