50 THE GAME OF BRITISH EAST AFRICA. 



and dart off. A hen partridge or ground-nesting bird will, in like manner, remain 

 perfectly motionless on her nest until almost trodden upon. 



The little buck, however, cannot be said to be very strikingly like any natural 

 object. An oribi might pass in the long grass as a small red ant-hill, but no oribi 

 would be foolish enough to sit on a bare patch and pretend to be an ant-hill. If he 

 did, the difference in shade between his coat and the red soil would be very 

 noticeable. These little animals seem to rely more on cover and concealment or 

 partial concealment than on any great similarity to natural objects. 



If one admits that these little buck, and even some of the larger forest and 

 bush game, have been coloured protectively to represent ant-hills it is still difficult to 

 see how it can be claimed for the larger game of the plains that they have been 

 coloured for the purpose of escaping observation. Even if they were perfect 

 examples of protective harmony, which I do not admit, it would avail them little 

 when their lives are spent in walking about in the open. For a moving object, 

 even if it assimilates in colour to its surroundings, always catches the eye of the 

 practised observer. 



The two most absurd, but often quoted, examples of wonderful instances of 

 protective coloration are the zebra and the giraffe. I see that Mr. Selous, in his 

 book, ridicules the idea that these animals are endowed with their colours for the 

 purpose of making them invisible at short distances. It is true thai the zebra in 

 very long grass is sometimes difficult to pick out, but so is any animal almost 

 entirely concealed from view — even an elephant if the grass is long enough. 



In their usual East African habitat (the plains) zebras are strikingly conspicuous, 

 turning from black to white as they move and their sides are alternately in shadow 

 or exposed to the sunlight. 



All colours disappear in the far distance, and it is only at short distances, such 

 as at two hundred yards at most, that the real colours composing an animal's coat 

 can be seen clearly, so it is really only at that distance, or less than that distance, 

 that colours, whether protective or the reverse, can have much significance. 



A striking colour such as red or scarlet can be seen at much greater distances 

 when exposed to light, but in shadow it soon becomes undistinguishable from black. 

 In the far distance all colours appear either as black or as shining surfaces. The 

 glossy coats of animals, as a rule, shine in the sun and look dark in the shade. 

 Zebras have particularly glossy coats, and so they shine out clearly in the far 

 distance with the sun on them. When the shadow side only is visible they appear to 

 be of immense bulk and quite black. Seeing one of these animals several miles 

 away with the shade on it, I have often been uncertain as to whether it was 



