256 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Aug. 12, 1911. 
About an African Baboon. 
In some localities the baboon grows to a large 
size, at times as big as an English pointer, and 
with its strong jaws and canine teeth is a for¬ 
midable beast at close quarters, for its method 
is to bite and then push its victim away with 
its powerful arms; result—a pound or so of 
flesh separated from its rightful owner. 
Some years ago, while prospecting in the 
Mazoe district, Mashonaland, Rhodesia, South 
Africa, our camp was situated under a bluff 
some fifty feet high. One evening we were en¬ 
joying our supper, which consisted of dried 
meat, or biltong, boiled in water, with bofoo 
or native meal mixed in and all boiled to a 
stiff mush. A barking snort stopped our opera¬ 
tions and a moment’s listening located the sound 
above us on the bluff. Outlined against the eve¬ 
ning sky was one of Africa’s most noble bucks, 
a sable antelope. We and our natives were in 
want of fresh meat, so crawling into the hut 
I took my rifle, and from the door had a front 
shot at the beautiful buck, bringing it to its 
knees. Like a flash it was up and away. I 
called my dog Scotty and at once went on the 
trail, as I had only an hour of daylight left. 
The bullet had evidently come out on the buck’s 
side, for every few yards was a frothy discharge 
of blood from the left side. After a mile on the 
trail, Scotty jumped the buck, which had laid 
down, but the bush prevented me from getting 
a shot. I hurried along on the trail as quickly 
as I could. 
One can always run one’s fastest behind a 
running buck, for he will not hear you, this more 
especially when there are some ten to twenty 
in a drove, for the noise they make prevents 
them from hearing any other sound. But al¬ 
ways when I see the buck or bucks slackening 
their speed, I stop at once and aim ready to fire 
the instant they halt and turn broadside to me. 
I followed on the trail, the dog with me, until 
darkness made it seem wise to return to camp, 
but determined to try again in the morning, feel¬ 
ing sure I would find the buck dead. 
Accordingly, I took up the trail again next 
morning and soon came to the evidence that 
wild dogs had chased the buck, and after fol¬ 
lowing some three miles without success I came 
to the conclusion that even if I found the buck 
the chances were that the wild dogs would al¬ 
ready have made a meal of it, so I started in 
a circle to get back to camp. 
I had just come into an open park when I 
noticed a number of what seemed to be people; 
that is, natives at work in a new field. I kept 
walking on toward them, the shimmering air giv¬ 
ing everything an unnatural appearance, and had 
got within 200 yards of the supposed people 
when I saw that the objects were a troup of 
some fifty to sixty baboons, at least ten big 
males among the number. 
At the same instant that I saw my mistake 
the baboons noticed me, and giving the warn¬ 
ing bark, started away. My dog no sooner heard 
the bark than he gave chase and would not obey 
me when I called him back. The females and 
young baboons scampered side by side, the males 
bringing up the rear, one here and there occas¬ 
ionally stopping to turn and face me for a 
moment. I ran as fast as I could to help my 
dog in case of trouble, he being a great favorite 
with me. A 100-yard sprint brought me to the 
edge of a small low kopje, or hillock, very thick¬ 
ly wooded. Scotty was barking madly, and as 
I came near I saw a very large baboon up a tree 
and the dog in a frenzy below. The rest of the 
baboons had evidently sought cover, leaving the 
big fellow to take care of the trouble. He was 
in the fork of the tree, looking down at the dog, 
and as I came up he looked at me, showed his 
teeth, and gave a roar which almost equalled 
that of a leopard in strength and volume, and 
at the same time he turned his side to me. I 
raised my rifle and fired, and the baboon came 
down in a heap, breaking through the small trees 
and shrubs. Scotty was there to meet him and 
I heard a scuffle and the dog howled, so I 
jumped forward, loading as I went and calling 
the dog, which came out, trembling and scared, 
the hair on his back standing on end like a 
razorback’s bristles. I could hear the baboon 
pushing his way through the brush, giving out 
loud roars every few seconds. I cannot say 
just why I wanted that particular baboon, but 
I did, so I patted the dog, which stayed right 
by me, and we followed. The grass and leaves 
for two feet around the foot of the tree were 
splashed with blood, so I knew the .45 caliber 
bullet had gone through the baboon’s lungs. 
Slowly I followed, not able to see more than 
five feet ahead, and at each roar I could dis¬ 
tinctly feel my hair move under my hat. We 
had gone for some ,200 yards when the sound 
of the retreating animal grew louder, so I stop¬ 
ped and listened and felt sure the beast was 
coming back. 
I was close to some rocks, the highest being 
about four feet, so climbed up, and this posi¬ 
tion gave me a good look ahead for about 
twenty-five feet. As the baboon came into sight 
he was walking slowly on his hind legs, with 
his arms hanging loosely at his side and his 
lips bared, showing his awful mouth and teeth. 
I aimed good and steady, firing at fifteen feet, 
and was amazed to see the brute come on with¬ 
out a pause, as if nothing had struck him. 
Usually I am not superstitious, but at that 
moment I was possessed by a strange fear. I 
knew I had mortally wounded the baboon, that 
he was, in fact, as good as dead, and there was 
something uncanny in his steady, resolute ap¬ 
proach. In my excitement I forgot how much 
blood he had lost, and I wondered how I was 
to fight the beast if my bullets failed to have 
any effect. 
The beast came slowly on toward me, eyes 
blazing red, its wiry arms hanging composedly, 
as if intent on its purpose to tear me with its 
powerful jaws. It takes some time to write 
this, but it took about three seconds for me to 
open the breech, take another shell from my 
belt, load, shut the breech and fire. The baboon 
dropped, a huddled heap, twelve feet from where 
I stood. The dog made a leap and grasped the 
baboon by the throat, the jaws of each closing 
on the throat of the other. I jumped forward, 
reloading at the same time, and was about to 
place the rifle against the baboon’s head, when 
Scotty let go, and I saw the body was relaxed, 
and that the thing was quite dead. 
I was so excited that it took a minute or two 
before I quite recovered myself and was ready 
for more trouble, which seemed imminent, as 
several roars made the woods vibrate. But after 
a watchful ten minutes, during which the roars 
and sounds died away, I straightened out the 
body of the baboon, and it measured five feet 
two inches from nose to tip of tail. 
The first shot had gone through the shoulders 
from side to side, of course through the lungs 
and breaking both arms, which accounted for 
the beast walking on its hind legs. The second 
shot entered the chest, passing out to the right 
of the backbone between the ribs, owing to the 
fact that in stepping it must have turned its 
body just as I fired. The third shot broke its 
back. 
Although the dog’s throat was between the 
baboon’s jaws, death was so swift that Scotty 
had no marks on his throat, but had a patch of 
hair pulled out and two slight rips on his ribs 
received in his first encounter. As this seemed 
such a large specimen I cut off the head, carried 
it to camp, partially cooked it, and when cold 
put it in an ant heap and let them clean it for me. 
This happened in 1890, and now while I write, 
and often when telling this story, I feel the 
same excitement as I did while standing on the 
rock in the lonely forest, facing that baboon, 
with the knowledge that all its friends were in 
the bush around me. A. D. 
Vetoed. 
Albany, N. Y., Aug. 5.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: Governor Dix has vetoed Assembly- 
man T. K. Smith’s bill, in relation to local regu¬ 
lations for the taking of birds or game. His 
reasons for the veto follow: 
“This bill amends the forest, fish and game 
law by inserting therein a new section, to be 
known as Section 32a, to provide for a game 
and bird refuge. It is made the duty of the 
forest, fish and game commissioner on the re¬ 
quest of a majority of the town board of any 
town to prohibit or regulate the taking of birds 
or game on land set aside with the consent of 
the owner or owners thereof as a game and bird 
refuge. In my judgment the law should be suit¬ 
ably amended by conferring power upon the 
conservation commissioner to regulate this en¬ 
tire subject.” 
Forest Fire Service. 
Boston, Mass., Aug. 5.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: Under a recent act of the Legisla¬ 
ture an appropriation of $10,000 was made for 
forest fire service, and State Forester Rane has 
secured the services of M. H. Hutchins, of 
Albany, N. Y., for the newly created office of 
State Fire Warden. For the past seven years 
Mr. Hutchins has been superintendent of the fire 
service in the Adirondacks. Plans are on foot 
for the establishment of fire stations on several 
mountains and hills which will be connected by 
a telephone system, also for the holding of a 
convention of town fire wardens the coming 
fall. H. H. Kimball. 
