Every morning I returned to my post of observation on the hill. I could easily have killed one or other of the herd. But I did not wish to disturb the elephants, and I had also good reason for believing that there were no very large tusks among them. Morning after morning I returned disappointed to my camp, only to find my way back on the next day to my sentry-box at the edge of the forest on the hill. Days went by and nothing was seen save the back or head of an elephant emerging from the “subugo.” This “subugo” knows well how to protect its inmates.
Every morning the same performance. At my feet the mist-mantled forest, and near me my three or four blacks, to whom my reluctance to shoot the elephants and my preoccupation with my camera were alike inexplicable. Whenever the clouds rolled away over the woods and valley it was necessary to keep the strictest watch. Then I discovered smaller herds of giraffes with one or two elephants accompanying them. But this would be for a few seconds only. The heavy banks of cloud closed to again. A beautiful large dove (Columba aquatrix) flew about noisily, and like our ringdove, made its love-flights round about the hill, and cooed its deep notes close by. Down below in the valley echoed the beautiful, resonant, melancholy cry of the great grey shrike; cock and hen birds answered one another in such fashion that the call seemed to come from only one bird. There was no other living thing to see or hear.
But now! At last! I shall never forget how suddenly in one of the brilliant bursts of sunshine the mighty white tusks of two bull-elephants shone out in the hollow so dazzlingly white that one must have beheld them to understand their extraordinary effect, seen thus against that impressive background. Close by was a bull-giraffe. Vividly standing out from the landscape, they would have baffled any artist trying to put them on the canvas. I understood then why A. H. Neumann, one of the most skilful English elephant-hunters, so often remarked on the overwhelming impression he received from these snow-white, shining elephant-tusks. So white do they come out in the photographs that the prints look as though they had been touched up. But these astonishing pictures are as free from any such tampering as are all the rest of my studies of animal life.[11]
Before I succeeded in getting my first picture of the elephants and giraffes consorting together, I was much tempted to kill the two huge bull-elephants. They came so often close to the foot of my hill that I had plenty of opportunities of killing them without over-much danger to myself or my men. As I caught sight of that rare trio I must honestly confess I had a strong desire to shoot. This desire gave way, however, before my still keener wish to photograph them. The temptation to use my rifle came from the thought of the satisfaction with which I should see them placed in some museum. It might be possible to prepare their skins here on this very spot. In short, I had a hard struggle with myself.
C. G. Schillings, phot.
THE TWO ELEPHANTS.
C. G. Schillings, phot.
A QUAINT COMPANIONSHIP—ELEPHANT AND GIRAFFE. THE GIRAFFE MAY BE JUST MADE OUT IN THE FOREGROUND, AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PHOTOGRAPH.