EGYPTIAN GOOSE ON MIMOSA-TREE.
The capture of a wild goose (Chenalopex), which I considered a great prize, gave me a good deal of trouble. The hill where we were stopping was at the western corner of the saltpan, the northern and southern banks of which were bounded by other hills of the same character; between us and the hill to the north was a valley by which the rain descends from the upper plains; but so partial had been the storm that had inundated us two days before, that here, at a distance of hardly a dozen miles, no sign of water was to be traced. Every now and then I heard the cackle which I recognized as that of the Egyptian goose; but, although I had the advantage of a high position, I could not succeed in getting sight of the bird at all. Persevering, however, for a long time, at length I espied it perched on a bough of a withered mimosa. My gun was loaded with only small shot, so that it was useless for me to fire unless I could get very much closer; this required no little caution, but by taking off my boots, and making my way barefoot over the stony water-course, I succeeded in placing myself in a good position behind some bushes. The goose continued sitting quite upright upon the same branch, which I afterwards found nearly overhung its nest at the bottom of the trunk. Finding myself within sixty yards, I took my aim, and the handsome skin of my victim was soon on its way to my rapidly-increasing collection.
To the saltpan I gave the name of “Chuai Jungmann,” or Jungmann’s salt lake; its geological formation is similar to the Vaal-stone at Bloemhof, consisting of blocks of greenstone of about three cubic feet.
After sundown we proceeded a little on our way, and spent the night on an immense plain, which bore evident tokens of a long drought; the ground was cracked, the herbage crumbled at a touch, and the fleeting herds of springbocks raised great clouds of dust. The deficiency of water made us put our best foot forward, and during the next day we got over eighteen miles; there was no game to induce us to loiter on the way, and we were only too glad to find a hollow full of water, where we could halt for the night.
On the morning of the 1st of December we were surprised by a visit from a Boer, who had settled in the neighbourhood. From him we ascertained that we had now reached the western boundary of the Transvaal. He said that he was anxiously waiting the arrival of President Burgers, who he hoped would give him some relief from the annoyances to which he was perpetually exposed on the part of the Barolongs.
Some of the white-thorned mimosas on the plain were in full bloom, and covered with hundreds of small globular blossoms of a bright yellow colour and pleasant fragrance. These shrubs sometimes grow eighteen feet high; their flowers are tender and sensitive, often containing many varieties of rose-beetles (Cetonidæ), and some Longicorns marked with red bands. Amongst so many sorts of shrubs, I was surprised to find that there were only two that seemed to be much resorted to by insects; these had their branches often thickly coated with the larvæ, more than an inch long, of the great cicada, of which the sonorous chirping could be heard on all sides. At our approach the insects would rise with a loud buzz, and settle again upon some adjacent mimosa with a shock that could be truly said to be audible. Brilliant leaf-beetles were also to be seen, and great steel-blue wasps were hovering round the bushes, catching flies; whilst numbers of humble-bees buzzed about in their busy fashion, collecting food for themselves and their broods, that were quartered in the forsaken ant-hills.
The South African spring-time had now settled with all its glory on these districts of the Upper Molapo, and all the inferior animals seemed roused to new life and vigour beneath its influence; to them its beneficent breath imparted fresh animation and enjoyment; to the unreasoning offspring of nature it seemed to be the herald of peace and pleasure; only amongst men, the lords of creation, did its return revive thoughts of discord, fire, and deeds of blood.
A short drive on the morning of the 2nd brought us to the village of the Makuba, on the southern or left shore of the Molapo,[7] belonging to Molema’s Town. For the first fifteen miles of the river-course the valley is very narrow and enclosed by steep cliffs, but further on, where the plateau slopes to the west, it becomes much flatter. Here it was that we had to cross it, and we made our halt on the right-hand bank, near some wartebichi mimosas. Towards sunset we saw Molema’s Town lying in front of us on a moderate slope, with woods in the background; on its eastern side the town is bounded by two interesting rocky heights, and between one of these and the stream stands the commodious Mission-house, built in the native style, belonging to the Wesleyan Missionary Society.
The little river is not more than six or seven yards wide, but the rocks and the numerous acacias and willows that adorn the hillside in the spaces between the farms, combine to make the position of Molema’s Town one of the most pleasing of all the native settlements of Central South Africa. The farmsteads are all detached, and all provided with enclosures, within which the pointed roofs, overgrown with calabash-gourds, are quite picturesque.
The many waggons about the place were the index of a thriving population, a circumstance to be attributed very much to the fact that King Montsua has prohibited the sale of brandy in the country, an order which Molema, the governor, or sub-chief of the town, has strenuously enforced. Another source of prosperity has been the introduction of European cereals by former missionaries.