WILD ANIMALS OF AFRICA

WILDEBEEST the Gnu was one of the strangest-looking creatures on Broad Plain. His head and feet were like an ox's, but he had a long mane and a long flowing tail like a horse's. Each knee had a large bare callus on it that was caused by his resting on them when he was fighting, for the bull gnus fought each other desperately.

Wildebeest lived on Broad Plain, where there were no hills and no bushes. He wanted to be where he could see long distances and keep a sharp watch for his most dreaded enemy, Leo the Lion. During the day he paid little attention to Leo, and Leo did not seem to molest Wildebeest, even though they were within plain sight of each other. It was at night that Leo became very savage, for night was his regular hunting time.

Wildebeest the Gnu lived with a large herd, and the gnus were seldom alone. Usually there were some zebras or hartebeests grazing near by, and often the gazelles would visit them also. Each morning or afternoon the gnus would go for a drink. They were afraid to go at night, for they feared that Leo the Lion would be waiting at the water hole to pounce on them. If the zebras or the hartebeests were with them when they went to the water hole, the gnus would let their neighbors drink first, but it was not because they were polite. They waited to see if there were any Lurking Enemies at the water hole before they came near.

Sometimes when the weather was very dry they would have to go a dozen miles to a water hole each day. If it was dry for a long time, they would leave Broad Plain and join many, many other herds of gnus on their journey to some other place where there was water.

Now there lived on Broad Plain many bold, fierce killers called hunting dogs. They were the largest of the dog family that lived in Africa.

They had cozy dens that were connected by tunnels, but it seemed as if the hunting dogs were seldom home. About the only time they needed a home was when their furry babies were tiny.

The hunting dogs wandered about on Broad Plain during the day, but they did most of their hunting at night. They traveled in large packs, sometimes as many as fifty hunting together. If some of them were chasing their prey and became tired, others would take up the pursuit. They were not much afraid of Fearful the Man, and sometimes they would kill large numbers of his sheep and goats merely for the fun of killing.

Early one evening the hunting dogs gathered in a large pack and started out across Broad Plain in search of something to kill. At last they came to a small hill from which they could see a long way. There in the distance were Wildebeest the Gnu and his many friends, and beyond them were the gazelles.

The gnus had returned from their afternoon drink and were eating their supper. Now and then one of them would playfully toss up dust with his horns, and they often shook their heads because of the crawly maggots that lived in their noses. They were almost as noisy as the zebras with their queer grunts.

The hunting dogs could see Tommy the Gazelle violently switching his tail, as was his habit, for the gazelles seemed to move their tails continually. And near by they could see Tommy's cousins, the Grant's gazelles, which are larger than Tommy. The gazelles were friendly toward each other and often grazed together as if they were one family.

Now the hunting dogs really wanted the gazelles. But when Wildebeest the Gnu and his family saw the hunting dogs, they began to prance and rollick and perform strange capers as they always did when they were making up their minds to flee. When the gazelles saw such actions, they knew that a Lurking Enemy was near.

Away raced the gazelles across Broad Plain, the mothers and their fleet babies ahead and the father gazelles following behind. And away went the gnus, bucking and running around each other as if they were enjoying themselves greatly. Then they really hit out across Broad Plain in earnest, with the hunting dogs hot on their heels. The hunting dogs thought they might catch some baby gnus. But the gnus were about the swiftest antelope on Broad Plain, for a long distance.

Suddenly there was a loud bang! -and another, and another. One of the hunting dogs lay still on the ground.

You see, Fearful the Man owned a flock of woolly sheep that he kept at his home near Lazy River. Sometimes he permitted the woolly sheep to go out on Grassy Valley when the grass became short near home. Of course he tried to watch them carefully, but the hunting dogs were not much afraid of him, and he had decided to teach them a lesson. That morning he had taken his rifle and had ridden out across Grassy Valley toward Broad Plain, where he knew the hunting dogs stayed most of the time.

That was how it happened that when the hunting dogs came racing along after the gnus, Fearful the Man was hiding there to surprise them. Bang! Bang! Bang! went his rifle. Boom! Boom

You may be sure the hunting dogs knew what that meant. Those that were able lost no time turning around and racing back again across Broad Plain toward a safe retreat.

KONGONI the Hartebeest was about the ugliest-looking of all the antelopes, unless it was Wildebeest the Gnu. Kongoni had a funny, long face, long ears, and a sort of topknot from which his horns grew. His shoulders were high and his hips low. Nevertheless, he was the swiftest and most tireless of the antelopes. There are
those who say Kongoni can outrun Wildebeest the Gnu, who is also very swift, but probably they never ran a race. Kongoni could keep up with the older ones when he was still very young, and when grown could easily bound over anyone who might be in his way.

Kongoni was called the policeman of Broad Plain because he liked to stand on an anthill and watch for Lurking Enemies. He acted as a sentinel for other animals besides the hartebeests; and if danger threatened, he would whistle a shrill warning to everyone.

You see, the hartebeests were very friendly with their neighbors. They often visited with the ostriches, the gnus, and the gazelles; but they especially liked the zebras. The hartebeests and the zebras were seldom far apart. Although the zebras were noisy, the hartebeests had little to say. Sometimes they made a noise that sounded as if they had caught cold and were sneezing.

Kongoni was the leader of a large band. There were mothers and little calves, big brothers and sisters, and aunts and uncles and cousins; but Kongoni was really the boss. He frequently had terrible fights with others that wanted to be boss. In the morning or afternoon, or sometimes at night, he would go with the other hartebeests for a drink, for they never lived far from water. When the biting flies or botflies or other troublesome insects were bothering them, the hartebeests would go to their Stamping Ground, where they would roll in the dust and kick up clouds of it. There was a rock close by where they could scratch their sides and neck. The Stamping Ground had been an old anthill, which the hartebeests had knocked down and trampled into dust.

One day Kongoni saw another hartebeest practicing fighting. He would fall on his knees and butt and horn the ground until his face, horns, and knees were covered with the red earth. That made Kongoni angry. No doubt he thought the young bull was challenging him to fight. He ran and dropped on his knees in front of the other. They watched each other with flashing eyes. Suddenly they sprang forward, and their heads came together with a crash.

Now Kongoni was not so young anymore. He had led his herd on Broad Plain a long time, and his keen eyes had watched for Lurking Enemies while the others enjoyed the tender grass shoots or rested during the heat of the day. His sides and neck carried many scars where the sharp horns of his challengers had raked him.

Kongoni was surprised at the strength of the Young Bull. When their heads crashed together he was knocked almost off his feet. And before he could recover his balance he felt a painful jab in his side that knocked him flat. Kongoni was no match for the Young Bull. As soon as he could get up, he ran from the herd he had so long watched over and headed out across Broad Plain in search of a new place to live. That is how a very strange friendship began.

You see, Kongoni thought he might find other old leaders who, like himself, had been driven from their herds. Sometimes the old leaders formed a band and lived together. Then again, some of them chose to live alone. But before Kongoni found any of them, whom should he meet but Grumpy the Rhinoceros.

Now, you may think it unusual that a hartebeest and a rhinoceros would become friends, and so it would seem, but if you were to visit Broad Plain and Big jungle you would see other strange friendships among the Wild Animals. You might find an old zebra and an oryx, who were partners, or an elephant and a buffalo, or a wildebeest with a herd of gazelles.

It was quite natural for Kongoni to stop when he came to Grumpy the Rhino. Kongoni was sore and tired from his fight and journey; and since he was dejected because of his defeat, he was glad for company.

Grumpy the Rhino was taking a rest when Kongoni arrived. His front legs were folded backward beneath him, as if they had given way under his great weight; and he appeared to have sagged down on his knees with his hind legs straight. His huge body was plastered with dried mud, so that from a distance he reminded one of a large fallen -down anthill.

You see, Grumpy had a Favorite Water Hole where he went each night for a drink. Toward evening he would feed along his own private path that led to his Favorite Water Hole, and after drinking he would enjoy a roll in the mud. Usually there were other rhinos who came there for a drink, each along his own path, and there was likely to be a fight. Sometimes Grumpy would have to travel as much as ten miles or more from his home to his Favorite Water Hole.

Every night after he had drunk and had enjoyed his mud bath, Grumpy would start back toward his Favorite Feeding Place. There he would eat a large supper of tender grass shoots or acacia twigs or juicy aloes or other favorite food. It really was Grumpy's supper, although he finished it in the morning. Grumpy did his running about at night and slept most of the day. He was fast asleep when Kongoni the Hartebeest came along.

Yes, sir; Grumpy was sound asleep, and he is about the soundest sleeper you could find. If you were careful, you could walk right up to him when he was asleep. That is, you could if Redbill the Tickbird did not awaken him with his loud chatter.

You see, besides having the most grouchy expression of all the Jungle Beasts, Grumpy looked as if he were wearing clothes that were too large for him. His skin was wrinkled and creased, and in these folds was a good place for plump ticks to hide. So while Grumpy slept, Redbill the Tickbird acted as sentinel and spent his time searching for these troublesome pests.

Redbill did not intend to frighten Grumpy, but when Kongoni came up he made a great chatter and fuss. He knew that Kongoni was not a Lurking Enemy, for he had seen him many times. But that is the way with Redbill; he thinks he has to make a fuss when he is disturbed.

Now Grumpy is the most stupid of all the big Wild Animals. His eyes are so poor that he can scarcely recognize his own friends fifty yards away. And to make matters worse, he has two horns growing on the top of his nose and sticking up in front of his eyes. But he does have a keen nose. Before he takes a rest, he sometimes turns back along his trail and lies down on the side toward which the wind is blowing. Then the Playful Air Whiffs will warn him if a Lurking Enemy is following his trail.

Grumpy was not in the least afraid of Leo the Lion. That is, he was not afraid of Leo after he was grown. But his thick hide would be the best kind ever for making shields; so he had to watch out for Black Hunter. That was why he was so frightened when Redbill the Tickbird began his loud chatter.

It was a wonder that Grumpy did not charge right at Kongoni the Hartebeest, for that would have been like him. He seldom stopped to think. If his keen nose caught a strange odor, he would probably charge straight for it without waiting to investigate. After he and Kongoni became friends he could trust Kongoni's sharp eyes to watch out for Black Hunter; and Kongoni was glad to do so, because, as I have said, he was used to acting as sentinel for all the Wild Animals around him.

Of course there were many times when Grumpy and Kongoni were not together. If Grumpy got too hot, he would go for a mud bath. You could see where he rubbed mud against the trees near by when he came out.

Now I suppose you will be wondering why Grumpy lived alone most of the time. The truth was, Grumpy and Mrs. Rhino both had mean dispositions; and before Baby Rhino was born, Mrs. Rhino had made a Hidden Lair of her own. It was not much of a home, only a shallow hole which Mrs. Rhino had pawed out under a thorny bush. Grumpy had come around sometimes at night to see how things were going, but Mrs. Rhino was not very friendly to him.

After Baby Rhino was large enough to follow Mrs. Rhino, which was soon, Grumpy often saw them at the Favorite Water Hole. There the baby rhinos would play Frisk and Chase while they puffed and squealed, and the old rhinos argued over the water and prodded each other with their horns. It was no wonder that Grumpy was glad to return to Kongoni, with whom he could live in peace and quietness.

Although Mrs. Rhino and Baby Rhino lived not far away, Grumpy did not stay with them much. Sometimes they would meet while searching for Favorite Food, and although Baby Rhino grew to be half as large as his mother and was several years old, still he stayed with her until another baby rhino was born. Then big Baby Rhino had to go off and live alone most of the time, even as Grumpy did.

The rhinoceroses certainly were a grouchy family. It was strange that Grumpy and Kongoni could be such good companions.

KUNGU the Bushbuck was a near relative of the sitatungas who lived in Papyrus Swamp. But you never could be sure where you would find Kungu. He might be on the high, wet, cold mountain, or on the hot, dry, low country; or he might make his home where the ground was wet and marshy and even covered with water, where grass and reeds and bushes grew. Then again, Kungu sometimes chose for his home a belt of timber along a stream, or he might be found in a big reed bed where the reedbucks lived.

Although you could not be sure where you would find Kungu the Bushbuck, at least you would know where you would not find him. You would never find him where there were no trees or bushes or reeds for him to hide in; and you would never find him where he could not get a drink at least once a day, although he sometimes went miles from his Favorite Drinking Place between drinks.

Kungu never liked to be in open country, and when he went for a drink he chose a place where thick forest or other cover came right down to the river's edge. Although he might be near the hartebeests and the waterbucks and other animals, he never went out on Broad Plain where they were feeding.

Kungu the Bushbuck liked to live alone. He did not even care for Mrs. Bushbuck's company most of the time, and she did not care for his. Each lived alone except, of course, Mrs. Bushbuck had a baby to care for part of the year.

The Bushbucks had many Lurking Enemies. There was always Terror the Hunter to be feared. And they never knew when Strangler the Python would drop down from a hiding place in a sheltering tree and squeeze the life out of them. If they went for a drink along Lazy River, they had to watch sharply or Snapper the Crocodile would grab them by the nose and pull them under.

Then there were the natives who tried in many ways to capture the bushbucks. Sometimes the Black Hunters dug pits in the winding trails for the bushbucks to fall into. They also made cunning snares that would spring up and hold the bushbucks high above the earth if they were caught. They used fire, as they did to capture other animals, but with the bushbucks they used a special trick. The Black Hunters would stretch a large net across the end of a small valley. Then they would separate into two parties and each party would guard a side of the valley. When the wind was blowing toward the net, some of them would start a fire and it would drive the Wild Animals in the valley toward the net.

But these were not all of Kungu's enemies. There were the wild dogs that went prowling at night in bands. But of all the Lurking Enemies, Chui the Leopard was most to be feared. Wherever the bushbucks went, they stopped and sniffed to make sure that Chui was not waiting to pounce on them. But, strange to say, they did not seem to fear Leo the Lion. They would rest all day in a jungle thicket even though they knew that Leo had made his bed there also.

One evening when the little feathered friends were singing their good-night tune, and the long shadows were reaching out across Broad Plain, Kungu the Bushbuck rose from his bed in a quiet hiding place and stretched his legs. Kungu was hungry and thirsty. He decided that he would go to Lazy River for a drink first. It was not more than a mile away.

Kungu sniffed the air to make sure that Chui the Leopard was not near. Then he went carefully through the dense trees and brush along a winding trail that the sharp hoofs of many different kinds of Wild Animals had made. At Lazy River Kungu stopped to see if Snapper the Crocodile were lying in wait for him. While he was waiting, Fleetfoot the Kob went down to drink, and Kungu decided he could go down safely himself. But he drank quickly and hurried away through the overhanging branches, for he well knew that a drinking place was a dangerous spot to linger.

After a while Kungu the Bushbuck found a wild olive tree, and he decided he would stop and nibble awhile. He did not care much for grass, but ate mostly tender tips and leaves from trees and bushes.

Suddenly Kungu raised his head and sniffed. He thought he had caught a faint odor of Chui the Leopard. He was sure he had. He took a few steps this way and that, testing the Playful Air Whiffs to see which way the Revealing Scent came from. But there seemed to be almost no breeze to move the little leaflets. And then Kungu suddenly found himself looking right into Chui's green eyes.

Now Kungu knew that if he turned to flee, Chui would spring upon him instantly. But Kungu the Bushbuck was no coward. He was the best fighter among all the antelopes for his size. He wore rather long, sharp horns that spiraled almost like large corkscrews, and Kungu knew how to use them. With them he had speared to death a wild dog that had attacked him. His father had only one horn because he had broken the other off when he stabbed into one of Chui's relatives.

So Kungu lowered his head a little and waited. The hair on his neck bristled and his eyes flashed in anger. He stood close under the wild olive tree so that Chui could not leap upon his back. And always he kept his sharp horns ready for a vicious lunge if Chui should spring at him.

But Chui the Leopard did not hurry. He tried moving stealthily around to see if he could surprise Kungu from the side. He even backed up a few steps as if he were leaving. But Kungu was not to be fooled. From his shelter under the wild olive tree he watched Chui's every move.

Then a surprising thing happened. From out of the bushes behind Chui stepped Mrs. Bushbuck. She had followed Kungu's trail to the wild olive tree. And because she had been sniffing along with her nose to the ground, she had not caught the Revealing Scent of Chui.

When Chui heard footsteps behind him, he turned to see who was coming. Then before he could turn back, he felt a stinging stab in his shoulder as Kungu charged with all his might. Chui tore himself loose and limped painfully into the brush.

You see, Kungu knew that Mrs. Bushbuck could not defend herself, because, like many kinds of female antelopes, she had no horns. Besides, Kungu was very angry. So when he saw a chance he gave Chui a jab with his sharp horns that Chui would long remember.

KUNGU the Bushbuck's biggest relatives were the elands. In fact, the elands were the largest of all antelopes. But although they were as large as an ox, they were timid and peaceable, and would scarcely defend themselves even when at
tacked and wounded. They often visited the zebras and the hartebeests and the wildebeests and the gazelles and the ostriches as they fed slowly toward water in the afternoon. When they arrived at the water hole, the elands waited for their neighbors to go down first to drink.

That may not have been because they were kind and polite. It probably was because they were afraid that Leo the Lion might be lurking near the water hole, and they were waiting to see that he did not attack their neighbors. Then they could go down and drink in safety. But as darkness covered Broad Plain and Rolling Hills, and the Shining Stars were winking at themselves in Clear Lake, and Green Mountain echoed to the night cries of the monkeys and the hyraxes, the elands grew more and more alert. For they knew that Leo the Lion would then be abroad in the land looking for a feast, and Leo was the only Lurking Enemy the elands feared except Terror the Hunter.

Of course Chui the Leopard and the wild dogs would carry off baby elands if they saw a chance, but usually the baby elands were kept within the herd or near their mothers where they would be protected. You see, unlike Mrs. Bushbuck and many other antelopes, the mother elands wore horns. Their horns were straight, but spirally twisted, and they were very sharp.

Some of the elands lived far out toward Big Desert where, like Spindleshanks the Giraffe and the oryxes, they had nothing to drink for months at a time, unless they ate wild watermelons. Some of them lived on Broad Plain where there was only grass, and some of them lived where there was scattered brush and trees.

Now there was a herd of elands that lived in Evergreen Forest, which lay on a broad rolling height many miles wide between Happy Valley, where Little Lazy River flowed, and Pleasant Valley, through which Crooked Creek wound. In Evergreen Forest there were jungle thickets of jasmine and smilax and veronica through which it was almost impossible to pass. There were evergreen shrubs and thorn trees. And in between there were grassy parks.

It was on a winter day in August that Gray Boy the Eland was born in Evergreen Forest: It was winter in August because, you see, the elands lived south of the equator, and Old Man Winter spends his time down there while we up north are enjoying a visit with Welcome Summer.

For many months Gray Boy the Eland had no name except Baby Eland. He was not called Gray Boy until he was quite old, and I will tell you later how he got his name. He lived with his Loving Mother and the other elands in Evergreen Forest, where they rested and fed during the day. In the evening when the Laughing Yellow Sun was bowing good night behind Green Mountain, the elands would start toward one of the valley for ~a' drink. Sometimes they would go to Happy Valley, and then again they might go to Pleasant Valley for a drink from Crooked Creek. If Terror the Hunter bothered them one place, they would go elsewhere for a week or two. After drinking, they would spend the night grazing in a cool valley. When morning came, back they would go into Evergreen Forest, for the elands were great travelers. They thought nothing of going twenty or thirty miles after a drink, and they liked to rest in the shade in Evergreen Forest when the days were hot.

Now on a large ranch in Pleasant Valley, called Pleasant Acres, lived a man who was interested in the elands. He knew that they were easily tamed, and he wanted very much to keep some of them on Pleasant Acres with his cattle. So he decided to capture some of them and bring them to live on his ranch.

The man had watched the elands many years. He knew that, when the rainy season came, they would stay near the valley and not go far into Evergreen Forest. He also knew that the elands were the easiest to tire of all the African game animals, for he had seen the natives run them down afoot and catch them.

Early one clear morning the man and his helpers started out on horseback. They had built a high Corral far out on Pleasant Valley near the edge of Evergreen Forest. It had a strong gate, and running out from each side of the gate like a large funnel were fences.

After a while the man thought he saw the elands far off across Pleasant Valley just outside Evergreen Forest. They looked like a small herd of cattle grazing peacefully, with some of them lying down here and there. The man looked at them through his powerful glasses.

"Yep, those are the elands all right," he said; "I can even see the rhinoceros birds flying around among them. Seem to be all cows and calves. Guess the bulls are off by themselves in Evergreen Forest this time of year."

"So much the better for us," replied a helper. "All we want are a few half-grown ones."

The man divided his helpers into two parties. One group he sent far around to the right under a leader. The other band followed him to the left. After a while he began leaving a rider here and there as he went along. The leader of the other band did the same, so that when they met behind the elands they had formed a large horseshoeshaped ring around them with the open end toward the high corral. Then the riders behind the elands came racing on their horses, shouting and waving as they went.

Of course the elands were taken by surprise. As was their custom when they were alarmed, they rushed together and then started off at a swift trot.

But as the riders bore down upon them, they were forced to break into a gallop, sometimes leaping over one another's back. If they tried to turn to right or left, they were met by those riders who had been left along the way, who joined the chase on fresh horses.

So it came about that the elands soon found themselves inside the high corral with the strong gate shut behind them. Then the man and his helpers rode off to Pleasant Acres.

At first the elands were frantic. They ran around the high corral looking for a place where they could get out. When the man and his helpers came back the next day with a large truck, they found the elands tired and much quieter. Very carefully they separated the mother elands and the baby elands from the young elands and turned them loose through the strong gate. Then they loaded the young elands into the truck and hauled them off to Pleasant Acres.

"Here is a fine yearling bull," said the man, as they were unloading them into another high corral at the ranch. "I think I'll call him Gray Boy." And that is how Gray Boy the Eland got his name.

Each day the man brought the young elands Favorite Food. And they could drink from jolly Brook that ran through the high corral. Later, after they had become quite tame, they were turned out into a large pasture, where they could get plenty of Favorite Food and rest in the shade of sheltering trees when the days were hot.

If you could have seen Gray Boy the Eland a few years later, you would have seen him standing under a sheltering tree with his family, idly switching his long tufted tail, for an eland's tail is never still for long. Of course you would not have known him, because he had grown so large. He had grown a mane along the top of his neck, and a great dewlap, which hung down under his throat. And, what was more, Gray Boy the Eland had found Pleasant Acres a nice place to live, and he chewed his cud contentedly.