Sand covers the whole earth in this country, and reminds me much of a land of snow. The level wastes, that are random planted with wiry, hard-living thorn trees (acacias), have patches that are wind-swept and crusted to hardness underfoot, and there are soft driftings in the slight declivities and about the plant roots, while the grass is so scant in most places, that the few blades that stand have the aspect of such as peep above the surface of a country that has been the victim of a deep fall of snow.
13th March.—A day in camp. Feeling somewhat overstrained. Skinned birds all forenoon; collected ten more in afternoon. Giving bush a rest in hope that I’ll have more luck next outing.
14th March.—Greater part of day skinning eleven birds. Toward evening made short hunt to secure meat for camp, and had a few shots at gazelle, wounding two, but failed to get either of them. I shot badly: possibly through being overtired.
When about to turn home, I stood on a slight elevation and looked out across a wide shallow hollow on to an open grass slope similar to the one I occupied, and carefully scanned the distant view, more from habit than in hope of seeing anything of particular interest. My surprise was therefore manifest to the natives with me when I discovered four black-looking objects, like boulders or small dark shrubs, in the far distance, that moved and were undoubtedly ostriches. In an instant the blacks were beside me imbued with excitement equal to my own as I pointed out the birds. Immediately, for receding day threatened to frustrate this lucky chance, I started on a long encircling stalk, since the birds were in an open position that was difficult to approach unseen, and great care had to be exercised, for ostriches are endowed with wonderfully keen eyesight. Unfortunately, when I cast in toward the position of the quarry, I saw nothing, and thought I had misjudged the place and was a little too high on the slope. I then cast lower down, but with no better result, and soon picked up their tracks leading westward on to the summit of the rise. Perhaps I had been heard by the birds, for pebbles crunched annoyingly underfoot in places, or perhaps they had merely shifted onward in feeding; I could not tell, for I had been out of sight of them almost since the stalk began. They might still be quite close; but that availed me nothing, for the moments of daylight, that had been precious, were finished. So there was nothing for it but to give up and return to camp empty-handed.
15th March.—Left camp at daybreak, taking with me two mounted native escort, two camels and camel-men, Tsofo, and Sakari in charge of my horse. I usually have a horse following behind in case it should be required in an emergency, but never use it in actual hunting, for the hoofs resound over loudly for my liking, and I prefer to be far out ahead of all following, excepting one native gun-bearer, and, on foot, moving along as quietly as possible. I took a larger following than usual on this occasion, and camels to carry skins of water, as I intended to be away some days.
Travelled all day in north-westerly direction, but no ostriches seen, and only two single tracks of them were crossed.
At dusk shot one gazelle for food, and camped at the kill for the night.
Gazelle continue to be constantly seen. I have noted that Dama Gazelles have a remarkable tendency to run up-wind when alarmed, an impulse so strong that if you know this habit, and make to get nearly between them and the wind, instead of making directly for them, they will almost certainly pass you as they run away. As a general rule they are very alert animals, and more difficult to stalk than either the Red-fronted or Dorcas Gazelles.
16th March.—Moved on again at daylight, first heading westward, then swinging more into the north under the direction of Tsofo, making for a well on the Agades trail named Tchingaraguen, so that the horses could be watered and the water-skins refilled. During the morning oryx and giraffe tracks were seen on the sand, which were the only incidents of note. Oryx tracks were not uncommon, but giraffe tracks were seldom seen during my wanderings through this bush. Neither animal was important to my collections, so that I did not attempt to follow their tracks.
We reached Tchingaraguen about 11 a.m., and made short halt while I breakfasted and the horses were watered—the poor brutes were desperately thirsty. This half-barren, shadeless sand country is not a land for horses, and they suffer a lot from the heat, while fodder is miserably poor. I have resolved that when I move on to Agades I will leave my horse behind at Tanout and henceforth ride a camel.