Memories You Can Never Forget

[steve white]

I was tempted to start this journey down memory lane with the recollection of a charging wounded Cape buffalo, since that is a fairly rare encounter, or the first time a wall of buffalo kept jostling up to face my hunting party, moving up three times along with my heartrate. Instead, I want to go first with a childhood memory that was more than a little bit instrumental in my unquenchable desire to visit Africa some day. I was about age 11.
I don't know the name of the show on TV, or if it was a replay of some film by Osa Johnson or others, but absolutely branded in my mind is the film sequence in which the wounded lion has to be followed up by the PH, while the person filming catches it all from a nearby tree. Some of this has to be remembered almost in slow motion because so much happened so fast that the mind has to take the extra time to unpack it all. The lion was barely visible in waist-high grass (barely visible from ELEVATION--no doubt Invisible to the hunter at ground level) and it crouched with front paws outstretched gaining a grip on the turf. When it launched its charge it was so fast that it almost could seem as if it were pulling the ground forward to it like you would try to yank the carpet out from underneath someone. I was unaware a lion could move so fast, and as inexperienced as I was, it was instantly terrifying. A shot rang out with no effect whatsoever on the oncoming lion. I was amazed at how the PH immediately stroked that rifle bolt and at the same time the lion made its first airborne bound. It had made such a fast rush that to sail airborne actually seemed to slow it down, and as the PH was breaking the trigger on the second shot, the lion did the seemingly impossible...it yanked its fore end to the left and then snatched its rear end to the left like some kind of funky dancer (all this in mid-air) so that the shot passed right by with seemingly a foot to spare! This happened in mid-air so fast that the PH had already committed to the trigger squeeze, but again, without ever having raised his head from the rifle, he smoothly stroked the bolt back and as it was almost forward the lion ran into the end of the barrel, knocked him out of view of the camera, and there was a much too long, pregnant silence as the tree in which the cameraman was perched shook and vibrated a few times. Then a jaunty, cheery voice narrated, "Well, that was a close one. The rifle went off just as the lion struck the barrel. The camera shaking was caused by the final death throws of the lion"...tho we never saw the hunter afterward. Not until Capstick described such things was anything else even close to the jolt that film gave me...and yet strangely it engrained in me that that was exactly where I had to go someday.
If anyone knows what that film was, I would love to see it again as an adult.

 

[tombkeeper]

I would like to see that, sounds like the PH definitely kept his cool !

 

[steve white]

Didn't mean to start an essay contest....keeping it simple I'll begin again with, 1. the view of the Zambezi Valley from the escarpment on the road going down--the only place I've ever seen where there is no horizon, just a fading off into the blue mist of the round edge of the earth!, 2. the Alps on a train ride from Salzburg to Zurich.

 

[Traveler1]

Was it a movie, documentary or "home" type film. B&W or Color and about what era was the film?

With just a few key words might be able to locate it online.

 

[steve white]

It was black and white and narrated--there was no one speaking into a mic at all. Not a home made film. I was pretty young at the time...talking early mid sixties.
STILL WANT TO HEAR ABOUT OTHERS' MEMORIES!!

 

[Red Leg]

I grew up on the Southwest Louisiana marshes. They stretch to infinity. In the crisp humid air of a November dawn just before legal shooting time the air would be alive with the sound of wind rushing through the feathers of dozens, sometimes hundreds, of waterfowl inspecting or settling into the decoys. Other flights would be silhouetted against the lightening eastern sky. I suspect I will hear and see them on my deathbed. I hope so.

 

[WAB]

Visiting my grandparents on the farm as a child. Waking up in a feather bed, birds announcing the day, and the clanking of my grandfather getting the wood burning in the stove to start the porridge while he was out taking care of the livestock.

 

[BourbonTrail]

The death rattle of a lion, the mushroom cloud of a fighter jet crashing to earth, the sights and sounds of sitting at the pinnacle of a 9500ft mountain, the birth of my children, and the silence of deep snow during deer season.

 

[steve white]

I grew up on the Southwest Louisiana marshes. They stretch to infinity. In the crisp humid air of a November dawn just before legal shooting time the air would be alive with the sound of wind rushing through the feathers of dozens, sometimes hundreds, of waterfowl inspecting or settling into the decoys. Other flights would be silhouetted against the lightening eastern sky. I suspect I will hear and see them on my deathbed. I hope so.

Care to share your best duck recipe?

 

[Zambezi]

Sitting on the stone wall surrounding the Most High hotel at Kariba Heights looking over the lake from that lofted perch. The heat beating down on you with a cold Zambezi lager in hand after a long day's drive. I can still hear the cicada beetles singing.

 

[Hunter-Habib]

Going off to hunt golden snipe with my father as a kid, with my mother pan roasting them in butter in the afternoon and serving them with crispy fried parathas. This January, four generations of the Habibs went snipe hunting. My 93 year old father (who’s still the greatest wing shooter I’ve ever seen), me (71), my son and my grandson (he turned 14 and this was his first serious hunt). As much as I love old memories, I’m determined to make each day forward a memorable one.

Indeed, I have a blessed life. I have (and continue to) hunt a wide variety of game all across the world. But I don’t think anything compares to golden snipe hunting with the family. The whole family will go at least once a year.

 

[93marlin]

"As much as I love old memories, I’m determined to make each day forward a memorable one."

Words to live by my friend...

 

[Hunter-Habib]

"As much as I love old memories, I’m determined to make each day forward a memorable one."

Words to live by my friend...

Why thank you, Marlin.

 

[Ragman]

Every year I make several more memories that will never be forgotten. To list even a few of them would make a very long post!

 

[Mark Biggerstaff]

Three things I will never forget
1. The day Oct 11, 2011 at 1:17 pm. The day a customer accidentally shot me in the face with and arrow! That could have ended my life.
2. My first Cape Buffalo Hunt
3. Tracking Lioness in the Kalahari with 3 great Ph’s and an awesome Tracker.

 

[PerH]

Rafting in Sjoa 02, falling out of the raft during some of 4-5 level water. On my own for about 1 mile before picked up. Silence,beauty, adrenaline ,then exhaustion as river fairies pulled me up into boat . ( rarting instructors )

 

[Hunter-Habib]

Rafting in Sjoa 02, falling out of the raft during some of 4-5 level water. On my own for about 1 mile before picked up. Silence,beauty, adrenaline ,then exhaustion as river fairies pulled me up into boat . ( rarting instructors )

They say you never really feel how great it is to be alive until you almost face death!

 

[Randy F]

Being a kid on a little farm, loved it.

The smell of dawn on a summer day while walking in soggy boots and pants wet to the knees, that no little kid is discouraged by, to bring the cows in from the pasture for milking.

The wind in my face, the squeak of bikes, and anticipation, as my brother and I ride down to the lake near the farm to try to catch some fish for supper that evening.

The loud pounding in my 12yr old chest as I watched a whitetail doe walk directly underneath me for the first time as I perched in the bow stand I built myself. Hooked!

 

[Rare Breed]

I was tempted to start this journey down memory lane with the recollection of a charging wounded Cape buffalo, since that is a fairly rare encounter, or the first time a wall of buffalo kept jostling up to face my hunting party, moving up three times along with my heartrate. Instead, I want to go first with a childhood memory that was more than a little bit instrumental in my unquenchable desire to visit Africa some day. I was about age 11.
I don't know the name of the show on TV, or if it was a replay of some film by Osa Johnson or others, but absolutely branded in my mind is the film sequence in which the wounded lion has to be followed up by the PH, while the person filming catches it all from a nearby tree. Some of this has to be remembered almost in slow motion because so much happened so fast that the mind has to take the extra time to unpack it all. The lion was barely visible in waist-high grass (barely visible from ELEVATION--no doubt Invisible to the hunter at ground level) and it crouched with front paws outstretched gaining a grip on the turf. When it launched its charge it was so fast that it almost could seem as if it were pulling the ground forward to it like you would try to yank the carpet out from underneath someone. I was unaware a lion could move so fast, and as inexperienced as I was, it was instantly terrifying. A shot rang out with no effect whatsoever on the oncoming lion. I was amazed at how the PH immediately stroked that rifle bolt and at the same time the lion made its first airborne bound. It had made such a fast rush that to sail airborne actually seemed to slow it down, and as the PH was breaking the trigger on the second shot, the lion did the seemingly impossible...it yanked its fore end to the left and then snatched its rear end to the left like some kind of funky dancer (all this in mid-air) so that the shot passed right by with seemingly a foot to spare! This happened in mid-air so fast that the PH had already committed to the trigger squeeze, but again, without ever having raised his head from the rifle, he smoothly stroked the bolt back and as it was almost forward the lion ran into the end of the barrel, knocked him out of view of the camera, and there was a much too long, pregnant silence as the tree in which the cameraman was perched shook and vibrated a few times. Then a jaunty, cheery voice narrated, "Well, that was a close one. The rifle went off just as the lion struck the barrel. The camera shaking was caused by the final death throws of the lion"...tho we never saw the hunter afterward. Not until Capstick described such things was anything else even close to the jolt that film gave me...and yet strangely it engrained in me that that was exactly where I had to go someday.
If anyone knows what that film was, I would love to see it again as an adult.

My first African animal a zebra and my first buffalo

 

[fourfive8]

@Randy F reminded me of similar unforgettable images from my youth. Opening day pheasant season in a strip of low waste land behind our farm. Frost turning to dew on weeds and clump grasses, sunup on my first DIY hunt- age 12. Soaking wet jeans, pushing through thick, waist high vegetation… a cackling blurry ball of feathers exploding beneath my feet. All instinct- cock hammer on old single shot, raise barrel to indelible image of brilliantly colored rooster pheasant sitting on top of bead. Next image- shot cloud briefly enveloping bird.