As an example of what can be done by a little patience and perseverance, I was successful in bagging the finest specimen of a bull eland ever shot by a European in East Africa, after a very long and tedious stalk on five consecutive days. This grand beast was accompanied by three cows, and each day they were found in the same locality, never more than a mile from the place at which I left them the previous day. This was a narrow strip of open plain, some two miles long by about a mile in width, which opened out at each end into a large open plain. The narrow strip was bordered on each side by thick bush and clumps of forest trees, and this appeared to be used by the enormous herds of game as a passage from one plain to the other. As I always found these four elands standing out well towards the middle of the strip, where there were only a few isolated mimosa-trees dotted about, the stalking was very tedious work, and as there was no covert but grass twelve to eighteen inches high, it was necessary to make a long crawl from the very outskirts of the bush. On each of the first three days I almost succeeded in getting within range, when the elands were alarmed by a shot fired in the distance and moved off, afterwards standing in such an exposed position that a stalk was quite impossible. On the fourth morning I was stalking them across the wind, which was blowing from my left, and was again nicely reducing the distance between myself and the bull, who was standing by himself under the shade of a thorn-tree, whilst the cows were quietly feeding some twenty yards beyond him.
As I lay under the shade of a small bush, which was within about 300 yards of the elands, taking a short rest, I noticed all four beasts suddenly raise their heads and stare hard up wind, evidently on the alert. At first I could not see anything to alarm them, and felt quite sure that they had not got a taint of my wind. On getting into a sitting position behind the bush, I saw a dark object in the grass dead to windward of the elands, and about the same distance from them as I was. My first idea was that it was a man, and I concluded that the fellow must be an idiot to attempt to stalk down wind, when I suddenly got a better view, and with the aid of my binoculars made out a lion and lioness, and saw that they were actually on the same business as myself. Wishing to see the result, I sat still and watched them, and could just manage to follow their movements, though I could only distinguish a small piece of the dark mane of the lion above the grass as he crawled slowly along. When the lions came to a tuft of rather longer grass they both raised their heads for a second, but the elands apparently took no notice of them, as they still stood perfectly motionless. As the lions crept on very slowly they came to another tuft of slightly taller grass, and the lion again raised his head, but this time he was seen by the elands, which all turned round and trotted off straight down wind. The lions then stood up, and after watching the elands a short time lay down in the grass; but before I could crawl up to them and get a shot, they went off for the bush on the other side of the plain. The elands were then thoroughly on the alert and in a bad position for a further stalk, and although I believe I could have got up to within a couple of hundred yards of them, rather than risk a long shot, and perhaps only frighten them away from the locality altogether, I left them in peace for the fourth time. Returning on the fifth morning very early, while skirting along outside the edge of the bush, keeping a sharp look-out, I found them in a grand position for a stalk, as they were not more than 400 yards from the edge of the bush on my side of the plain. The bull was lying down, one cow stood close by him, evidently on the look-out, whilst the other two were quietly feeding. Entering the bush, I skirted along inside the edge until I was just opposite to the elands. I then saw that between them and the bush in which I stood, with the wind blowing straight from them to me, there was a largish piece of bush some twenty yards long, though rather narrow and very thin, and not more than eighty yards from where the bull was lying. Between this patch and myself there was little or no covert of any kind, excepting grass which was about a foot high and very scanty, and one small skeleton bush within about twenty yards of the larger patch. I managed, however, by crawling flat on my stomach, followed by my pet gun-bearer, to get up to this scanty covert, and could just see through the larger patch that the bull was still lying down. At this moment, and before I could get any nearer, to my disgust I heard a shot fired in the distance. The bull stood up, and as he stared in the direction from which the shot had come I heard another report; but, as great good luck would have it, instead of bolting all four elands began to walk quietly towards where I lay. Exchanging my .500 Express for the 8-bore, as I wished to make certain of getting the bull, I waited, and thought they never would appear round the corner of the bush in front of me, as they kept stopping to look round every few paces.
In a short time a cow appeared round the corner within thirty yards of where I lay. I could still see the bull lagging behind, and was terribly afraid that this cow would detect me before he appeared; but she took no notice of me and walked straight on. Soon after this another cow appeared, and I could see the bull standing just on the other side of the bush, but would not risk a shot at him through it. At last his grand head appeared, but nothing more, and he again stopped. I shall never forget my feeling of intense excitement during those few seconds. I was in a most awkward position, lying flat on my face, and literally aching with suspense and suppressed excitement, and yet I dare not move to get into a better position for a shot, for fear of being seen by either of the two cows. At last the bull took a few steps forward, and I wriggled myself into a sitting position, gave him both barrels, one after the other, and after running about sixty yards he fell over dead. Never shall I forget my joy when I saw him drop. He was a grand beast with horns 31⅝ and 31 ins. respectively in length, and 25 ins. from tip to tip. His heart was encased in a solid piece of fat, which, after the heart had been cut out of it, and after it had been exposed to the sun for four hours, was found to weigh 18 lbs.
‘At last the bull took a few steps forward’
On the fourth day after the lions’ visit I went up to where they had stood, and followed the well-marked track which they had made as they crept along, for a considerable distance. The track clearly showed what their intentions were. They had evidently seen the elands from the other side of the plain, and had attempted to cut them off by stalking across the wind as I was doing. Had the elands continued their course up wind and not stopped where they did they would have passed pretty close to where the lions lay in a thick patch of grass. On seeing that the elands had stopped, the lions had crept diagonally across and down the wind, until the elands detected them.
But to go back to the best time of day for shooting. Of course shooting in the heat of the day has its advantages and disadvantages, and some men advocate it in preference to the early morning. After feeding, which is always in the early morning, and again in the evening, as well as throughout the night (though some species of game, notably zebra and several antelopes, continue to feed at all hours of the day and night), game take up their quarters for the day either in the shade of a tree or bush or quite out in the open. When once they have found a place to suit them, they will lie down, or stand about ruminating, and enjoying their siesta, and are not likely to wander about and get into awkward positions.
Game, too, is less watchful in the hot hours, and even the sentinel has every appearance of being drowsy and off guard, as it stands at ease on three legs (nearly always with its back to the wind), with ears drooping or lying back, and a look of general contentment and repose about it, as if conscious that its feline enemies are not likely to disturb it, and that it has little else to fear. Even should the herd be lying rather scattered about, with their heads facing in all directions, they do not appear to be so keen at detecting the approach of the stalker as in the morning. Possibly they are either dozing or their senses are dulled from general lassitude, and they rely mostly on the sentinel; or it may be that the haze, which is thicker close to the ground, affects their vision in the same way as it does that of the stalker. Whether their senses are dulled from the effects of the heat, or whether they are less watchful because their natural enemies are unlikely to be abroad at that time, is difficult to conjecture. At all events, if several stalks were made under the same conditions with regard to the place, covert, and wind, some of them up to a herd feeding in the early morning, and the others when they were lying down and standing about in the heat of the day, I think that the stalker would find that he would have to exercise his wits against the game’s instinct far less, and would also find the beasts much easier to circumvent during the heat of the day than in the cool of the morning. In the matter of physical exertion, however, the later stalks are much the most trying and fatiguing. Anyone who has done many long and tedious stalks will, I think, admit that being compelled to crawl two or three hundred yards, or more, flat on his stomach in the bare open plains (where game is generally most plentiful) is terribly trying work during the heat of the day. What with the sun pouring down on the back and nape of the neck, and the scorching heat of the ground striking upwards into the face, together with the burnt grass dust, &c., which get into the mouth and nostrils, and nearly choke him in his desperate efforts to prevent coughing or sneezing, such a stalk requires not only great physical endurance, but the most stoical patience on the part of the stalker. Moreover, stalks under such trying circumstances (and they are by no means uncommon), even though they may be successful, are apt to end in a splitting headache, which may develop into an attack of fever, and knock the sportsman out of time for several days.
And there is yet another argument in favour of early stalks, altogether apart from their advantages from a stalker’s point of view, and this is that for a few hours after dawn Nature is at her very best. The air is deliciously cool, and as it is clear, excepting at certain seasons and at high altitudes, everything stands out sharp and well defined, and all the surrounding scenery is seen to the best advantage. If the sportsman is, as he ought to be, anything of a naturalist, he will see all nature under the most interesting aspects. Besides the various species of big game to be met with, he will observe many of the nocturnal animals still abroad after their night’s peregrinations, and these he will see at no other time. He will see the ubiquitous hyæna, as he slinks along across the plain to his hiding-place, and will be able to form no other opinion of him than that he is a skulking, contemptible-looking brute, and will possibly feel a desire to have a shot at him, but will refrain from doing so, knowing that he is not worth a bullet, that the shot may disturb better game, and that, after all, the beast does little harm, but, as a scavenger, a vast deal of good. The cunning-looking little jackal, which by its howling during the night has disturbed the sportsman’s well-earned rest, and called forth language more forcible than polite, may be seen at dawn trotting along to his earth, looking as unconcerned and innocent as possible, while various species of the larger ichneumons and that curious unwieldy creature, the ratel, will also be abroad. The ratel, by the way, with the porcupine (the latter, though plentiful, rarely seen) is responsible for the numerous shallow burrowings that may be observed so frequently, often in the middle of a well-beaten footpath which is as hard as a brickbat. These burrowings are made by the ratel and porcupine when searching for food. Perhaps, too, in the early morning the stalker will see a curious little ground squirrel, which is rarely found far from its retreat, and which on being disturbed scuttles away, and, if not too frightened, on arriving at its burrow, sits bolt upright to scrutinise the intruder like a marmot, before finally disappearing with a flick of its tail. He may see, too, that quaint and most interesting little beast, the brown mongoose, which is so common in East Africa, and goes about in large family parties. This jolly little creature, which is the personification of curiosity, makes a most amusing and intelligent pet. As they trot along, sticking their noses into or under everything that is at all likely to shelter or hide anything that is eatable, these mongooses keep up a constant low squeaking noise. I have often watched them, and have had them come close up to me, sitting up on their hind legs, trying to make out what I was. It is one of the funniest sights to see them scampering along in a desperate hurry on being frightened, and diving one after the other into the chimney-like holes of an ant-heap, in which they nearly always live. There are scores of other interesting little animals, too numerous to mention, all of which add consider ably to the pleasures of a day’s shooting to anyone who is at all keen to observe the habits of little-known creatures.