While the entirely typical colonialist racism is gag-worthy, this anecdote from the book written by Carl Lumholtz in 1889 is certainly interesting, and a rare snapshot of the roles of dingoes in this Indigenous community in Queensland. “My companions rose, turned their faces toward the mountain, and shouted, “Boongary, boongary!” A few black men were seen coming out of the woods and down the green slope as fast as their legs could carry them. One of them had a large dark animal on his back.
Was it truly a boongary? I soon caught sight of the dog “Balnglan” [a socialized camp dingo] running in advance and followed by Nilgora, a tall powerful man.
The dark animal was thrown on the ground at my feet, but none of the blacks spoke a word. They simply stood waiting for presents from me.
At last, then, I had a boongary, which I had been seeking so long. It is not necessary to describe my joy at having this animal, hitherto a stranger to science, at my feet. Of course I did not forget the natives who had brought me so great a prize. To Nilgora I gave a shirt, to the man who had carried the boongary, a handkerchief, and to all, food. Nor did I omit to distribute tobacco.
I at once began to skin the animal, but first I had to loosen the withies with which its legs had been tied for the men to carry it. The ends of these withies or bands rested against the man’s forehead, while the animal hung down his back, so that, as is customary among the Australians, the whole weight rested on his head.
I at once saw that it was a tree-kangaroo (Dendrolagus). It was very large, but still I had expected to find a larger animal, for according to the statements of the natives, a fullgrown specimen was larger than a wallaby—that is to say, about the size of a sheep. This one proved to be a young male.
(Lumholtz soaked the skin in arsenic to preserve it, so it could be returned to Europe as evidence.
It is further noted in his book that the camp dingoes were taken from dens and hand-raised from a very young age, regarded as family and were trained to track and hunt prey. Boongary (Tree Kangaroos) were always hunted by this community with dingoes. As is often described, the dingoes would leave the camp once fully mature, and established in their own territories.
That night, Lumholtz’s skin was taken by one of the dingoes.)
I at once called the blacks, among whom the news spread like wild-fire, and after looking for a short time one of them came running with a torn skin, which he had found outside the camp. The whole head, a part of the tail and legs, were eaten. It was my poor boongary skin that one of the dingoes had stolen and abused in this manner. I had no better place to put it, so I laid it back again in the same part of the roof, and then, sad and dejected in spirits, I sauntered down to the natives again.
Here every one tried to convince me that it was not his dog that was the culprit. All the dogs were produced, and each owner kept striking his dog’s belly to show that it was empty, in his eagerness to prove its innocence. Finally a half-grown cur was produced. The owner laid it on its back, seized it by the belly once or twice, and exclaimed, Ammery, ammery!—that is, Hungry, hungry! But his abuse of the dog soon acted as an emetic, and presently a mass of skin-rags was strewed on the ground in front of it.
My first impulse was to gather them up, but they were chewed so fine that they were useless. As the skin had been thoroughly prepared with arsenic, it was of importance to me to save the life of the dog, otherwise I would never again be able to borrow another.
Besides, I had a rare opportunity of increasing the respect of the natives for me. I told them that the dog had eaten kdla—that is, wrath—as they called poison, and as my men had gradually learned to look at it with great awe, it would elevate me in their eyes if I could save the life of the dog. I made haste to mix tobacco and water. This I poured into the dog, and thus caused it to vomit up the remainder of the poisoned skin. The life of the dog was saved, and all joined in the loudest praises of what I had done. They promised me the loan of “Balnglan” again, and thus I had hopes of securing another boongary; of course they added as a condition that I must give them a lot of tobacco.
The next morning early I persuaded them to get ready for the chase, but they did not want me to go with them, as the dog was afraid of the white man (pg. 229-230). The chase begins early in the morning, while the scent of the boongary’s footprints is still fresh on the ground. The dog takes his time, stops now and then, and examines the ground carefully with his nose. Its master keeps continually urging it on, and addresses it in the following manner: Tshe’—tshe’—gangary pul—pulka-—tshe’, pul— tshiuscherri dundun—mormango—tshe’, pul—pulka! etc.— that is, Tshe1-—tshe’—tshe’, smell boongary—smell him— tshe’, smell—seize him by the legs—smart fellow—tslu’, smell—smell him, etc. If the dog finds the scent, it will pursue it to the tree which the animal has climbed. Then some of the natives climb the surrounding trees to keep it from escaping, while another person, armed with a stick, ascends the tree where the animal is. He either seizes the animal by the tail and crushes its head with the stick, or he compels it to jump down, where the dingo stands ready to kill it (pg. 231-232).”