The New Noah Read Free Page B

my bed
I could see the squirrels sitting near the wire front of their cage and giving their weird cry. It started off as a gentle thrumming sound, such as you hear in a telegraph pole when the wind is
shaking the wires. It gradually grew louder and louder and more metallic until it sounded exactly like the dying noise of a huge gong being struck. The squirrels produced this extraordinary sound
every morning at dawn and thereafter for the first week, until I grew used to it, I was always woken up at that unearthly hour, which made me begin to think that it was rather a doubtful privilege
to have captured these animals.

In which I become involved with baby crocodiles, bushtailed porcupines, and various snakes
    When, as a result of hunting every day, I had managed to collect a lot of animals, I began to find that I had less and less time to go out into the forest, for my captives
required a great deal of attention. There was, consequently, only one course left, and that was to go hunting at night. It was perhaps one of the most exciting ways of searching.
    Armed with very bright torches and the usual collection of bags, bottles, boxes, and nets, the hunters and I would set off shortly after dark and walk quietly among the huge trees, shining our
torches into the branches above. If any animals were there, you could see their eyes glowing in the torch beam, like strange jewels among the leaves.
    This is really a very good method of hunting, for in this way you come across a lot of creatures which you never see during the daytime, since all the nocturnal ones that spend the daylight
hours sleeping in their dens come out to feed and hunt during the night. Once you have located them in the tree-tops, or on the ground, you then have the job of trying to catch your quarry, and
this is generally no easy matter.
    Strangely enough, one of the easiest creatures to obtain in this way is the baby crocodile. These reptiles live in small, shallow streams which crisscross through the forest, and at night come
out on to the miniature sandbanks and lie there, waiting hopefully in case some small creature should come down to drink there, and they could catch it.
    We used to follow the courses of the streams, wading sometimes waist-deep in the water, shining our torches ahead of us. Quite suddenly, on a sandbank, there would appear what looked like two
red-hot coals gleaming in my torch beam, and, keeping the light steady, I would approach cautiously and, eventually, see the baby crocodile lying on the sand, his head raised suspiciously, glaring
at me. I would direct the torch beam carefully into his eyes, so that he would be dazzled by its light and not notice me behind it. Then I would edge close enough to lean forward and pin him down
by the back of his neck with the aid of a forked stick.
    Most of these beasts were only about eighteen inches or two feet long, but occasionally I found some that were a bit bigger, being four feet or more in length. They would put up quite a struggle
when I pinned them down with this forked stick, lashing out with their tails and trying to get back into the water, uttering deep rumbling roars, rather as though they were lions instead of
crocodiles.
    When picking up a crocodile, I not only had to watch his mouth, but his tail as well, for a big one has so much strength in his tail that a whipping blow from it could quite easily break your
arm. Another trick they had was lying quite still and allowing me to pick them up by the back of the neck; then, without warning, they would give a terrific wriggle and slap me furiously with their
tails, and this sudden movement would be so unexpected that my hold would be broken and I would drop the crocodile back into the water. So we made it a rule never to pick up a crocodile unless we
had a firm grip on the back of the neck and on the tail.
    One of the most difficult and painful night hunts I had, occurred when I was staying at a small village called