We again used the Basilisk Passage to leave the harbor of Port Moresby to reach the open sea at the same time as ,the governor’s yacht „Merrie England“ who would join our party. Then „Elisabeth“ steamed about 10 to 15 miles off the coast in a North-western direction always  keep out of the way of small islands and coral reefs, past Caution Bay until Redscar Bay came into view. The small islands are the favorite resting places of numerous pigeons. During the night giant tortoises visit the sandy beaches too to lay their eggs , while the dugong (Halicore dugong), also called sea cow, a herbivorous mammal  similar to the dolphin is to be frequently found in the shallow water overgrown with seaweed (Sargassum). Unfortunately we lacked the time to pay these interesting islands a visit. The entrance into Redscar Bay is quite difficult as there are reefs there that had not been mapped but are only incidentally known to the pilots themselves. Opposite the mouth of the Vanapa river „Elisabeth“ anchored at half past 11 o’clock.

As the governor had in the meantime already set out in his steam barge with a number of native guides, our expedition was also set up and made ready for that steam barge drawing two dinghies in tow. In the barge which was loaded with coal for two days we sat together with Bedford as river pilot and Bourguignon as convoy commander who also steered the barge himself. In the dinghies were our servants, Hodek with two assistants and a cadet with eight sailors. Here too were loaded the photographic apparatus, the provisions and the ammunition. Soon after we had set off from „Elisabeth“, the ship hoisted its anchor and disappeared from view taking course on Yule Harbour.

We first passed a barrier at the mouth of the river and then drove upstream the Vanapa river into the Vei Maori river, past the large Papuan settlement Manumanu hidden under tall trees out of which our guide had been recruited.

Understandably we were highly interested in navigating on an almost unknown waterway. Dense forests covered the shores whose edges preferably featured low palm trees that grow so close to the river that their broad leaves hang into the water. The journey offered new picturesque views at any moment. Soon on the right, soon on the right bays became visible that cut deep into the land and were sprinkled with tiny islands on which high above the water level rise proud nipa palm and ironwood trees. The background of this river picture was provided by the high Owen Stanley range in a dull blue color.

The turns in the river became ever sharper and more twisted so that the barge which was also towing two boats had a rather difficult trip. To evade the numerous mud and sand banks that almost reached the open air the middle of the river had again and again to be left and steered from one shore to the other. The river’s width decreased quickly and was finally hardly more than 20 m. Here the vegetation became even more luxurious, the shore trees hanging even more frequently into the river so that we glided forward in a densely overgrown under a leafy balcony.

Suddenly there was a heavy blow — we were stuck against a submerged tree trunk. The largest obstacle for navigation here are such mighty perpendicular trunks hidden in the opaque water. Formally turned into stone, this hard wood forcefully resisted the attempts to grab it with hooks and move it out of the way. We had the machine of the barge run at full speed in reverse but in vain, as the vehicle started to move a bit a thick branch blocked the screw. As multiple persons who had jumped into the water were unable to move the barge and also our rocking the boat proved futile, I decided to leave the barge to its fate as it was already 3 o’clock and thus quite late and row a boat in order to start the afternoon hunt. Thus said and done. But we had not advanced far when we encountered a new obstacle, a perfect river barrier made out of interlocked tree trunks which stopped all further progress. Here lay also the small barge and the boats of the governor which had also been stopped by the barrier. As our camp was still a sea mile further upstream and the governor had already departed there with his people, we were left without good council as the guards on the boat, some Papuans, also couldn’t give any advice. They grilled fishes in total calmness. Finally Bedford resolved the confusion by proposing to lead me on a hunt while my companions would try to reach the camp on foot. As soon as they would reach it, they could send people out to get the provisions and the baggage and transport them to the camp.

Just as I had developed this plan, the steam barge arrived which had managed to break free again and anchored downstream from the wooden barrier. Balancing over a tree trunk I went to the other shore and entered into the dense jungle to use as much time as possible for hunting, accompanied only by Bedford and Janaczek. The jungle was almost of the same type as the one at the Laroki. The only difference was in the almost impenetrable thickets here that consisted of trees and bushes armed with thorns and barbs through which we could only slowly advance thanks to the machetes which slashed a path for us.

In this forest my first catch was again a large hornbill and this time it was a female that I shot down from a ficus tree. It differed from the male only by the coloring of its neck feathers which are rust brown in case of the male and a dark black for the female. Continuing we suddenly heard the voices of multiple large red Raggiana birds of paradise and soon we had reached at the tree in whose top there was great activity. Everywhere there was swarming an fluttering. In between one could hear the loud cries of the birds. First we could see only females and young birds that chased one another from branch to branch until Bedford suddenly pointed upwards and I discovered a splendid male with a large bushy ornamental tail feather that was glittering in the sun and jumping around a female and was courting it by comic turns and twists. A lucky shot bagged me a beautiful catch. We had by accident found one of the famous dance trees of the birds of paradise. These animals namely select certain very tall trees where they congregate in the afternoon hours to perform their dances which they do with great crying and fluttering. Without pause the birds rush from branch to branch until the females all congregated and the males then produce a real dance spreading wings and ornamental feathers like blackcocks by jumping nearly in step into the air, turn and act like crazy.

The shot I fired did not disturb the birds much in their lust for dancing. The sound stopped for a moment,, some males flew to neighboring trees, the others hid a bit deeper in the dark leaves. But only a few minutes later they all returned and the noise resumed. The picture of the dancing birds of paradise is very attractive especially if the sun is shining on their colored feathers and illuminates their flashy colors. Most frequently to be seen are the young birds, still unornamented males and the females while the old males are more timid. Still I bagged during an hour four of the most beautiful specimens and shot another four that however flew away wounded and disappeared into the dense jungle. These eight males had always returned to dance again in short intervals to the top of the tree where they had hidden. The height of the tree is enormous and the birds of paradise so hard that only the toughest parts of grain makes them fal while otherwise they will fly away despite being hit.

Finally there were no longer any small old males to be seen and and we thus sneaked forward as Bedford had heard the voice of birds of paradise of another species out of the noise created by cockatoo and parrots. But unfortunately these birds of paradise rested on a tree surrounded by an almost impenetrable thicket of thorns so that we crept along only extremely slowly despite our knives. Arriving at the tree I saw to my great anger the birds take off without me having a chance to have discovered them earlier.

In the hunting fever Bedford ignored that the sun had set so that I had to remind him that it was high time to return to the camp. I noticed that he seemed to not know which direction to take and I asked him again and again in which direction the camp lay. He always replied that he did know it exactly. It was getting darker and darker, the thickets become more and more difficult to penetrate so that we stumbled over fallen tree trunks or lianas we could not see at any moments and had our skin pierced by thorns. Night had come and we could not see anything and now Bedford confessed what I had known all along that we were lost as he did not know the path and did not know where we were.  They weren’t exactly the most kind words I said to him. But all swearing and moaning was futile and we had at least try to inform the camp that we had lost our bearing. To this purpose we fired our rifles in fixed intervals. As there was still no reply after about 25 shots I resigned myself to my fate and was just looking out to find a semi-dry space on the humid ground in order to spend the night in the company with all the vermin that was crawling around when Bedford implored me to undertake a final attempt.

I was in fact actually against it as those lost in the woods at night tend to walk in circles but I relented and thus we crept forward slashing with the knives in this labyrinth of branches and lianas and creating a tunnel. while protecting the eyes with the hands against thorns. In this manner we advanced barely twenty paces in half an hour and had to stop exhausted and wounded by thorns.

Another war council with Bedford was suddenly interrupted by a rifle volley whose barely perceptible noise came from afar to us — in any case a sign of the people in the camp. I immediately answered. By and by we perceived the signal shots more clearly, after half an hour we also heard the shouts of the search party and finally the sound of axes with which our saviors cut their way to us. Finally stood the governor in front of me leading a native corps armed with axes and lanterns and expressed his joy to have found me. I was understandably not unhappy about not having to spend the night in the wilderness and moved to the governor’s camp which was around 2 km distant. On the way I met other members of the expedition who had also joined in on the search for me.

The camp at the river had been built around the small hut of a Samoan who had settled here many years ago to trade with the natives. The hut actually only consisted of a covered platform to which our hammocks were tightened using the surrounding palm trees.  Provisions and supplies had been successfully brought up in a boat of the governor as some of the trunks of the wooden barrier had been successfully moved out of the way. Our boats, however, could not get past the barrier and had to stay and anchor below it. After the small adventure I had participated in the evening meal and sleep were outstanding only myriads of mosquitoes swarmed around us which were so mean that we were bitten all over the body. Some of the gentlemen were unable to close their eyes all night.

Links

• Location: Port Moresby, New Guinea
• ANNO – on 19.06.1893 in Austria’s newspapers.
• The k.u.k. Hof-Burgtheater is playing „Der Sohn der Wildnis“. The k.u.k. Hof-Operntheater is closed from 1 June to 19 July.

Already at 5 o’clock came the wake-up call. Our sleep had been quite disturbed by countless ants that were partly tiny partly, like the red ants that dropped on us the day before on our ride under the trees, of considerable size whose mean bites plague and enrage the hikers on New Guinea day and night. One of the gentlemen even found a large scorpion in his hammock. Not a very friendly surprise!

The time of departure for the hunt had been set so early as the morning was the best time to hunt birds. it was beginning to dawn when we jumped out of our hammocks to cook tea and make the necessary preparations for the hunt. As each of us wanted to say out during the whole day and thus fully use the short time we could spend in New Guinea.

An original scene in the morning was the female baggage carriers bathing without any timidity in the river laughing all the time and chatting naked as Eve. This dance of nymphs naturally offered the opportunity to compare the variety of skin colors of the natives. The nuances of complexion ranged from dark-brown to light-brown with a predominance of coffee-brown or golden bronze with a tint of olive which is so characteristic for the Polynesian blood. What all had in common were the extremely beautiful dark eyes and their good nature, even friendliness of their physiognomy.

We set out in five marching groups that split on the other bank of the Laroki to the shouts of „Hunter’s Luck“ and disappeared in multiple directions into the darkness of the jungle.

I first turned towards the North shore with Bedford, my servant on board Biaggio as well as some natives and then followed the stream in a Western direction. Loud bird songs from hundreds of beaks were heard which I considered a good omen for a successful day.

One has no experience how difficult it is to discover birds in the impenetrable tangle of tree tops, branches, twigs, lianas and parasite plants of such a jungle. Especially as they most of the times sit in the highest spot on giant trees which one can see from the ground only through some gaps. Only a keen and at the same time trained eye can finally spot the birds. Sometimes this is achievable only after a long patient wait. If the bird flies away, all was in vain. Bedford and the savages showed an astonishing aptitude in spotting the birds, given that they are permanent inhabitants of the forest and each native wanted to be the first so that all ran around and made more noise than necessary.

We had big trouble to constrain this overzealousness. Finally I ordered my servant to keep the natives all close to him and follow us in a group at a distance of 100 paces while I with Bedford and one Papuan cautiously wanted to sneak forward. But as soon as the voice of a bird was heard, the whole group stood close behind us until Bedford managed to drive them definitively back with the help of strong curses in Papuan language. That the birds fled during those discussions or kept quiet and thus could no longer be detected was self-evident.

What I wanted to bag today first of all was one of the splendid king bird of paradise (Cincinnurus regius). We did find, following the voice a tree on which was such a bird too. But unfortunately, there wasn’t a male among them so that I shot only a female which had a plain color and had the characteristic skyblue legs.

In multiple places in the forest I saw giant nest of the brushturkey. This strange bird scratches leaves, twigs, earth lying on the ground, that is all the debris in the forest, together into a big pile of 6 to 8 m length and 2 to 3 m height in which it lays its eggs to hatch them assisted by the warmth of the earth or the heat from decomposition of the amassed vegetation. The effort the comparably small turkey has to spend to collect such great quantities of materials for its wall nest can be measured that around the hill-like nest the ground is picked clean for hundreds of paces. My savages dug into one of these nests but unfortunately did not find any eggs.

Out of a dense bush three Papuan frogmouths (Podargus papuensis) in front of me of which I bagged one. Really close to there I shot a forest bittern (Zonerodius heliosylus) that hid itself sitting on a twig of the tree.

Often I heard sounds in the forest that reminded me of the call of the mountain hen and which ended in loud cries. I also noticed the strong flapping of the wings of an apparently very large bird. Bedford explained that this was the hornbill that was incredibly timid and it would be difficult to bag a specimen. In vain we tried to sneak up to where the sounds were coming from. Every time even before we could see them they flew away with big cries warning all their comrades so that the forest was full of warning cries.  I had given up hope to achieve a favorable result when I discovered two rare beautiful scarlet and citron colored pigeons (Ptilopus iozonus) which I bagged. The shots seemed to cause such a disturbance among the hornbills that I heard their wings fluttering everywhere until one of them flew by accident just over me on a tall tree top so that I managed to shot it down. It was a Rytidoceros (Buceros) plicatus, an old male and a splendid specimen characterized by its giant beak, the red-brown neck, the metallic glittering black feathers and the snow-white tail. The age of the bird was estimated as seven years by examining the ridges on the beak, as the natives calculate that it grows another year on its beak every year. The savage who brought me the animal performed a very comical dance of joy by constantly kicking out his legs in an eccentric manner. As soon as he had calmed down again I sent him back directly to the camp in order that the bird was placed as quickly as possible into the hands of the taxidermist.

Gradually we had entered more mountainous terrain where the scenery changed. The forest was more open, tall grass covered the ground and the stony places and rocks were surrounded by eucalyptus trees. Here I shot a wallaby and a beautiful falcon (Accipiter cirrhocephalus).

It was shortly before noon when the heat became very muggy and the bird world had become very quiet and Bedford proposed to rest. We camped with the Papuans between the rocks in the shadow of some trees, ate our tins and tried afterwards to sleep a bit what however was unfortunately made impossible by the countless vexing ants.

Thus I entered into an „English“ conversation with Bedford in which I learned that this hunting ground chosen by the governor was an unsuitable one and that the best hunting opportunity was actually in a territory about 40 kilometers out of Moresby in the valley of the Vei Maori River where the governor used to go hunting too. But, added Bedford, he still hoped to find some birds of paradise to shoot in a valley nearby in the afternoon.

The Papuans spent their break in a much more agreeable manner for them: They smoked tobacco which they had begged off from me, grilled the freshly shot wallaby and ate this strange roast with pleasure.

Despite the strong heat we started again already at 2 o’clock and climbed up a steep mountain ledge which was as tiring as it was difficult as we could not follow a set path but had to climb what we encountered over blocks of rocks and clefts covered with grass without knowing where to put one’s foot and slipping at any moment. Short of breath  and bathed in sweat we arrived on the hill where we let ourselves fall into the grass to recover some of our breath and regain some of our strength.  As now it was necessary to climb down on the other side of the mountain ledge what was even more difficult at the beginning. The descent continued very slowly as we advanced only gradually. Halfway down even the natives ran out of force one after another and sat down and did not want to continue marching. Only the insistent admonitions of Bedford as well as the circumstance that we had the strikers march in front of us and thus drove them forward made them move.

Slashed and flayed we arrived finally in the small densely overgrown valley in which Bedford hoped to find birds of paradise. In profusion, however, just at that moment a heavy rain started pouring down so that all hopes for a catch were dashed. As soon as it starts raining, all the birds of paradise hide themselves in the densest mountain tops, concerned about their feathers, press themselves against the trunk and thus absolutely can not be seen.  I still climbed up the hill on the other side of the valley and saw a female bird of paradise but a male was not to be seen.

As Bedford now declared that it was futile to continue the search for birds of paradise and we had to cover an important distance to return to the camp, we changed our path in that direction.

The valley was so densely overgrown that we could only enter it by advancing in the stream running through the valley floor. At its shore the natives eagerly rushed into the stream to quench their thirst but found not much refreshment in the warm water.

Continuing to wade in this stream, we noticed right at the start that our shoes were filling with fine sand which hurt me especially as the walking had blistered my feet. Where the deep areas of the stream prevented wading we had to go around the stream and squeeze ourselves between the trees at the shore or climb over the fallen trunks. Finally we arrived at the Northern end of the valley where I had hunted in the morning and where we now were returning home, that is to the camp which I reached late in the evening fully soaked and very tired. Such a ten hour expedition in the tropical jungle in such a muggy atmosphere is much more exhausting than a march double its length in our latitudes.

The other hunting group arrived earlier than I and every gentleman had brought something interesting, thus Clam a splendid bird of paradise and three crowned pigeons, Wurmbrand two  blue bitterns (Ardeiralla flavicollis), a snow-white kite with light-brown wings (Haliastur girrenera) and two strange crake-like birds called comb-crested jacana (Parra gallinacea), Prónay finally a cockatoo, a pink pigeon etc.

According to the original plan the next day would be spent hunting at the shore of the Laroki too but the information given by Bedford made me ask the governor to organize an expedition to the famous hunting grounds at the shore of Vei Maori. To lessen the concerns of the governor regarding the limited time for this plan I declared to prolong my stay on New Guinea by two days. This prolongation decided the matter.  Sir William accepted the hunting expedition to Vei Maori under the condition that he would have enough time to prepare so that we unanimously agreed to return to Port Moresby the next morning.

This evening sleep came easy despite ants and scorpions as even the natives were exhausted from the activities of the day so that they forgot to sing and dance and the camp was completely quiet at an early hour.

Links

• Location: Port Moresby, New Guinea
• ANNO – on 17.06.1893 in Austria’s newspapers.
• The k.u.k. Hof-Burgtheater is playing „Die Jungfrau von Orleans“. The k.u.k. Hof-Operntheater is closed from 1 June to 19 July.

According to the appointment we should depart at 7 o’clock in the morning on the expedition to the Laroki river but only set out when a certain signal, hoisting a red flag on Government House, indicated that everything was ready. Finally at 9 o’clock the red flag appeared and we went on lan where the governor and four of his officials who had the intention to participate in the expedition awaited me.

The number of officials the governor had were only a few persons and the body of his military land army consists in an armed police force of 70 men and is currently composed mostly out of natives from Fiji as well as the Solomon islands.The commander of this force was the  Commandant of Armed Constabulary. The policemen are said to be bold, skillful people who set out to restore order if a native tribe within British New Guinea has committed some misdeed. If the natives murder a white man, the guilty are executed and in fact hanged as the natives consider being shot less ignominious. The murder of natives is usually not handled as strictly and punished with hard labor for which the criminals are deported to a nearby island.

For the march to the Laroki, horses were provided for me and the gentlemen who wanted to participate in the expedition while our people had to march on foot. The baggage, the supplies and the munition was carried by natives but in no way by men who would never deign to such servile actions but instead by young girls who carried the heavy loads with admirable endurance. The use of about thirty girls as carriers our caravan naturally looked particularly strange.

The guide for this difficult route to the Laroki river was a mixed blood of a Samoan and an Englishwoman called George Bedford who was notable by his strong stocky build. He spends the largest part of his life,  a true ranger, hunting and collecting for researchers in the jungles of the island only to now and then go and talk to Port Moresby and to sell the bird bodies caught on his journeys to the merchant resident in the colony.

The horses we were riding roam freely iin the bush when they are not needed and had only been caught during the morning with a lasso; they are all descendants of Australian horses which the gold diggers once brought to the coast.

The day was hot and muggy. We crossed over many first bare limestone hills that ascend up to the top of Port Moresby and reached after having completed a steep descent the valley on the opposite side of the mountain range. There we saw banana and yams plantations surrounded by strong fences whose poles were fixed in regular intervals and connected one to the next by fibers of a vine called „sei“.

The valley we were now entering in a Northern direction reminded me in terms of the plants and its vegetation to the plateau of New South Wales. Here as there the ground was covered by individual tufts of tall grass of up to 2 m high. Between these grass islands was a terrain similar to a savannah in which rose now and then evergreen eucalyptus trees. Irregularly arranged ranges of hills of various sizes and forms delimited the grass land.

On the Northern horizon the contours of the Owen Stanley mountains appeared in a delicate blue tint whose peaks of Mount Victoria reached up to 4002 m. Its majestic top had been climbed for the first time by a European on 11 June 1889, namely governor Macigregor.

The climb caused the greatest of difficulties and the whole tour took 64 days. Macgregor and his party had set out on 22 April 1889 at one of the estuaries of the Vanapa river and continued their drive upriver for six days. There they camped while they ordered to bring carriers and supplies from Port Moresby and continued on 17 May on foot. Storms, swamps, gorges, craggy hills and obstacles of all kind hindered the advance of the expedition that had to cut its path step by step, ax in hand, through the jungle until the had climbed to the top on 11 June which Macgregor named Mount Victoria. The return trip lasted from 13 to 25 June and the arduous journey was made more complicated by the fact that Macgregor was not very good walker.

A great appetite for exploration seems to be one of the qualities of Macgregor who is an outstanding explorer of geographic worlds as he spends the largest part of his time on explorations and inspection tours into the interior in the areas he is assigned where he shows as much endurance as courage. Many still unexplored area and numerous native villages he set foot in as the first white man and was naturally from time to time forced to make use of the destructive power of modern firearms when the savages ambushed him or fought against him.

On expedition that Macgregor always likes to mention with a certain pride was the one up the Fly River. It arises in the center of New Guineas and flows in a huge delta in the gulf of Papua and has been discovered in 1845 by Captain Blackwood. Later L. M. d’Albertis as well as the missionary MacFarlane drove in the steam boat „Ellengowan“ 800 km upriver. Macgregor now managed to drive a further 168 km on the mighty river meandering in countless bends beyond the endpoint of d’Alberti’s journey up to the border of British New Guinea driving into German territory for which purpose he first used the steam boat „Merrie England“ and a whaling boat.

The report of Macgregor’s research exploration made me truly want to also enter into virgin territories, to drive on rivers that had never been sounded nor mapped, to see areas that no European had set a foot in, to bring back home valuable and plentiful catches as a collector and hunter.

Thus in thoughts I rode through the monotonous country under the burning heat of the sun. For three hours we saw nothing but grasses and rubber trees where animals were scarce. Now and then, while we rode under eucalyptus trees, red ants dropped down on us and plagued us mightily. Next to a swamp enclosed by trees, cockatoos and large parrots took to the sky with great cries while no other living beings could be discovered in that area.

In the area of the Laroki river the vegetation was finally luxurious and varied. Mighty trees such as the native olive tree (Notelaea ligustrina), Casuarinae, mangroves and Ficus replaced the tiring sight of the monotonous grasses and eucalyptus trees, and soon we entered into the shadow of a beautiful jungle that follows the river on both sides like we having arrived at the South shore of th Laroki. Between the high trunks appeared all kinds of ferns, winding rotang palms (Calamus Rotang), orchids, mistletoes and other parasite plants.

The Laroki arises in the East of Port Moresby beyond the Astrolabe range at the Western foot of the Richardson mountain range, takes at the beginning a Western direction and then after absorbing Goldie River turns Northward and finally flows into Redscar Bay. At the place where we reached the river it had an important depth at a width of about 30 m, but it still continued to be 60 m wide and more; it is said to shelter as all the waters of this area numerous crocodiles but we did not see any of them.

We stopped at an open space at the shore under mighty trees to await the arrival of the caravan following us which included knowledgeable local guides who were to lead us into the jungle at the North shore.

After one and a half hours the caravan arrived, completely exhausted from the journey they traveled during the hottest hours of the day and required a lengthy pause to recover while we hastily ate a meal made out of the tins in order to cross the river in the company of our guide and devote the time to hunting. In the mean time those staying back set up the camp at the rest stop.

From the North shore of the Laroki we ventured out in multiple directions into the jungle and namely I set out in a North-western direction accompanied by the mixed blood Bedford and a Papuan. During our slow advance I had to admire again and again the splendor and festive silence of the jungle filled with giant trees.

The goal I wanted to accomplish was to bag as large as possible number of specimens of the bird species so diverse on New Guinea whereas I mainly targeted birds of paradise, the large hornbill, Papuan crowned pigeons  (Goura albertisi) and brushturkeys. But as I did neither speak English nor Papuan, I had some difficulties communicating with my companions which I tried to solve with sign language.

The first catch was a beautifully colored parrot that did not look taller than a wren sitting in the top of a mighty tree. Soon afterwards my guide stopped and pointed at a spot in the undergrowth where 80 paces away I discovered a large chicken-like bird and killed it. To my joy it was a female brushturkey (Talegallus cuvieri).

Only by using all energy I managed to advance in the dense jungle. Almost constantly I had to wiggle my way like a snake through the tangle of twines and climbing plants that connected the mighty trunks and the branches that were hanging down and dropping from the twigs and was felting the bushes and covering the ground. Thorns and leaf edges with barbs, thick, trunks laying criss-cross and being covered with twines as well as fallen trees multiplied the obstacles step by step. Despite the shadow provided by the dense leafy tops of the jungle, I was covered in sweat. I was a bit surprised not to find mosquitoes close to the river and at least I was spared that plague.

Suddenly I heard loud bird cries and it took possession of me when Bedford announced that it was the call of the birds of paradise. Just as tigers in India, the most valuable catch of the hunter in the South Sea are birds of paradise! It is a very timid bird and as it is usually frightened by the most quiet noise and disappears only caught with lime-twigs or slings and only rarely by shot. The difficulty of hunting birds of paradise, the colorful splendor of their feathers and especially the tail feather of the male have made these inhabitants of the air the topic of legends and fairy tales — all this will be sufficient to explain my desire to catch this prey.

With extreme caution we sneaked close to the trees where we had heard the call and nearly became blind by watching for them until we realized that only females were sitting up there. The unornamented hens were no desirable target for me. In contrast to humans, in the animal kingdom it is usually the male that is favored by beauty so that in the birds of paradise only the male has the splendid feathers while the female is completely inconspicuous.

As no male was following the tender calls of the females I had to relinquish my position after some time without success. On a small clearing covered with grass two wallabies suddenly jumped up at my feet. I bagged one, while Bedford killed the other.

My next catch were two very large fruit pigeons (Carpophaga pinon) and a specimen of a new kind of black, yellow and white colored oriole (Eulabes dumonti) that sat on a eucalyptus tree. A nankeen night heron (Nycticorax caledonicus), that I shot when it flew over my head, made me sense the presence of water and in fact I soon came to a pond covered with cane brake in which was all kind of water fowl. The ducks seemed to have forgotten their usual timidity here or did not notice the presence of humans. As they returned again and again to the pond even after I had fired quite a few shots. Thus I managed to bag two whistling ducks one of which was a species I did not know before (Dendrocygna arcuata and guttata). Of such ducks I saw a whole flock of around 30 pieces sit close to me on a large Ficus; also divers and coots were present here. Furthermore I shot a splendid crake but could not bag the bird as the Papuan accompanying me was unwilling at any price to recover the crake out of the swampy water.

I was much astonished to find suddenly cattle in this secluded area. It gawked at me for some time and then timidly fled. They answered my question about this with the explanation that these were cattle from a herd formerly held at Port Moresby that had been banned into the wilderness as it had caused too much damage in the gardens of the natives. The cattle was now living in a semi-wild way. Whenever a piece is required it is shot from the herd.

At the edge of the small pond stood two snow-white egrets to which I was just sneaking up when a fleeing wallaby made them fly up into the air with hoarse cries. In spite of the darkness that had set in I noticed a sitting obscure white bird: I fired and in front of me lay a splendid duck (Tadorna radjah) with snow-white body, head and beak and metallic dark-brown wings.

In the mean time it had become completely dark so that it was time to return to the camp. Surrounded by whizzing fireflies we passed the river and found my gentlemen already in the camp who had also brought some catches.

The camp at the Laroki set up under giant trees offered a truly picturesque view. It was a real hunter’s or gold digger’s camp without any comfortable sleeping or kitchen tents such as those I had been offered everywhere on my expeditions in India. Each of us had a hammock fixed to the trees above which was hanged a 2 m oil cloth to protect against the rain while below our hand baggage and the rifles were stored. The cooking was done on the open fire and the evening meal consisting of risotto and the content of some tins was simple enough. It tasted much better after the hard work of the day than the fine cookery of Bussatto. Next to us around the large fire the Papuan guide and the female baggage carriers had set up their camp and from time to time they sang in a monotonous voice. Furthermore there stood the tied horses. At our feet the river was rushing and through the dense leafy tops the golden stars and the silver moon were glittering.

I lay for a long time, wrapped in a blanket at the shore of the river and while I looked at the glittering night-time sky, the sparkling camp fires and the ghost-like shadows moving over the trunks and bushes of the jungle, deep memories out of my childhood came up. Yes, thus I had dreamed about the camp life of Cooper’s heroes in the endless forests of North America in „The Last of the Mohicans“ . . .

When I finally went to frequent my hammock, the natives began to dance in the distance and to sing. Their singing and their individual shouts of joy  reminded me of the songs and shouts with which in our Alps the young men greet their „girls“ and made me remember many beautiful memories about home that lulled me to sleep in which dreamed about an images about a scenery far from Laroki and New Guinea.

Links

• Location: Port Moresby, New Guinea
• ANNO – on 16.06.1893 in Austria’s newspapers.
• The k.u.k. Hof-Burgtheater is playing „Die Grille“. The k.u.k. Hof-Operntheater is closed from 1 June to 19 July.