CHAPTER SEVEN
DRILLS, DANCES AND DRUMS
To supply all the insectivorous birds with sufficient live food was a great problem, and I overcame it in this way. I employed a gang of perhaps twenty young children, armed them with bottles, and sent them out to hunt grasshoppers. They were paid by the results, not for the time they spent. A penny for thirty insects was the usual price. Another band of children was employed to go into the forest and collect the curious termite nests shaped like gigantic mushrooms, that grew in the gloomy places. These nests, constructed out of hard brown mud, were split open on a canvas sheet, and from the honeycomb of tunnels and passages inside would pour thousands of tiny termites and their fat white young. It was these soft plump youngsters that the birds relished. These nests could be stored for about twenty-four hours before the termites, under cover of darkness (for they shun the light) would vacate them, so in the corner of the animal house there was always a pile of fresh termite nests on hand for feeding, and all through the day a stream of fat-bellied toddlers would arrive at the camp, carrying on their heads these mushroom-like objects. A line of these children wending their way through the forest towards the camp, the mushrooms perched on their woolly heads, laughing and chattering in shrill little voices, had a peculiar, gnome-like quality about them.
These termite hunters often found different creatures while they were in the forest, and these specimens were then brought in triumph when they appeared with the nests. The commonest thing they came across were the chameleons, which they were quite convinced were deadly poisonous, and they would carry them fearfully on the extreme end of a long stick, screaming loudly if the reptile made any sort of movement in their direction. The most common chameleon they found was the Flap-necked species, a beast about eight inches long, generally a bright leaf-green in colour. This species was full of fight, and when caught they would turn from bright green to dirty grey, covered with evil brown blotches. Opening their mouths wide they would sway from side to side, hissing loudly. If picked up when they were like this they would turn without hesitation, and give you quite a sharp bite, though not sufficient to draw blood. Hissing and swaying, their bulging eyes revolving madly in an effort to see all ways at once, these miniature prehistoric monsters would be borne into camp, clasping the end of the stick desperately with their parrot-like feet.
It was the termite hunters that brought me my first Horned chameleon, a creature so fantastic that at first I could hardly believe my eyes. It was smaller than the Flap-necked, and of a more slender build. It lacked the great helmet on its head, ornamented with the bright blue beads of skin, that the Flap-necked could boast, and its colours were quieter and more sedate. But its face was incredible: from the nose there grew two horns, sharply pointed, slightly curved, and about half an inch long. They looked exactly like the curving tusks of a miniature elephant. On the top of its nose, slightly behind, and midway between these two tusks, grew another. This was longer than the others, and quite straight, rather the type of thing a unicorn was supposed to have. From behind this barricade of tusks the prominent eyes would revolve with a fishy and extraordinarily intelligent expression. The body colour of this creature was a nice pearl-grey, heavily patterned with light-brown marks. When angry or annoyed it would turn a deep, almost black, maroon colour, marbled with patches of bright rust red, like big fingerprints. I presumed that these horns on its nose were used for defence and perhaps for mating battles, so when I had some time to spare I performed a series of experiments with this specimen. First I picked him up and, though he tried to bite, he did not use his horns to butt my hand with, as I had expected. Thinking that he was not sufficiently annoyed I placed him on the ground and teased him with a twig. Although he changed colour, hissed, and even snapped at the twig, he made no attempt to use his horns. Some time after another Horned chameleon was brought in, and then I set out to discover if the horns were reserved exclusively for battles with members of the same species. I placed both chameleons on a long branch, facing each other and about three feet apart. At first they both merely sat there and let their natural colour ebb back after the shock of this sudden change. When their normal colour was more or less restored, they proceeded to crawl towards one another, and I waited eagerly for the battle. When they came face to face there was no room for them to pass on the narrow branch, so one simply walked over the other’s back in that completely impersonal way that reptiles have. Slightly annoyed, I replaced them in their former positions, but once again they proceeded to crawl over each other, each completely ignoring the other’s presence. So there it was: I was no nearer to discovering the use of the horns than I had been before. During all the time I kept these reptiles I never saw them make a movement that could be interpreted as a use of the horns, either in defence or in battle.
I had always considered chameleons easy things to keep, but I discovered that they could be just as temperamental as a monkey or a duiker if they wanted to be. In a cage they did not seem to get enough air or sunlight. Once I placed three of them in a rather exposed position and they all promptly died of sunstroke. At last, after much experiment, I found the best way to treat them. On four saplings in the corner of the compound I had a palm-leaf roof erected, and under this, tethered by the waist with fine grass cords to branches, I kept my chameleons. They were tied about three feet apart, so they would not crawl over each other and get their ropes entangled, and in front of each one was suspended a lump of rotting meat. This attracted the flies in hundreds and the chameleons would squat there, rolling their eyes, and flipping their six-inch tongues out, and every time they would hit a fly amidships. Three times a day they had to be sprayed with water, which they did not seem to enjoy very much, but without this treatment they sickened and died.
There was a third species of chameleon in the Cameroons, and my first meeting with this rare reptile was unusual to say the least. One afternoon I had decided to attack several large termites’ nests which dotted the fields and low undergrowth which lay outside the village and within easy reach of the camp. I had gathered about twenty people to help me, as a large area around the nests had to be closed in with nets, and you needed plenty of people to patrol these and remove anything that was caught. Arriving at the first nest, a massive red earth fortress some twelve feet high and about thirty feet around the base, we commenced to clear away all the surrounding undergrowth and leave an open space round the nest. When this was done the usual selection of mysterious holes was brought to light. Round the edge of this clearing we had made, we strung the nets, and posted the excited helpers at intervals along them. Then we blocked up most of the holes in the nest and, lighting a bundle of dry grass, thrust it down a hole and stood back. Slowly the smoke drifted along the tunnels and appeared at the mouths of other holes, little coiling skeins at first which rapidly turned into great rolling clouds as more and more fuel was added. We all waited in a tense silence as we watched the smoke. A quarter of an hour passed, and not a sign of life came from the nests. I had just decided that it must be devoid of life when a great uproar started at the other side of the hill. Hurrying round I found Elias and Carpenter convulsed with laughter. Choking with mirth they pointed into the smoke, and peering I could see, at the mouth of the largest hole, a tiny chameleon, about three inches long, staggering out into the fresh air.