ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY BULLETIN 



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the very day my hands can stroke the Okapi," 

 was my joyous and encouraging reply. Six 

 weeks later, in Makere territory. I was informed 

 that Abawe, who was to capture the Okapi calf, 

 had left his forty wives, and. accompanied by 

 three men. was camping only twenty miles to 

 the north of our camp. Whatever my doubts at 

 this message, I knew what a careful hunter 

 Abawe was. It was Akenge' s boast that at least 

 one son, among some seventy children, could 

 catch alive any animal in these forests. Akenge 

 had undoubtedly posted many natives to ob- 

 serve Okapi trails, but in the eyes of the natives 

 occult powers were brought to bear. 



Abawe had been in camp but five days and it 

 seemed utter foolishness when his messenger 

 boldly announced, "The young Okapi will be 

 caught tomorrow." His instructions would not 

 allow him to speak further. At all events there 

 was a chance to see, if not an Okapi, woodcraft 

 unsurpassed. Before daybreak Abawe had left 

 alone. He had eaten nothing the previous night 

 nor that morning for fear of touching something 

 a woman had put a hand upon, as this might 

 have broken the charm. His merciless rigor 

 alone brought success and all superstition with 

 which he surrounded himself was mere chaff 

 appealing to the mysticism of the negro mind, 

 though sometimes he himself gave the impres- 

 sion of believing in it. By noon the party was 

 to meet him. It was a clear day, the sun had 

 passed its zenith when he finally appeared. 

 There was a deadly silence. At intervals only 

 could one hear the customary noises of birds or 

 insects. Stopping at the top of a hill, he sent 

 two men by a circuitous route down to the brook, 

 where the Okapi usually crossed. Within half 

 an hour one of them returned. "The Okapi has 

 not passed !" Mbansa had remained near the 

 crossing to signal. Abawe concluded that it was 

 on the hill and had proceeded cautiously only 

 a hundred yards when he stopped. There was 

 a terrific crash but he stood still, patiently lis- 

 tening for the signal which was promptly an- 

 swered. "The calf is not with her!" The 

 mother Okapi had bolted at less than three yards 

 from him. The deep-cut tracks later revealed 

 the mighty leaps she had taken. He had prom- 

 ised his father to capture the calf alive, he 

 cared nothing for the mother, and so scrutinized 

 only the smaller tracks on the hard, well-worn 

 trail. There, right at the place where the fright- 

 ened mother had decamped, stood another own- 

 er of the typical stripes, hidden in the bushes, 

 apparently with no other object in life than to 

 await her return. This looked so like the re- 

 hearsal of a performance that evidently Abawe 



had spent the last few days in useful observa- 

 tion and had not trusted luck alone. 



Holding the calf in his arms as firmly as if 

 it were a struggling lion, he called desperately 

 for lianas with which to bind it. All hands 

 were read}', for that was big game! But every- 

 one had to laugh. The terrible beast had no 

 other desire than to lick the face of its captor 

 and to suck the ringers held out to him. It was 

 as tame as a lamb and enjoyed being patted 

 and stroked. Abawe thought it had been be- 

 witched so he would receive no presents from 

 the white man for catching a thing tamer than 

 any goat. All cheered him and a dance was 

 held on the very spot, during which the young 

 Okapi peacefully settled in the shade. To the 

 negroes it was disappointing to see that calf, 

 the young of a creature believed to be one of 

 the shvest in the world, stand unafraid among 

 them, especially in view of the fact that it was 

 a week old, able to run and jump, and walk as 

 fast as any man. Had it not bleated from time 

 to time like a sheep and walked about in quest 

 of its mother, even by the following day one 

 might have thought it belonged to the little boy 

 whom it liked to follow. A most endearing 

 creature, it was the pet of all, though few dared 

 to touch it. 



Within four days my store of eight cans of 

 condensed milk had given out. and it was a se- 

 vere shock when my messengers returned from 

 Poko and Medje, six and seven days distant, 

 without a new supply. Low water prevented 

 steamers from proceeding as far as usual up 

 the Ubangi and Aruwimi rivers, with a resulting 

 scarcity of provisions from Europe in all the 

 posts of the eastern Uele and Ituri that year. I 

 tried a mixture of rice Hour and water, but the 

 calf became so weak that ten days later I lost 

 all hope of saving him. It was a sad disap- 

 pointment, yet more than ever I was convinced 

 that under proper conditions Okapi could be 

 brought to civilized countries. This happened 

 in late November and perhaps with the enor- 

 mous task on our hands of overhauling and 

 ] lacking our large collections we might have lost 

 the little fellow later, especially as delays and 

 difficulties due to the European war might have 

 made its transport impossible. 



I sent salt, pipes, tobacco, matches, heavy 

 anklets, brass tags, perfume and scented soap, 

 gifts most welcome to Akenge. A fortnight 

 thereafter his chief medicine man arrived, en- 

 trusted with two magic whistles from a famous 

 set. mere hollowed pieces of wood decorated 

 with polished iron rings, a token of his friend- 

 ship. I had my choice; one if blown by the 



