HUNTING IN THE RIFT VALLEY 17 



The sun was nearly dipping when, after a twelve- 

 hours' march, we reached our camp, ah-eady pitched in 

 a lovely grove by the Enderit — here merely a muddy 

 creek dawdling in the depths of a bush-clad donga. 

 While we dined that happy evening under a spreading 

 mimosa, the evening's peace was broken by our friends 

 the crowned cranes filing overhead in noisy skeins to 

 roost in the tall fever- trees beyond. Ducks were flighting 

 in the gloom up the river, and, ere we turned in, lions 

 commenced to " call " in the woods below\ 



CROWNED HOENBiLL — LophoccTos mela7ioleucus. 



