Sporting Scenes amongst the Kaffirs of South Africa

by Alfred W. Drayson

I received a note one morning before breakfast from a true sportsman, informing me that he knew of a large herd of elephants in the Berea, and, if I would join him, he hoped that we might get a shot at them. This proposition, from our ignorance of all the artifices necessary in the bush, was rather rash, as elephant-shooting is always dangerous sport, and when attempted by novices on foot in a dense bush against a very savage herd, it becomes still more so.

Elephants are generally hunted in Africa on horseback. The Dutchmen, who frequently obtain their living by this sport only, are amongst the most accomplished hands; they make periodical trips into the uninhabited districts, or where elephants are numerous, and the country open or park-like. When a herd of elephants is discovered, these Boers make a plan of attack, either to drive the herd of game to a better and more open country, or to prevent them from retreating to the dense bushes near. As soon as everything suits, they mark out the leader of the troop, generally the biggest bull-elephant. They then ride up as near as they dare, and give him a volley; if he falls, they can manage the remainder more easily, as, missing their chief, some confusion takes place. Should he, however, be only wounded, turn savage, and charge, as is most frequently the case, they close together, and gallop away for a hundred yards or so, when, at a given signal, they separate, and ride round in different directions. This diversion generally puzzles the elephant, and, before he has made up his mind what to do, another broadside is poured into him. Two or three volleys are generally sufficient to quiet the big bull. I have been assured by many old elephant-hunters that they have frequently seen a herd of elephants stand with their heads together, after the leader has been killed, as though in despair, and they would not make a rush: these may be pleasant, but are undoubtedly rare, chances for the pot-hunter. Gordon Cumming’s plan of lying in wait for the elephants at their drinking-place was a bold and successful plan. I cannot but think him a very lucky man never to have had a wounded bull charge him then; had one done so, I fear we should not have had his amusing lectures, or his own account of his wonderful sport.

Many methods of elephant-hunting may never have come to light, owing to the enterprising sportsman having been crushed to death by his infuriated game before he had an opportunity of making public his experience.

An elephant can run very fast, and moves with surprising ease and silence.

I remember hearing tales as a boy of the elephant’s beginning to turn early in the morning, and managing to finish his gymnastic performance by mid-day; the wily hunter, therefore, by keeping behind, him was always safe.

My own experience is very different from this: I have seen them turn round and crash away through the forest with nearly the rapidity of a large buck; and a man’s speed stands but a poor chance in comparison with theirs. In the thick underwood or reeds a man is continually impeded, while an elephant walks through everything with the greatest ease; a horse, however, in open ground gets away from an elephant, especially when going up hill, the weight of the latter being much against it on rising ground.

The elephant stands very high in the class of wise animals, and, I believe, is as fully susceptible of a moral lesson as is a schoolboy. When a large herd is but seldom disturbed by man, but on each visit five or six elephants are killed, and two or three more die of their wounds, the remainder then have a very great dread of the smell of a biped, and the report of his gun; but when elephants are disturbed very frequently, and only one shot obtained at them, which wounds and annoys, but may not kill, they become very savage, and, upon smelling their teasing enemy, are at once furious and vindictive. The herds that came into the Natal bush were of this latter disposition; they were frequently disturbed, and sometimes fired at, but without any great result, as the density of the cover rendered it almost impossible to get more than one shot; and a single bullet rarely carries immediate death.

The bush for many miles up the Natal coast was impenetrable, except by the paths that the elephants had made; and in which they had stalked to and from water, and from place to place, in Indian file. It was difficult for a man, when moving along these paths, to see many yards on either side, the underwood, briers, and parasitical plants, being matted together like a hedge. In many, parts one has to force himself through places where he cannot see a yard around him. Here he must trust to hearing, and almost to scent, or he will not long be left to enjoy the excitement of the sport, which, when once indulged in, produces a bush-fever that leaves as lasting an impression as the similar disease caught on the prairies of the Far West. Patience, caution, keen senses, and experience, are the requisites for this work; and unless a hunter possesses the whole of these qualities, he will give but a sorry account of the fun to be had in the bush; the general cry being “that no game is to be seen there.”

I soon joined my friend, who, although a thorough good sportsman, and a slayer of nearly all the large game of Africa, was still not quite up to the precautions necessary in thick bush-work, I at the time being grossly ignorant of everything connected with it.

We cantered over the Natal flat, and entered a small, narrow bush-path, that led to the top of the Berea. On the way, my friend told me how he had become acquainted with the position of the herd we purposed encountering.