Peeps at Many Lands: Burma

by R. Talbot Kelly

But though so abundant, all these wild creatures are shy, and one may travel many days without adventure, and any sense of danger is soon lost in admiration of the beauties of these wilds.

Riding through such a forest is very fascinating in the early winter months. Then the ground is fairly hard, and riding would be easy were it not for the thorny vines and fallen tree-trunks which lie among the thickets. At this time, also, foliage and flowers are still luxuriant, and all kinds of wild life abundant.

But from May to October the south-west monsoon, bringing in the heavily-laden rain-clouds from the sea, pours upon the country its torrential rains, which change this beautiful forest into a swamp. The quiet creeks become turbid rivers, while the hill-sides are torn by innumerable torrents, which, washing away the earth from the roots of the trees, cause them to fall crashing among the dripping undergrowth. Bridges are swept away, and the paths become morasses. Travelling in the forest is then wellnigh impossible, though it is this time that the native woodman and the large number of young Englishmen engaged in forest-work find the busiest of the year.

Gradually the rains cease, and with the return of sunshine birds and flowers spring into renewed life, more beautiful than ever, and at no time of the year is the forest more lovely than immediately after the monsoon rains.

Presently the hot weather of March and April comes to strip the trees of their leaves, while the dak and other flowering trees are a blaze of crimson among the autumn tints. Then, when everything is dry and withered, forest fires break out in many parts of the country, consuming all but the larger trees, and leaving a blackened waste where once was a paradise of flowers. It is sad to ride in the track of such a fire, but this is no doubt Nature's way of cleaning the country, and destroying a vast amount of decaying vegetable matter and keeping in check many venomous insects and reptiles. The forest appears to be dead until the advent of the next monsoon restores to the sun-bleached skeleton its usual luxuriant vegetation.

But I hear some one asking, How do you live and travel in such a country? All through India and Burma at intervals along the main routes of travel dâk bungalows have been erected for the use of travellers. These are small houses, containing two or three rooms, raised on poles above the ground. They are built of timber, with matting walls and thatched roof, much like the Burmese dwellings I have described. Native custodians are in charge of them, and although specially intended for the use of Government servants, any traveller may use them. In the forest similar houses, called "tais," smaller and often built of bamboo, are erected, though sometimes very small huts indeed, formed of bamboo and reeds, are the only shelter available. These are draughty dwellings, and even the best-built "tai" is partly open to the air, and affords little protection from the night cold, which is often so intense that sleep is almost impossible.

After a scanty breakfast by candlelight, a start is made in the early dawn, when the air is cold and damp, and the heavy dew dripping from the reeds and kine-grass quickly soaks you to the skin. The sunrise is curiously sudden, and very soon the sun is hot enough to compel the traveller to leave the open glades and seek the shelter of the denser portions of the forest. Hardy little ponies, sure-footed and willing, are our mounts, while elephants carry the stores and provisions, cooking utensils, and bedding, which every traveller must take with him.

In distinction to the working elephants, those employed on a journey are called "travellers," and are used for no other purpose. Their drivers are called "ouzies," and sit astride the animals' necks, with their legs hanging down behind their ears. There are several ways of mounting, each pretty: sometimes the elephant will hold up its fore-foot to form a step for its driver, or will drop upon its knees and bend its trunk to form a step, by which the "ouzie" is able to reach his seat.

When travelling they have a shambling sort of gait, half walk, half amble, but manage to get over the ground very quickly, and for such cumbersome animals are very nimble-footed. It is almost ludicrous to see the huge beasts picking their way along a narrow "bund" or crossing some ditch by a bridge of fallen logs, but they always do so successfully.

Soft and boggy land, however, is a great trouble to them, their great weight causing them to sink deep into the mud; and elephants will often show their dread of such places by loud trumpeting and great unwillingness to attempt the passage. Occasionally they will tear up tufts of reeds or boughs of trees to make a foothold for themselves, and I heard quite recently of a case where a friend of mine, while out shooting from elephants, came to such a marshy place, which at first they refused to cross. Then, before anything could be done to prevent it, his elephant seized the driver with his trunk and, placing him in the mud, used the poor native's body as a "stepping-stone." The driver was, of course, crushed to death, and my friend only escaped a similar fate by scrambling off his elephant by the tail. Generally elephants are docile enough, but are not always fond of Europeans and very much dislike a rider to approach too closely; but they rarely give trouble to their drivers, for whom they often have a genuine affection.