“In Africa,” he continued, “everybody knows them. The farmers, both in the Transvaal and the Free State, keep them tame.”
“What do you call them?” I inquired.
“Mâ-hems, bas,” he answered; but I could only conjecture that they were a long-legged species of the grey crane, until a few days afterwards, when finding three of them domesticated in one of the farms we passed, I ascertained that they were the crowned or royal crane (Balearia regulorum). When I returned to my own country I brought two of them with me, and had the honour of presenting them to His Highness the Crown Prince Rudolph, who placed them in the Imperial Zoological Gardens at Schönbrunn.
Scarcely had we been travelling two hours next morning when we came within sound of a rushing torrent, issuing from a depression that could be distinguished at a considerable distance by its belt of foliage. The depression varied from twenty to thirty-five feet in depth, and was the channel of the Maquassie River, now swollen by the heavy rain that had accumulated from the neighbouring heights, which bear the same name as the stream. The banks are steep, and the river-course stony, and every now and then there are scraps of picturesque scenery; but during some of the winter months the flood is reduced to a few mere ponds; these, however, being deep and rocky, are often tolerably full of fish. The more rugged parts of the shore are the haunts of otters, wild cats, weasels, genets, and other small beasts of prey, water lizards also being occasionally to be met with.
At the ford, which, on account of the steep declivity of the banks, is always awkward to cross—we found the water about three feet deep. Standing on the right bank were some transport waggons laden with goods weighing the best part of three tons. The drivers, fearful of crossing in the present swollen condition of the stream, had left them and made their way to a neighbouring canteen to await the subsiding of the flood; but I came to the conclusion that we might venture to cross at once, and our waggon reached the other side safely, with no other damage than a slight injury to our cooking apparatus.
It was not mid-day when we reached the southern slope of the Maquassie heights, that extend hence towards the north. It was a spot where the mineralogist no less than the botanist might find a fine field for research, excellent specimens of porphyritic quartz being frequently to be secured. Hares and bustards abounded on the plains; and in a pond belonging to a farmer who had settled at the foot of the hills were quantities of black moor-hens, divers, wild duck, ibises, and herons.
We received a visit in the course of the afternoon from the farmer’s son, who quite astonished me by the dexterity with which he handled my revolver, making shot after shot at a mark with unerring precision.
Towards evening we left the neighbourhood of the farm and crossed a plain on which the grass was some two feet high, affording a safe shelter for game. We had only advanced about six miles since noon; but a steady downpour of rain having set in, we not only thought it best to halt for the night, but were so struck by the abundance of game, that we agreed to stay for a whole day.
The sound of firing roused me betimes in the morning. It seemed to come from the south; and the origin of it was explained by the arrival, while we were at breakfast, of two Dutchmen, mounted on small wiry ponies, and making inquiries about the Bas, the master of the house close at hand. Finding us unable to answer their questions, they drove on to the thatched house, and asked neighbour “Ohm” (the ordinary designation of a Dutch farmer) to lend them a waggon, to carry to their own farm, some miles away, a dozen springbocks and blessbocks that they had killed that morning.
It is the common custom of such farmers as live near towns to leave the heads and the entrails of what they have killed for the jackals and vultures, and to send the carcases whole to market. Those, however, who reside in more out-of-the-way districts, generally flay and cut up the game into joints, laying the skins out on the ground to dry.