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| Location: |
Africa - Eastern Africa - Sudan |
| Subject: |
Distribution - Hunting |
| Species: |
White Rhino |
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Many years ago I secured a good White Rhino bull at Lemasi, in the Lado Enclave, a country of thorn scrub interspersed with wide stretches of open grass, upon which the beasts cropped during the dark. One April night the stillness was broken by the hungry grunting of a Lion close to camp, and in the early morning we set out in search of tracks. Suddenly we caught sight of a Rhino, stretched at ease, head from us, with a number of Rhinoceros birds moving about its back. To fire at a prostrate animal is unsatisfactory, but the question was how to bring the beast to its feet without disturbing the birds, which we knew would flit up and down the Rhino head at first sign of us, and screech loudly. Fearing that this alarm from its faithful little followers might put the Rhino to instant flight, I calculated the position of its heart as well as possible, and fired as lie lay. Two more bullets failed to stop him, and he blundered away, leaving no trace of a blood trail. The men, however, were so certain the first bullet had gone home, that we kept up a three hours' steady pursuit, all through the burning heat of midday, till at last our quarry came in view, standing on guard under a thorn tree.
Two more shots sent him round the bush at a gallop; then he halted, caught a glimpse of us and made a deliberate charge down wind at me. An empty .400 is a bad card for an introduction, so I took to flight in my turn, slipping in a cartridge as I ran. Then a quick turn to place a solid nickel-clad bullet between nostril and horn made the beast swerve a little to thunder heavily past us out of sight. He had scattered us right and left as he charged in between us, hot and dishevelled as we were already by the chase, and now it took a moment or two to regain breath and self-possession.
An ant-hill rose some two hundred yards away, beside which I fancied the beast had. halted for a moment. A very cautious approach revealed his unwieldy body lying inert, at the far side, and we found that all the shots had met their mark. The square-based horn was unusually massive, and measured 28 1/4 inches in length.
It was 5.15 before skin and scalp were removed, and porters had arrived from camp, and as night would soon be falling, there was nothing for it but to leave a band of men to bivouac on the spot, while the rest of us tried with uncertainty to retrace the dim outline of the homeward path among the thorn scrub. It was raining slightly and the skies showed signs of impending storm. Suddenly Abdullah, my boy, who was leading, halted, pointed wildly in the gloom, and with a hurried word of warning, vanished from sight, or as it seemed to my startled senses, was transformed into a Rhino whose great bulk had lumbered out of the long grass close across my vision, and stood snorting indignation less than one hundred yards away.
The .400 was pressed into my hand from behind, but peer as I would it was impossible to clearly detach the animal from the surrounding blackness. Nor was I anxious to deal with a wounded Rhino at night, after the morning's agitations. Motionless we stood, I finger on trigger, the men behind me, while the Rhino faced us, snorting at intervals. Then I slipped into the bush in the hope of making a detour to evade the beast, but it was too dark to pick one's way through the long grass and scrub, and I had to turn and regain the track. The next moment a dim shape once more loomed across it, but this time the beast pursued its way and was blotted out in the darkness.
At 9 p.m., wet through and weary, we were glad to reach the friendly shelter of camp, for the thunderstorm had gathered in intensity and the rain was sluicing along the trenches round the tent. Next day it took fourty-four willing porters each with a load of between fifty and sixty pounds of meat, bones, hide and horns on his head, and high hopes of supper in his heart, to transport the carcass of the shot Rhino to camp. The skin had been removed in three pieces, and circles of men squatting round each had to be constantly kept at the task of thinning, while others built a rough platform over charcoal fires. These were to be kept going day and night to hasten the drying, for it was the height of the rainy season, a trying period for such work. Rain frequently started in the night, and at the first patter of it on the tent one had to rush out in pyjamas and supervise the covering of the hides with waterproof sheets. Daily the skins were removed from the platform and carefully folded again and replaced, in order to keep the hinges soft enough for subsequent packing.
This specimen has been set up whole by Messrs. Rowland Ward, and can now be seen at the Powell-Cotton Museum, Birchington.
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Black rhinoceros hunting
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