A peal of shrill childish laughter greeted this remark.
“No, Masa, we no get crocodile for dis water.”
“You no get bad beef at all?”
“Atall, sah, atall,” said the infant, and I could hear him chuckling as he paddled off across the lake. Thus soothed I enjoyed a long and luxurious swim, and after, ambled up to the village for breakfast. After this I was introduced to two paddlers who were to take me round the edge of the lake to see the birds. They were husky young men, who seemed shy and delightfully quiet, only speaking when spoken to. We set off in a long, deep-bellied canoe, and I perched in the bows, my field-glasses conveniently on my lap, and the gun snuggled alongside me. Schibler had promised me that I would see a lot of birds, but I had not expected the incredible array we saw that morning.
Round the shallow edge of the lake lay the bleached white trunks of many giant trees, their twisted white branches sticking above the dark waters and casting wiggling, pale, snake-like reflections. These trees had been gradually killed by weather and by insects, and the earth had been softened and washed away from their roots by the lake, until they crashed to their last resting-place in the shallow water, to sink slowly, year by year, into the soft red mud. Whilst their skeletons and their branches stuck above water they provided excellent resting-places for most of the bird life of the area, and as we paddled slowly round the lake I scanned them with my glasses. Commonest of the birds were the Darters or Snake-birds, a bird that looks very like the English cormorant, except that it has a very long neck, which it keeps curved like an S. They sat in rows on the dead trees, their wings stretched out to dry in the sun, their heads twisting on their long necks to watch us as we passed. They were clad in dark brown plumage, which from a distance looked black, and gave their upright rows a funereal look, like queues of mutes waiting for the hearse. If we ventured too close they would take wing and flap heavily across the water, and land with much splashing further down the shore. Then they would dive beneath the water and pop up in the most unexpected places, just their long necks and heads showing above the surface, like swimming snakes. It is this habit of their swimming, with only the head and neck showing, that has earned them the name of Snake-bird.
Next commonest, always sitting in pairs, were the Fishing-Eagles, their black-and-white livery standing out against the green, and their canary-yellow beaks and feet bright in the sun. They would let us approach quite close before flying off with slow flaps to the next tree.
The thing that amazed and delighted me was the incredible quantities of kingfishers of every shape, size and colouring, and so tame they would let the canoe get within six feet of them before flying off. There were Pied kingfishers, vivid black and white, looking from a distance as though they were clad in plumage of black and white diamonds, a domino ready for some avian ball. Their long beaks were coal-black and glittering. There were Giant kingfishers, perched in pairs, with their dark and spiky crests up, their backs mottled with grey and white, and their breasts a rich fox-red. They were as big as wood-pigeons, and had great heavy beaks like knife-blades. There were even some of my favourites, the Pygmy kingfisher, squatting on the more delicate perches, clasping the white wood with their coral-red feet, and among them were the Shining-blue kingfishers, one of the most vivid of them all. These looked not unlike a larger edition of the Pygmies, but when they were in flight there was no mistaking them, for as they skimmed low over the water, twittering their reedy cry, their backs gleamed with a pure and beautiful blue that defies description, so they looked like opals flung glittering across the surface of the lake. I determined, as I watched them, that I would try and take some of these beautiful creatures back to enhance John’s collection. The Pygmies he already had, also the rather unlovely Senegal kingfishers, so I made the Pied, the Giant, and especially the Shining-blue, my targets.
Obsessed with this dazzling array of kingfishers I noted all other birds automatically: there were plump, piebald Wattled Plovers, with their yellow wattles dangling absurdly from either side of their beaks, flapping up and down as they trotted to and fro; small glossy Black Crakes, with fragile green legs that trailed behind them as they flew hurriedly from the clumps of reeds; delicate Cattle Egrets, stalking solemnly across the mud-flats; Glossy Ibis like shot silk, peering from the trees with cold and fishy eyes. At one point we came to a place where a tree had only recently fallen, and in falling had dragged with it a great mass of creepers and flowering plants that had been parasites upon it. The still water was littered with green leaves and the bruised petals of the flowers, while among the blooms that still remained, wilting and fading, among the greenery of the trees, a host of sunbirds whirred and fed, sometimes hanging in front of a flower only a few inches above the water, so both bird and flower would have their reflections.
Returning to the village I made inquiries, and soon found three young boys who knew how to make and use the “lubber”, or bird-lime, which I had seen used with such success in Eshobi. I told them the type of kingfisher I wanted, and the price I was willing to pay, and left them to it. Very early the next morning, in the pale green dawn-light before the sun rose, I was awakened by the splash of paddles, and looking through the door of my hut I could see three small canoes containing my youthful hunters setting off across the lake. The first one returned about midday, bringing with him a basket containing two Pied kingfishers and one Senegal. The latter I released as John had enough of them, but the Pied I placed carefully in my best cage and gloated over them. They were not, as I had feared, frightened, but on the contrary seemed vastly annoyed. If I placed my hand anywhere near the wire of their cage they would both stab at it with their sharp pointed beaks, and I soon found it was a painful experience to clean out their cages. The feeding problem was easily solved, for the shallows around the island were teeming with fry, and a few casts with nets procured enough for a dozen kingfishers. My pair of Pied fed greedily and then relapsed into somnolence.
In the afternoon the second hunter arrived back with nothing but a Pygmy kingfisher, but the poor mite was so encrusted with “lubber’ that it took me half an hour to clean him sufficiently to release him. When I opened my hand he sat for a moment on my finger, grasping it with difficulty in his tiny feet. He settled a few feathers that had become disarranged with the bath I had given him, and then flew off across the lake, straight as an arrow. The third hunter returned in the evening, and in his little wicker basket was a Shining-blue kingfisher. This settled down as well as the Pied had, but it seemed a trifle more nervous. I was jubilant, and told my hunters to try for the Giant the next day. I could imagine John’s face if I walked in with three species of kingfisher for him. But my dream was not to be realized, for the next day the hunters reported that the “lubber” was not strong enough to hold the Giant kingfisher. Apparently, out in the blazing sun, the lime dried up slightly and, although it was sufficient to hold the smaller birds, one with the strength of the Giant could easily break away. However, they did bring me one more Pied and one more Shining-blue, so with this I had to be content.
That afternoon I was lolling in the warm waters near my hut and watching the small, fluttering schools of fish investigating my legs, when a man came down from the village with a message from the Schiblers asking me to go up at once as a man had brought beef for me. I found a crowd gathered around what appeared to be, at first glance, a great flattish stone. Looking closer, however, I saw it was the biggest freshwater turtle I had ever seen. It was a species known as the Soft-shelled Turtle: the shell is fairly smooth and domed, and it protruded round the edge in a great soft rim, like damp cardboard. The young ones look not unlike thick and flabby pancakes. The nose of this remarkable reptile is protruded into a pair of miniature trunks, so that the beast can stick these above the surface of the water and breathe, without displaying any of its body. This unfortunate creature had been harpooned in the neck, and it expired just as I arrived on the scene. However, even when its head had been severed from its body the cruel razor-sharp jaws would snap a bit of wood and splinter it. I had no idea that these turtles grew to this enormous size: this one measured four feet in length, arid took two men to lift. After I had examined him and implored his capturer to get me one alive, the creature was cut up, and we ate him in a stew. The flesh proved to be most palatable, like a rich and slightly oily veal. But I never obtained a live one of these gigantic reptiles, and I was very disappointed.