The South African Chacma Baboon
I
ALTHOUGH simians are widespread and occasionally numerous in South Africa, more especially in those parts which are wooded or mountainous, they belong to only five — or, if one excludes the northeastern section of Southern Rhodesia, three — species. These are of two genera, Papio and Cercopithecus. Papio is represented by one species, P. porcarius, the large baboon which, as a rule, frequents high, treeless mountain ranges with broken, rocky summits. This animal when referred to in Europe is usually termed the chacma — a word derived from the Hottentot name t’chatikamma. Cercopithecus includes two species, C. lalandii, the vervet, and C. samango, the samango. These are arboreal monkeys found only in more or less densely forested areas.
The chacma baboon, when full grown, is about the size of a fairly large mastiff; but in this respect there is considerable individual variation; some old males of comparatively enormous dimensions having been shot. The general color is dark brown. A ridge or mane of longer hair extends from the neck over the shoulders. The lower parts of the legs and arms are almost black, the hair on the back of the hands and feet being completely so. The naked skin of the elongated face and of the chin is brownish black, while the upper eyelids are flesh-colored. The ears are round, flattened, and nearly naked. The posterior callosities are dark sienna red in the adult males. The length of the head and body is between three and four feet, that of the tail being about half that of the body.
There is one strange peculiarity in the dentition of the baboon — one which has never been satisfactorily accounted for. This is a deep groove down the front of the large canine tooth, exactly like that found in the fang of the cobra and other colubrine snakes. It has been suggested that the groove facilitates the withdrawal of the tooth after a bite, and is thus of use. But the invariable method of biting precludes this view. The canine teeth are used only in fighting, never for the securing of prey, and the baboon seizes its enemy with its teeth, and then with both feet and hands pushes the victim violently away, thus tearing out the whole piece it has bitten. These canine teeth are terrible weapons, occasionally reaching a length of two inches.
The baboon feeds mainly upon vegetation, such as fruit, bulbs, fleshy taproots, and the pith of the aloe. It also feeds freely on the fruit and thalli of the opuntia, or prickly pear — a plant which was originally introduced from America, but has now spread over large areas of Southern Africa. The thalli are armed with sharp spines; these can be got rid of without much difficulty, but the fruit is thickly covered with small nests of minute thorns, which become easily detached. So minute and plentiful are these that a human being — even with the aid of a suitable implement — has to exercise considerable trouble and skill in getting rid of the tough outer envelope containing them, and thus avoiding a most serious and painful irritation of the mouth and throat. But the baboon just rolls the fruit over a few times in the sand with its paw, and then munches it without apparent inconvenience — a striking instance of the creature’s adaptability. It may be noted that the monkey — Cercopithecus — although it eats the thallus of the opuntia, avoids the fruit.
But the baboon is very partial to certain kinds of animal food — scorpions, spiders, centipedes, insects, lizards, and the eggs of wild birds, all being eaten with relish. The scorpion is evidently regarded as a tid-bit. If one is released near a captive baboon, the latter will hold its hand extended over the prey until a suitable opportunity for attack offers. Then the hand will descend with a sweeping slap, which is followed by a swift, circular, rubbing motion. This disables the scorpion, which is then picked up and carefully examined until the sting is located. The latter is then picked out between finger and thumb, and thrown away as far as possible, after which the scorpion is munched with every appearance of satisfaction.
On mountains frequented by troops of baboons, most of the stones not too heavy to be moved will often be found to have been recently overturned in the search for prey. It is probable that, owing to the baboons having been driven from the fertile to the more and regions, they have had to take more and more to an animal diet. The nests of wild bees are often robbed —for both the honey and the larvæ. Usually several baboons will combine to raid a nest, which is generally situated in a rock-crevice. One will tear out the combs and scatter them on the ground; then the others will rush in, seize a comb apiece, and scatter. Although distinctly objecting to being stung, the baboon apparently does not suffer so much pain from a bee-sting as does a human being.
It is somewhat remarkable that, although a baboon in captivity will not eat raw meat unless extremely hungry, it will eat with avidity meat which has been cooked. Since the large extension of sheep-farming and the consequent restriction of their natural food-supplies, baboons in some parts have developed the habit of raiding flocks in the lambing season and tearing open the stomachs of the lambs for the sake of the milk which these contain. This practice has led to the virtual extermination of baboons over large areas. However, in justice to the raiders it should be noted that it is only when food is very scarce indeed that this criminal practice is indulged in.
But it is not only in respect of killing lambs that the baboon does damage. The nests of wild as well as domesticated ostriches are apt to be pillaged. The eggs are either fractured by being knocked against each other, or else they are rolled or carried away to be smashed against the nearest suitable stone. Fruit-orchards and maize-fields also suffer, especially the latter, for the orchard is usually near the homestead, while the maize-field is not, and in these days baboons seldom approach the dwellings of Europeans, owing to their dread of firearms. But the maize-crops of the natives dwelling and cultivating in the gorges between the foothills of the lofty Drakensberg range are often badly plundered. The alleged manner of plundering implies a high degree of intelligence. I have not personally seen it in operation, but the accounts given by the natives on the subject are so widespread and so circumstantial that one can hardly doubt their genuineness. It is said that a troop of baboons steals silently down to some suitably situated patch of forest or scrub, and from there forms a chain to the maize-field. Along this chain the maize-cobs are passed from hand to hand. When a sufficient supply has been accumulated, the baboons, each carrying several cobs under one arm, scatter and retreat up the mountain-side. The natives have no firearms, so, even if the marauders are discovered, they can easily escape. A well-grown baboon is more than a match for any dog available. Nevertheless, a combat with a dog is always declined if possible, unless the females or the young are interfered with.
II
The commonest sound made by the baboon is something between a deep bark and a short roar. ‘Hoch,’ or ‘Hoach,’ somewhat drawn out, might express it. I have occasionally heard them utter some such sound as ‘Hoahaouw.’ But when one develops intimacy with a tamed baboon, it becomes clear that its vocabulary includes several sounds, indicative not alone of satisfaction or the reverse, but of a desire to communicate ideas. These sounds are of varying inflexion and intonation, and are accompanied, not only by appropriate changes in the animal’s facial expression, but by various gestures of undoubted meaning. In contradistinction to human beings, the faces of baboons all have (as is the case with every species of wild animal) exactly the same expression when in repose; yet by movement of the scalp, ears, eyelids, nose, and lips, as well as by erection or flattening of the hair surrounding the countenance or the mane, the baboon’s expression is susceptible of modification to a most extraordinary degree. Muscles such as the occipito-frontalis and the attolens aurem, which have largely lost their function among humans, are still fully operative among baboons. The minor sounds uttered by these creatures cannot be expressed in terms of the alphabet; they are generated mainly somewhat deep down in the throat. Personally I am convinced that baboons possess a rudimentary language — if that term may be permitted for a system in which gesture and change of facial expression play a greater part than sound.
The ordinary gait of the baboon is a deliberate walk, all four limbs being used. When in a hurry this breaks into a sort of canter. But the real dynamics of locomotion are provided by the hind limbs. This is shown by an examination of the tracks left in sand, where the print of the foot is more than twice as deep as that of the hand. In the canter the main function of the hand appears to be of a steadying nature. My own view is that the baboon’s mode of locomotion is in a transition stage between going on all fours and walking upright. They often stand up when taking observations from the top of a rock, and will walk erect when carrying a load, if the latter entails the use of both front limbs. The tail curves upward for about one third of its length, the remaining two thirds swaying as the animal moves.
When a troop is out foraging, sentinels are posted on commanding points, and the older animals form flanking and rear guards. The front is unprotected, but is under observation by the sentinels. On one occasion, when stalking a troop of buck in very hilly country, I came suddenly in sight of a sentinel posted upon a high rock. The troop to which he belonged was not visible to me. The sentinel stood up to his full height, uttered a warning shout, and pointed to me with extended arm. It was clear that this was done for the purpose of indicating to the troop where I was.
Next to man, the chief enemy of the baboon is the leopard, which, however, by day preys only upon stragglers unwittingly venturing near its lair. For the baboon becomes a fierce and reckless fighter if its females or its young are attacked, and takes no account of odds. Several men have lost their lives through shooting a female and attempting to capture its young. The scream of a baby baboon in distress fills the troop with frenzy, which often overcomes the dread of firearms. But at night the baboon is a timorous creature, and as its sight in the dusk is far inferior to that of the leopard, the latter sometimes steals up to where the troop is sleeping, makes its pounce, and escapes with a shrieking victim. I have more than once been awakened by the din of such a tragedy, when camped below a krantz, or cliff, occupied by baboons. But the leopard does not invariably have the best of it. There are several well-authenticated instances of such a nightmarauder being surrounded and torn to pieces.
Another enemy much dreaded by baboons inhabiting the warmer localities is the rock-python. But there are instances of even the python being destroyed by the combined fury of a troop. All snakes, whether poisonous or not, are equally feared by baboons. This is somewhat strange in view of the circumstance that the latter can at once distinguish between berries that are wholesome and those that are poisonous, even though they may never have seen them before. The hiss of a snake will reduce the most enraged baboon to a state of abject terror, and a dead snake placed in the vicinity of one will drive it almost distracted.
One of the most disturbed nights I ever spent was close to the foot of an immense rock cone with a blunted summit — a giant monolith some 500 feet high. On and around its top lay numbers of boulders. Here a large troop of baboons had taken up their quarters. During the whole night not half an hour passed without a disturbance. The sounds did not suggest alarm so much as anger. Each outburst was preceded by a rapid muttering; this swelled quickly to a chorus of fierce, coughing barks. Then one individual would utter shrill cries, and evidently rush round and round the height, pursued by others. In the end he would apparently be caught, for the cries would develop into agonized yells. Now and then small boulders, dislodged in the turmoil, came bounding down the sides of the eminence, often in quite dangerous proximity to my camp.
This drama was repeated at short inintervals until daybreak. In default of any other feasible explanation, I attributed what happened to the exercise of disciplinary measures against young males guilty of unauthorized flirtation. The phenomenon was quite extraordinary.
On only one occasion have I seen a troop of baboons assume a threatening demeanor; they occupied a mountain saddle just below which I was engaged in collecting botanical specimens, and probably numbered upwards of fifty individuals of all ages. As I advanced, those in front gave way, but the flankers on each side moved forward and closed in, as if to cut off my retreat. They leaped about, with erected manes, uttering strident barks and showing every indication of fury. I retreated, and they followed, but did not approach much nearer than a hundred yards. I had a pistol, and this I fired, thinking that the shot would scare them. But it had the opposite effect; they became more furious and advanced toward me in short rushes. When I reached a ledge where my horse was tied to a tree, the pursuit ceased.
On another occasion I was riding along the side of a cañon; it was not more than fifty yards across. A troop of baboons occupied the other side. They walked along, showing neither alarm nor anger, for about half a mile, just keeping pace with me. One incident was extremely funny: a baboon turned and boxed the ear of another which had taken a liberty. The human suggestion in the matter of the delivery of the blow was most remarkable. Had I been carrying a gun on either of the foregoing occasions, the demeanor of the animals would, I am convinced, have been quite different.
The sleeping-places of the baboons are generally rocky eminences broken into crannies. In these they curl up, usually crouching together in groups for the sake of warmth. If the weather be cold, the whole troop may lie together in one heap. Once I camped on a high mountain-ridge, within a few hundred yards of a saddle over which a troop of buck were in the habit of passing in the early morning from the westward, for the purpose of meeting the rising sun. When I awoke at dawn, the ridge was covered by a dense mist. Knowing the country well, I made for the saddle. My course led through a gap in a much-broken cliff. As I descended, the mist began to clear and the light to improve.
All at once I found myself in the middle of a large troop of sleeping baboons. They lay huddled together in heaps, almost filling several of the clefts. They must have been sunk very deep in slumber, for before the alarm was given, I was within a few feet of some of the bunches. There was a scene of wild alarm as the sleepers disentangled themselves and swarmed up the broken cliff-faces on either side. The young ones clung to the elders, grasping the hair with both hands and feet. I noticed one large baboon climbing away with three babies of different sizes clinging to it. All were gasping and coughing with terror. Had I not been carrying a gun I might have been in danger. Baboons seldom sleep two nights successively in the same place.
In the arid, barren uplands of the Cape Province baboons suffer badly from thirst in seasons of drought. When traveling through the Karroo region by rail, I have seen them digging for water in a dry river-bed; they had apparently excavated to a depth of some three feet. The train passed within less than fifty yards of them, but they did not even desist from their work. In seasons of great scarcity they have been known to venture down to the seashore and eat shellfish.
The baboon is a long-lived animal; his span of life is probably nearly equal to that of man. Maturity is reached when they are about fifteen years old, but their muscularity appears to increase indefinitely. In captivity the temper of a baboon becomes much soured after maturity has been reached; but when young they make playful and entertaining pets, being very good-natured toward those to whom they are accustomed or who treat them with kindness.
III
From the earliest days of European occupation, travelers in South Africa have been struck by the baboons’ intelligence. Le Vaillant, writing in 1782, gives a most entertaining account of Kees, the tame baboon which accompanied him on his travels. Kees was not only an incorrigible thief, but was exceedingly greedy: he consistently refused to share with his master any of the edible roots or fruit which he discovered. Yet his other qualities were so engaging that these faults were excused.
As he was extremely familiar, and attached himself to me in a particular manner, I made him my taster. When we found any fruit or roots unknown to my Hottentots, we never touched them until my dear Kees had tasted them; if he refused them, we judged them to be either disagreeable or dangerous, and threw them away. I often carried him along with me in my hunting excursions. . . . When we could not find gum or honey he searched for roots, and ate them with much relish, especially one of a particular species, which, unfortunately for me, I found excellent and very refreshing, and which I greatly wished to partake of. But Kees was very cunning; when he found any of this root, if I was not near him to claim my part, he made great haste to devour it, having his eyes all the time directed toward me. By the distance I had to go before I could approach him, he judged of the time that he had to eat it alone, and I indeed arrived too late. ... To tear up these roots he pursued an ingenious method, which afforded me much amusement. He laid hold of the tuft of leaves with his teeth, and pressing his forepaws firmly against the earth, and drawing his head backwards, the root generally followed. When this method, which required considerable force, did not succeed, he seized the tuft as before, as close to the earth as he could; then, throwing his heels over his head, the root always yielded to the jerk which he gave it. . . . In our marches, when he found himself tired, he got upon the back of one of my dogs, which had the complaisance to carry him for whole hours together. ... It appeared to me extremely singular, and I could not account for it, that, next to the serpent, the animal which he most dreaded was one of his own species. . . . Sometimes he heard other baboons making a noise in the mountains, and, notwithstanding his terror, he thought proper, I know not for what reason, to reply to them. When they heard his voice they approached, but, as soon as he perceived any of them, he fled with horrible cries, and running between our legs implored the protection of everybody, while his limbs quivered through fear. He was much addicted to thieving. He knew perfectly well how to untie the ropes of a basket, to take provisions from it, and, above all, milk, of which he was inordinately fond. I often beat him pretty severely myself, but, when he had escaped from me, he did not appear at my tent till toward night.
The most remarkable instance of simian intelligence which has come under my personal observation was that of a baboon which did duty as pointsman at the important railway junction of Uitenhage, in the Cape Province. This animal was owned by the man who worked the points, but who had had both legs cut off in a railway accident. On the platform in his charge there were six levers, to each of which was given a name. The man sat in a little wooden cabin with his understudy, and whenever a lever required shifting, he would call out its name. At once the baboon would swing the lever over. After he had been thoroughly instructed, he was never known to make a mistake. In the morning he ran his master down to the scene of his work on a little hand-trolley which, on arrival at its destination, the baboon shifted from the line and stowed away. At night he replaced the trolley on the line and, when his master had taken his seat, pushed it home again. Most of the journey to the scene of the work was down grade. On reaching the slope the baboon would spring upon the vehicle and evinced the liveliest satisfaction as it skimmed along by gravitation.
Occasionally this animal was brought to the bar of a certain hotel and induced to act as waiter. He would carry a large tray on which were glasses containing the various drinks ordered by the company. However, he insisted upon one condition — a glass containing his own favorite tipple had to be placed on the tray with the others. On entering the room where the guests were assembled the waiter would set the tray down on the floor, after which he would empty his glass. Then he would walk with the tray from one guest to another. But if anyone attempted to help himself from the tray before he had consumed his own drink, trouble ensued: he would become violently enraged and scatter the glasses in every direction. This remarkable animal died after a lingering illness induced by a blow on the back of the head, inflicted by a drunken man with a bar of iron.
It wall have been noticed that in this case, as in that of Kees, greed was a salient characteristic. I once made a practice of feeding a captive baboon almost every day. The animal and I were on the best of terms usually, but when I had given him an apple, a banana, or any other comestible, he would fly into a violent rage, shriek, erect his mane, and threaten me with his fangs. This all arose from fear that I might interfere with his feast. I tried putting food in my pocket and allowing him to steal it; exactly the same result followed as soon as he had possessed himself of the spoil.
A baboon which was chained to a pole near my camp at Kimberley, in the early days, was much persecuted by boys and other loafers. This animal used to hurl stones at its tormentors in a peculiar manner. It would seize the missile in both hands and fling it back over the left shoulder. Just previous to the act the baboon would glance over its shoulder for an instant, evidently for the purpose of estimating the distance and direction of its enemy. The accuracy and force with which he threw the stone were astonishing.
There are several instances of baboons having been trained to the calling of a shepherd. In a case which came under my personal observation the baboon had several hundred sheep in his charge. He became passionately attached to the members of the flock, remained with them all day long when at pasture, and brought them back to the corral in the evening. His only fault as shepherd was the outcome of extreme solicitude; if he heard the voices of wild baboons in the distance at any time of the day, he would at once collect the sheep and, with every appearance of the liveliest terror, hurry them homeward. Here, again, is a suggestion of the distinguished Kees, and a testimonial to the accuracy of Le Vaillant’s record just quoted.
I have often wondered why the training of baboons to the shepherd’s calling is not more widely pursued. These creatures invariably develop an absorbing affection for any young animals, human or other, placed in their charge. There is one well-authenticated instance of a motherless Kaffir infant being taken charge of by a baboon and guarded night and day for upwards of two years. With the exception of feeding the child, every necessary function was performed by the simian foster-parent.
A baboon chained to a pole, exposed to insult and torment at the hands of thoughtless and mischievous passersby, and probably condemned to frequent hunger and thirst owing to forgetfulness on the part of its owner, inevitably tends to become savage and dangerous — as a human being would under like circumstances. But even one left free around the homestead or the farmyard generally comes to a bad end, usually owing to the fact that the dog hates all of the simian tribe bitterly and instinctively. This hatred can be overcome and changed to affection and esteem if the animals are allowed gradually to become accustomed to each other.
The baboon possesses most estimable qualities, but its apparently ineradicable greed and propensity for pilfering render it highly undesirable as an inmate of a household. Moreover, it is apt to be dangerous to strangers, upon whom it always looks with suspicion, which, in view of its experience of the human race in general, has ample justification. But as shepherds the baboon tribe should have a useful future in the service of man. A deep, absorbing, and self-sacrificing love for any creature which is helpless and is dependent upon it in any way, is one of the baboon’s most striking characteristics. This love on occasion prompts the despised chacma to deeds of unsurpassed heroism. They have even been known — so it is stated on apparently good authority — to fling themselves upon a lioness in defense of their helpless young. But that they will, when so provoked, unhesitatingly attack and destroy the leopard, the python, and even more dreaded man, armed with his mysterious firestick, is undoubted, and may be taken as a proof of noble and self-sacrificing courage.