Peeps at Many Lands: Burma

by R. Talbot Kelly

THE FOREST (continued)

Though human habitations are not often met with in the forest, little native settlements occur from time to time, where, surrounded by small clearings, over which a primitive scarecrow mounts guard, sufficient rice is grown for their needs. These little hamlets are occupied by woodmen, or little communities of Chins, a kindred race to the Burmans, though differing from them in many customs, most curious of which is their habit of tattooing the faces of their young women black.

Here and there one meets a fowler, who, with primitive snare or decoy-bird, seeks to take his toll of the forest; and in the most remote districts may be met some picturesque Burmese travelling-cart, toiling laboriously over tracks which would almost seem to be impossible for wheels. I have already mentioned the creaking of the cart-wheels which no Burman would oil, for they believe that the horrible groanings they produce, together with their own loud voices, serve to ward off the evil spirits of the woods; for the Burman is superstitious, and at frequent intervals may be seen tiny wicker-work representations of pagodas and "zeyats" erected to propitiate the forest "nats," and passers-by will deposit in these diminutive shrines some offering of food or ornament, and in the Shan States I remember seeing one whose enclosing fence was hung with spears and "dahs," and other weapons of considerable interest and some value.

By the wayside the lonely grave of some traveller or woodman, marked by its simple fence of twigs, gives a touch of pathos to the forest; and among its natural wonders are the giant ant-hills, often 9 feet or more in height.

Ants are probably the most destructive of all insects in Burma. Voracious wood-eaters, they will attack fallen logs or growing trees, which they will entirely consume till only the hollow bark remains. This is one great reason why the wood of the teak-tree is so highly valued, as it is the only timber these ants will not touch, and consequently is the one of which all the more important buildings and dwellings are constructed.

In many districts, within reach of some beautiful forest creek, teak-cutting may be seen in full operation; and it is interesting to watch the elephants at work, hauling logs or loading them on to the little trollies, by which they are carried down to the water, where, floundering along the muddy bank, they launch them in the stream.

Some of these creeks are very lovely, fringed as they are by flowering grasses, behind which the forest rises tier on tier above the shimmering water and gleaming sand-banks.

On the banks are the footprints of many wild animals who have come down to water during the night. In the water are fish and water-snakes, which alert herons constantly harass, and, strange as it may seem, in the river-bed itself are the marks of cart-wheels, for the Burmans often make a highway of these forest streams, which in the dry season are generally easier to travel than the roads.

The forest itself is never monotonous, its growths varying according to the levels of the hills. Sometimes the enormous trees and heavy foliage I have already described produce a depth of gloom which might well excuse the superstitious fear of the Burmans, and often recalls to me the pictures in our fairy-books, where some bold knight is depicted entering the depths of an enchanted wood, in search of the dragon that well might dwell there. Descending the hill-side with a suddenness which is almost startling, you may find yourself in a bamboo forest, which is a veritable fairyland for beauty. From a carpet of sand, on which lilies grow, these giant bamboos spring, fern-like, in enormous clumps, spreading their arms and feathery crests in all directions, and, meeting overhead, form avenues and lanes, which remind one of some beautiful cathedral aisle.

Different in many ways from the forests I have described are those of the cooler plateaus and mountain ranges of Northern Burma. On the higher levels oak and pines are found among the other trees, and bracken grows around the wild plums on the more open slopes. Sparkling rivulets spring from the mountain-side, and, overhung by ferns and mosses, flow gurgling over their pebbly beds to the deep valley below, there to join the swiftly-flowing river, which, by many waterfalls and rapids, eventually reaches the level of the plains.