Memoirs of Travel, Sport and Natural History/Chapter 5
CHAPTER V
TOUR IN INDIA, 1876
In 1873 my friend Macdonald died suddenly at Darjeeling, and left a young widow, who returned to England, Since I left Darjeeling in 1870, he had opened up, on land acquired from a native at Choongtong, near Darjeeling, a tea plantation, for which I found half the capital, and which he managed with the assistance of a young German born at Darjeeling, who had a quarter share in the concern, I felt bound to take over from Mrs. Macdonald her interest in this plantation, and finding that the management was very inefficient, I offered a quarter share to Mr. A.D. Smithe, a young civil engineer who had gone out the year previously. It became necessary for me to go out myself and put him in charge,
I arrived at Darjeeling in March, 1876, and found things very unsatisfactory at the plantation, as the native labourers would not work for the German and the accounts were in a very confused state. I had to take charge myself until Smithe was installed, and I then left him to feel his way. Before returning home I made a short journey in the western part of Sikkim which I had not previously visited.
On this excursion I was the only white man, but I took my old Sirdar Guruk with seven coolies, and a Lepcha shikari to shoot and skin birds. I also took a plant collector who had been employed at the cinchona plantation, a Nepalese syce for my pony and a Madras servant as cook.
I started on March 22nd, and on the way down to the Rangit river stopped for a short time at my old quarters at Ging, where I had lived with poor Macdonald six years before. The tea garden was not looking so well, but in the aviary were some splendid Impeyan pheasants and a Tragopan showing its magnificent wattles, which only develop their full colour in spring.
On getting down to the old cane bridge I found it much dilapidated, I camped there for the night, as the temperature at this season is pleasant in the valley, and there are no pipsas, mosquitoes, or other hot-weather plagues; but the dried up vegetation and the absence of the swarms of butterflies which are so conspicuous here in the rains left no inducement to stay. Early next morning I went down the valley to collect. I found Arundinaria bambusifolia, a very handsome terrestrial orchid, growing in wet places, and Ærides odoratum, very dry and shrivelled, on the Sal trees, but the only other orchids in flower were a Spiranthes and a sweet-scented Eria. I saw a few of the large hornbills and shot one of the long-tailed green pigeons, Sphenurus apicauda, and returned about ten to breakfast with a missionary whom I found staying there.
After breakfast I rode up through the Sal forest to the open slopes above, where a colony of Nepalese immigrants had settled. They had cleared all the forest between 2,000 and 5,000 feet which was not too steep to cultivate. They were working some small and not very productive copper mines, and were much more energetic cultivators than the Lepchas. On the road I met coolies on their way to Darjeeling loaded with very fine sweet, loose-skinned oranges, which are largely grown about Temi and Burmiok in the Tista valley and are the only good winter fruit in Sikkim, I reached Namchi, where I put up in Lasso Kagi's old house.
Next day I went on up the ridge which leads to the top of Tendong, and found the trees covered with Dendrobes, Cœlogyne, Pleione, and other orchids, not yet in flower. On the top of Tendong at 8,000 feet the forest of oak, chestnut, magnolia and other trees is very dense, damp and gloomy, owing to the long dark moss which covers the tree-trunks. In this forest grew some beautiful terrestrial orchids such as Anæctochilus, Goodyera and Calanthe, also large Arisæmas, Solomon's Seal and many other herbs and ferns. The usual forest birds were in straggling parties, composed of many different species, among which a lovely little flowerpecker, Myzanthe ignipectus, was the only one new to me. I breakfasted in the forest, where the path on the right descends to Temi, and followed the ridge through very thick forest. For a long time no water could be found to camp at, but after a long search we found enough and waited for the coolies, who arrived just before dark, though my Madras boy did not turn up till next day. Though the elevation was about 7,500 feet, it was much warmer in the thick forest at night than at Darjeeling, where the radiation produces hoar frost when the sky is clear, and I had a comfortable night. At daybreak we heard the curious cry of the Tragopan pheasant not far off, and whilst I was dressing, my little shikari went out and shot a magnificent male in full breeding plumage and a female. As soon as the sun rose the birds ceased their love calls and were much more wary. Directly they leave the trees on which they seem to call in the same way as the Capercaillie in Europe, they are almost impossible to see or to follow in the dense forest and on the precipitous hillsides covered with bamboo which they frequent, and I had some difficulty in finding my way back to the path.
In this forest there are barking deer, squirrels and a few of the Panda, Ælurus fulgens, a very remarkable arboreal animal which is peculiar to this region, but which, during my trips in Sikkim, I have never seen except in captivity. It is a very handsome beast as large as a fox, with rich, reddish fur, and cannot be so rare, as living ones are often brought in for sale at Darjeeling. Its only near ally in the world is a much larger animal discovered by my late friend Abbé David, in the virgin forests of Northwest Szechuen and known as Ælurodes melanoleucus.
For some miles farther along the ridge the forest was so dense that I had no view on either side, but at last the path came out on a steep, narrow ridge where Rhododendron Hodgsoni was in flower. On the nectar of its purple-pink blossoms were feeding two of the most beautiful birds of the Himalaya, Myzornis pyrrhura, and a honey-sucker known as Æthopyga ignicauda, which goes up to 11,000 feet during the rainy season. Both of them had their heads covered with pollen from the flowers. On open places near here I found a rare plant discovered by Sir Joseph Hooker in the Lachung valley, and I brought home bulbs which flowered in England two years later and were figured in the Botanical Magazine, Plate 6385, as Fritillaria Hookerii. It is allied to the better-known Fritillaria rosea or macrophylla, from the North-West Himalayas; though its flowers are botanically like those of the European Fritillaries, its bulbs, leaves and manner of growth are very distinct. It is now separated under the generic name of Notholirion.
From this ridge I descended to the village of Thorging, in a very pleasant situation at about 5,500 feet overlooking the Rangit valley, and camped in a newly built Bhutia house of which only the roof and beams were completed. These houses are built as follows. First, great blocks of wood, shaped like the old stone rick staddles used in Gloucestershire, are planted on large flat stones. Strong posts and beams to support the floor are placed on them about four feet above the ground, and about ten feet above the floor there is an open ceiling of bamboo covered in by a thick thatch of split bamboo with low eaves. Between the roof and the ceiling grain is stored. Underneath the house the pigs and fowls take shelter, and the walls are formed of bamboo mats. Windows are few and small, and the fireplace is an open hearth of stones in the middle of the floor. When new and clean these houses are very comfortable in this climate, but they soon get dirty, begrimed with smoke and full of fleas, and the roof requires constant repairs to keep the rain out. The view from here over the Rangit valley and the Singalela range beyond, with the monasteries of Pemiongchi, Tashsiding and Sanga Chelling, would be very fine, but it was then obscured by haze and smoke from the numerous jungle fires which were made to clear the land for crops.
Next day I descended by a steep but, for Sikkim, fairly good path to the Rangit river, shooting a barking deer on the road. I bathed in the river and swam the pony over with the help of a bamboo rope. A large flock of monkeys were feeding near the river on the flowers of tall trees which I could not identify. After breakfast by the river, I ascended a steep spur where the afternoon sun was quite hot, and camped out at about 4,000 feet, collecting birds on the way.
On the 27th I sent the coolies by a lower road up the Kulhait valley to a village near Sanga Chelling, where they were to await me, and went myself to visit the monastery of Pemiongchi, which, like most things in Sikkim, has been so well described by Hooker that I can add nothing of interest to what he said about it. But it seemed that neither here, nor at Sanga Chelling monastery, where I found only one dilapidated old lama in charge, were the lamas as prosperous as they were formerly. This may have been due to the large immigration of Limboos from Nepal, who were then settling in all the valleys on the Sikkim side of the Singalela range and destroying the forest rapidly. On my way up to Sanga Chelling I shot a pair of the beautiful Trogon Harpactes Hodgsoni. These birds have very dense and soft plumage, and sit on trees, making short flights, like a flycatcher, to catch the insects on which they feed. I also shot a fine jungle cock and some of the Sikkim Kaleege pheasants, and I found an immense mass of a beautiful orchid, well known in English gardens as Cœlogyne cristata, covering a rock with its white and gold flowers.
The next day I crossed the Kulhait river, and while sitting on the bridge to wait for the coolies, I shot a pair of the large spotted black and white Kingfisher, Ceryle guttata, as they flew up the stream. I also got a Cormorant, which is not uncommon on the larger rivers at this season, though I do not think they breed in the mountains. A little beyond this I found an old Kuzi who had accompanied Hooker during his journey in Nepal in 1849, and who spoke as well of him as did all the people who remembered him in Sikkim. I was badly stung here by the nettle called Mealum by the natives, and felt the pain of it for two days afterwards, Erythrina and Bauhinia are the two handsomest trees flowering at this elevation of about 4,000 feet.
In the villages I passed on my way upwards I could buy no rice or Indian corn for the coolies, and the scarcity of food of which Hooker so often complained seemed general at this season, though in later times potatoes have been freely grown and produce fine crops on the richest forest at a much higher level than Indian corn or millet will thrive at.
The Limboos are more independent and energetic, and less civil and hospitable than either Bhutias or Lepchas. Though they are not much troubled by caste prejudice, I do not think they intermarry with the Sikkim natives, whom they are gradually ousting from the higher valleys.
I camped at the edge of the virgin forest at about 6,000 feet and was able to buy a sheep for six rupees from a Limboo settler, who had pigs, goats and buffaloes as well, but paid only a very small rent for his land. He would soon become rich and prosperous, whilst rapidly destroying the forest, in which his stock could range at will. The next day I kept on uphill to the Islumbo pass and collected some interesting forest birds and plants. Among the former were two little wren-like birds, Tesia and Pnœpyga, which skulk among the dense bush and are difficult to shoot, two kinds of handsomely mottled thrushes, Oreocincha dauma and O. mollissima, and some pretty blue flycatchers, Nittava and Siphia. Among the plants, Arisæmas with large-veined flowers and long tails were conspicuous and three of those which I introduced were afterwards figured in the Botanical Magazine, namely Arisæma nepenthoides, Plate 6446[1]; Arisæma utile, Plate 6474[2]; Arisæma Griffithi, Plate 6491.[3] Lilium giganteum was also common in damp shady ravines, with veins of the large heartshaped leaves much more richly coloured than in English gardens, but the flowers not yet out. Paris polyphylla, much larger and handsomer than our English Paris quadrifolia, was also in flower, and, though nominally with eight segments, sometimes had only five or six. Higher up, rhododendrons and various kinds of bamboos were abundant, but only one species of the former was yet in flower. Near the top ridge, at about 11,000 feet, appeared a species of bamboo new to me; it was called by my Bhutia collector "Benbum." Another dwarf species grows higher up on this ridge which he called "Heem."
The commonest bamboo, however, and the most luxuriant at 8,000 to 9,000 feet is the best for fodder; the "Maling" of the Nepalese is called "Pheong." "Parang" is another very slender and graceful species attaining thirty feet high, which is found on shady slopes at 7,000 feet. The scientific names are given in Gamble's Timber of British India.
I camped near the top of the ridge at 11,000 feet at a place where the water was nearly dried up, and there found a very lovely primrose in great profusion, yellow-eyed on very short stems. On a plant only five inches across, I counted twenty large bright rosy flowers with a yellow throat almost concealing the mealy leaves, which resemble those of its near ally or variety, Primula Winteri, recently introduced to our gardens from the North-West Himalayas. The night was cold and clear with frost, and in the morning I had a good view of Kanchenjunga for the first time since leaving Darjeeling. I shot a blood pheasant, Ithagenis asiaticus, in the dense rhododendron scrub, and saw a female Impeyan pheasant, as well as many small tits, creepers, and other birds which are common at these elevations, but which do not occur round Darjeeling. The vegetation, however, was still dried up and wintry in its aspect, and few flowers, except Daphne, were out besides the Primula.
I made a short march and camped early with the object of collecting, but a strong cold north-west, wind drove the birds down to more sheltered places, and the only rare one I got was a curious short-billed grey bird which I never saw before or since, called Conostoma æmodius—a bird of very obscure affinity. On April 1st I started early and rode along the ridge, which in places is rocky and very narrow, crossing the top of Singalela at about 13,000 feet. It is lovely up there in summer when the open pasture is covered with glorious flowers of Meconopsis, but it was bleak and barren at this season. The forest is composed mainly of Silver Fir, whose tops arc often much blasted by wind and exposure and the branches covered with dark masses of moss and sometimes laden with Epiphytes. On the other side of Sandakpho the ridge dips sharply and here I got the lovely sun-bird, Æthopyga ignicanda, and a beautiful yellow bird allied to Ruticilla called Tarsiger chrysæus. At a flat swampy place on the ridge called ICalapoksi, meaning " black pool,' I found Pleione Hookeriana, a lovely little orchid, which ascends higher than any of its family and is beautifully illustrated in the Botanical Magazine, Plate 6388, from a drawing made by Miss Woolward of the plant which I brought home.
From here the path made along the frontier by Mr. Edgar, then Deputy Commissioner of Darjeeling, began. Farther on at 8,000 feet I found Rhododendron argenteum in full bloom, but I do not think it is so handsome a plant as Hooker says it is in his book. Satyrium nepalense, a rather common Himalayan plant, was also collected and figured afterwards in the Botanical Magazine, Plate 6635, from my plant. A large white magnolia, which may be a form of M. Campbelli, was also common in the forest at 8,000 to 9,000 feet.
I got to the top of Tonglu about five, and found a new dak bungalow in course of construction, which has since become one of the most popular shelters for excursions from Darjeeling. I bought a live Tragopan pheasant from a Nepalese who had snared it, but was unsuccessful in bringing it home. From here, on the next day, I descended to a place called Simana, Where there is a well-used road into Nepal, and from thence returned along the Goompahar ridge. The forest at that time was fine on this ridge and full of birds which increasing traffic, wood-cutting and noise have now driven away. I saw Pnœpyga pusilla, P. squamata and Tesia castaneo-coronata, all ground-loving skulking birds. On counting up my collection I found that I had got 130 good skins during the thirteen days I had been out. But a good many of them were shot by the shikari, who, if he knows his business well, always gets many more species than a European, owing to his better knowledge of the notes, habits and feeding places of the birds; and to his greater ability to creep quietly about in the forest and also to find the birds when shot. Small birds falling into a dense mass of vegetation are often extremely difficult to find, unless they fall close to one, and it is always advisable to take a native with you to retrieve and climb for, and carry, what you shoot yourself.
When I returned to the plantation I found that Smithe was getting on with the people, but that the principal Nepalese Sirdar, who had authority over by far the greater part of the coolies on the plantation, and who received a pice per day for each one who turned out to muster, had been keeping a lot of buffaloes in the forest belonging to the estate, which was of great use to us in supplying fuel, building materials and grass for thatching. The buffaloes were doing much damage, and I told him I could not allow him to keep a dairy at our expense, as there was plenty of land further off. He grumbled a good deal and said he would leave the estate with his coolies, which would have seriously affected our labour supply. But I had acquired sufficient knowledge of the way to manage the Nepalese, and of the advantages which our coolies had in getting plenty of free land for their own cultivation, so I told Smithe to give the Sirdar a week to move his buffaloes. The man was a tall, active and plucky fellow, as most of these Nepalese Sirdars are, and thought he would see how much the new manager would stand. So one day, when Smithe was lying in his bed with a slight attack of fever, the Sirdar came to the bungalow and, entering his room, spoke in a very insolent manner. Smithe told him to clear out; as he did not go, Smithe jumped straight from his bed and knocked the man head over heels out of the room with one blow. The effect was excellent, both on the Sirdar and on the coolies generally, who realised that a new regime had commenced.
These Nepalese coolies are a much more bold and independent race than the natives of the plains; they require to be treated fairly but firmly, but they will not stand any bullying. I remember a row on another plantation between a newly arrived assistant, a tall athletic Scotsman, who thought he could do what he liked with the coolies, and one of the head men, who was a noted athlete and wrestler. The two fought till neither of them could stand up any longer, but neither gained the victory. They then summoned each other for assault before the Deputy Commissioner, who fined them ten rupees each. Another case, on my own garden a year or two later, illustrates the Nepalese character. A coolie, who had good reason to suspect that his wife was keeping company with another man, lay in wait for him one night. By Nepalese custom or law, which of course is not recognised in British territory, a husband finding his wife in flagrante delicto has the right to give one blow with his kukri, a heavy curved knife which every Nepalese carries in his waistband. When the lover came into the house, the husband waited a while, and then, creeping in, cut the man's head off with one blow, which was supposed to have killed the wife at the same moment. Anyhow, the two were found dead together in the morning, and the husband fled to his own country and never returned.
In May, 1876, I returned to England, and had a most uncomfortable passage in a small and overcrowded steamer, having been unable to get a berth in either the P. and O. or the Messageries Maritimes, which were then the most comfortable boats. In the Bay of Biscay we had a very heavy gale from the North-East, against which we could make no headway for the greater part of three days, and as all the fires were put out by the sea the position at one time seemed very critical.
The year after his return home Elwes moved to Preston House, Cirencester, where he lived for fourteen years. He took over the management of the farms on the Colesborne estate that had been given up by tenants owing to the agricultural depression, and he soon became as keenly interested in farming and sheep-breeding as he was in his purely scientific pursuits. About this time, too, he began to study entomology, specialising in the butterflies of Europe and Asia, of which he rapidly built up a very large collection.
- ↑ see: Curtis's Botanical Magazine series 3, vol. 35 (1879), Plate 6446 (Wikisource-ed.)
- ↑ see: Curtis's Botanical Magazine series 3, vol. 36 (1880), Plate 6474 (Wikisource-ed.)
- ↑ see: Curtis's Botanical Magazine series 3, vol. 36 (1880), Plate 6491 (Wikisource-ed.)