Trapping wild animals in Malay jungles

by Charles Mayer

Fortunately the orang-outangs were not there, and we were able to inspect the location at our leisure. I stationed the men at one side, telling them to wait for us, and then Omar and Munshee and I circled the tree. The surrounding jungle was as thick as any I have ever seen; the trees were so close that their branches mingled and they were woven together with creepers, vines and rattan. It was not possible to go forward a step without cutting the way. The tree in which the orang-outangs lived was the largest in the vicinity. Nearly an hour passed before I decided upon the course we would pursue. Squatting with Omar and Munshee, I explained how we would cut away the trees, so as to leave in isolation the one in which the animals had their platform; then, how we would cut that tree and tumble them into the net.

We went back to the place where the men were waiting, and I put them to work at cutting the mass of creepers that bound the trees together. The jungle was so dense that it would have been impossible to fell the trees without first cutting the network woven between them; for it would have held the trees upright even though they were cut at the base. Without tearing the creepers to the ground, we cut back as far as sixty feet on all sides. I estimated that the trees beyond would be well out of swinging distance for the orangs. At the point where I planned to have the big tree drop, I had an additional thirty feet cut. Then, when the creepers were all simply hanging, we began work on the trees.

First-rate native jungle men use their parangs with astounding rapidity and accuracy. I doubt if there are any finer woodsmen in the world. Their greatest fault is that they like to stop working in order to talk. Omar, Munshee and I, knowing this weakness for conversation, circled through the jungle constantly, urging our men on. Partly as a result of this watchfulness, perhaps, I have never seen natives do a piece of work more neatly and rapidly. It was vitally important, of course, that we finish before the big fellows came swinging back home.

The trees were cut so that they remained standing. We were trying to achieve something like a flimsy structure built of cards or dominoes, which one push will send toppling. At a signal, every tree in the circle I had mapped out was to fall, those at the center, first, and the others in order, until the one in which the orang-outangs had their platform was isolated. It was a nice problem in jungle-craft to cut the trees so that they would bear the weight of animals swinging in the branches, and yet be so weak that they would all fall—and in the proper directions—when we started them by pulling on the ropes. I allowed myself to be guided entirely by the judgment of the natives; they appreciated my confidence and took care to see that the work was done accurately.

The hacking of the parangs and the conversation attracted hundreds of jungle animals, including many of the smaller orang-outangs. We did not molest them, and they grew bolder, until we had a large, chattering, screaming audience watching us work.

Long before the two big brutes came back to their home, we were on our way to Omar's kampong, with the first stage of the work completed. The jungle as we left it did not appear greatly different from the way it looked when we arrived. I knew that the orang-outangs would realize that some one had been there, and yet I was fairly certain that the absence of human beings would reassure them. And, too, they would have several days to accustom themselves to whatever changes they noticed.

At the kampong, I called the men together again, this time for an informal council. I told them that I had considered carefully everything they had said the day before, and that, after inspecting the location, I had come to the conclusion that we could easily capture the animals. It would be simply a matter of rapid work and of each man's thoroughly understanding his job. Drawing a circle on the ground and planting a stick in the middle, I explained what we were to do and how we were to do it. Then I told them how we had cut the creepers and prepared the trees.

During the next four days we avoided the location as much as possible. Crews of men, bearing bundles of dry grass and bushes, approached within five hundred feet, dropped their bundles and returned to the village. The grass and bushes were to be used for the fire I planned to build at the base of the tree, once the orang-outangs were isolated there. We took care never to go near when the big fellows were at home, and the other jungle creatures grew less and less perturbed each time we appeared.

I remained at the kampong, supervising the making of the nets and cages. The entire population helped us, and I put some of the people to work at making smaller cages and rigging snares for other animals. Finally, when the nets and cages were ready and the material for the fire gathered and in place, I began drilling the men in their parts. Thirty men were detailed to the work of pulling down the trees in the circle; ten men to clearing the space where the big tree was to fall; and ten men to handling each side of the big net. It was upon the last-named crew that the success of the attack rested, for any mistake or delay in manipulating the net would mean that the animals would escape—even probably with disastrous results. Omar and Munshee helped me select the men from the number of those who had previously demonstrated their courage and resourcefulness in the face of danger. I had a long pole put up near the village, and we rehearsed the capture innumerable times: the pole would fall, and the men would cast the net and secure it over the bunch of grass tied to the top to represent the orang-outangs. We repeated that performance for several days, and I always stood by with my rifle in my hands as if I were ready to put an explosive bullet into the bundle of grass, if it tried to escape.

When they had played the part so many times that there seemed to be no chance of a blunder, we had a full rehearsal. As the pole fell, this time, the other men closed in, beating with the clubs, pounding tom-toms and yelling. I wanted them to make just as much noise as possible when the orangs came down; for noise paralyzes animals with fright and makes them easier to handle.