Trapping wild animals in Malay jungles

by Charles Mayer

Then I called upon the men who had been sent out to locate the orang-outangs. They had found them about two hours' distance from the village; they described the location and told how it could be reached. A general discussion followed. I gave each man a chance to express his ideas. They all wanted to talk—preferably all at the same time—and the council dragged on for hours. With the assistance of Omar, I kept the debate orderly, and we listened to all sorts of opinions.

For the most part, they felt that it would be necessary to kill the animals. That, of course, was the last thing in the world that I wanted. It would mean that the expedition was wasted effort: there are few live orang-outangs in zoölogical gardens, but many stuffed ones in museums. I did not agree with the idea that we should have to kill the animals but I did not entirely disagree. We compromised by reaching the decision that, if they must be killed, I should do the work and no man should try to kill them without my consent. The natives had seen what one bullet from my rifle would do to a tree, and they were convinced that an orang-outang would stand a poor chance.

The council broke up and work began. I had Omar set some of his men to making strong nets of twisted rattan. He drew plans for the two cages and had other men gather the limbs of trees for them. The cages were just large enough to hold the animals and small enough to keep them from getting any leverage on the bars. After the skeletons of the cages were built, they were bound tightly with rattan ropes so that, even if the bars were broken, the orang-outangs would be in a network.

The strength of a full-grown orang-outang is enormous. I have seen one bend a one-inch steel bar as though it were made of rubber. If he can brace himself properly, with plenty of room to exert his entire strength, he can bend almost anything; but between bending a bar and breaking a rope by pulling, there is a great deal of difference. A rattan rope will hold him, though a simple menagerie cage may not give him any more trouble than a paper hoop.

The strength of the orang-outang, or "wild man," as the name means in Malay, is largely in his arms. The arms of a mias—the breed that we were after—measure ten feet or more from tip to tip. The mias type, which is next in size to the gorilla, is somewhat larger than the ordinary breed. It is distinguished by a darker color and by folds of skin at each side of the face. Its body, from shoulders to hips, is about the size of a man's. It has short, undeveloped legs, long fingers and thumbs that are mere stubs.

An orang-outang never travels on the ground when he can swing from tree to tree, since there are very few open spaces in the jungle, he seldom reaches the ground except when he goes down to get something. He can swing incredible distances, hurtling through the air and catching branches with perfect accuracy.

Orang-outangs usually live in colonies numbering from forty to sixty, and the largest and most powerful is chief. They make their homes on platforms by breaking off limbs and putting them criss-cross. In mating season the male and female live together, but the couples separate after the young are born. The mother takes care of them and the father goes off about his business.

As they do in the case of most dangerous animals, the native collectors hunt orang-outangs by killing the mother and taking the young. The weapon they most often use, except when they have guns, is the blow-pipe, which, in the hands of an expert, is not to be despised. It is a long, slender tube, measuring from six to eight feet, made from a single joint of a rare bamboo. The tube is allowed to dry and harden and is wrapped tightly with rattan. The darts, which are about the size of a steel knitting-needle, are made from the midribs of palm-leaves, and at one end there is a small conical butt, which fits tightly into the bore of the pipe. A small nick is made in the shaft of the dart just below the point, and the end is coated with a deadly poison made from the sap of the upas-tree and another species of the genus Ipo. When the dart strikes, the end breaks off and remains in the wound; the poison acts rapidly, first paralyzing, then killing the victim. In warfare, also, the natives poison kris and spear, and the wound is invariably fatal.

Fighting a full-grown orang-outang with weapons so primitive is extremely hazardous work, and the natives avoid it except when a beast becomes a menace to the village. An orang-outang in battle is ferocious. If it is treed and afraid to come down, it goes into a paroxysm of fury. It will bite its arms, tearing the flesh away and inflicting frightful wounds. If there are two of the animals, they bite and hug each other. An orang-outang that has been struck by an arrow can follow the natives in the trees or on the ground while the poison is taking effect. The only refuge from the frenzied creature is the smoke of a fire, and, when it is sufficiently enraged, even that will not stop it. The best chance lies in keeping it so harried that it does not know whom to attack; once it decides on a particular native, the native is as good as dead. When the poison begins to work, after an animal has been wounded, the natives end the fight with knives. The possibility of an orang-outang attack is a danger that all the men must be prepared to face, and the duty of engaging in an orang-outang hunt is no less important than that of making war. It was but normal, therefore, that, as soon as I had convinced the villagers of my trustworthiness, I should have their hearty support.

After putting the men to work on the nets and cages, I selected a crew of twenty-five to accompany me while I went out to get the lay of the land. I warned the men against doing anything that might frighten the animals unnecessarily and explained that we should do no hunting for smaller game until we had attended to the two big orang-outangs. With the guides leading, we started into the dense jungle, and, after several hours of slow, tortuous traveling, we came to the tree where the animals lived. I could see, far up, the platform they had built.