Gerald Durrell - The Overloaded Ark

“Water-beef no be dead,” said the hunter.

“No be dead, eh?” asked Pious in wrath. “Na whatee dis, eh?” He flicked the crocodile with the bag: it opened both eyes, and suddenly came to life with unbelievable speed. It fled through Pious’s legs, making him leap in the air with a wild yelp of fright, dashed past the hunter, who made an ineffectual grab at it, and scuttled off across the compound towards the kitchen. Pious, the hunter, and myself gave chase. The crocodile, seeing us rapidly closing in on him, decided that to waste time going round the kitchen would be asking for trouble, so he went straight through the palm-leaf wall. The cook and his helpers could not have been more surprised. When we entered the kitchen the crocodile was half through the opposite wall, and he had left havoc behind him. The cook’s helper had dropped the frying-pan with the breakfast in it all over the floor. The cook, who had been sitting on an empty kerosene tin, overbalanced into a basket containing eggs and some very ripe and soft pawpaw, and in his efforts to regain his feet and vacate the kitchen he had kicked over a large pot of cold curry. The crocodile was now heading for the forest proper, with bits of curry and wood ash adhering to his scaly back. Taking off my dressing-gown I launched myself in a flying tackle, throwing the gown over his head, and then winding it round so tight that he could not bite. I was only just in time, for in another few yards he would have reached the thick undergrowth at the edge of the camp. Sitting in the dust, clutching the crocodile to my bosom, I bargained with the man. At last we agreed to a price and the crocodile was placed in the small pond I had built for these reptiles. However, he refused to let go of my dressing-gown, of which he had got a good mouthful, and so I was forced to leave it in the pond with him until such time as he let it go. It was never quite the same again after its sojourn in the crocodile pool. Some weeks later another crocodile escaped and did precisely the same thing, horrifying the kitchen staff, and completely ruining my lunch. After this, all crocodiles were unpacked within the confines of the pool, and at least three people had to be on hand to head off any attempts at escape.

Some time after this another arrival created excitement of a different sort. I had been working late on cage building, and at length climbed into bed about twelve o’clock. About an hour later I was awakened by an uproar from the direction of the village. Shrill cries and screams, the clapping of hands, and ejaculations of “Eh . . . aehh!” came to me clearly. Thinking that it was the prelude to yet another dance, I turned over and tried to get to sleep again. But the noise persisted and steadily grew louder. Lights flickered among the trees, and I could see a great crowd of people approaching from the direction of the village. I scrambled out of bed and clothed myself, wondering what on earth could have brought such a mass of humanity to disturb me at that hour of night. The crowd poured into the compound and it seemed as though practically the whole village was there. In the centre of this milling, gesticulating crowd walked four men carrying on their backs an enormous wicker basket, shaped somewhat like a gigantic banana. They dropped this at my feet, and as if by magic the great crowd fell silent. A man stepped forward, a tall, ugly fellow clad in the tattered remains of a khaki tunic and an enormous dirty sola topee. He swept me a low bow. “Masa,” he began grandiloquently, “I done bring you fine beef. I bring Masa best beef Masa get for dis country. I be fine hunter, I no get fear, I go to bush and I de see dis beef for hole. Dis beef get plenty power, Masa, but ’e no get power pass me. . . . I be very strong man, I get plenty power, I . . ”

He was at a disadvantage. I disliked his pseudo-civilized garb, and I also disliked the lecture on himself he was delivering. Also I was tired and eager to see the specimen, strike a bargain, and get back to bed.

“Listen, my friend,” I interrupted him, “I see dat you be very fine hunter man, and that you get power pass bush cow. But I want to know what kind of beef you get first, you hear?”

“Yes, sah,” said the man abashed. He dragged the great basket into the lamplight so that I could see it.

“Na big big snake, sah,” he explained, “na boa.”

Inside the basket, completely filling the interior, was one of the biggest pythons I had ever seen. It was so large that they had been unable to fit all of it inside, and so about three feet of its tail was outside, strapped tightly with creepers to the side of the basket. It fixed me with its black and angry eyes through the wickerwork, and hissed loudly. I contemplated his great length, coiled in the basket, his glossy, coloured skin shining in the lamplight.

“Listen, my friend,” I said to his owner, “I no get chance for look dis fine beef to-night. You go leave de beef here, and you go come back for morning time. Den we go look de beef and we go make palaver for price. You hear?”

“Yes, sah,” said the hunter. With the aid of the spectators we carried the heavy basket into the animal house and laid it on the floor. I emptied two buckets of water over the snake, for I was sure it must be very thirsty. Then I cut the ropes that tied the tail to the basket. These had been pulled so tight that they had, in places, cut into the lovely skin. I rubbed the tail for a time to try and restore the circulation that must have been checked by these tight bonds. Then I shooed the villagers out of the compound and retired once more to bed.

In the morning I examined the python, and as far as I could judge it seemed undamaged, though very cramped by the size of the basket, which appeared to have been built round the reptile after capture. After a long bargaining session, which lasted all through breakfast, I at length bought it at my price, and then the question of caging arose. I chose the largest box I could find, and the carpenter was detailed to do a rush job converting it for the snake. By lunch time the cage was ready and filled with a thick layer of dried banana leaves to give the python a soft bed to lie on. Then came the question of getting him out of the basket and into the box.

Now, ordinarily, if you have a few trustworthy men to help you, the moving of a python of any size is simple. Someone grabs the head, someone the tail, and the others hold on to various bits of his body. Keep him well stretched out so that he has no chance to coil round anything, and he is comparatively helpless. All I lacked was the few trustworthy men. To the Africans the python is a poisonous snake, and does not only poison you with his tongue, but with the sharp point of his tail as well. Useless for me to protest that I would hold the head, while they held the harmless parts of his anatomy. They would point out that they could easily be killed by the tail. I had no particular desire to get the python out of his basket and then have my helpers suddenly let go and leave me on my own to subdue his great length. After a prolonged argument I got angry.

“Listen,” I said, “if this snake is not inside that box in half an hour no one will get any pay.”

So saying, I cut through the side of the basket, grabbed the python firmly round the neck, and proceeded to pull him out, yard by yard. As each length of him was pulled out of the basket reluctant black hands took hold of it. Holding his head in one hand I waited for his tail to come into view, and then I grabbed it. Thus the python was now stretched in a circle: I held his head and his tail, and a ring of frightened Africans held gingerly on to his wriggling body. Then I thrust his tail into the box, and we gently eased his body after it, foot by foot. When it was all inside I pushed his head in, let go quickly, and slammed the door shut and sat on it with a sigh of relief. The staff were very excited at their own bravery and stood around showing each other how they had held it, what it had felt like, and what a great weight it was and so on. I sent one of them down to the village to purchase a chicken, for I felt that the reptile might be hungry, and when it arrived I placed it with the snake. During the night it ate the fowl and I thought it was going to be all right. Then came one of those twists that make collecting so difficult: the python’s tail, which had been tied up so tightly and for so long, developed gangrene. This is the danger of tying up any creature too tightly even in a cool climate, but in the tropics gangrene develops and spreads with ferocious rapidity. Within ten days there was nothing I could do for the reptile: it was feeding well, but the condition of its tail got worse, in spite of antiseptic treatment. Very reluctantly I was forced to put it out of its misery. Stretched out, it measured eighteen and a half feet in length. On dissection it proved to be a female with some half-developed eggs inside.