HIPPOPOTAMUS LAND
By CLELAND SCOTT Nairobi.
WHEN viewed in a zoo the hippopotamus appears as a hideous inert lump of flesh, and one wonders how he came by the name of "river horse." When you see him in lake or river his name seems much more apt. He comes into the category of big game, but can hardly be considered dangerous save in VW sets of circumstances —firstly, if you disturb or annoy him and then get between him and his haven, water ; secondly, if you invade that element in a canoe in an area where he is constantly hunted by natives. Before game laws were enforced European hunters shot him for his fat, which is plentiful and of excellent quality for cooking purposes. When killed in water, hippo sink, only rising to the surface in about two hours, when the gases formed in their stomachs bring them up. They are one of the species of game that is in no danger of being seriously reduced.
I learnt a lot about hippo trying to obtain young ones for the London Zoo. If they are living far from human habitation they spend a large proportion of daylight on land. But like us they enjoy a change of diet and like to live as well as they can. Consequently, if they happen to have been born in an area where there are native crops, or where the African is short of meat, the hippo become mainly nocturnal and extremely cunning. -Having tried one of the Sesse Islands, the main shores of different parts of Lake Victoria and two rivers in vain—either because of the cunning of the hippo or the fact that no cow I saw had the right-sized calf—I tried the Kasinga Channel, which joins Lake George to Lake Edward. About a hundred yards inland I found a three-foot-deep pond about eight hundred yards by a hundred. Around were tracks of hippo of all sizes. But in daylight it was the resting-place for bulls only, who went there to recover from some horrible-looking wounds received when a battle royal was joined by two bulls for the favour of some particular cow.
Finding that daylight hunting was getting me nowhere, I tried at night during the full moon. Hippo then look A sort of ghostly white, and I found it most entertaining stalking them amidst bushes and head-high grass. I like the deep homely sounding honk of a per- ambulating hippo, and I often stalked the noise. The difficulty was to know if the form was male or female and if behind it lurked a calf. I was immediately struck by the silence and speed with which those ponderous forms can move. In order to see the far side of them I had to chance the wind's giving me away. Sometimes I succeeded. Sometimes a slight turn took them slowly and majestically off. At others there would be a wild rush and crash as the hippo careered through, over and under bushes. At others it just faded away without a sound. I took care not to place myself in what I considered a direct line in its most likely dash waterwards ; one or two I could have touched, but I stood very still on such occasions.
My last hope seemed to be the actual channel itself ; so I hired various canoes. That was fun, and exciting when one found oneself right in the middle of a school who " blew " fountains of water all round one. Luck was with me, and not one surfaced right under the canoe. I spent hours watching them bob up and down, and was struck by the smallness of the ears on such big heads. It was in water that they earned their name of river horse, as the whole fore- quarters would emerge with the neck arched like that of a very fit stallion. Sometimes they appeared positively skittish. I also dis- covered that they ran along the bottom, which explained how they appear to be able to swim under water at such an incredible speed. The calves rode like jockeys on the necks of their mothers, and took time off to swim round their somnolent parents when the bunch was very near shore.
Canoeing taught me that hippo can be just as gallant mothers as other big game. In a small bay I observed a mob of four cows who were very definitely unfriendly. Along the side of the channel were beds of tall rushes, and I knew that hippo often " park " their young for hours on end. I spent many hours walking up and down hoping to bring off a Moses-and-the-buh-ushes act. I found many places where calves had been left, but never where one was. These par- ticular cows seemed so determined that I felt an investigation on land might be worth while, so I beached the canoe and approached from the land side. Three made a few demonstrations and then swam off, but one continued to "charge," so that I was convinced she had a calf near by. Up to a point I was right ; she had had a calf there. I found the bones and a little skin ; near by were the tracks of a leopardess. I imagine that the leopardess had found the calf un- attended, and what became the hippo's tragedy may have been her salvation ; perhaps she had, in her lair, a pair or trio of hungry cubs. The hippo got so close while I was examining the bones that I shoved forward the safety catch, but did not have to fire.
Later the same afternoon I again landed and reached a tiny cliff. Below me lay thirty to forty hippo partially submerged, and amongst them were at least a dozen calves. The youngsters appeared to be playing ring-a-ring-a-roses. They had formed a nearly perfect circle, and were swimming round and round. At regular intervals they threw themselves upwards in an attempt to catch the flies zooming above them. Small though they were, even they had useful caverns in the way of mouths, though they were largely toothless as yet. Every now and then they ducked each other. I did eventually catch a calf, but it was so young that it died after two days as it would neither suck nor swallow any milk ; but in that short time it became pathetically trusting and friendly. Hippo droppings are easy to tell from those of rhino or elephant. Elephant merely drop theirs and pass on. Rhino knocks theirs about with their horns, or kick them to pieces. Hippo spray theirs on land or in the water ; when in the water they leave their blunt ends above water-level ; the spraying effect is accomplished by their ridiculously short tails, which whirl at speed.
I made one final attempt on the Nile near Attura. The natives in that part hunt hippo regularly, and their methods are effective if brutal. They drift down the Nile in canoes of gigantic proportions compared to those I had been using. When they find a conveniently situated hippo they hurl a dozen harpoons into it. Attached to the harpoons are yards and yards of rope with a float at the end ; thus it cannot be lost. Each time the poor beast comes up for air it receives yet more harpoons, and it is finally speared to death.
To anyone who is interested in hippo one of the best areas for observation and photography is at Katwe, a fishing village at the northern tip of Lake Edward on the Ruwenzori side. The area is a game reserve, and it is simple to see hippo disporting themselves on land at most hours of the day. What adds interest is that herds of elephant are fond of the same piece of country, and you can often see elephant bathing surrounded by dozens of hippo honking their dis- approval of their element being so blatantly invaded. The hippo population of Kenya is comparatively small, but they can be seen in the small forty-square-mile Nairobi National Park and in the new big Tsavo one of seven thousand square miles. Neither of these areas necessitates camping or the expense of a aafari.
My own long and very expensive safari at least taught me that animal-catching was not for me. It is too heartbreaking a job, for when one does succeed by the time the beast is sent off one has 'become far too fond of it. For every animal that reaches any zoo, even the small beasts, many mothers and many more calves have died. Africans are particularly bad in this respect, as they are unnecessarily violent when actually catching any tiny animal, and later they are too mean to feed it properly, so that often a calf or fawn will die for no apparent reason. A post-mortem usually reveals internal haemorrhages. London got its hippo in the end. A man 'managed to capture two full-grown ones in the heart of a settled farming area in Kenya. He built a crush, and the hippo literally walked into his parlour.
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