PART 3: Hunt Report and Reflection.
I returned from Africa on 13 July. Many people have asked about my hunt and about Africa. Each time, I have struggled to find adequate words to describe the experience and accurately convey how impactful it was. For those of you who have never experienced Africa, I will try to paint a picture from my lens. Where I fall short, I ask that others, who can describe events and feelings far better than I, please correct my deficiencies or provide your own experience to help shape a better picture of all that Africa is. Below is the day by day account of the safari.
Day 0-1: June 22-23, 2022
We were scheduled to depart from Atlanta at 7:25 p.m. on June 22nd, but our flight was delayed and we left at 8:50 p.m. I had set my watch to South African time and had tried to adjust my sleep schedule accordingly before leaving. Along with getting plenty of sleep on the flight, I think it helped me overcome jet lag. We arrived in Johannesburg at 5:39 p.m. in the evening on June 23rd, after a 15 hour direct flight from Atlanta. I met my PH, Gunter Bierbaumer, and received my firearms. I was very worried about receiving my firearms, as I had heard many horror tales, but the process was incredibly easy. I had my guns inspected, signed for, and out the door in under 15 minutes. It was very important for me to hunt with my own guns, that I mentioned in my previous post, and I was quite worried about their safety during transit. After I received them, I was able to relax more and focus on the environment around me. It rained when we landed in Johannesburg. We drove about an hour and a half to Angel Oak Guesthouse in Brits. It was a wonderful setting to begin our trip. A turn of the century building that had a colonial European feel. We met Carin, Gunter’s wife, his beautiful family, had dinner and drinks, then went to bed to prepare for an early start the next day. I don’t remember getting much sleep though. I was well rested from plenty of sleep on the flight and too excited to sleep. It has been many years since I was as excited as I was that first night. I laid awake on the bed, listening to the rain softly patter on the roof.
Day 2: June 24, 2022
We got up early, packed our bags, then met Gunter for breakfast consisting of coffee, fruit, yogurt, toast, eggs, and bacon, and left around 7:30 a.m. to go to Toro Yaka in the Balule Game Reserve (Greater Kruger National Park). It was a seven hour drive, but it gave me plenty of time to hold Gunter hostage and bombard him with questions and see some of Africa. It rained most of the trip. Farming is a big industry and we passed farms and groves of oranges, bananas, avocado, tea, macadamia, coffee, and tomatoes. We stopped for gas and I purchased some biltong, which I had been wanting to taste. We also stopped by a roadside coffee shop and had some incredibly delicious cappuccino. It was my first time seeing African animals in the wild; there were sable, vervet monkeys, and impala walking beside the road. Giraffe could be seen eating on acacia trees. We even saw a hippo in a river as we drove over a bridge. When we arrived at Toro Yaka just after 2:00 p.m., the staff greeted us with cold wet towels, introduced themselves, showed us around the lodge, then left us to settle in and unpack before our first game drive. We left for our very first game drive at 3:30 p.m. on the back of a Toyota Land Cruiser. On the drive, we saw an elephant, two giraffe, two jackals, and a duiker that was being pursued by two hyenas. One thing I had never even thought about was the variety of birds found in Africa; stunningly beautiful birds of every color and size. We also saw a chameleon. As the sun was setting, we stopped for several minutes to enjoy sundowners with mango, chips, and biltong. I tried a South African drink, Amarula, which was similar to Bailey’s Irish Cream, but with a bit smoother and more chocolatey flavor. They make it by fermenting the berry of the marula tree. Just as it was getting dark, we saw another elephant. It had pushed over a large tree and was eating the bark it stripped from the trunk. The approaching vehicle startled the elephant and it trumpeted loudly. Our guide turned the Land Cruiser off and we sat quietly. The elephant then relaxed and resumed his meal. We returned to Toro Yaka at 7:00 p.m., got a quick shower, then rejoined the other guests for sundowners and dinner. The head chef came and announced the evening menu: avocado salad, steak, sausage, and corn that had been prepared into what I can best describe as the African version of grits. Dessert was chocolate cake with vanilla custard and coffee.
Day 3: June 25, 2022
We had coffee at 5:30 a.m. then left for our morning game drive at 6:00 a.m. Within minutes, we came across a small pride of lions. They were surprisingly active; playing, climbing trees, sniffing the air, and listening to the sounds around them. Some of them came within mere feet of our Land Cruiser. We continued to follow and watch the lions for about forty-five minutes before we left them to look for other animals. Again, I was overwhelmed by the varied and beautiful birds. We stopped by a small pond and enjoyed coffee, biltong, dried banana, and crackers. When the drive concluded, we had seen impala, giraffe, zebra, and steenbok. Back at Toro Yaka, we enjoyed a hearty breakfast of various juices, omelette, toast, bowls of fruit, bacon, and sausage. We decided to make an excursion into the town of Hoedspruit to shop. On our way back, we saw two beautiful kudu bulls. On our evening game drive, we went down to the Olifantsrivier. En route, we saw elephants cows with their calves. It was fascinating to watch the cows guide their young away from us. The calves linked their trunks to the tails of the other calves and lined up in a row. The matriarch led the group as the line of calves followed. The cows were to the side and one lingered behind, using their trunks to guide the calves. They ran by crashing into the mopani bush and disappeared. When we got down to the river, we could hear hippo bellowing in the water. They sounded like air horns mixed with motocross motorcycle engines. We stopped to listen to the hippo, drank sundowners, and ate biltong, dried mango, and crackers.
Day 4: June 26, 2022
We once again had coffee before leaving for our morning game drive at 6:00 a.m. We found several hyenas laying around, as well as some incredible kudu bulls and two black rhino. For our morning break, we drank coffee and had “crunchy bars” which reminded me of chewy Nature Valley granola bars. We arrived back at Toro Yaka and had coffee, omelettes, croissants with chutney, and fruit. We spent the early afternoon lounging around and exploring around the lodge. It was the first time I had noticed the varied plants growing around the lodge. We ate biltong salad for lunch and prepared for the evening game drive, where we saw many kudu and a white rhino. We parked the Land Cruiser in an area overlooking the valley. It was one of the most beautiful landscapes my eyes have ever seen. We drank Amarula sundowners then returned to Toro Yaka. For dinner, we ate skewered shrimp and stuffed pork. Dessert consisted of poached pear with vanilla ice cream on a bed of cinnamon crust. As you have gathered by now, we weren’t going to be hungry in Africa. As we were going to our rooms for the night, I could hear lion roar in the distance.
Day 5: June 27, 2022
We left for our final game drive at 6:00 a.m. We spotted kudu, bushbuck, nyala, and blackbuck. We stopped again by the Olifantsrivier and saw hippo and a crocodile. We ate crunchies, drank coffee, and departed for the lodge. The drive back to Toro Yaka was uneventful. We had our usual breakfast, said our goodbyes to the staff, and began the five hour drive to our first hunting concession, Chattaronga Safari Lodge. It rained the entire way.
When we arrived, it was late afternoon. The Chattaronga Lodge is situated near the Mapungubwe National Park. The main lodge was filled with mounts of leopard, kudu, gemsbok, eland, and lion. Gunter had apologized for the lack of amenities at Chattaronga but I have no idea what he was apologizing for. It was FAR above any camp I had expected to stay in. I suppose my expectations had been low regarding where we would stay and had envisioned bare bungalows with only a bed. Chattaronga to me looked like a 5 star resort lodge. I don’t remember seeing a swimming pool, but I wasn’t there to swim. The food was first rate, they had a large lodge with dining room table, coffee at any time, and guests stayed in nice and very neat bungalows. One thing I loved was the roofs were made from grass that looked like thatch. It was very intricate, thick, and neatly laid, and was beautiful to look at. We unpacked, took a look around the property, then Gunter and I went to verify I could shoot my double rifle. There was a life-sized cape buffalo target at the range. We ran through a couple drills of firing two shots at the heart, reloading, then firing one round at the head. Fortunately, my grouping with the Jeffery 450/400 was excellent. We had dinner then went to bed to get well rested for the next day- the first day of hunting!
Day 6: June 28, 2022
June 28th, we had coffee and breakfast, and went to verify the scope on my .275 Rigby. I shot the target at fifty yards and saw that I was high. Since I had zeroed the rifle at one hundred yards, I didn’t think much of it. I was thinking about hunting, so we set out to look for my first big game animal, the cape buffalo. We found fresh tracks early after our start. As we followed the spoor, the tracks became fresher and fresher, as indicated by the dung that seems to be synonymous with the presence of buffalo. We were nearly on them when the wind suddenly changed. The buffalo caught our scent and left the area. Our tracker, Scumbasa, called “Scoombi,” fetched the Toyota Hilux. We drove a while, looking for more tracks. We came across two sets of leopard tracks- a male and female. We followed their tracks for a short ways and saw they had gone down to drink at some point in the night. Seeing no other tracks, we went back to Chattaronga for lunch and to wait until late afternoon before venturing out again. Before I left the US, I had a Soldier who makes high end knives create a matched pair of Damascus hunting knives with mammoth tooth handles. Gunter and I share the same initials and I had them embossed on the sheaths. I gave one to Gunter after lunch and he seemed to genuinely like it. I was napping when Gunter knocked on the door. I came outside and Gunter had a surprise of his own. He handed me a package and inside was a handcrafted leather ammunition holder. Embossed on the front was the head of a cape buffalo and my name was placed on the back. It was a terrific gift and I immediately put it on my hunting belt. I noticed Gunter had put the knife I gave him on his belt as well. We returned to the hunt.
We came across sable tracks. They were fresh so we decided to track it. We had walked for about half a mile when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked just in time to see a sable, horns curved like sabers, run past me through the clearing. He was gone just as quickly as he had appeared, but the image of seeing the majestically horned antelope, my first sable, is burned into my memory. Just before dark, we were driving back to camp when we saw a sable standing in the middle of the road. We got out, set up the shooting sticks, and waited to see if the sable came within shooting range. He walked into the bush and reappeared just over two hundred yards from us. When he went into the bush a second time, he never re-emerged.
Back at camp, Gunter’s family joined us for dinner. We drank Buffelsfontein Brandy, Melkterjies (milk tart) liqueur, ate impala as an appetizer, and had steaks and salad for dinner. Afterwards, we sat by the fire with some of the other clients in camp and shared hunting stories.
Day 7: June 29, 2022
Nearly the entire day was spent without seeing a single animal or fresh tracks. It was late afternoon and we were driving looking for signs of cape buffalo, when Gunter spotted a magnificent sable. It was around 4:30 p.m. We followed the tracks only a short distance when Gunter suddenly reached for my arm and pointed into the trees. Scoombi switched my W.J. Jeffery 450/400 for my .275 Rigby and set up the shooting sticks. A beautiful sable was walking through the brush and trees about eighty yards in front of us. I pulled up my rifle, saw the shoulder of the sable in my crosshairs, and squeezed the trigger. The sable’s rear end dropped and he ran about fifty yards then stopped. I fired again and the sable ran in front of me heading the opposite direction back to where he had come. He stopped again and I touched off the trigger a third time. The sable disappeared. We walked back and forth looking for blood. It had been hard to make out all of the black sable in the shadow of the trees, but I knew that was an easy shot I could regularly make. Finally, Gunter found only a few drops of blood then the trail stopped. We followed the tracks until it was dark, then left the spoor marked to return to the hunt the next day. Back at Chattaronga, two of the clients had shot crocodile. When asked how my hunt went, I didn’t much enjoy admitting I had wounded a sable that we couldn’t find.
Day 8: June 30, 2022
We had breakfast then picked back up where we had left off the previous day looking for the sable. Gunter and I waited to see if the trackers could push it towards out position. We had been waiting for nearly an hour when I turned and saw the sable slip by. Gunter and I picked up his tracks and followed him in the bush. As we were tracking, four gemsbok appeared two hundred and fifty yards in front of us. I took a shot at one and watched as the bullet sailed high. The rest of the day was uneventful. At the end of every day as we drove back to camp, Gunter would say “it’s time to get some culture” and would play a variety of music ranging from local cover bands, to Frank Sinatra, to really anything that had a good beat. It became one of my favorite parts of the day.
I was now the sole hunter in camp. The others had left that morning and there wouldn’t be any new hunters arriving until the day I flew out of Johannesburg.
Day 9: July 1, 2022
The first day we finally saw sun! We saw a large kudu bull one hundred and fifty yards directly in front of us. It was standing out in the open and presented an easy broadside shot. I steadied on the shooting sticks, took a deep breath, and squeezed the trigger. Again, same as the gemsbok, the bullet sailed over the kudu. He walked off, hardly alarmed at the report of the rifle. Frustrated, I turned to Gunter and said I could make that shot any time of day and that my scope was off. I don’t know if Gunter believed me, but he never said so and got a bag of feed, paced off a hundred yards, set it up, and drew a target across the bag. I used a shooting rest and aimed dead center. The bullet impacted over six inches high! I began cranking my elevation down on my scope and fired again. After two more rounds, I was dialed in again and we resumed hunting. We found some warthogs out in the open. I hadn’t planned to hunt warthog, but I was beginning to get antsy and Gunter said there was a nice old one in the group. I steadied on the shooting sticks, aimed for the shoulder, and fired. The warthog ran several yards, then turned and returned near when had previously stood. By now I was worried the problem might be with me and I fired again. He ran twenty yards then fell over. When we got to where he lay, he was stone dead with two bullets in his hide. I was overjoyed. Though it was more of a confidence kill, I was happy to have the warthog and it did give me confidence that my setup was correct- and that I was not the source of my hunting woes. We took the old warthog to the skinning shed and ate lunch. Afterwards, we went back to looking for sable.
We had only been back out for a short time when a nice old impala ram emerged from the bush with his harem. I aimed and fired. It leapt out towards me, then swayed, trying to gain balance. I could tell it was in shock. It fell over and didn’t move again. While it wasn’t a particularly large impala, it was a very nice bull and I was very happy with it. Once again, we loaded the game and took it to the skinning shed. We looked for sable or cape buffalo until nearly dark when Gunter saw a sable near a watering hole. We tried to work ourselves into a shooting position but it spotted us and ran. Only minutes later, eight cape buffalo came down to the watering hole. It was incredibly impressive seeing the four massive hulks come lumbering towards us. They stopped at the watering hole and drank as we watched. Though we were less than one hundred yards away, it was too dark to make out their sex or size. We slipped away unnoticed.
Day 10: July 2, 2022
We set off at 6:00 a.m. to look for cape buffalo. I had another professional hunter, Martin, with me today, as Gunter had to handle some other affairs. We saw two cape buffalo cross a track and we went in another route to see if we could cut them off. We could hear the buffalo walking in the bush. Suddenly, Martin set up the shooting sticks and asked if I had a clear shot. Instinctively, I placed my rifle into the sticks. I looked over the barrel of my double rifle but only saw bushes and trees. Then I heard the thunder of hooves and the crashing of bushes. I looked at Martin bewildered. “I didn’t see anything.” Martin replied, “there was a bull looking right at you about thirty yards away.” I don’t know how a black animal the size of a bulldozer stands in the woods and I didn’t see it, but thus, so it was. We couldn’t follow the buffalo due to the rocky terrain we were covering. We decided to sit over a watering hole and see if any plains game should come by.
We got to the hunting stand just after 11:00 a.m. We had been there only forty minutes when four cape buffalo came down to drink. Three of the buffalo were young and soft bossed, but the fourth one was a nice mature bull. I debated shooting from the blind, as I had carried both rifles to the stand. I asked Martin his opinion and he said I could shoot the old one if I wanted. I debated a few minutes then told Martin “I came here to hunt dangerous game from my feet, not shoot them out of a blind like deer.” I decided to try and sneak down the stand and shoot the buffalo once I got to the ground. It was slow going. Cape buffalo are cautious and every time I took a step down, the three young bulls would look in my direction. I had almost made it halfway down when the old bull came around the corner, looking right at me. I decided it was now or never. I brought up my double rifle, aimed through the iron sights, and fired. The buffalo jumped. I fired again. The bull spun around and ran towards the cover of the bushveld. I ran down the remainder of the stairs, reloading as I went. I aimed and fired at the bull one last time and saw the dust as the bullet struck behind his feet. Martin came down from the blind and we searched for blood. I didn’t see any blood where the bull had stood when I fired. I was becoming discouraged but Martin assured me that it is common to not find blood with cape buffalo. We tracked for nearly two hours, never finding a single drop of blood. Finally, Martin called for more trackers and we went back to the blind to wait. Scoombi showed up a little over thirty minutes later. He looked one time at the tracks where I first shot at the buffalo. He looked around and said “this buffalo was not hit”. Not hit?! It was thirty-five yards from me. How was it not hit!?! He looked into a tree barely bigger than my fist. “This tree was hit” he said plainly. In disbelief, I went over to look at the tree Scoombi was pointing at. Sure as day, there were two bullet holes, side by side in the tree. I knew the tree was there when I aimed for the buffalo but the buffalo was so big compared to the tree, I hadn’t paid it much attention. I couldn’t have hit that tree again if I had tried- not with a double rifle with iron sights. I looked at Martin and said; “I don’t know whether to be mad, cry, or laugh.” Gunter pulled up and conversed with Martin then walked over to me. “Well, the good news is that we don’t have to track the buffalo and you can still hunt one” he said smiling. Martin was a nice guy and he tried to comfort me. “I am glad you didn’t shoot it from the stand. The cape buffalo should be hunted on foot.” I merely shrugged. I was oddly glad I had missed. I didn’t want to hunt from the stand and taking my shot then had been an act of desperation. I was glad I hadn’t wounded it, but disgusted at how my shooting was going. We didn’t see anything the entire rest of the day. Late that night, I got violently sick with fever and diarrhea.
Day 11: July 3, 2022
My stomach was wrecked when we met for breakfast. I skipped eating or drinking altogether. I couldn’t hold anything down anyway. We left at 6:00 a.m. to look for cape buffalo again. We found tracks and followed them, but again, they evaded us. We found a sable, but it wasn’t the one I had wounded. I didn’t want to pay for two of them, so we just kept going. Although it was winter, my internal engine runs pretty hot, so I had hunted in short sleeved shirts. The fever was getting to me though and I was shivering with chills. Gunter decided it would be best to try and hunt from a stand. We sat over a watering hole for five hours. The only thing we saw was a duiker, a jackal, and around thirty baboons. Baboons are loud and curious creatures. They climbed the stand and peeked in. One spotted me, let out a cry, and dropped from the stand all the way to the ground. All the other baboons let out a shrill cry and ran away. Gunter whispered that was probably the end of us seeing anything. Unfortunately, he was right. We went back to camp well after dark. Gunter was becoming worried. He was sure I would’ve had a cape buffalo by now. He remained positive and tried to cheer me up. I didn’t eat any dinner that night. I woke up that night covered in sweat. My fever had finally broke, but I still spent most of the night in the bathroom.
Day 12: July 4, 2022
I felt much better the next day. I still didn’t trust my stomach, but I ate a hearty breakfast anyway. I was in better spirits. I had plenty of time to reflect the previous night. While I desperately wanted a cape buffalo, I reminded myself that I was having the time of my life, I was in AFRICA, and I was truly hunting- not just shooting game. The challenge was fun and it made me value cape buffalo that much more. Besides, it was America’s birthday and what better day for an American to get a cape buffalo? So with renewed enthusiasm, we set out. We found tracks of two buffalo. Scoombi was leading the way and saw them, but they disappeared into rocky terrain and we lost them. Out of desperation, Gunter suggested we sit over a watering hole again. We sat for over six hours. We saw baboons, impala, a duiker, and two wildebeest came out right at dark. We drove back to camp in nearly total silence. Gunter didn’t even play any music on the way back to Chattaronga.
Day 13: July 5, 2022
It was my last day to hunt cape buffalo before we would change camps to hunt rhino and lion. I woke up early and saw a message from my friend Doug. Doug and I met a few years prior when I was stationed in Indiana. I had sold him a Chapuis 450/400, the money which I used to help fund buying my Jeffery 450/400. We had remained in contact ever since and he was on his first safari in the southern Cape. He had arrived a week before me and had killed a cape buffalo the day before I had left for Africa. His message asked me how the hunt was going. I was candid in my response. I told him that I was having a great time, but the hunting was not going well at all and it was my last day to hunt buffalo. I hit send and left. We met at 5:00 a.m., had coffee and rusks (South Africa’s version of biscotti), and left at 5:30 a.m. By this time, I had told myself that it probably wasn’t going to happen. That I wouldn’t let this define my trip. That some things just aren’t meant to be. I had decided to remain hopeful, but ready to admit defeat and do so with a smile. I have no poker face and it tends show subconsciously in my expressions. Only Gunter can answer whether I was able to hide how I felt, but I imagine my expressions weren't convincing anyone.
We were walking down a track covered in a million tiny pebbles that made walking silently nearly impossible. Gunter stopped and looked through his binoculars. He could see buffalo still lying where they had slept that night. We began our stalk. Some “go away” birds, a bird whose sound is not unlike a child saying “go away,” screeched and flew out of a tree. We stopped and held our breath. Gunter looked through his binoculars again. He could make out three bulls. One was looking directly towards us, probably to see what had startled the birds. We hunkered beneath the bush for nearly twenty minutes as Gunter routinely peeked out to check what the buffalo were doing and to size them up. One of the bulls I was not allowed to shoot. It was reserved for Sultan Muhammed V “Farris,” the former king of Malaysia. I don’t have the pocket depth to compete with the king, so I respected that the massive 47+ inch buffalo would be hunted by him. The second buffalo was immature and soft bossed. The third buffalo was old- very old. It’s horns were so worn down it looked like it wore a football helmet. There was only the boss left.
Gunter asked me if I wanted to try to take the old bull. I shrugged. It wasn’t the type of trophy that I had in mind, but beggars can’t be choosers, and it was my last opportunity, so I told Gunter I didn’t really have much option. Gunter said there was another buffalo but its head was hidden so he didn’t know whether it was suitable. He looked through his binoculars again. I closed my eyes and said a prayer: “Lord, you know this is my heart’s desire, but it’s your will, not my will. But if it is your will, please help me shoot true and have this end quickly.” Suddenly, Gunter turned to me and said “the one closest to you is your buffalo.” He got up and quickly set up the shooting sticks. He turned to me and motioned me toward the sticks. I jumped up, placed my rifle in the cradle of the sticks, saw four black masses and eight sets of eyes looking at me. It seemed like they were right on top of me. As Gunter had instructed, I found the one closest to me and aimed at the black mass of his body. I prayed again, “Dear God, please help me place a clean shot” and fired. The great body immediately crumbled. He fell on his side with a thundering thud. I fired another solid into the massive body and the old bull grunted. Gunter and Scoombi went off to my right. I was transfixed on the buffalo. Gunter watched for the other buffalo that had run off to the left after the first shot. My emotions overtook me. I let out a yell and exclaimed over and over “oh my God!” Gunter told me to reload and shoot him again in the belly between his front hooves for life insurance. I couldn’t get my rifle to break open. My hands were trembling. I took the rifle over my knee and gave it a firm bump. The cases ejected and I fumbled two more into the chamber. I pulled up my rifle and made the shot. The bull lay motionless. Then everything happened at once. Gunter was bear hugging me. Scoombi was hugging me. We were high-fiving one another and I think we were all whooping with joy. They were going to check on the bull when I could hold back my tears no longer. I placed my hand over my mouth, but there was no hiding the tears or associated sounds of crying. Tears of pure joy streamed down my face. Seven years of planning. Seven years of saving. Years spent reading. A lifetime spent dreaming. All of it culminated in that moment of jubilation. It had all come down to that final day.
Scoombi left to get a trailer and to wake up Linda, who had decided to sleep in that morning. Gunter hugged me again and congratulated me on my success. He said, “you did it the right way. You hunted it from your feet. You did it your way and now, look at this beautiful bull! Congratulations my friend!” Together, we looked the buffalo over closely. The buffalo I had taken was the fourth one in the group- the one that Gunter hadn’t been able to see well. It had come up past the others and when he saw it, he immediately knew that was the one we wanted. The first shot had hit the bull high on the neck, severing its spine. The two follow-up shots had pierced its heart. The massive bull was absolutely perfect! He had a wide boss that both looked and felt like petrified wood. The horns made a deep downward curve before swooping back up to a sharp point. I took over two dozen pictures of the incredible animal. Seeing an animal of that magnitude and being able to feel its hide, touch the horns, see the size of the hooves…it is awe inspiring. I knelt down beside the bull, placed my hands on its boss, and prayed hard. I thanked God for making my hunt successful. Thanked Him for fulfilling my dream. Thanked Him for making it happen- thankful that the bull had not suffered and thankful that it had ended quickly.
When Scoombi returned, the entire camp staff was with him. Even Shepard, the head chef, came out to see the bull. They loaded the buffalo onto the trailer and took it out of the bush so we could get a better look at the bull and take pictures. There were more rounds of cheers, congratulating hugs and high-fives. Linda told me she had gotten up as I was leaving and prayed that I would be successful. I relayed my story to her. Everyone wanted pictures with the cape buffalo and I was more than happy to oblige. When everyone had taken photos, they loaded the buffalo onto the trailer once again and took it to the skinning shed. Linda, Gunter, and I went to camp to get breakfast. On the way, Gunter decided we needed culture and began to play music. He looked over to me and said “you will never hear this song the same way ever again.” He played Frank Sinatra’s “My Way”.
It was only 8:15 a.m., but Gunter made us springbokkies, gave a toast, and we downed the delicious drink in a gulp. We then had a round of milk tart and sat down to a full meal of sausage, eggs, bacon, and toast. After breakfast, we went to the skinning shed to admire the buffalo one last time. Once the skinner had removed the hide, we went back to our room to switch rifles before going out again. Linda followed me inside. I turned to Linda with tears and my eyes and said, “I know you may not understand, but this hunt was very important to me.” I began to cry hard. Linda came up beside me and gave me a hug. She told me she had been praying that I would get my cape buffalo. She hugged me and she too cried. Gunter came to pick us up to resume hunting and when he saw us, took a step back. I wiped my eyes, and said “it’s fine, I’m just being emotional.” I picked up my Rigby and met him outside.
On the drive out, I felt nothing but joy and relief. I had hunted one of Africa’s most dangerous game- one of the Big Five, and had been successful. We were on our way to another watering hole when Gunter spotted several gemsbok near some trees. He pointed out a bull just under one hundred and fifty yards away. I aimed and fired. The gemsbok dropped in his tracks. We walked around the bull that was periodically kicking his legs as he lay in the dirt. Again, Gunter instructed me to shoot between the front hooves. I placed a bullet right into its heart. It kicked once more then lay motionless. Gunter warned the gemsbok is called the “desert warrior” because they are tough and vindictive. I fired another insurance shot into its heart. After a few minutes, we knew the bull had died. I have always believed the gemsbok to be one of the most beautiful animals there are. Their long pointed horns and white and black patterns on their face give them a regal appearance. We took photos, loaded it into the Hilux, dropped it off at the skinning shed, then had another round of drinks. That night, Shepard served cape buffalo cordon bleu. When I went back to my room, I texted Doug the good news that my cape buffalo hunt had been a success after all!
Day 14: July 6, 2022
We woke up early, had a quick breakfast, and left for our long drive out to dart hunt a rhino. For security reasons, I cannot provide the name or location of the rhino hunt. We met with the land manager who was very friendly. The veterinarian showed up and described the dart. He loaded a .22 bolt action rifle with blanks then gave me some markers to practice with. We then looked over shot placement and I was ready to hunt. The land manager asked if I wanted to hunt from the ground or truck. At first, I wanted to hunt from the ground. Gunter and I discussed it with the veterinarian. Rather than stress the rhino and have it possibly charge us, I decided to hunt from the truck. The safety of the rhino was more important. I didn’t want to put the rhino or Gunter into a position where he would have to kill it. Afterall, I was only shooting with chalk! We quickly found a nice rhino that was eligible to be darted and began to follow it. Once we were inside thirty yards, I aimed at fired the marker at the rhino bull. The veterinarian then darted the rhino and let the medicine do its work. The rhino fought the effects of the medicine for a full ten minutes. He pranced and swayed, but he remained on his feet. We approached him to make sure he went down in a position that would keep him safe and allow him to easily get up once the veterinarian had done his part. The rhino could hear us walking and tried to charge towards me twice, but he was easily avoided due to the medication. He walked into a tree branch that snapped like a twig.
It took seven people to get the rhino into a kneeling position. What a creature! The horn feels like bone rather than keratin. The skin was rough like asphalt, but underneath his legs, the skin was soft as silk. We admired its beauty and got some pictures, then the veterinarian checked its vitals, chipped and tagged it, and gave it an injection to counteract the dart. We walked back a distance, and only two minutes later, the rhino got to its feet, found his bearings, and trotted away. It was an incredible experience and one that I will never forget.
Gunter took as by a farm that had large fields of tomatoes and potatoes. It was the greenest place we had seen since arriving in Africa. After we looked around for a while, Gunter took as to a restaurant nearby. It was a beautiful oasis that boasted a surprisingly large menu given its remote location. We had snails in garlic butter as an appetizer and I ordered pork chops for the main course. We got back to Chattaronga late that evening and packed to go to the lion hunting concession the following day.
Day 15: July 7, 2022
We were ready to leave by 6:00 a.m. We said goodbye to the staff and gave them their respective tips. We took group photos, hugged everyone, then left for Pamaenons where we would hunt for lion. It was a seven hour drive and we passed the time listening to music and talking about politics, religion, and hunting. Gunter slowed down. “I’m just going to check the tires, they feel sluggish.” He pulled to the shoulder of the road and saw that his rear passenger side tire was nearly completely flat. Apparently with the terrible roads in Africa this was a regular occurrence. Gunter had everything needed to fix a flat. We searched the tire and the inside wall had a big piece of metal in it. Gunter pulled it out, put a patch on the tire, hooked up and turned on the air compressor, and we were back on the road. A few miles further down the road, Gunter pulled into a co-op. They checked his tire and said it wasn’t leaking, so we continued on without replacing the tire. We only lost about an hour of time.
When we arrived at Pamaenons, the owner, Pat Loots, was waiting for us. Pamaenons is located near the Madikwe Game Reserve on the fringe of the Kalahari Desert. Pat has his hands in many business pots and is a really interesting person to talk to. Like my dad, he spent many years in herbicide and pesticide sales. He invited us around part of the property, so we all piled into his Toyota Hilux for a drive. We saw wildebeest, springbok, gemsbok, warthog, and impala. When we got back to camp, we sat down to dinner and then enjoyed drinks by the fire and discussed plans for the next day’s hunt. When I went to sleep that night, I was full of excitement and anticipation.
Day 16: July 8, 2022
I woke up early and was drinking coffee and cleaning my double rifle when I heard a lion, no, THE lion, roar in the distance. The hair on my arms stood up. I stood by the door listening to his bellows. We ate breakfast then left to hunt. The lion had given away his position, so we set off towards the direction we heard him. We found tracks quickly. Pat told me it was a lucky thing that the lion had roared, as it usually takes half the day to locate lion tracks. We followed the tracks into the Kalahari bush. We had been tracking for around forty-five minutes when the two trackers suddenly became excited and pointed towards a clump of bushes. I peered in at twenty yards and saw what appeared to be nothing more than dry grass. I kept peering and realized what I had thought was dry grass was the mane of a sleeping lion! I got on the shooting sticks. A tracker tossed a branch. The lion let out a terrific roar and ran out of the bushes to the right and away from us. I have never seen an animal move so quickly. He was gone before I had a chance to even take aim. I saw a flash of tan and brown- and the lion was gone. So was our element of surprise. We picked up the tracks and followed.
We were still following the spoor when Pat received a call on the radio that the lion had ran past the truck. We ran through the sand and made it back to the truck. The lion was retracing the route we had just taken when we first found his tracks. We were retracing our tracks- seeing the lions footprints on top of our own, when a tracker setup the shooting sticks. I instinctively laid my rifle in the rest. A few minutes later, we spotted the lion heading in our direction. He stopped by a thick tree, looked at us, and then ran back in the direction he (and we) had just come. We once again followed the tracks. We tracked for some time when a guide set up the shooting sticks and pointed excitedly. I got on the sticks and followed the trackers pointing. I only saw bushes and trees. I looked at Gunter. He too pointed ahead of me. Pat came up behind me and told me the lion was in the bushes directly in front of me, not twenty-five yards away. I brought up my binoculars. In the bushes, I could make out part of a lion. He was laying down again and looking directly at us. I couldn’t see the rest of the body and had no idea which way his body was facing. I aimed down my iron sights, in case the lion decided he was tired of our presence. I saw a small spot in his hide that I decided to use as an aiming reference point. I was focusing on the small black dot when it unexpectedly blinked at me. I looked through my binoculars again. What I thought was part of the lion’s body had only been his head. He was enormous! The lion sat up a bit. I aimed at where I thought his shoulder should be that was still hidden in the brush and fired. Instantly, the lion had ran out of the bushes and was heading away from us. I sidestepped the brush and fired my second barrel. I saw the lion limp. We quickly checked where the lion had been laying to see if my first shot drew blood. There was a log we hadn’t seen that the lion had been laying behind. My bullet hit dead center in it. The trackers found hair and blood where the lion was when I fired my second shot. I wasn’t sure how well I had hit him. Now we were going after wounded lion.
We had only gone about a hundred yards when we spotted the lion behind a tree. Only part of his shoulder, back, and tail were visible from our angle. I aimed for the shoulder and fired. I watched the four hundred grain bullet strike into the large muscle of his shoulder. He barely moved! I aimed for the same spot again and fired. The lion roared and fell over. He was breathing heavily. As we cautiously approached, the lions breathing became faster and shallower. Pat brought me a drink and I suddenly realized how thirsty I was. The truck pulled up a little ways behind us and we all walked back to let nature run its course and let the lion die in peace.
We were conversing by the truck when the lion suddenly began to get up! I ran to my double rifle and threw two cigar sized rounds into the chamber. The lion was struggling to get to his feet; to perhaps get one last lunge at the man standing near him, double nitro express rifle at the ready. "Just let go, just let go" I pleaded gently. Gunter stood beside me. He too echoed my plea. In unison, we begged the magnificent creature to give up his life. "Funny, every bit of an animal's will is to live. Even people often don't have that same drive to stay alive." His words struck me like a punch in the gut. Gunter and I were together behind a fallen over tree that stood between us and the lion. “Better put another one in him.” I aimed and fired a fifth and final round at the lion. His body flinched at the impact of the bullet. Silence fell over the Kalahari bushveld. In total, the hunt took three and a half hours.
Pat came up to me and slapped my back. "Well Bwana, now you are a lion hunter. And you sure can shoot! You did it the way it's meant to be done; with iron sights on an express rifle. Well done." "No," I said flatly, "I am a hunter who happened to have taken a lion." The two trackers and four camp staff came to take the lion away. I eyed them carefully. They gently placed the lion onto what looked like a makeshift stretcher and carefully brought the lion out of the bush. I appreciated their respect for the lion. They gently placed the lion on soft dirt. They took pictures, congratulated me, congratulated one another. I was in awe of what was before me. I spent a long time with the lion. I studied every part of him and burned him into my memory-the way he looked, the way the fur felt, the sinewy muscles, the sharpness of his claws and teeth. I knew when they took him away he would be gone forever. I wanted to remember.
Finally, we loaded the lion onto the trailer. We were getting in the Hilux as Gunter and Pat were conversing in Afrikaans. Gunter got in beside me and said “we’ll talk about it over lunch.” I asked what we would talk about. He smiled, winked, and said “we’ll talk about it over lunch.” I went back to camp, took one final look at the lion, and they took it away. We were eating lunch when Gunter leaned over to me and said “there’s a crocodile that Pat is giving you a great deal on. A hunter was here for a week and never got a shot at it. You can go after if you’re interested.” I certainly was. A crocodile hunt wasn’t something I had ever considered and this was an unexpected opportunity. Gunter and I worked out the details and I decided I could afford the hunt. He left to tell Pat I was in. I finished lunch, switched out my Jeffery for the .275 Rigby, and we went to the range to verify it was still accurate. I fired two rounds and confirmed the scope was still zeroed. Once again, I climbed into the back of the Hilux, and we went looking for the crocodile. We found him sunning by a pond. I dismounted, then Pat and I low crawled up a hill across from where the crocodile lay. We had just crested the hill when Pat put a shooting bag in front of me. I aimed at the crocodile’s neck and squeezed off a round. The crocodile lurched, his tail thrashing. I aimed again and put a second round right on top of the first. The crocodile lurched again then remained motionless save his twitching tail. Pat clapped me on the back again and said “Congratulations. Great shot.” We walked over to the crocodile. He was incredibly large- nearly eleven feet. I was cautiously checking to make sure the crocodile was in fact dead, while checking the pond to make sure another didn’t surprise me from behind. Pat was a joker and threw a rock into the water. I jumped and Gunter and Pat burst out in a roar of laughter. “Hey, I still have two rounds in the chamber, and I’m not afraid to use them!” I laughed back, but I still walked away from the water. The camp staff came and brought the crocodile to higher ground. We took the usual pictures and admired the nastiness of the crocodile. Gunter said they look ominous. I think that is the perfect word for it.
We were sitting by the fire later than evening when Pat said one of his skinners had something I might be interested in. The skinner opened his hand. He had recovered one of my bullets from the lion! I thanked him and said “this lion hunt was very important to me and so is this bullet. Thank you.” I shook his hand and gave him a $20 tip. Pat then came up to me and said he also had a gift for me. He handed me a Pamaenons branded wood handled folding knife with the image of a lion engraved on it. As is tradition, I gave Pat a coin in return. It was a wonderful gift that is one of my treasured items.
We left Pat Loots and Pamaenons at 7:30 a.m. and made the four hour drive back to Angel Oak Guesthouse where our trip began. I spent most of the afternoon napping and journaling. Gunter picked us up just before 5:00 p.m. and took us to dinner with his family at the Portuguese restaurant Caravela. During dinner, Gunter presented me with a canvas print from my buffalo hunt. It was yet another incredible and unexpected gift. I had it framed and it now proudly hangs on the wall in my office. We bought tickets from Johannesburg to Victoria Falls the following day.
Day 18: July 10, 2022
We left Angel Oak Guesthouse at 9:00 a.m. and drove to O.R. Tambo airport. We got to the airport with plenty of time to spare, which was fortunate because we immediately ran into problems. Since Linda was unvaccinated for COVID-19, she was required to have a PCR test done. Meanwhile, Gunter was having problems with one of his tickets. We went to the onsite testing facility while Gunter and Carin worked with a ticket agent. We arrived at the gate with just minutes to spare. But we were on Africa time and waited an additional forty-five minutes before we were called to board the shuttle that would take us to our plane. The plane was a small jet with three rows of seating. Although the flight was only two hours long, it was one of the smoothest rides I have ever been on. As we approached Victoria Falls Airport, I could see the mist of the falls rising like smoke on the horizon.
Upon arrival at Victoria Falls, we went through immigration, got our passports stamped, and got a taxi to our hotel, Phe Zulu. We checked in, drank a beer, then had a taxi take us to dinner. We walked around and explored the Victoria Falls Hotel. It was an exquisite hotel established in 1904 with a distinctly colonial feel. From the grounds, we had a fantastic view of Victoria Falls, which the original natives called “the smoke that thunders.” We walked a short way to a restaurant called the Victoria Falls Lookout. The restaurant overlooks the Zambezi River and the view is stunning!
View attachment IMG_8729 .jpg
Day 19: July 11, 2022
We had a very English breakfast of egg benedict, fruit, and fish on toast. It was too cloudy to see the falls, so we decided to spend the day in Zambia. We walked the bridge next to the falls from Zimbabwe to Zambia. When we got to Zambia, we went through immigrations and had our passports stamped. A gentleman who Gunter used to work for picked us up and showed us around. There was a lot of destruction to houses and fences in the town due to elephants. We drove for a while into the Zambian countryside and approached a locked gate. A young man approached us and asked what we wanted. Our guide said he was supposed to meet the owner but the young man said he was told of no visitors. He was sent to radio us in. The man returned with a firearm and said he was instructed no one was to enter. At this point, our guide told him to run down the sandy trail and get us permission. The young man took off running down the road, weapon in hand. About twenty minutes later he returned with others in a truck. The men opened the gate and escorted us down the road. We drove nearly four miles before we got to the camp and I suddenly realized the young man had run nearly four miles in twenty minutes!
The safari camp was Sukulu Reserve. The owner was a South African who had been working for ten years to create his hunting paradise. He took us on a game drive to see the hunting concessions and animals. We saw puku, sable, kudu, rhino, and cape buffalo at the very end of the drive. We returned to Sukulu, thanked the owner for showing us around, said our goodbyes, then drove back to the Zambian border. We stopped at a bar on the Zambezi River, drank a beer, then went to Victoria Falls on the Zambian side. They were about to close but they let us walk quickly down. I was turning back to leave when I saw a statue of my childhood hero, David Livingstone! The statue had him posed with a Bible in hand, looking out over the falls. We took some pictures of the statue and walked back to Zimbabwe. A taxi took us to dinner at a high end resort called The Overlook
. There was a giant watering hole down below in the valley. Patrons could sit in the open air and watch animals come out to drink. We drank sundowners and watched the incredible sunset. The Overlook was extremely busy. As we hadn’t eaten anything since that morning, we decided to try another place. A taxi took us to a place called The Three Monkeys. It may have been because I was famished at that point, but I swear that was the biggest and tastiest burger I have ever had. We took a taxi back to Phe Zulu and went to bed early to prepare to explore Victoria Falls the next day. One thing I’ll say about the Victoria Falls is that you can take a taxi from one side of the town to the other for a mere five dollars. The town is very good to tourists and we felt completely safe walking at any time of day or night there.
Day 20: July 12, 2022
We had breakfast at 7:00 a.m. and had a taxi take us to a local art and coffee shop. We perused the art gallery of Tami Walker then walked to Victoria Falls. The entrance fee was thirty US dollars. If you go, make sure you rent a parka. The waterfall hits the rocks so hard it blows it back up and it feels like heavy rain on parts of the trail. There are no words to describe the majestic splendor and beauty of the falls. We stayed for a little over two hours then walked around town to buy souvenirs. Linda had already over packed, so she bought an additional suitcase just for her souvenirs. I couldn’t complain. The trip had mostly been for me and hunting so I smiled and paid for anything she wanted. Once we finished shopping, we went back to Victoria Falls Lookout and had lunch
. We took a taxi to Phe Zulu and laid around for a couple hours, then went back to The Overlook for dinner. The sunset was once again spectacular. We didn’t see any animals at the watering hole, but we had a great time nonetheless. After dinner, we went back once again to Victoria Falls Lookout for coffee. As we drank our coffee, I toasted Gunter for being a phenomenal guide, for his friendship, for sharing Africa with me. Once we finished our coffee we went back to our hotel- our last night in Africa.
Day 21: July 13, 2022
We woke up, packed our bags, and sat and talked for a while. At 10:00 a.m., we called for a taxi that took us to Victoria Falls Airport. We flew back to O.R. Tambo, collected my bags and rifles, then said our goodbyes to Gunter and Carin. We got checked in for our flight back to Atlanta and had several hours to kill. Linda went to do some final shopping. I bought some bottles of Amarula to give to friends, then settled into a coffee shop to journal and view the pictures from our time in Africa. It was well past dark when our boarding time finally arrived. I was sad to leave Africa, but I knew this wouldn’t be my one and only trip. I don’t know how and when I will go back, but I am going to find a way. I was already thinking of how to go back by the time the plane left the tarmac of O.R. Tambo.
Day 26: July 18, 2022
It was my first day back at work. I came into my office and found my entire office covered in sticky notes, balloons with words written on them like, "Fur is murder," "PETA was here," and "Guns kill animals." There was an inflatable lion on my desk. My office was also completely plastic wrapped. It took me the entire day to clean it out. My boss said they ordered items from Amazon and nine people spent the day "decorating" my office. When I opened the door, one of my peers played "In the Jungle" over a bluetooth speaker he had put next to my computer. He and had taken my hunting pictures, photoshopped their faces over them, and hung them in the offices. They each had a fake lion and zebra throw rug as well. It was hilarious and it showed how much they cared about me to spend that much time and money (hopefully not taxpayers money) to prank me. Despite having over 600 emails to go through, they wanted to hear about the hunt and the boss told me he could wait one more day for me to start actually working. I truly appreciated their prank. It meant a lot to me. But there was a sadness in my heart about what happened that I could not tell them about. This leads to my reflection.
REFLECTION
I debated for some time how to tackle this part of my essay. I wasn’t sure what should be included and what should be left alone. For me, hunting and love are very personal experiences, and intimacy is a private matter. Hunting is also a form of intimacy that I typically keep to myself-especially with non-hunters. I tell people I am a hunter, but I usually don’t describe the emotions that occur while hunting.
Describing Africa to my friends was like trying to describe my first time in combat. People understand what you are saying, but they don’t KNOW what it is like or grasp the gravity of the experience if they haven’t been in that type of situation themselves. Fortunately, I don’t think I will have that same issue here, as most of you have been on at least one safari and understand the experience. Many of you have felt as I do now and nothing needs to be said. There is an understanding between us. So, with all that in mind, I decided not to hold anything back. I will tell you the good, the bad, and the ugly. Hopefully someone new to Africa will understand the contradictory emotions when their day comes.
My first safari was nearly a complete disaster. First came the rain as soon as we landed in Johannesburg, then the clouds and cold (for Africa), then I was sick for three days. By the third of July, I was really beginning to become depressed. I was thinking about all the years spent planning and saving- that it had all been wasted. I started to wonder what was I doing here, in Africa, going after animals I knew nothing about? I began to think, “this really is a rich man’s sport and I am in over my head.” Eight days in, I had not fired a single round and had seen few animals since the hunt began. Then I lost animals because my scope had gotten knocked out of zero. I was doubting my own shooting ability. Finally, I shot the warthog. Nothing special, just a nice old boar. I posted the picture and my hunter friends became worried. They knew things weren't going well and that it was a confidence kill. Once I got the cape buffalo, things suddenly somehow fell in place.
The thing about the cape buffalo hunt, was that the harder it became to get one, the more I valued it. People tend to appreciate the things they work for. Looking back, I am glad the hunt didn’t go perfectly. If I had killed a cape buffalo on the first day we saw tracks, I would have enjoyed it, but I don’t think I would have valued it as much as I do now. When I fired and saw the massive body immediately drop, there was an immediate release of my emotions. I didn’t have watery eyes. I didn’t have only a single tear stream down my cheek. I was ugly crying. It happened again when I got to camp. With the cape buffalo, all the tears I shed were of joy and pure happiness.
With the lion, there were many emotions that came to me all at once. I hunted lion. That fact alone is still difficult for me to comprehend. I felt the lion's mane. Dug my hands deep into his fur. Then I bitterly wept. Wept from the adrenaline release. Wept for seeing a lifelong dream fulfilled. Wept for what was lost. The lion would never hunt again. I would never see the lion again. Never get to feel the heavy weight of his paws or see his long sharp teeth. Never to admire the magnificent beauty of his body. I sat next to the lion, tears streaming down my face. I was exhausted, excited, jubilant, angry, and sad. I was so happy to have successfully hunted the lion. Triumphant that so many years of planning had paid off. Excited to have been successful. Jubilant that I had steadied my nerves at the crucial moments and was skilled with my firearms. Angry at my shooting abilities. Angry at my ability to deal death. Hated myself for it. Ashamed that I killed such a beautiful and majestic creature. The lion was not my enemy. He was not a terrorist bent on doing evil. If anyone was the enemy, it was me. I won the encounter, but the lion won my respect and my heart.
As a Christian, I find taking any living beings life to be a somber event. Successfully hunting is joyful, but reality makes the joyful feelings juxtaposed by the fact that something died. Non-hunters I talk to seem to think we are all just in love with killing but nothing could be further from the truth. You shouldn’t tell a Soldier he doesn’t understand the cost of war. You shouldn’t tell a hunter he doesn’t understand the cost of hunting. I place the value of humans above that of animals, but I still love and care about the well-being of animals as well. Because of hunting- the time spent chasing and learning the animal’s habits and behaviors, you become intimately familiar with the animal. It is something you took time to develop and that relationship becomes personal between you and the animal. Although my physical hunt only lasted hours, I began many years ago; studying, asking questions, and dreaming. When I see one of my trophies on the wall, I admire the beauty of the animal, but more importantly, I remember the work that went into hunting them and the sadness associated with killing.
I do believe there is such a thing as immoral hunting. I believe it is wrong to kill purely for the sake (or enjoyment) of killing. I believe as much of the animal should be utilized as possible; for meat, clothing, remembrance as a trophy on the wall, etc. I believe man should have dominion over the world, but that also means we are responsible to be good stewards of the world and all the living things that it encompasses. Because morals differ among people, there are no set rules for what is acceptable and what isn’t- it is a personal conviction. The opposing feelings I had after the lion hunt are not unlike the feelings I had in war. The emotions of killing a human were one thousand times more powerful, but they were still there for the lion. Am I proud to have hunted lion? Yes. Would I do it all over again? Absolutely. Do I regret doing it? Yes. Why do I place the value of the lion over the other game that was hunted? Why do I feel regret over the lion but not the other animals? If I feel regret, why would I do it all over again? I don’t have the answers to my own questions. Perhaps with time, I will find the answers. This is not meant to in any way condemn someone who enjoys lion hunting or any hunting for that matter. I am merely telling you the moral predicament I am wrestling with.
I found my soul in Africa. The only way I can describe discovering Africa was like falling into a deep sleep and waking up to discover the love of your life is lying next to you in your bed. And she belonged to you. But there was a condition: that you could only have her for a short time then she would be gone forever from your arms. So I relished every second I had with her. And I loved her- really, purely loved her. I pursued her with all of my being by day and enjoyed her beauty at night. I cherished her. I learned from her. Then the dreaded day came that I had pushed from my mind. The day I loathed, yet knew I couldn't change. And on our last night together, I held her close in my heart and memorized every line, every curve, the way she smelled, and the way she breathed, and burned it all into my memory. I tried to remain awake throughout the night studying her, but despite my strong will, I fell asleep. And when I awoke, she was gone. I knew there was nothing I could do, but I cried. I cried longing for her and I cried from the happiness we had shared together, even if only for a short time.
"The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time." -Jack London
