162 THE ODYSSEY OF AN ANIMAL COLLECTOR 
In this way they avoid most, if not all, of their natural enemies. 
In the Cameroons the Black Weaver-birds build their pendant 
nests in trees right among the native huts. Almost every village is 
alive with them. It is a common sight to see a small tree festooned 
with their beautifully woven nests, the occupants taking no notice 
of the village life only a few yards away. I have never seen such 
active creatures as these weavers. Their nesting colonies are hives 
of industry the whole day long, and one gets the impression that 
they spend their entire lives weaving. It is a fascinating sight to 
see them one by one making a bee-line for a palm-nut tree. They 
settle on a frond, nip the edge of a palm leaf, then take off into 
the air; thus a long strip of leaf is torn off and the weaver sails 
through the air nestwards with a ribbon-like palm leaf trailing 
behind. At the nests tremendous chattering goes on while the 
birds hang upside down adjusting the latest piece of nesting ma- 
terial, and occasionally bobbing in and out of the nest to mold it 
into shape. Weaver-birds’ nests are usually kidney-shaped with a 
hole at the bottom on one side. There is a ridge between the 
entrance hole and the nest cavity which prevents the eggs from 
falling out when the nest is swaying in a wind. Many are not used 
for breeding but are constructed by the cocks, either for the sheer 
joy of weaving or to serve as sleeping places. 
There is another weaver-bird with similar habits called the 
V-marked Weaver. It is yellow with a black head, and like the 
foregoing, seems to realize the protection offered by choosing 
building sites right in the middle of a village. 
In the Cameroons is found the world’s largest frog. It is a 
monster, and goes under the scientific name of Rana goliath. One 
of my great desires was to get a few examples of this striking 
amphibian. Unfortunately it did not exist within many miles of 
my collecting base so I sent word to the local Chief to see if he 
could do something about it. He rolled up with his son and 
advisers, and with great solemnity I was presented with a fowl 
(years past the prime of life), some eggs (half of which turned 
out to be rotten), and a live tortoise. Guessing that a little whiskey 
would not be amiss on such an auspicious occasion, I poured out 
about a third of a tumbler for the Chief, who gulped the whole 
