1896-1907
As soon as Selous and his wife returned home at the end of 1896 he finished off the notes he had made concerning the second Matabele War, and delivered them to Rowland Ward & Co., who published his book, "Sunshine and Storm in Rhodesia," shortly afterwards. From this time forward he did a considerable amount of literary work, which, being in demand, gave him sufficient money to satisfy many of his more pressing wants at home, as well as supplying funds for the numerous short trips he now made every year. Owing in a large measure to the kindly help and advice given to him by a South African friend, his finances were now put on a sound basis, and he was able to look forward to being able to live at home in comfort without being denied those short periods of wandering which to him were part of his existence. Of course there were always ups and downs due to market fluctuations, and when things went wrong for a while he would have fits of depression that he would be unable to hunt any more; but these always passed away sooner or later when the clouds lifted and some new piece of work commanded a good price. There is little doubt that a man enjoys best that for which he has worked. All Selous' later hunts were the outcome of his industry with the pen, and in some measure from lectures, so he experienced some joy in the working, for it meant to him the camp fire and the open road.
In reading of his almost continuous wanderings after this date it must not be supposed that he was not happy in his home life. As a matter of fact no man considered himself more blessed by fortune in the possession of wife and children, and every fresh expedition, when he felt impelled as it were to go to the wilds, was fraught with misgivings and anxieties for his loved ones at home. It was always a wrench when the time came. He wrote once to Roosevelt on this point, and received the following sympathetic answer:—
"... After all, there is nothing that in any way comes up to home and wife and children, in spite of the penalty one has to pay for having given hostages to fortune. I know just exactly how you feel about the 'two hearts.' Having a wife and six children, of whom I am very fond, I have found it more and more difficult to get away; for the last eight years, indeed, my hunting trips have merely been short outings. I am of course very much interested in my work here; but I cannot say how I long at times for the great rolling prairies of sun-dried yellow grass, where the antelopes stand at gaze, or wheel and circle; for the splintered cottonwoods on the bank of some shrunken river, with the wagon drawn up under them, and the ponies feeding round about; for the great pine forests, where the bull elk challenge, and the pack-train threads its way through the fallen timber. I long also for the other wilderness which I have never seen, and never shall see, excepting through your books, and the books of two or three men like you who are now dead. It may be that some time I can break away from this sedentary life for a hunt somewhere; and of all things possible to me, I should like to take this hunt among the big bears of Alaska, and try to work out their specific relationship. But I don't know whether I shall ever get the chance; and of course this sedentary life gradually does away with one's powers; though I can walk and shoot a little yet. Politics is a rather engrossing pursuit, and, unfortunately, with us it is acute in the Fall, at the very time of the best hunting; and as my children grow older I am more and more concerned with giving them a proper training for their life-work, whatever it may be. I don't yet accept the fact that I shall never get the chance to take some big hunt again, and perhaps it may come so I shall be able to; and meanwhile I do revel in all the books about big game, and when I can get out to my ranch even for ten days, I enjoy it to the last point, taking an old cow-pony and shambling off across the grassy flats for a few days' camping, and the chance of an occasional prong-buck.
"I am glad you like to chat with me even by letter. Ever since reading your first book I have always wanted to meet you. I hope I may have better luck next year than I had this. You will of course let me know if you think I can be of any help to you in your Canadian trip.
"The Colonel X. whom I wrote to you about is, I am quite sure, what we should term a fake, although I also have no doubt that he has actually done a good deal of big game hunting; but I am certain that, together with his real experiences, he puts in some that are all nonsense. Did you ever read the writings of a man named Leveson, who called himself 'the Old Shikari'? He was undoubtedly a great hunter; yet when he wrote about American big game, I know that he stretched the long bow, and I am very sure he did the same about African big game. He everywhere encountered precisely those adventures which boys' books teach us to expect. Thus as soon as he got to Africa, he witnessed a vicious encounter between black rhinoceroses and elephants, which would have done credit to Mayne Reid; exactly as Colonel X. relates the story of a fearful prize-fight, in which a captive English Major slays a gorilla, against which he is pitted by a cannibal king—dates, names and places being left vacant.
"What do you know of that South African hunter and writer named Drummond? He wrote very interestingly, and gave most vivid descriptions of hunting-camps, of the African scenery, and of adventures with Hons and buffaloes; but his remarks about rhinoceroses made me think he was not always an exact observer, especially after I had read what you said.
"By the way, did I ever mention to you that Willie Chanler's party was continually charged by black rhinoceroses, and his companion, an Austrian named Von Höhnel, who stayed with me once, was badly mauled by one."
Like most schoolboys with a taste for natural history and an adventurous disposition Selous had, as we have seen, been an industrious bird-nester. In his youth he had commenced to make a collection of European birds' eggs, and this taste, usually abandoned by most boys in after-life, was in him only dormant. When he set out to do anything he generally carried it through to the end; and so when opportunity came again, as it did after his wanderings in South Africa were finished, he seized it with avidity. He was much too good a naturalist to collect eggs wholesale, as some collectors unfortunately do, but contented himself with one or two clutches taken by himself. His contention was, I think, a correct one, that if only one clutch of eggs of a bird is taken, the same bird either sits again and lays a fresh set of eggs or makes a new nest. So little or no harm is done.