ABUNDANT BIRD LIFE
Bird life seems much more abundant on this western side of the island than on the east. Black parrots exist in great numbers and may be heard screeching all the day long. But perhaps the birds which are more numerous still are the small green and white parakeet (Sàrivàzo), which fly about from tree to tree in large flocks, all ceaselessly chirping during their rapid flight. My friend, Mr Baron, says: “A flock of them settling on a bare tree gives it the appearance of being covered with foliage. On one or two occasions what we thought were the leaves of trees suddenly disappeared, leaving the branches entirely bare. The ‘leaves’ turned out to be parakeets.” Guinea-fowl, in flocks of six to a dozen, are also abundant. The handsome long-tailed green Tsìkirìoka (the Madagascar bee-eater) is found here, and builds its nest in holes in sand-banks; some of these run in a horizontal direction for above a yard. A very pretty hoopoe (Tàkodàra) may occasionally be seen, a bird which is extremely active and graceful in its movements. It gives forth five or six very weird notes, as it sits on a tree during the night. A species of sand-grouse, called Gàdragàdraka, a bird of a beautiful fawn-colour, much like a pigeon in general appearance, may often be heard. Like many other native bird names, this name is very expressive of its chuckling. Many of the birds found in the central parts of the island exist also here, while there are also others peculiar to this western region.
Part of our fifth and the whole of our sixth and last day’s land journey was taken at no great distance from the Ikòpa river; and I began to wonder where the western forest-belt was; for, as we have seen, we had passed through no such masses of dense forest as must be crossed anywhere on the eastern side of the island when one comes up to the interior of Madagascar. The fact seems to be that there is no such continuous wooded region on the western side. There is, in many places, a considerable amount of country covered with forest, but these are not connected, and a great deal of the surface has scattered clumps of trees. In the same way also, there are nothing like the difficult ascents and deep gorges to be crossed on this route such as are described in [Chapters IV.] and [V.] The descent to the level western plains is gradual; so that a railway to the north-west ports, along the valleys of the Ikòpa and Bétsibòka rivers, would, although longer, present very much less engineering difficulty than that from Tamatave to the capital.
A DIFFICULT PROBLEM
On Saturday morning we came to the bank of the Ikòpa, which river is at some points half-a-mile or more wide, but then at its lowest level, being apparently very shallow, but so interrupted everywhere with shelves of rock that it would be difficult for even a small canoe to make its way far. There were numerous islands, covered with bamboo, bàraràta, rofìa-palms and other vegetation. From a low hill we had a view over an immense expanse of flat country on the western side of the river. Only here and there was the level broken by a line of hills of small elevation. After leaving the Ikòpa we found ourselves in a very different kind of country from any we had yet passed through, a succession of low hills or mamelons of dry sandy gravel, with hardly any vegetation, and looking as if no rain had fallen upon it for years. In the afternoon I noticed that a large number of granite boulders were strewn over the country, and could hardly doubt that these, from their rounded forms, but especially from the absence, as far as I could see, of any such rock in situ, must by some means or other have been transported from the granitic region of the interior far to the eastward. Must this not have been glacier or iceberg action? Although it is difficult to understand such agency in the tropics.
Ten years after making the journey, my friend, Mr Baron, in travelling across the island towards the north-west coast, but about a hundred and twenty miles farther north, came across isolated rocks, which were quite different in composition from anything near them. Of these he said: “I could think of no agent to account for their occurrence but that of glacial action. They seemed to me to be perched blocks, as there was no hill near from which they could have fallen, nor any rock of the kind in situ.” I was interested to find that an expert in Madagascar geology like Mr Baron had come to the same conclusion as myself with regard to these granite boulders.
Early in the afternoon we arrived at Mèvatanàna, the most important place in this part of the country, with about a hundred houses; it had, however, been quite recently burnt down, but was in process of rebuilding. The houses seemed rather larger than those in Imèrina, made of round-pole framework, filled in with bàraràta stems, the roofs of rofìa-palm leaf-stalks and thatched with grass. We secured a new house, not quite finished; and as this was very like a large birdcage, besides having no doors in the three doorways, we put up the tent on one side, piled up our heavy luggage against another of the doorways, and hung a rug over the third, so as to make ourselves less of a public spectacle.
We were glad of the Sunday’s rest after our week of continuous travelling, and that we had not “to shift our moving tent” that morning, but could let beds and baggage, boxes and bottles, and pots and pans rest in peace. We had large and attentive congregations in the native church morning and afternoon, Mr Briggs and I taking the services. Our dwelling, although perfect as regards ventilation, was certainly not cool, and we all were suffering somewhat from the mosquito bites on the journey. We were as much stared at by the “natives” as if we had been a kind of wild animal, a wondering, if not admiring, crowd unpleasantly blocking up the one doorway left open—in fact, we formed an apparently popular exhibition, open, Sundays not excepted, for a limited period only.
OUR CANOES
We were astir very early on the Monday morning, for there was a large amount of work to be got through before we could start on our canoe voyage. We got away from the town before seven, and half-an-hour’s ride brought us down to the river, where we found six large canoes, four of which were being loaded with our luggage. When everything had been arranged, we had to pay all our men, only about ten going through with us to Mojangà; and a few others had to be engaged in addition to row the canoes and help in various ways. About nine o’clock we got away and began our four days’ voyage down the Ikòpa. It was a pleasant change from the jolting of the palanquin to the smooth gliding of the canoe. These vessels were about forty feet long; and the one in which we went was three feet six inches beam, and two feet six inches deep, and had three paddlers, besides one at the stern to steer; as we were going down with the current, more men were not necessary. Two of the palanquins with their hoods were placed in our canoe, for wife, nurse and little girls, while the little boys, in their palanquin, went in another one with Mr Street and Mr Briggs.