162 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Aug. 36, 1899. 
Crayfishing up the Vaivasa. 
Talolo was responsible for the trip into the bush for 
crayfish. In general it may be said that Talolo's hunger 
for unearned coin was at the bottom of almost all my op- 
portunities to become on intimate terms with the woods 
and rivers of the Samoan jungle. Talolo was my own 
boj' — at least, be had adopted me in the beginning, and 
there Was no escape from his wheedling artifices; he was 
only twelve or so, really handsome, and as graceful as a 
kitten, and with all a small cat's moral irresponsibility. 
It was not permitted to every Samoan to come within 
the compound; they would simply overrun the premises 
if not checked, and it would be equivalent to running a 
restaurant for the surrounding village. So there was pen- 
ciled on the gate post a notice or "riusipepa" carrying the 
information, "Ua sa Icnei lotoa," or, in English, "This 
yard forbidden." Patu, the fat chief of the neighborhood, 
had done that; as Talolo interpreted the action, "Patu he 
fix taboo here for me for you." But as Talolo was Patu's 
son, he felt entitled to disregard all such restrictions and 
to join me on all occasions when I was in sight in the 
broad side of my roomy veranda. In this v/ay he was 
able to add to his scanty stock of English and I was able 
to study Samoan from original sources. It was a liberal 
education to listen to the ever varying reasons why 
Talolo should have a shilling; even by letting him have 
a sixpence about once in every twenty times I fear I ac- 
quired a reputation for being an easy mark and a spend- 
thrift. 
One morning a girl , with a basket leaned over the 
fence with something to sell. Then followed this con- 
versation, the type of many others. 
"Fa 'akan?" (Bity?) whined the girl, for they never 
seem to think it necessary to specify the article for sale. 
"Langoa?" (What's its name?) was my reply. 
"Ula," she said. 
I did not recognize the word — at least, f did not recall 
which one of a dozen things the word means might be 
peddled in this way. But I followed it up witli the further 
question, "Pe fia le totongi?" or "What's the price?" 
"Seleni" (a .shilling), the huckster drawled. 
'Talolo e," I asked 'the lad, "what are ula?" 
"Big bug," he replied; "good for eat for me. for , you." 
And he strolled down to the gate and began to look over 
the girl's stock in trade. The answer was not entirely 
clear, nor was it complete. I knew by experience that 
there Avere many things "good for eat" in Talolo's way 
of thinking which I could never bring m3'- palate to tol- 
erate, and jiis description of the article as a big bug was 
not at all appetizing after living in a community where the 
cockroach grows from 4 to 6in. long and r.cems pos- 
sessed of an insane desire to commit suicide by drowning 
himself in every dish of hot soup. Talolo talked with the 
girl and then sent her away. When he came back to me 
he laid on the floor before me two of his bugs, which I 
had no difficulty in recognizing as the crayfish of the 
South Sea Islands generally, which I knew to be indeed 
excellent eatings . - 
Talolo said: "Yoil no give shillings to Sarhba girl; all 
Samoa girl beggars; you give ''um shilling, birneby shil- 
ling all gone, uma, finished. 'Pose 3^ou want ula, catch 
plenty in the bush up the river for you for me; no give 
Samoa girl shilling." The possibility of the working out 
of his own particular silver mine represented such a dire 
calamity to Talolo that he was willing to do anything—' 
almost even to work — to avert such a catastrophe. If I 
had proposed such a bush trip to Talolo there would have 
been many obstacles, and it would have cost me many tins 
of beef and salmon to smooth out the difficulties. But 
having proposed it himself, I grasped the opportunity 
for yet another trip in to the bush with the lad, for despite 
his laziness he knew the secrets of the jungle and never 
failed to give me information of all sorts as I followed 
his easy step along blind paths. 
The "crayfish were good enough excuse for a day of 
forest scrambling. They range in length when extended up 
to 7 or Sin., not including the first pair of claws, which 
are always as long as the body and frequently longer. 
Their maximum limit of length falls only a little short of 
the minimum established for our lobsters, yet the cray- 
fish are far more slender and even at their largest do not 
begin to approach the diameter of our smallest lobsters, 
seldom being of greater girth than a man's thumb. The 
claws are normally slender, and with long intervals be- 
tween the joints they have not any of the strength which 
enables the crayfish of Louisiana to do so much damage 
by its levee borings. The South Sea crayfish does not 
burrow at all, not even to get under the rocks in the 
bed of the streams in which it lives. Large numbers of 
this edible crustacean are taken for food by the Samoans 
and for sale to the white settlers. Still greater numbers 
are washed out of their mountain pools by the frequent 
freshets after the sudden deluges of rain on the mountains 
and are either smashed by contact with the rough stones 
of the streams or reach salt water only to die and be the 
food of marine fishes. Yet despite the enormous destruc- 
tion which must go on there never seems any diminution 
in the numbers. There seems to be no particular breed- 
ing season, for I have found just as many females carry- 
ing their ova in one month as in another. For my own 
part I returned all such to the water, but even such a 
slight beginning toward game conservation I was never 
able to impress on my Samoans. It would be at best 
only a drop in the bucket, for the freshets do the most 
damage, and yet they seem to have no effect on the sup- 
ply of crayfish. 
By the time I had changed into my serviceable bush 
suit Talolo had almost changed his mind about going, but 
a threat to buy a shilling's worth from some Samoan girl 
soon brought him to time. I knew that the crayfish were 
found in the brawling streams of the mountains, and I had 
reason to know that it was rough work_to follow where 
Talolo led, for he was not hampered by any great amount 
of clothing and mud and rocks were all one to his cal- 
loused feet. It was all right for him to get up from his 
seat on the floor and give himself a shake just like a 
puppy and say, "Ta te o" (Let us two go). He may have 
)beeii rea^y g-pfording to ]iis oyyi] idea, bijt I hac] to Ic^ow 
what to take for the sport. Were rods needed? Were 
nets needed? How about the bait? What sort of a creel 
should be taken? 
If anything could upset the placid calm with which 
Talolo met the cares and responsibilities of life, such 
questions as these would come the closest to doing it. 
For the tenth time he explained that nothing need be 
taken; that the Samoan bush itself provided all its own 
resources for the taking of the things that lived therein. 
"The bttsh of }'our island," he used often to say, ''it must 
be the bush of devils, for it does not help you to take the 
bush creatures that walk and swim and fly and creep, but 
you must take things into the bush. We Samoans take 
nothing into the bush, we bring out much." This was a 
thing I never could explain to this wild child — how it 
came that we had outgrown all our old woodcraft and had 
to depend on man's inventions when we went a-forest. 
Nor could he be brought to understand how we have 
driven our bush so far out of our lives that it is only sel- 
dom and through many trials that we can win back the 
bush at all. 
When Talolo and T set out for crayfish we had not more 
than a hundred yards to go before we reached the bogs 
of the taro plantations and the hummocks of sugar cane 
where the path lay along a narrow dike cut by ditches, 
which in turn were bridged by tree trunks scarred with 
cuts to give firm footing. Not a mile from my house we 
found tall timber and imbroken solitude. Up to this 
point the path had been clear and distinct, a sort of loin. 
Broadway, where the never-ending tread of bare feet had 
hardened the soil. But at the hill where now we rested the 
one broad path split at the parting of the ways and each 
was no more than an obscure trail. On the flat land 
could be seen the mangrove swamp which inclosed the 
course of two small rivers. The local river of Vaiala, the 
Fuesa, I had followed through its sluggish windings in a 
canoe until it vanished in a tangle of the stilted roots of 
a mangrove clump where it could be followed no longer. 
The other river in the swamp, the Vailo, I had also fol- 
lowed in its course behind Moota and Matafangatele, and 
had traced it up to its source in a bubbling spring. Here 
they say that eels were created long ago in the beginning 
of "time. Be the myth as it may., there can be no gain- 
saying the fact that this river is filled with eels along that 
part of its course where its fresh water mingles with the 
salt tide. Neither of these streams was a fit spot for 
crayfish, which must have cold water and clear water and 
always sweet water. Having explained this natural his- 
tory of crayfish and geographj^ of Vaiala, Talolo led the 
way up the steep hill where eyes less sharp than his would 
not haA^e been able to discover any sort of trail. It was 
difficult going — the slope was very steep, the footing was 
insecure and it would have been easy to turn an ankle on 
the jagged blocks of lava or the slippery roots of trees. 
Sometimes the lianas lay along the slope in such a way as 
to take the place of a rope with which to help out the 
climb. Both of us were breathless when we reached the 
summit of the hill, but Talolo showed that his confidence 
in the resources of the bush was not a vain hope. A few 
moments' search disclosed what he was looking for, a 
pendent liana about 2in. thick. With a quick wrench he 
snapped it apart above a well-defined knot on the stem, 
and again below another knot 2ft. lower down. This 
node he gave me, first poking a hole in the joint, and told 
me to drink. The joint was a reservoir of sap, holding 
at least a pint, and it was a most refreshing drink, being 
both cool and slightly acid. 
From this point on the path lay along the crest of the 
ridge. It is characteristic of all the South Sea people to 
run their paths along steep ridges, thus avoiding the pos- 
sibility of being caught by some enemy who has the ad- 
vantage of the superior position. Easier going might be 
found in the hollows and along the streams, but the 
Samoan is bound by custom as though it were fetters and 
will never willingly alter anything that has come down 
from his fathers. That the fathers had something to do 
with this path on the crest is clear from the massive stone 
fortifications along which it rt:ns. The path itself is 
rudely paved with lava blocks, a sure .sign that it formed 
part of the old system of war roads of antiquit}'-. 
The bush was not obtrusively noisy, but there was 
noticeable variety of sound. In the distance could be 
heard the voice of the pigeon like the long roll sounding 
far away calling soldiers to the alert, the gentle cooing 
of the manutangi dove, the sharp scuffle of the lizard 
dashing away when the foot is almost descending on it, yet 
seen only as a flash of indigo. Now the sound of dashing 
water is heard from the depths of the left hand declivity, 
and Talolo declares that the Vaivasa stream is below. 
We cannot descend just there, says Talolo. It is not that 
the slope is too steep — in fact it seems to be as open a 
spot as can be found. It is a little difficult to find out why 
the path to the river is closed at that spot, but piecemeal 
it comes out that there is a dangerous "aitu" or ghost-devil 
on that slope. Of cour.se, Talolo knows that the old 
heathen devils cannot hurt those who "lotu" in the white 
man's religion, but now he remembers that he did not go 
to church last Sunday, and it might not be safe to venture 
within the special province of this malignant demon. The 
truth of it all is that all Samoans retain their old gods 
along with the new, and the old faith has become the 
superstition of the new era. 
At last we come to a slope which is theologically satis- 
factory to Talolo, and there slide and scramble down to 
the bed of the stream, at present a shallow brook only a 
ya.rd wide, but showing on the gorges that there are times 
when it flows in flood 20 and 30ft. deep, floods which are 
all the more to be feared as they come in a moment with 
a wall of water roaring down the mottntain and are past 
in an hour. 
Talolo has put me on the spot. He binds a spicy leaf of 
ginger about his head and as he seeks a springy clump of 
ferns on which to recline, tells me that there are plenty of 
crayfish here. In vain I peer into quiet pools among the 
rocks. Talolo says there are crayfish, he even points them 
out to rne, but I can see nothing in the green shadows ; 
even when the boy stirs them up with a stick all I can 
swear to is a sudden flash through the water. But Talolo 
has to make good his claim that nothing more is needed 
to catch the crayfish than is afforded by the bush itself. 
He is never stumped in any such question of practical 
woodcraft, yet each new instance of his ingenuity is just 
ps interesting to me as all that has gone before. 
The problem in this case was to catch the crayfish. 
which can almost conceal themselves, which go so swiftly 
as to elude the most rapid grasp of the hand. The only 
materials which the lad is to use are those to be found in 
the woods about him. His only tools are his own bare 
hands. I am very careful not to let the boy know that I 
think there is anything unusual in what he is doing or 
that I could not do as much myself. But to myself I 
must confess that under these conditions I would be lucky 
to get one crayfish an hour, 
Talolo first rolled together a lot of stones from the bed 
of the stream, making two wingdams in the direction of 
the current and approaching each other by an interval of 
little more than J^ft. The upstream side of the dams 
was faced with a revetment of grass and leaves, held in 
place by the outer course of rock, Talolo explaining the 
purpose of this by the remark that the crayfish now could 
not slip through the walls. His next step was to bend 
down a slender bamboo and beat it with a sharp stone. 
As soon as the tube spHt beneath these blows the boy 
wa sequipped with a bunch of knives as sharp as razors, 
for every split bamboo leaves a cutting edge of pure flint 
that may soon wear dull, but is very sharp to begin with. 
One of the knives thus obtained served to peel off the 
outer bark of a hibiscus close at hand, exposing the lace- 
like inner bast. This was carefully removed in a single 
piece about lyd. long and anchored in the brook. When 
the boy had collected three or four of these strips of bast 
he rubbed them carefully on a flat stone in the running 
water. This removed the mucilaginous sap. The next 
step was to draw the strips over the edge of one of the 
bamboo knives, which broke them up into so many batiks 
of soft, white, fiber-like cord. Making a loop in one of the 
cords, Talolo hitched it over a toe as he sat cross-legged, 
and then, working toward him, plaited or wove a net 
about rT^yds. long by about ift. in diameter at the open 
end. This he put in place at the gap of the wingdams. and 
so adjusted it that it completely filled the opening. All 
these preparations were completed in less than ten min- 
utes, and the boy had shown the superiority of his own 
woodcraft. Even if I had brought nets I could not have 
set them any more rapidly or effectively than this twelve- 
year-old boy who marveled at the white man's need of 
making preparations for the bush. 
Then he assigned me a place where I could watch the 
stream and the net and cautioned me to make no noise 
and see tliat my shadow did not fall on the water, for the 
crayfish were very wise and would surely escape up 
stream in case anything of this sort happened. He then 
announced in a loud tone that it was time for him to go 
down to the sea, and rather ceremoniously took his depar- 
ture. This little play was to- deceive the crayfish into 
thinking that he had gone. They are so wise that if it 
were not for the trick no Samoan believes it pos=;ible to 
drive them into the net. Talolo then climbed the hill 
and disappeared. He descended to the river bed about a 
quarter of a mile above and worked down stream slowly. 
He waded down the brook, stopping to roll back up, 
stream the larger rocks and keeping up a great splashing 
for the purpose of driving the shy crustaceans before hinT. 
From time to time he struck stone on stone under water, his 
belief being that the crayfish would hear that sound and 
tear to try to escape again.st the current. For some time 
there was nothing to be seen at the net, but as Talolo 
came nearer more and more flashes were seen darting 
about the stream. By the time he was only a few yards 
away the net was filling rapidly, the smaller animals find- 
ing their way out through the mesh and escaping down 
stream But the larger ones could not squeeze through 
and when tlie drive was over there were many more than 
the net would hold. 
This self-reliant young woodsman clambered up a high 
tree— a nmvao or so-called bush cocoanut, which is not 
a cocoanut at all. although the leaves are somewhat sim- 
ilar. Throwing down one of these monstrons leaves, the 
creel resolved itself into a mere matter of weavino- a'bas- 
ket of sufficient size to hold the catch. When the basket 
was woven Talolo dumped into it the contents of the net 
and the fishing was over. All the way on the trip home 
I lound Talolo shucking the live crayfi'sh and eating them 
with evident rehsh. That is a taste that one would have 
to be educated up to. Since there is no obiection to live 
oysters there should be no more to live crayfish. I have 
essaj'ed crayfish raw in Samoa, ju.st as I have experi- 
mented with live shrimp on the Island of Flawaii, and in 
each case my objection is the same— the flesh is not as 
tender as when cooked, and the natural juices are unpleas- 
antly gummy. 
How many Talolo ate alive there is no telling. When 
he emptied out the catch on my veranda there were just 
loi, all of good size. Talolo ate the odd one. so that there 
would be for me an even hundred. Then he remarked 
that that was the number the Samoan girl would have 
sold for a shilling, and in a general way was he not en- 
titled to that shilling. In a moment o"f weakness I cut 
him down to sixpence and let him escape rather than un-> 
dergo the length of his arguments why he should have 
money. But in return for the sixpence I had several 
hours in the bush, I had a mess of crayfish for our dinner 
and I had witnessed another demonstration of the ease 
with which savage man turns his surroundings to his own 
advantage. Llewella Pikrce Churchill 
There Used to he an eccentric old character m our neighbor- 
hood,^ said a planter, reported in the New Orleans Times-Demo- 
crat, who went by the name of Doc Johnson. He had never been 
forty miles from the settlement m his life, and was barelv able 
to read and write, but he was naturally a sort of jark of all 
trades, and, somehow or other he acquired a tremendous renuta- 
tion for sagacity. Whenever an argument arose among- the countrv 
folks Doc Johnson was pretty certain to be called in to decide it 
and as he would rather have died than to have admitted ignorance 
on any subject, some of his statements of fact were amazing- in the 
extreme. One day a farmer in the vicinity received a letter from 
his son, who had moved up to Iowa, saying-, among other thing? 
that the corn crop was looking badly and the country was bein^^ 
overrun by immigrants. The last word sfnmped the old man and 
after puzzling in vam over its meaning he happened to <;ee' Doc 
and called him in. Johnson knew from the peculiar warmth of his 
greeting that he was going to be asked to solve some knottv 
problem, and at once assumed his wisest air. 'Doc ' said the 
farmer, pointing to the mysterious passage in the letter 'what in 
thunder does that boy mean by immigrants? What are thev like 
anyhow?'^ Johnson spelled through the paragraph and noting 
the reference to tlie bad corn crop began rapidly to put two and 
two together. Immigrants! he exclaimed, to gain time 'Whv 
I thought everybody know'ed what they was!' 'Air they "critters'" 
asked the farmer, curiously. 'They i.s,* replied Doc, 'a kind of 
er cress between a possum and a coon, and I']] tell you whatl' 
he added impressively, 'they're just gimp'y deatff on porfl,' ' 
