Chapter II: The Forests and Lakes of the Fên Ho Basin

After the Clark Expedition, described in _Through Shên-Kan_, had been brought to a close in T’ai-yüan Fu, I decided to continue the work of scientific exploration provided that funds were forthcoming and that I could find a suitable companion. Both conditions were soon fulfilled. My wife would make a more than suitable companion, while financial arrangements were made whereby I could carry on my work, sending the results to the Smithsonian Institution.

Returning to T’ai-yüan Fu from the coast, my wife and I at once set about preparations for an extended journey up the valley of the Fên Ho, a large tributary of the Yellow River which flows from north to south down two-thirds of the western portion of Shansi province.

Before starting, however, we decided to do a little work in the immediate vicinity.

Accordingly we hired a cart and took our outfit on to the plain, pitching our tents about five miles south of the city on the bank of the Fên Ho. Here we stayed for ten days, during which time I initiated my wife into the delights of camp life.

We spent the whole time trapping, shooting and riding. Geese, ducks, quail and hares were plentiful, and many were brought to bag. One day a bustard weighing about 16 lb. was brought down after a long and careful stalk through the underbrush.

Our traps yielded well, so that we made a very respectable little collection of mammals. It included specimens of the mink, the shrew, the vole, the giant hamster, Anderson’s hamster, the gerbil and the common mouse.

We next moved up into the mountains east of T’ai-yüan Fu, called Lung-wang Shan, where we put up at a fine old temple. This place constitutes one of the summer resorts of the T’ai-yüan community, and is distant from that city about twenty miles.

The district is well wooded and is noted for its beautiful scenery, especially during the summer. The deep ravines are filled with cypress, firs and willows, while in places the rare white-barked pine (_Pinus bungeana_) grows in a wild state. The rocky watercourses at the ravine bottoms are filled with ferns, mosses and other cryptogams. Where these ravines widen out there are rich grass-plots, on which grow the orchis, the buttercup, the daisy, the forget-me-not and many other beautiful flowers.

The tops of the shale slopes are studded with bushes of the wild peach, the lilac and the yellow rose, all of which blooming in spring clothe the mountains with rich masses of blossom, and lade the air with delicate perfume. In autumn the rose bushes, which in themselves are more than usually ornate, with their red stems and spines, and minute pinnate leaves, are loaded with large sweet hips of a deep crimson colour.

Throughout the warmer months flowers of one sort or another lend their beauty to the scene, but it is in the autumn that the richest variety is seen. Then it is that the deep rich blue of the gentian, mingling with the delicate mauve of the scabious, the warmer tints of the vetches and trefoils, the golden yellow of the toadflax, the pink of the daisy, and the brilliant scarlet and orange of the lilies, presents a wealth of colour hard to surpass even in the tropics.

At the time of our visit all these floral glories were over, and the first nip of winter was making itself felt.

We collected here a few specimens of well known species of mammals, such as the sulphur-bellied rat (_Epimys confucianus luticolor_), the wood mouse (_Apodemus speciosus_) and the hamsters (_Cricetulus triton incanus_ and _C. andersoni_).

On November 9 we returned to T’ai-yüan Fu prepared to face all the rigors of winter travel through a practically unknown country.

This was no light undertaking for a woman used to all the comforts and luxuries of the European settlements in the East. We would be entirely dependent upon Chinese inns, often mere hovels, for shelter from the bitter cold, while, even allowing for a good supply of stores, the food must often be of the roughest. Nevertheless, my wife refused to be dissuaded by sympathetic but sceptical friends from her purpose of accompanying me.

We hired seven mules to carry our outfit, and engaged a groom, a cook and two boys to act as servants. We ourselves would travel on horseback, for which purpose I secured three good Mongol ponies.

Our outfit was as good as could be secured for the work in hand, and everything promised a successful trip.

On November 25 our little caravan left T’ai-yüan Fu by the west gate, and crossing the Fên valley, we entered the mountains due west of the city.

Travelling very slowly, we followed the same route as that taken by the Clark Expedition as far as Ku-chao, thirty miles west of T’ai-yüan Fu. At this point we turned northward up the Fên Ho.

PLATE IV.

[_Photo by P. H. Atwood._

LEOPARD (_Felis fontanieri_) SHOT BY DR. P. H. ATWOOD IN SHANSI.
]

[_Photo by P. H. Atwood_

WILD BOAR (_Sus sp._) SHOT BY DR. P. H. ATWOOD IN SHANSI. WEIGHT,
330 LBS.

_Opposite p. 42._]
]

Journeying up the course of the river at this season was no light task. The precipitous sides forced us to keep to the bed, and the wide stream, flowing from side to side of the valley, necessitated frequent crossings. As it was in a semi-frozen condition, this was dangerous work. Once my wife narrowly escaped the horrible fate of being swept under the ice. It was only the agility of her pony in bounding clear of the breaking ice and rushing torrent that saved her.

More than once it was necessary personally to wade through the icy water in order to find a firm bottom for the passage of the mules and ponies. The natives neither dared nor could be trusted to do this, preferring always to allow the mules to take their chance of crossing with dry loads, while they themselves found safe passage where the ice would stand their weight.

On December 8, after one or two short halts _en route_ to try and pick up a few specimens, or to check up the compass traverse, we reached Tsing-lo Hsien.

Here we stayed till December 14, while I tried to trap some pikas and wolves. I secured two of the former, but was unsuccessful with the latter.

Leaving Tsing-lo Hsien, we continued up the valley of the Fên Ho for another ten miles, when, after spending the night at Yung-an-chêng, we turned westward up a side valley, reaching a place named Wu-chia-kou at the edge of some magnificent forested country. Here we decided to spend Christmas, as the surrounding country offered prospects of good hunting and trapping.

In this we were not disappointed. During our stay here we had a long line of traps out, which yielded well, while in pig-hunting we were very successful.

The first pig that was bagged was an enormous animal measuring six feet two inches from tip to tip, with a height of thirty-two inches at the shoulder and a weight of 310 lb.

For several days reports came in of a sounder of fifteen swine, led by an enormous white pig, the size of a cow. I made up my mind to get this fellow if possible. Several days were spent in fruitless search. Always on returning to camp I was told that the sounder had been seen in some valley other than _the_ one I had been searching. At last one evening, as I was returning from a tiring day in the highest portion of the range, the villagers told me that not half an hour before, the sounder I had been hunting for had passed the village and had climbed the opposite ridge.

Tired as I was, I at once set off in the direction indicated, and there sure enough were the tracks I had grown so familiar with during the past few days. Following these up, I climbed the long ridge, and was just beginning to think that once more the pigs had eluded me, when one of the villagers who had accompanied me pointed across the ravine on my right. There, in a small field, about a dozen pigs were feeding, but nowhere could I see the great white leader.

Thinking that I had better make sure of at least one pig, I began to cross the ravine, keeping under cover as much as possible. Just as I was near enough, and was about to aim, the great white leader came treading majestically round a small shoulder of rock. What a pig! He seemed to my excited imagination to be more the size of an elephant than a cow. On he came with nose up, scenting round for danger, while behind came several other pigs looking very small beside their magnificent leader.

Raising my rifle, I fired. The huge brute whirled round, stood for a second, and then broke madly up and across the ravine. Reaching the head he vanished from view. I hurried up the steep ravine, and reached the top of the ridge just in time to see my quarry rounding the head of a second ravine. Without waiting to regain my breath, I raised my rifle and fired. The pig continued his course for a few yards, and then suddenly plunged down the hill side. He struggled madly to keep his footing, but presently staggered and went head over heels, finally fetching up at the bottom of a small cutting, stone dead.

The following day I went in search of an old tusker, that had been wounded the day before by a Chinese hunter, and had subsequently met and knocked down one of my men, who was out setting traps. We found the trail easily enough, but did not follow it up far, as it lost itself in a stony ravine bottom.

While trying to pick it up on the wooded slope, we ran across a very fresh trail and decided to follow it up at once. It led us across the top of the ridge, and a few yards down the next slope, which was covered with dense hazel scrub. As we entered the latter, there was the sound of some large body moving through the brush. Breathlessly we waited, soon being rewarded by the sight of a good-sized pig, rapidly climbing the opposite slope. I fired a couple of quick shots, but the pig gained and crossed the top of the ridge and vanished. We dashed down through the hazel scrub and up the steep slope. On reaching the top a spot of blood told us that our pig was hit. Continuing on the run we tracked him round the head of the next ravine, over the divide at the top, and once more drove him from the dense brush in which he was lying up. This time as he climbed the slope opposite us, I managed to get in a shot that bowled him over, but again he struggled to his feet and vanished over the crest of the ridge. Another arduous climb brought us into a small wood of scrub oak, where we found great difficulty in singling out the trail of our quarry from a dozen others that ran in all directions. Sending the hunter along one of the freshest, I followed another, which led along the side of the ridge. Presently there was a splotch of blood in one of the footprints, and I knew that I was on the right scent. As I hurried along through the pines and larches, I presently became aware of my quarry standing amongst the trees some twenty yards above me. With gleaming eyes he stood looking down at me, but before he could make up his mind to charge, I dropped him with a bullet through the neck, just behind the ear.

The following afternoon we climbed a high range of jagged peaks that lies to the south of the village, our object being to catch the pigs as they left the cover of the forests for their feeding-grounds as dusk came on. Two hours’ steady climbing through the most enchanting woodland scenery brought us to the crest of a knife-like ridge between two pointed peaks some 2,000 feet above the level of the valley bottom. Below us on the one hand lay the dark woods of pine and spruce, through which we had just climbed, on the other tier upon tier of the purple ridges of the foothills stretching away to the pink horizon.

Away across the valley to our north rugged ranges rose higher and higher, culminating in the massive granite peak of Lo-yah Shan, whose castellated summit caught the last pink rays of the setting sun, while its base lay shrouded in rapidly gathering mists and ever deepening shadows.

Nothing could surpass the beauty of the scene which we beheld that evening as we cautiously worked along the ridge, keeping a sharp look-out upon the cultivated fields a thousand feet below us, whereon we hoped to catch some early pig setting forth upon his night’s depredations. We were disappointed, however, in not sighting any game, but the wonderful scenery more than compensated us for the arduous climb.

The next successful pig hunt, which was two days later, might well have proved disastrous for me. In climbing round some steep rocks, from the crevices of which sprouted some young spruce trees, affording me the necessary foothold, I surprised a sounder of eight pigs, which were lying sunning themselves at the base of the cliff. They escaped up through the woods and over the ridge, my hurried shot failing to find a mark. Having reached the top of the ridge ourselves after a hard climb, we were just in time to see the sounder enter a dense patch of thorn-scrub away down in the valley. Sending the two natives to drive them out, I hurried down the ravine and took up a convenient position below the patch of thorn-scrub. Suddenly the whole sounder broke cover, and to my horror came thundering down upon me like a troop of cavalry. Luckily the pigs were bent more on escape than attack, so when I clubbed my rifle and swung it to beat off, if possible, the mad rush of the foremost pig, he swerved to one side. The others followed suit, but before the last one had passed I managed to reverse my rifle once more, and, firing from the hip, hit him in the jaw. The wounded animal broke away from the rest of the sounder, and, trying to cross a deep watercourse, fell an easy mark to my second shot.

Besides the pigs we secured some roe-deer and eared pheasants, this being the first occasion on which I had actually seen the latter, though I had often heard them without knowing what they were.

Two of the roe-deer were bagged on the last day of the year, while I was out hunting for something with which to furnish our New Year’s dinner.

Accompanied by my trapper, who carried my shot-gun, I was making my way up a broad ravine the sides of which were heavily timbered. There was a large open space near the head of the ravine, and a woodman’s path led up through the woods to this spot, enabling us to get quietly through the woods to the edge of the glade. Some five hundred yards up the slope were three fine bucks quietly grazing. Leaving the trapper in the shelter of the woods, I dropped upon my hands and knees and wormed my way over the ground. Taking care not to break any dry twigs or to disturb any leaves, I made my way slowly up towards the unsuspecting deer. By making the best use of a slight dip in the ground and a few small trees, I succeeded in gaining a point within a hundred and fifty yards of my quarry. Luck was with me, for I was able to rise to my feet behind a small pine without being observed. The distance was nicely judged, and my first shot caused one of the bucks to spring into the air, make a few convulsive bounds towards the shelter of the woods, and then stagger and come rolling down the slope, almost to my feet. The other two deer reached the cover of the woods, where they stood watching their wounded companion. I hurried up the slope and entered the wood where they had vanished. Scarcely had I gone ten paces, before I saw them bounding through the trees, and taking a rapid aim, was fortunate enough to bring one down. They were two nice bucks, weighing 60 lb. and 65 lb. respectively.

The eared pheasants (_Crossoptilon manchuricum_) gave us a new kind of sport. It was on Christmas Day that we first encountered them. We were sauntering up a wooded ravine when we suddenly caught sight of them running up the steep, wooded slopes. As they were out of shot-gun range I tried a revolver shot at one. At the first report there was a great beating of wings and every bird left the cover of the pines and commenced to sail gracefully across and down the ravine. Needless to say, several passed within easy range of us and were bowled over. The frightened birds would light at the bottom of the ravine and at once scurry up the opposite side, when a report from one of our guns would startle them into repeating the silly manœuvre, which had already proved fatal to several of their number. In this way we made the very respectable bag of six large birds, averaging 5 lbs. apiece. On four different occasions I encountered flocks of these birds, all of which acted in the same way.

Leopards were numerous in the districts, but I never succeeded in actually encountering one. We tried trapping for these dangerous but handsome pests, without success. They could be enticed to the traps, but always managed to avoid being caught. A live sheep was cleverly extracted from the midst of several traps, which were subsequently overturned and sprung as if to express the contempt of the great feline marauder. Tracks in the ploughed field showed how he had walked round and round the group of traps, planning a way to reach the bait without getting caught.

While up hunting in the highest parts of the range, I came across tiger tracks in the snow. The Chinese in the district said that there were tigers, but refused absolutely to lead me to their haunts, so greatly did they fear this animal.

Several wolves were seen, and one was shot, but it escaped into a wood, where it was subsequently picked up by a shepherd. This was one of a pack of six, which, late one afternoon, after I had returned from a long and tiring hunt, passed within a few yards of the house in which we were quartered. I hurried out in my slippers and fired at the last wolf as it crossed a low ridge. Thinking that I had missed him, I returned to camp. That night the five remaining wolves attacked a sheepfold further up the valley, killing eight sheep.

My traps were fairly successful, some seven species of rodents being secured.

The heavy timber in this district consists chiefly of spruce and larch, with a sprinkling of pines. The forests are even more extensive than those of the Chiao-ch’êng Shan further south, which were explored on the Clark Expedition. Owing to greater facilities in transporting the logs, this district is being more rapidly deforested.

Besides the conifers already mentioned, extensive patches of scrub-oak, hazel and birch exist, the last being a free peeling variety, from the bark of which the natives manufacture household utensils and mats.

It being winter, we were unable to gather much idea of the rest of the flora of this district, but on a subsequent visit in the autumn of 1911 I was able to observe much more in this line. I then discovered many interesting wild berries, which are dealt with in the botanical notes at the end of this volume.

The mountains here are very high and are mainly of archaic formations. The highest peak, the altitude of which I estimated by means of boiling point, aneroid barometer, and Abney level, to be some 10,000 feet, is a stupendous mass of granite known as Lo-yah Shan.

The inhabitants of the district we found to be of the usual type of Shansi mountaineers. Those who had not recently migrated thither from other parts of the province were tall and well built, with healthy, rosy complexions.

The chief occupation of these mountaineers is the cutting and hauling of timber. This is stacked on the banks of the Fên Ho, awaiting the spring and autumn freshets, when it is taken down in long rafts and sold at various places on the T’ai-yüan Fu plain. A vast amount of timber is thus taken out annually, while nothing is being done to replenish the denuded areas.

On January 12 (1910) we once more took to the road, and returning to the Fên Ho, followed it up to its source. A few fruitless days were spent _en route_ at Tung-tsai, a large village engaged in the timber trade, situated about ten miles from the head waters of the river.

On January 17 we discovered a series of mountain lakes, which constitute one of the sources of the Fên Ho. These interesting lakes, which I have already described in my geological notes in _Through Shên-Kan_, are five in number, the largest being known as Mu Hai-tzŭ, and the second as Kung Hai-tzŭ. These names mean the Female Sea and the Male Sea respectively. The lakes are situated at an altitude of from 7,000 to 7,500 feet, and lie in deep rock basins. There are many legends connected with them. One of these states that Mu Hai-tzŭ occupies the site of an ancient town, and it is said that on clear days in summer the ruins can be seen at the bottom of the lake. At the time of our visit the lakes were frozen over to a depth of several feet. The ice, however, was very clear, and near the edges weeds could easily be discerned in the dark green depths.

January 18 found us at Ning-wu Fu, which town has already been described in the foregoing chapter. We made a short stay here to check up and plot the compass traverse.

On January 24 we left this city, and crossing a pass to the west descended on to an extensive plain, which stretches away, unbroken by any hills, as far as the Yellow River.

Traversing this plain for about twenty miles, we reached a small town named Wu-tsai Hsien, where we settled down once more to continue our collecting work.

This time we were very successful, for besides trapping, we induced the natives to bring in specimens. To the number of different species already collected, eight others were added, including the wolf, the fox, the polecat, the mole, a vole, the desert hamster, the striped hamster, and a new subspecies of hare, which was subsequently named _Lepus swinhoei sowerbyæ_, after my wife.

There was no lack of sport, either, in this district, for large flocks of bustards were continually seen, and many fine birds were bagged. Three of these averaged 18 lbs. in weight apiece. As they were very shy, we had to resort to various expedients to come within range. One method was to ride round a flock, gradually drawing nearer. When within range, I would drop off my pony and lie flat, while my wife would gradually edge away, leading my pony and keeping at an even pace. In this way I would be able to take a comfortable shot without startling the birds, whose attention would be centred upon the ponies.

The method we enjoyed most, however, was plain stalking, when by keeping flat upon the ground and utilizing every little ridge or hummock of earth, we could often crawl to within easy range.

One day, to my own surprise and the delight of my wife and the natives, I brought down a large bird, which was flying past me at about seventy yards range. My bullet took it fairly in the side, and the great bird slowly came to earth, a quarter of a mile away. It was stone dead when we picked it up.

Foxes and hares also were plentiful on the plain, but as I seldom went out with anything but my rifle, these escaped attention.

The Wu-tsai plain is in parts very fertile, but, generally speaking, lacks a good water supply. The district is not notable for anything.

Not more than a couple of miles to the south of the town the plain comes to an abrupt end, and the foothills of the great mountain range we had already visited commence.

By February 15 we had completed our work on the plain, and decided to return to T’ai-yüan Fu. Accordingly we left Wu-tsai and struck out due south, and, entering the mountains, followed a deep valley as far as Tien-p’ing, a small mountain village.

The mountain path which we followed was, in places, extremely dangerous, so that we experienced great difficulty in getting the heavily laden mules along in safety. Often a mere parapet, made of saw-logs and supported by stakes driven into the rock surface, formed the only means of negotiating the steep-sided gorges. More than once the mules, edging up too close to the side, sent their burdens crashing down into the rocky ravine bottoms below, causing considerable damage to our equipment.

At Tien-p’ing the heavily forested mountains looked so favourable, that we decided to stay a day or two to hunt. It was well that we did so, for specimens of a rare flying squirrel were secured. It has not yet been definitely ascertained to what species this squirrel belongs. Having secured four specimens, I offered the natives 400 cash (about 1_s._) for each additional specimen they could secure for me. They discovered a nest of the coveted animals in a hollow tree, when, rather than risk losing one, they plugged up the hole, cut down the tree and carried it bodily to the village over a distance of about three miles. Six squirrels were found inside, five of which I skinned, reserving one alive. This one lived till well into the summer, when doubtless the heat of the plains was too much for it.

During the few days we spent in this vicinity I hunted the sika deer assiduously. This is a beautiful spotted animal about the size of the British red deer. Though I followed their tracks for miles each day, I never succeeded in sighting one, owing to the denseness of the forests in which they lived.

Judging from tracks I saw in the snow, musk deer also were common, but, being much hunted by the natives, they were very shy and always managed to remain out of sight.

On February 23 we once more started for home. Our path now lay over the most difficult country imaginable. The steep slopes were covered with ice, so that our animals had the greatest difficulty in ascending them. Spills were frequent, and more than once the loads were thrown off and boxes smashed.

As we neared the pass, we entered a deep forest of very heavy timber, through which we travelled for upwards of two hours. Here the snow was above our knees, while in long chains over its surface were innumerable tracks of deer, wolves, leopards, pigs, foxes, cats, martins and minks. Unfortunately we could not camp in this district, the weather being much too cold, even had we had our tents with us.

The divide, which was marked by a small shrine, I estimated at 8,000 feet. To our left the massive height of Lo-yah Shan towered above the timber line, while to our right the heavily-wooded slopes rose gently to some bare snow-clad uplands. Below and in front of us lay a frozen tributary of the Fên Ho, beyond which a magnificent panorama of blue hills and purple mountains, jagged peaks and winding valleys, spread itself as far as the eye could reach. Behind us were the rugged forest-clad ridges of the Tien-p’ing district.

Reluctantly we descended the southern side of the divide, for we realized that nowhere in all North China could such scenes as we had just gazed upon be rivalled.

That night we reached Wu-chia-kou once more, and being anxious for a little more shooting, we decided to spend two days here.

Our decision was fortunate, as a pig was bagged each day, bringing our total up to five; while a single specimen of the rarest of all Shansi mammals, the little wood-pika (_Ochotona sorella_), was secured. With this we were content and continued our homeward journey.

PLATE V.

[_Photo by K. T. McCoy._

MR. AND MRS. A. DE C. SOWERBY WITH BAG OF WILD PIGS,
BUSTARDS AND SMALL GAME.
]

[_Photo by R. S. Clark._

WATER-MILL IN WINTER.

_Opposite p. 58._]
]

Once more reaching Tsing-lo Hsien, we decided to take a different course from that followed on our outward journey, so turned eastward up a large tributary of the Fên Ho.

Following this up to its source we crossed two high passes in a granite dyke, which here protrudes through the grey limestone. The last day into T’ai-yüan Fu, we travelled for about ten miles along a deep and narrow gorge in the same formation, finally issuing out upon the plain at its northernmost point.

The last fifteen miles were quickly traversed, and we found ourselves home once more after a most enjoyable and successful trip.

We had explored and mapped the greater portion of the upper reaches of the Fên Ho, had discovered some hitherto unknown lakes and extensive forests, and had brought out a good collection of mammals, amongst which one at least was new to science, while six were new to the Institution we represented.

We had enjoyed as good sport as any one could wish for, so that we felt well satisfied with our winter’s work.

After our return to T’ai-yüan Fu, our work was discontinued for over a year while we paid a visit to Europe.