Gorillas & Chimpanzees

In the depths of this gloomy forest, reeking with the effluvia of decaying plants, and teeming with insect life, the gorilla dwells in safety and seclusion. In the same forest the chimpanzee makes his abode, but is less timid and retiring.

On the south side of this lake, not quite two degrees below the equator, and within some twenty miles of the ocean, I selected a place in the heart of the primeval forest, erected my little fortress, and gave it the name of Fort Gorilla.

In the latter part of April 1893, I took up my abode in this desolate spot, and began my long and solitary vigil.

My sole companion was a young chimpanzee, that I named Moses, and, from time to time, a native boy, as a servant.

Seated in this cage, in the silence of the great forest, I have seen the gorilla in all his majesty, strolling at leisure through his sultry domain, in quest of food. I have seen the chimpanzee under like conditions, and the happy, chattering monkey in the freedom of his jungle home.

In this novel hermitage I remained for the greater part of the time for one hundred and twelve days and nights in succession, watching these animals in perfect freedom following the pursuits of their daily life.

With such an experience, I will not be charged with vanity in saying that I have seen more of those animals in a state of nature than any white man ever saw, and under conditions more favourable for a careful study of their manners and habits, than could otherwise be possible. Hence, what I have to say concerning them is the result of an experience which no other man can claim.

I do not mean to ignore or impugn what others have said on this subject, but the sum of my labours in this field leads me to doubt much that has been said and accepted as true. I regret that it devolves upon me to controvert many stories told about these great apes, but finding no germ of truth in some of them, I cannot evade the duty of denying them. I regret it all the more, because many of them have been woven into the fabric of natural history, and marked with the seal of scientific approval; but time will sustain me in the denial.

I am aware that bigots of certain schools will challenge me for pointing out their mistakes, and some will assume to know more about these apes than a fish knows about swimming; but truth defies all theory.

Each kind of ape will be treated in the chapter devoted to it, but only those with which I have dealt in person will be discussed at length. Others will be noticed, in order to sustain the continuity of the subject and show the relative planes of those under consideration. But before proceeding with the monkeys, I shall pause to relate some of the incidents of my hermitage.

CHAPTER III

DAILY LIFE AND SCENES IN THE JUNGLE

I am so frequently asked about the details of my daily life in the cage, how the time was occupied and what I saw besides the apes, that I deem it of interest to relate a few of the events of my sojourn in this wild spot.

In order to convey an idea of it, I shall relate the incidents of a single day and night; but of course the routine varied in some degree from day to day.

At six o'clock, as the sun first peeps into the forest, it finds me with a tin cup of coffee, just made on the little kerosene stove. It is black and dreggy, but with a little sugar it is not bad. With a few dry crackers I break my fast of twelve hours, and am ready for the task before me.

In the meantime the boy rolls up my bed and his mat. By this time Moses has helped himself to a banana or two. Then I take my rifle, he climbs up on my shoulder, and we go for a short walk in the bush, while the boy sweeps out the cage and puts everything in order for the day. When we return, the boy, armed with a native spear, or a huge knife, takes the big jug, and goes to a spring, about three hundred yards away, for a supply of water.

Then Moses is allowed to climb about in the bushes and amuse himself; the boy sits down, or goes to his village a mile away, while I watch for gorillas. Silence is the order of the day, and here I sit, sometimes for hours alone, almost as quiet as a tomb.

Presently a rustle of the leaves is heard, and a porcupine comes waddling into view. He is poking his nose about, in search of food, but has not discovered my presence. He comes closer, until the scent or sight of me startles him, and away he goes. By-and-by a civet cat comes stealing through the bush, till he observes me, and hastily departs.

After an hour of patient waiting the sound of clashing boughs is heard in the tree-tops. A few minutes later may be seen a big school of monkeys, led by a solemn-looking old pilot, who doubtless knows every palm that bears nuts within twenty miles around. They are now coming to inspect my cage, and see what new thing this is, set up in monkeydom.

As they come nearer, they become more cautious and tardy. They find a strong bough in the top of a big tree, and the grave old pilot perches himself far out on it, to peep at my cage. Just behind him sits the next in rank, resting his hands on the shoulders of the leader, while a dozen more are arranged in similar attitudes behind each other, along the limb. Each one pushes the one just in front of him, to make him move up a little closer, but no one of them, except the pilot, seems to want the front seat.

They look in silence, turning their little heads from side to side, as if to be certain it is not an illusion. They nudge one another again, and move up an inch or two closer, squinting their bright eyes, as if in doubt about the strange sight before them. They have made such calls before, but have not quite determined what kind of an animal this is in the cage. At each successive visit they come a little nearer, until now they are not a hundred feet away. Now they take alarm at something, and hurry away in another direction.

Next comes an armadillo, prowling about for insects among the leaves. He catches a glimpse of the cage, he stands motionless for a moment, to see what it is, and then, like a flash, he is gone.

During this time birds of divers kinds have been flying in all directions. Some of them perch on the limbs near by, some pick the nuts of the palm-tree, while others scream and screech, like so many tin-whistles, or brass horns. Many of them are parrots. Some have brilliant and beautiful plumage.

It is now ten o'clock. Not a breath of air stirs a leaf of the whole forest. The heat is sweltering and oppressive. The voices of the birds grow less and less frequent. Even the insects do not appear to be so busy as they were in the earlier hours of the day. Moses has abandoned his rambles in the bush, and sits on a fallen tree, with his arms folded, as if he had finished work for the day.

Along towards this hour everything in the forest appears to become quiet and inactive, and continues so until about two o'clock in the afternoon. I was impressed on more than one occasion with this universal rest during the hottest part of the day, and the same thing seems to prevail among the aquatic animals.

I now prepare my repast for midday, by opening a can of meat or fish, and warming it in a tin plate on the little stove. I have no vegetables or dessert, but with a few crackers broken up, and stirred into the grease, and plenty of water to drink with it, I find it an ample meal. When it is finished, Moses coils up in his little hammock, swung by my side, and takes his siesta. The boy, when there, stretches out on the floor, and does likewise.

During the hours from ten till two, few things are astir, though I have seen some interesting sights during that time.

It must not be supposed that the change is sudden at these periods, for such is not the case. It is not a fixed time for everything to cease its activity. It is by slow degrees that one after another becomes quiescent, until life appears almost extinct for a time; but as the sun begins to descend the western sky, things begin to revive, and by three o'clock everything is again astir.

Now a lone gorilla comes stalking through the bush, looking for the red fruit of the batuna that grows at the root of the plant. He plucks a bud of some kind, tears it apart with his fingers, smells it, and throws it aside. Now he takes hold of a tall sapling, looks up at the shaking branches, and turns aside. He pauses and looks around as if suspicious of danger. He listens to see if anything is approaching, but being reassured he resumes his search for food. Now he gently parts the tangled vines that intercept his way, and creeps noiselessly through them. He hesitates, looks carefully around him, and then proceeds again. He is coming this way. I can see his black face as he turns his head from side to side, looking for food. What a brutal visage! It has a scowl upon it, as if he were at odds with all his race. He is now within a few yards of the cage, but is not aware of my presence. He plucks the tendril from a vine, smells it, and puts it in his mouth. He plucks another and another. I shall note that vine, and ascertain what it is. Now he is in a small open space, where the bush is cut away, so as to afford a better view. He seems to know that this is an unusual thing to find in the jungle, so he surveys it with caution. He comes nearer. Now he has detected me. He sits down upon the ground, and looks at me as if in utter surprise. A moment more he turns aside, looks back over his shoulders, but hurries away into the dense jungle.

It is now four o'clock, and I hear a wild pig rooting among the fallen leaves. I see a small rodent that looks like a diminutive hedgehog. He is gnawing the bark from a dead limb, possibly to capture some insect secreted under it; but as rodents usually live upon vegetable diet, he may have some other reason for this.

It is five o'clock, and the shadows are beginning to deepen in the forest. I see two little grey monkeys playing in the top of a very tall tree. The birds are tiresome and monotonous. Yonder is a small snake twined around the limb of a bushy tree. He is doubtless hunting for a nest of young birds. The low, muttering sound of distant thunder is heard, but little by little it grows louder. It is the familiar voice of the tornado. I must prepare for it.

The stove is now lighted, and a pie-pan of water set on it. In it is stirred an ounce of desiccated soup. It is heated to the boiling-point, and then set on the swinging table. Then a can of mutton is emptied into another pan of the same kind, and a few crackers broken and stirred in. The soup is eaten while the meat is being cooked. When it is ready, the flame of the stove is turned off, and the second course of dinner is served, consisting of canned mutton, crackers and water. The dishes, consisting usually of three tin pie-pans and a cup, are thrust out into the adjacent bush, for the ants and other insects to clean during the night.

In the meantime Moses has had his supper, and gone to his own little cage, to find shelter from the approaching storm. The curtains are hung up on the side of the cage, from which the tornado is coming. Now the leaves begin to rustle. It is the first cool breath of the day, but it is only the herald of the furious wind that is rapidly advancing. The tree-tops begin to sway. Now they are lashing each other as if in anger; the strong trees are bending from the wind; the lightning is so vivid that it is blinding; the thunder is terrific. One shaft after another, the burning bolts are hurled through the moaning forest. The roar of thunder is unceasing. I hear the dull thud of a falling tree, while the crackling boughs are falling all around me. The rain is pouring in torrents, and all nature is in a rage. Every bird and beast has sought a place of refuge from the warring elements. No sign of life is visible, no sound is audible, save the voice of the storm.

How unspeakably desolate the jungle is at such an hour, no fancy can depict. How utterly helpless a human being is against the wrath of nature, no one can realise, except to live through such an hour in such a place.

On one occasion five large trees were blown down, within a radius of two hundred yards of my cage, and scores of limbs were broken off by the wind, and scattered like straws. Some of them were six or eight inches in diameter, and ten or twelve feet long. One of them broke the corner off the bamboo roof over my cage. The limb was broken off a huge cotton-tree near by, and fell from a height of about sixty feet. It was carried by the wind some yards out of a vertical line as it fell, and just passed far enough to spare my cage. Had it struck the body of it, no doubt it would have been partly demolished, for the main body of the bough was about six inches in diameter and ten feet long. This particular tornado lasted for nearly three hours, and was the most violent of any I saw during the entire year.

Now the storm subsides, but the darkness is impenetrable. I have no light of any kind, for that would alarm the inhabitants of the jungle, and attract a vast army of insects from all quarters. Moses and the boy are fast asleep, while I sit and listen to the many strange and weird sounds heard in the jungle at night The bush crackles near by. It is a leopard creeping through it. He is coming this way. Slowly, cautiously he approaches. I cannot see him in the deep shadows of the foliage, but I can locate him by sound, and identify him by his peculiar tread. Perhaps he will attack the cage when he gets near enough. He is creeping up closer. He evidently smells his prey, and is bent on seizing it.

My rifle stands by my elbow. I silently raise it, and lay it across my lap. The brute is now crouching within a few yards of me, but I cannot see to shoot him. I hear him move again, as if adjusting himself to spring upon the cage. He cannot see it, but he has located me by scent. I hear a low rustling of the leaves as he wags his tail preparatory to a leap. If I could only touch a button and turn on a bright electric light over his head! He remains crouching near, while I sit with the muzzle of my rifle turned towards him, and my hand on the lock. It is a trying moment. If he should spring with such force as to break the frail network that is between us, there could be but one fate for me.

In the brief space of a few seconds a thousand things run through one's mind. Not prompted by fear, but by suspense. Is it best to fire into the black shadows, or to wait for his attack? What is his exact pose? What does he intend? How big is he? Can he see me? And a category of similar questions arise at this critical moment.

A clash of bushes, and he is gone. Not with the stealthy, cautious steps with which he advanced, but in hot haste. He has taken alarm, abandoned his purpose, and far away I can hear the dry twigs crashing as he hurries to some remote nook. He flees as if he thought he was being pursued. He is gone, and I feel a sense of relief.

It is ten o'clock, the low rumbling of distant thunder is all that remains of the tornado that swept over me a few hours ago. The stars are shining, but the foliage of the forest is so dense, that I can only see one here and there, peeping through the tangled boughs overhead. I hear some little waif among the dead leaves, but what it is, or what it wants, can only be surmised.

Another hour is passed, and I retire to my hammock. The sounds of nocturnal birds are fewer now. I hear a strange, tremulous sound up in the boughs of the bushes near the cage. It sounds like the leaves vibrating. It ceases, and begins again at intervals. I listen with attention, for it is very singular. It is a huge python in search of birds. He reaches his head and neck forward, grasps the bough of a slender bush, releases his coil from another, and by contraction draws his slimy body forward. The pliant boughs yield to his heavy weight. The abrasion causes it to tremble, and the leaves to quake.

I fall asleep and rest in comfort, while the dew that has fallen on the leaves gathers itself into huge drops, their weight bends the leaves, and they fall from their lofty perch, striking those far below with a sharp, popping sound. The hours fly by, but in the stillness of the early morning is heard a most unearthly scream. It is a king gorilla. He simply makes every leaf in the forest tremble with the sound of his piercing shrieks.

The dawn again awakes to life the teeming forest, and all its denizens again go forth to join the universal chase for food.

All of these incidents cited are true in every detail, but they did not occur every day, nor did all of them occur on the same day, as would be inferred from the manner in which they are related.

This gives a glimpse of my real daily life in the jungle, but the monotony was often relieved by going out for a day or two at a time, or hunting on the plains, a few miles away. My menu was occasionally varied by a chicken, piece of goat, fish or porcupine; but the general average of it was about as described.

CHAPTER IV

THE CHIMPANZEE

Next to man, the chimpanzee occupies the highest plane in the scale of nature. His mental and social traits, together with his physical type, assign him to this place.

In his distribution, he is confined to Equatorial Africa. His habitat, roughly outlined, is from the fourth parallel north of the equator to the fifth parallel south of it, along the west coast, and extends eastward about half-way across the continent. His range can be defined with more precision, but its exact limits are not quite certain. Its boundary on the north is defined by the Kameroon valley, slightly curving to the north, but its extent eastward is not well known. He does not appear to be found anywhere north of this river, and it is quite certain that the few specimens attributed to the north coast of the Gulf of Guinea do not belong to that territory. On the south, its boundary starts from the coast, at a point near the fifth parallel, curves northward, crossing the Congo near Stanley Pool, pursues a north-east course, to the centre of the Congo State, again curves southward, across the Upper Congo, towards the north end of Lake Tanganyika. Its limits appear to conform more to isothermal lines, than to the rigid lines of geometry.

Specimens are sometimes secured by collectors beyond the limits mentioned, but so far as I can ascertain they appear to have been captured within these limits. There are numerous centres of population. This ape is not strictly confined to any definite topography, but occupies the upland forests or the low basin lands.

In one section he is known to the natives by one name, and in another by quite a different one. The name chimpanzee is of native origin. In the Fiot tongue the name of the ape is chimpan, which is a slight corruption of the true name. It is properly a compound word, the first syllable is from the Fiot word tyi, which white men erroneously pronounce like "chee." It means "small," and is found in many of the native compounds. The latter syllable is from mpâ, a bushman, hence the word literally means, in the Fiot tongue, "a small bushman."

Among other tribes the common name of the ape is ntyigo. The two names appear to come from the same ultimate source. The latter is derived from the Mpongwe word ntyia, blood, hence breed, and the word iga, the forest, and literally means the "breed of the forest." The same idea is involved in the two names, and both convey the oblique idea that the animal is something more like man than other animals are.

There are two distinct types of this ape, and they are now regarded as two species. One of them is distributed throughout the entire habitat described, while the other is only known south of the equator, between the second and fifth parallels, and west of the Congo. Both kinds are found within these limits, but the variety which is confined to that region is called, by the tribes that know the ape, the kulu-kamba, in contradistinction to the other kind, known as ntyigo. This name is derived from kulu, the onomotope of the sound made by the animal and the native verb kamba, to speak, hence the name literally means the thing "that speaks kulu."

In certain points the common variety differs from the kulu-kamba in a degree that would indicate that they belong to distinct species, but the skulls and skeletons are so nearly the same, that no one can identify them with certainty. In life, however, it is not difficult to distinguish them.

The ntyigo has a longer face and more prominent nose than the kulu. His complexion is of all shades of brown, from a light tan to a dark, dingy mummy colour. He has a thin coat of short black hair, which is often described as brown, but that effect is due to the colour of his skin blending with that of his suit. In early life his hair is quite black, but in advanced age the ends are tipped with a dull white, giving him a dingy grey colour. The change is due to the same causes that produce grey hairs on the human body. But there is one point in which they differ. The entire hair of the human becomes white with age, while only the end of it does so in the chimpanzee. In the human, one hair becomes white, while another retains its natural colour, but in this ape all the hairs appear to undergo the same change.

In very aged specimens the outer part of the hair often assumes a dirty, brownish colour, which is due to the want of vascular action to supply the colour pigment, and the same effect is often seen in preserved specimens, for the same reason that the hair of an Egyptian mummy is brown, while in life it was doubtless a jet black. In this ape the hair is uniformly black, except the small tuft of white at the base of the spinal column and a few white hairs on the lower lip and chin. I have examined about sixty living specimens and I have never found any other colour among them only from the cause mentioned. The normal colour of both sexes is the same.

The kulu, as a rule, has but little hair on the top of its head, but that on the back of it and on the neck is much longer than elsewhere on the body, and longer on them than on other apes.

Much stress is laid by some writers on the bald head of one ape and the parted hair on that of another. These features cannot be relied upon as having any specific meaning, unless there are as many species as there are apes. Sometimes a specimen has no hair on the summit of its head, while another differs from it in this respect alone by having a suit of hair more or less dense, and yet in every other respect they are the same. Some of them have the hair growing almost down to the eyebrows, and each hair appears to diverge from a common centre like the radii of a sphere: another of the same species will have the hair parted in the middle as neatly as if it had been combed, while another may have it in wild disorder. The same thing is noticed in certain monkeys, and it is equally true of the human being. As a factor in classifying them it signifies nothing. It may be remarked that as a whole the kulu is inclined to have little hair upon the crown of the head.

Between the two species there is a close alliance, but the males differ more than the females. This is especially true in the structure of certain organs.

The face in youth is quite free from hairs, but in the adult state there is, in both sexes, a slight tendency to grow a light down over the cheeks.

The colour of the skin is not uniform in all parts of the body, especially on the face. Some specimens have patches of dark colour set in a lighter ground. Sometimes certain parts of the face will be dark, and other parts light. I have seen one specimen quite freckled.

It is said by some that the skin is light in colour when young, and becomes darker with age, but such is not the case. It is true that the skin darkens a few shades as the cuticle hardens, but there is no transition from one colour to another, and this slight change of shade is only on the exposed parts.

The kulu has a short, round face, very much like that of a human. In early life it is quite free from hairs, but, like the other, a slight down appears with age. He has a heavy suit of hair on the body. It is coarser than that of the ntyigo, longer, and inclined to wave, giving it a fluffy aspect. The colour is jet black, except a small tuft of white about the base of the spine.

The skin varies in colour less than in the ntyigo, and the darker shades seldom appear. The eyes are a shade darker, and in both species the parts of the eye which are white in man are brown in the chimpanzee, gradually shading off into a yellow near the base of the optic nerve. As a rule, the kulu has a clear, open visage, with a kindly expression. It is confiding and affectionate to a degree beyond any other animal. It is more intelligent than its confrère, and displays the faculty of reason almost like a human being.