The New Noah (2 page)

We had been walking for about half an hour through the forest when the dogs picked up a fresh scent and rushed off yapping excitedly, with the sound of their bells echoing through the trees. We
set off in hot pursuit, and for half an hour followed the distant sounds of the pack, running as hard as we could and feeling more and more exhausted. Suddenly, the leading hunter came to a stop
and held up his hand. We stood there, panting for breath and straining our ears for the sound of the bells, but the forest around us was silent.

We spread out in a circle and walked through the trees in different directions, trying to find out which way the pack had gone. At last a shrill yodel from one of the hunters sent us all
hurrying to the spot where he was waiting, and in the distance we could hear the sound of running water. As we ran towards it, the hunter explained to me, between gasps for breath, that, if the
dogs had been led to the edge of the river by the quarry, the roaring of the water would cover up the noise of the bells. This explained how we had managed to lose the pack.

When we reached the water, we splashed our way upstream and came eventually to a place where the water cascaded and foamed over a small waterfall some twenty feet high. Round the base of the
fall was a great jumbled mass of huge boulders fully overgrown with moss and small plants, and amongst these big rocks we could see the backs of the dogs, while above the roar of the water we could
hear their shrill yapping. Peering among the rocks, we saw for the first time what it was we had been hunting: it was a tremendous Nile monitor, a great lizard, measuring six feet in length, with a
long whip-like tail and heavy curved claws on his feet. He had backed himself into a cul-de-sac among the rocks and was facing the opening and keeping the pack at bay by lashing with his great tail
and hissing with open mouth if they ventured too closely.

We were about to call the dogs off when one of them, more stupid than the rest, rushed in among the rocks and grabbed hold of the monitor’s neck, hanging on as tightly as she could. The
monitor returned the compliment by clasping her ear in his mouth, and then hunching himself up he brought his great hind legs on to the dog’s back, ripping the skin open with his sharp claws.
The dog, giving a yelp of pain, let go of his neck, and, as she started to retreat, the monitor lashed round with his tail and sent her rolling over and over among the rocks. Hastily we called the
rest of the dogs off and tied them to a nearby tree, and then we had to decide on the best way to capture the lizard, who lay hissing among the rocks like some great prehistoric monster.

We tried to throw a net over him but the sharpedged rocks kept getting caught in the folds, and in the end we gave this up as a bad job. The only other method I could think of was to climb up
above him and, while someone attracted his attention, get a noose round his neck. Explaining to the hunters what I wanted done, I scrambled up over the slippery rocks until I was perched about six
feet above the place where the monitor lay. I made a running noose at the end of a long piece of rope and then, leaning over, lowered it gently towards the reptile. He did not appear to associate
the length of rope with the human beings about him, and so it was quite easy for me to work the noose over his head and pull it back gently until it lay round his neck, then I pulled it tight.

Unfortunately, in my excitement, I had forgotten to tie the end of the rope to any-thing and, what is more, I was kneeling on the loose end. As soon as the monitor felt the noose tighten round
his neck, he shot forward like a rocket, pulling the rope taut, so that it jerked my knees from under me and I started to slip over the edge of the rock. On that smooth surface, wet with spray from
the waterfall, I could find nothing to grip, and so I slipped over the edge and crashed down into the gully below. As I fell, I remember hoping that the monitor would be so frightened by my sudden
appearance out of the clouds that he would not wait to give battle. I had no desire to get any closer than necessary to his well-armed feet. Luckily, that is exactly what happened. The monitor was
so startled that he dashed out from among the rocks and scuttled off down the river bank, trailing the rope behind him. But he did not get very far, for as soon as he was clear of the rocks, the
natives threw the net over him and within a few seconds he was writhing and hissing in its folds. We eventually got him out of the net and tied to a long pole, and I dispatched one of the hunters
back to camp with him.

I was extremely pleased to have caught this big reptile, but it was not exactly what we had come up the mountain to hunt for, and so we continued on our way through the forest.

It was not long before the dogs picked up a fresh scent. The chase they led us on this time was a far longer one and much more interesting than our chase after the monitor had been. First of
all, the animal we were hunting ran downhill and we had to run desperately down the slope, leaping and jumping over fallen rocks which was really rather dangerous, as a slip could have meant a
broken leg or something even worse. Then our quarry turned round and ran uphill again, and we were forced to follow, with our hearts pounding and with sweat streaming off us.

This hunt lasted for three-quarters of an hour and eventually, following the sound of the dog bells, we came to a level area of forest where we found the pack grouped round one end of a great
hollow tree trunk that lay across the forest floor. Sitting in the mouth of the hollow trunk was a big white animal with a curiously bear-like face and small ears. He was staring with an expression
of great scorn on his face at the dogs that were yapping and snarling around him. One of the dogs, I noticed, had a bite on his nose, and so I understood why they were keeping such a discreet
distance from this strange animal. When the black-footed mongoose saw us, he turned round and disappeared into the hollow interior of the tree.

We called the pack off and placed a net over the end of the trunk and then went up to the other end to make sure there was no exit hole. There was none, and so we knew that the mongoose had only
one way of getting out of the trunk, and that was guarded by our net. The only thing now was to get him out of the tree. Luckily, the wood was very rotten and soft, and so by cutting with our
knives we managed to make a hole at the opposite end of the trunk to where the net had been hung. We then laid a small fire inside the hole, and when it was nicely alight we piled green leaves on
top of it, so a thick pungent smoke rushed down the hollow tree. For some time we could hear the mongoose inside coughing in an irritated manner, but finally the smoke became too much for him and
he shot out of the end of the trunk and into the net where he rolled over and over, snapping and snarling. After a certain amount of difficulty, during which we were nearly all bitten, we managed
to get him out of the net and into a strong bag. Then we carried him triumphantly back to camp.

For the first two or three days he was very savage and would attack the bars of the cage whenever I went near. But after a while in captivity he grew quite tame and within two or three weeks
would even come and take food from my hand, or let me scratch him behind his ears.

In the mountains of the Cameroons the thick forest gives way to rolling mountain grassland, and in this sort of country I had to use other methods of capturing animals, one of the best of which
was to drive the creatures into nets.

It was to this grassland territory that I went to capture the giant booming squirrel, the biggest squirrel found in the Cameroons, an animal about twice the size of the ordinary English grey
squirrel. These squirrels are found also in the lowlands, but there they spend their time in the top branches of the very tallest trees, feeding on the fruit and nuts that grow up there, and very
rarely coming down to the ground. This makes it almost impossible to catch them. In the grasslands, however, they live in the small strips of forests that border the stream and in the early morning
and evening they would come down and venture out into the grass fields in search of food. My hunters had told me they knew of a section of forest land where these squirrels were plentiful, and I
decided that we would try to catch them in the early morning when they came down into the grass to feed.

We set off about one o’clock in the morning and arrived at the place just before dawn. A suitable spot was chosen in the grass at the edge of the forest and there we spread our nets in a
half-moon, camouflaging them with grass and bushes. We had to do this while it was dark, and we had to be very quiet about it, so that the squirrels would not know we were there. Then, the nets
being ready, we went and hid under some large bushes at the very edge of the strip of forest and waited there, drenched with dew, until the dawn broke. In the mountains the climate is much colder
than in the lowlands, and so by the time the sun rose we were frozen and our teeth were chattering with cold.

Presently, as the morning mist swirled about us in great white clouds, we heard some loud angry ‘chuckchuck’ noises echoing from the trees around us, and the hunters whispered that
this meant the squirrels were preparing to come down for their breakfast. Soon, peering through the leaves towards the part of the grass fields where our nets were concealed, I saw a strange object
bobbing up and down. It looked exactly like a long black and white balloon, and I could not for the life of me think what it could be. I pointed it out to the hunters and they explained that it was
a squirrel’s tail bobbing up and down above the grass stalks while its body was hidden from view. Very soon this solitary ‘balloon’ was joined by several others, and as the mist
rose we could see the squirrels themselves hopping cautiously from tussock to tussock, sitting up on their great black and white striped tails.

When we judged that they were far enough away from the trees, we rose from our cramped positions and spread out in a line. Then I gave the signal and we all walked slowly out into the grass
field. Our appearance was greeted with a chorus of loud frightened chucking noises from the squirrels in the trees behind us. The ones in the grass field, however, just sat and stared at us
suspiciously. Our plans to walk forward, driving the squirrels farther and farther away from the trees and slowly to the nets, and then, once they were within the circle of the nets, suddenly to
charge down and stampede them, so that in their panic they would run into the mesh before they saw us, did not, however, work out quite the way we expected.

One of the squirrels, more cunning than the rest, suddenly realized that we were driving him away from the sanctuary of the tall trees, and so he broke away to the left, skirted round the line
of hunters and raced back into the forest. The other squirrels sat and watched, obviously undecided as to whether or not they should follow him. They were not quite within the circle of the nets,
but I felt that if we did not charge them they would all break away and get round us as the first squirrel had done. So we all charged forward, shouting and yelling and waving our arms, trying to
appear as frightening as possible. The squirrels took one look at us and turned and fled.

Two of them broke away to the left and right, and three others ran straight into the net and within a few seconds were struggling helplessly in the mesh. It was an extremely difficult job to
disentangle them, for they uttered loud snarling grunts of rage and bit savagely at our hands with their orange-coloured teeth. They were quite handsome animals, with russet-red upper parts,
lemon-yellow bellies, and the big black and white ringed tails, each of which measured about eighteen inches in length. Now that the squirrels in the forest knew we were trying to catch them, it
was useless to go on with the hunt, and so we had to be content with the three that we had captured.

We carried them back to camp in thick canvas bags and placed them in a nice roomy cage with a good supply of fruit and vegetables, and left them to settle down. After they had thoroughly
explored the cage, they ate up all the food that I had put in it and then curled up and went to sleep.

It was very early the next morning when I discovered how these squirrels had come by their name. I was woken up at dawn by a very strange noise coming from the cage, and on creeping from my bed
I could see the squirrels sitting near the wire front of their cage and giving their weird cry. It started off as a gentle thrumming sound, such as you hear in a telegraph pole when the wind is
shaking the wires. It gradually grew louder and louder and more metallic until it sounded exactly like the dying noise of a huge gong being struck. The squirrels produced this extraordinary sound
every morning at dawn and thereafter for the first week, until I grew used to it, I was always woken up at that unearthly hour, which made me begin to think that it was rather a doubtful privilege
to have captured these animals.

When, as a result of hunting every day, I had managed to collect a lot of animals, I began to find that I had less and less time to go out into the forest, for my captives
required a great deal of attention. There was, consequently, only one course left, and that was to go hunting at night. It was perhaps one of the most exciting ways of searching.

Armed with very bright torches and the usual collection of bags, bottles, boxes, and nets, the hunters and I would set off shortly after dark and walk quietly among the huge trees, shining our
torches into the branches above. If any animals were there, you could see their eyes glowing in the torch beam, like strange jewels among the leaves.

This is really a very good method of hunting, for in this way you come across a lot of creatures which you never see during the daytime, since all the nocturnal ones that spend the daylight
hours sleeping in their dens come out to feed and hunt during the night. Once you have located them in the tree-tops, or on the ground, you then have the job of trying to catch your quarry, and
this is generally no easy matter.