Gerald Durrell (26 page)

After we had
been for some days on N’da Ali I learnt the habits of this crowd of apes. In
the early morning they would be high up the mountain screaming and laughing
among the tall cliffs; at midday they would be in the thick forest lower down,
where they could find shade from the sun, and at this time they were almost
silent; in the evening they would descend to the great step along the side of
the mountain on which we were camped, and treat us to an evening concert which
was prolonged and nerve-shattering. Then, as darkness fell, they would grow silent
except for an occasional whimper. Their movement was very regular, and you
could tell with reasonable accuracy what time of day it was by listening to
hear which part of the forest they were in.

On returning to
camp I found that the bird trapper had made the first two captures: one was a
Forest robin, which was not exciting as I knew that John had plenty of them,
and the other was a drab little bird with a speckled breast, which was almost
indistinguishable from an ordinary English thrush. It was, in fact, so
uninteresting that I was on the point of letting it go again, but I thought
that I would send it down to John for him to look at, so I packed up both birds
and sent the carrier post-haste down the mountain to Bakebe, with instructions
that he was to be back again early next morning.

The next day he
appeared neck and neck with my morning tea, bringing a note from John. From
this it transpired that the drab little bird I had sent was, in reality, a
Ground Thrush of great rarity, and an important addition to the collection, and
my companion exhorted me to get as many as I could. When I remembered how close
I had been to releasing what now turned out to be a bird that rejoiced in the
name of
Geokichla camerunensis
, my blood ran cold. I hastily called for
the bird trapper and informed him that he would get extra pay for each of the
Ground Thrushes he procured.

“Masa mean dat
bird ’e get red for ’e front?” he inquired.

“No, no, dat one
’e get mark mark for ’e front.”

“But,” pointed
out the bird trapper, with some justification, “Masa done tell me he no want um
again.”

“Yes, I know,
But now I want um . . . plenty plenty, you hear?”

“I hear, sah,”
said the youth dismally, and wandered off to cogitate on the curious ways of
the white man.

As I was eating breakfast
the Tailor appeared, and with him was a stocky young man with a lean,
intelligent face, and curious pale yellow eyes. At his heels followed a pack of
four piebald, lanky, unkempt-looking dogs, with suspicious eyes.

“This is the
hunter man, sir,” said the Tailor, “he done bring dogs.”

After greeting
the man, I asked how he hunted with the dogs. For answer he rummaged in the bag
that hung from his shoulder and produced four little wooden bells, and these he
hung round the necks of his dogs, and as they moved the bells gave out a
pleasant “clonking” sound.

“Dis dog,” said
the hunter, “ ’e go for bush and ’ego smell de road for de beef and ’ego run
quickly quickly. In de bush you no get chance for seeum, but you go hear dis
ting make noise and you go follow. So we go catch beef.”

It sounded a
vague and extremely exhausting process, but I was willing to try anything once.

“All right,” I
said, “we go for bush and try. . . .”

We set off into
the forest, Tailor, Yellow-Eyes, myself, and three others who were laden down
with bags and nets, the dogs running ahead of us through the trees sniffing
wildly in all directions. For an hour we walked and nothing happened. One of
the dogs found some mess or other, and a disgraceful fight broke out as to
which of the pack should roll in the delicacy. In the end they shared it, and
we proceeded amid a strong and nauseating odour. I was just beginning to wonder
if hunting with dogs was all the Tailor had made it out to be, when the
smallest of our pack put her nose to the ground, uttered a series of shrill
yaps, and rushed headlong into the thickest tangle of undergrowth she could
find. The rest of the pack, all giving tongue, followed her, and they were soon
out of sight. With a loud cry, which was presumably meant as an encouragement
to his dogs, Yellow-Eyes plunged into the tangle of thorns and lianas, and the
Tailor and the rest of the retinue followed. Unless I wanted to be left behind
it was obvious that I should have to do the same; so, cursing the dog for finding
the scent in such an overgrown bit of forest, I pushed my way into the
undergrowth, tripping and stumbling, and getting stabbed by thorns and twigs.
At last I caught up with the others who were running easily and swiftly,
ducking and twisting between the trees and the creepers. Ahead of us the pack
was silent except for an occasional yap, but we could hear the little wooden
bells clonking like mad.

We ran for what
seemed hours and at last came to a gasping and perspiring halt; we listened,
between gulps for air, but there was no sound from the dogs, not even the
clonking of the bells. Yellow-Eyes gave a few shrill falsetto screeches, but
there was no response: we had lost our pack. I lay on the ground, thankful for
this respite, filling my lungs with air, and wondering if my heart was going to
jump through my ribs. Yellow-Eyes and the Tailor disappeared into the forest,
and some time after faint yodels brought us to our feet; when we caught up with
them we could hear in the distance the clonking of the bells. We ran on and
each moment the sound of the bells grew clearer, and we could hear the dogs
yapping frenziedly. We were running downhill now, and the ground was covered
with great boulders and fallen trees which made the going more difficult and
dangerous. Suddenly we came to a small clearing, and an astonishing sight met
my eyes: the dogs were grouped round the base of a small cliff some thirty feet
high, its surface speckled with moss and begonias, and, yapping and snarling,
they were leaping wildly in the air in an attempt to reach a ledge some ten
feet above them, and on it, hissing like a train and lashing with its tail, lay
a huge Monitor. Whatever else I thought we should get I had not thought of
Monitors, for I had been under the impression that these huge lizards
frequented the larger rivers. But there was no mistaking this one for, with its
tail, it measured about five feet long. Its great body was raised on its stumpy
legs, and its long tapering tail curved ready to strike; its throat swelled with
the hissing exhalations of breath, and its long black, forked tongue flicked in
and out of its mouth.

It had
apparently run up the rock face when pursued, using its long claws to obtain a
foothold where no dog could follow. Having reached this narrow ledge it found
that the cliff above bulged out, so it could go no further. The dogs were mad
with excitement, giving great twisting leaps into the air in an attempt to
reach the ledge, frothing at the mouth and yapping loudly. Yellow-Eyes called
them off and tied them to a small tree, which they made quiver and bend with
their barking and straining. Then we stretched the toughest net we had on to
two long poles and, running forward, flung the net over the ledge. As it landed
the Monitor leapt forward to meet it, tail lashing, mouth open, and it became
intricately entangled in the mesh of the net, and both net and lizard fell to
the ground with a crash. We jumped forward, but the reptile was not finished
yet, for the net had fallen about him in loose folds, and he had plenty of room
to bite and lash with his tail. With some difficulty we got him out of the net,
wrapped him in sacks, bound him with cords, and then slung him between two
poles. His skin was rough and black, with a scattering of golden spots, pin-head
size, here and there; his eyes were a fierce filigree of gold and black. His
strong curved claws would have been envied by a large bird of prey. We carried
him back to the camp in triumph, and I worked far into the night with the
Tailor, fashioning a rough wooden cage out of poles, in which to send him down
the mountain to Bakebe.

The next
morning, exhilarated and encouraged by the previous day’s success, we set off
to hunt early in the morning, and the dogs found a fresh scent almost at once.
We ran with them for perhaps a mile and then, as before, they were suddenly
swallowed in the vastness of the forest, and we could neither see nor hear
them. For a long time we wandered around in circles, trying to find trace of
them; then I saw Yellow-Eyes cock his head on one side and, listening
carefully, I heard the distant purring of a waterfall.

“Eh, sometime
they done go for water,” panted Yellow-Eyes, “and then we no go hear um.”

We ran on, the
noise of the fails grew louder, and soon we found ourselves stumbling along the
rocky banks of a frothing, tumbling stream. Ahead was the waterfall, a shining
wall of water falling from a rock face some fifty feet high into a tumble of
big boulders thickly encrusted with green moss and lush plants. Everything was
misty with spray, and over the crest of the waterfall hung a tiny blurred
rainbow which gleamed and faded with the pulsating of the water. Above the
voice of the falls we could now hear the clonking of the bells, and from out of
the undergrowth between two rocks backed one of the dogs, stern first, yapping
hysterically.

Leaping from
rock to rock through the rapids we reached the base of the fails, and clambered
eagerly over the slippery rocks to see what it was that the dogs had cornered.
There, in a small shady area between the boulders, lay another Monitor, but, in
comparison to it, the one we had caught the day before looked like a pygmy. It
was curved like a great taut bow, its massive body quite still except for the
heaving movement of its ribs. Its mouth was open, and even above the sounds of
the waters we could hear it hissing. He had chosen the best place to stand at
bay, for on three sides he was protected by rocks, and his claws, tail, and
mouth made the other line of attack dangerous to say the least. All the dogs
realized this fact except one, a young and foolish bitch, and she had yapped
and yarred herself into a fit of hysterical bravery which our presence seemed
to increase. Before we could stop her she had rushed into the corner and, more
by good luck than anything, had succeeded in fastening her teeth in the loose
skin of the Monitor’s neck; the reptile, lashing at the dog’s thin body with
his tail, grasped one of her ears in his sharp-edged mouth. The dog was now in
a difficult position, for she could not let go and bound away, held as she was
in this vice-like grip. Slowly and carefully the Monitor rose on his thick legs
and gradually edged his way round until first one and then both of his hind
legs were on the unfortunate bitch’s back. Then he hunched himself, and
suddenly kicked out with his hind feet, raking and tearing the skin off the
dog’s back with his curved claws. The bitch gave a scream of pain and let go of
the reptile’s neck, and, to my surprise, the great lizard also released his hold.
As she scuttled away from him he lashed round with his tail and bowled her over
in a bloodstained heap. She crawled out from among the rocks, shivering and
whining, and went and sat on the banks of the stream and tried to lick the
dreadful wounds on her back. The Monitor was unharmed except for a scratch on
his neck, and looked quite ready to give battle again at a moment’s notice.

Leaving the
Tailor to watch the reptile, Yellow-Eyes and I tied the dogs up to a tree, and
I bathed the bitch’s wounds. From midway down her back to her rump were seven
long gashes, as though she had been sliced with a rather blunt knife. I had
just finished with the dog when a cry from the Tailor to the effect that the
Monitor was moving sent us all rushing back to the cliff. The reptile had
advanced a few yards, but as soon as he saw us he retreated to his corner
again. We made several attempts to throw a net over him, but there was no space
to manoeuvre properly, and the net kept getting caught up on the rocks. There
was only one thing to do, and that was to get above him and drop a noose over
his head. Leaving the others with instructions to rush in and net him as soon
as I had the rope round his neck, I crawled slowly over the rocks to a vantage
point above him.