You've been here for 2 weeks, 14 days, 14 days without worrying about work. It feels as you entire life has changed. Changed for the better. But it is the last day, the leopard has eluded you once again. Damn that cat. Why couldn't you find just one dumb one. Why do they have to be so smart. Still the safari has been a success. You've bagged game that others only dream about. If this is you last day on earth you will seave with nothing but good in your sould
. You have been to africa, and been, and been. You have touched the soul of mother africa, and her yours. But, still you have not been able to find that damn spotted cat. Its been close, many times, still hes been smarter than you, and now its the last day. Somehow you wish that you could hold onto the hands of time, slow them down, make the day last forever, but you can't. You leave the camp in the sparse light of the moon. The sun will come soon and you want to be on bait. Maybe this time, just maybe, but it's still the last day. Your mind wander off, off to the world that you must come back to. Maybe if you pretend to slap a mosquito on your cheek, nobody will know it's to drive that thought out of your head. The headlights of the cruiser pick up the night animals, grysbok, anybear, but it's the last day. Somehow the blues have set in. If only you could have afforded another week, 2 weeks, if only. Then ou hear the hyena. Your mind snaps back to where you are and what you're doing. Leopard, he's got to come today, he just has to. You've spent the major part of 3 hunts to find one. Maybe you should not have been so selective. Maybe that small male would been OK. No, it was your decision, the right one, you must wait for the big old guy. Then the blues are back. Your tracker has checked the first bait and there was nothing. On to the next. Nothing, the third, nothing. The blues are starting to turn black. Above anything else, you wanted the leopard, the cunning invisible ghost of the night. The hyena should have told you that he was there, but he wasn't. The last day, the last day, it goes over and over in your mind and the blues become blacker. It's a 2 day trip home, 48 hours and you'll be back in the same old grind. Then the next bait station comes. Still nothing. You have become quiet, pensive. You PH has seen this before, He has seen it on almost every client, and he knows. The trackers know too, they try to make jokes to cheer you up, but they don't work. Damn that leopard, Where is he. The sun has come, reached its peak and is now on the downhil side. You have to remind yourself that this hunt yielded a massive sable, A 55" kudu, Even a bushpig, but still no leopard. The sun has reached over its life for the day, It's only an hour or two till dark. Dark on the last day. The cruiser is turning back to camp. Other days camp has looked good, but not today. Its the last day. Your eyes are almost closed, deep in blues and thought, when the tracker next to you rappes on the top of the cruiser. You eyes pop open, why did he do that? The brakes on the cruiser lock and the cloud of dust behind you catches. WHat, what what?? The PH jumps out of the cab and in a quiet but excited voice, tells you to get your gun. The track is already long off and into the bush. It's only a mile from the 1st bait. Did you see him the PH asks? See what. The cat, The leopard, didn't you see him and he jumped across the road? In a heartbeat the blues are gone, the last day is still here, but it's your day. The adrenaline that flows through your veins have chased the blues away. Now you're a hun ter once again. The cat was headed in the general direction of the bait, but would he find it? Somehow you know, your heart knows, your mind knows, and your body knows. The trail to the blind set up on the 7th day in hopes is still there. Your PH takes his shoes off, yours follow. Crouched low and silent you approach the blind. You still have enough light left if hes would be there. All the way you are silently praying. Is this what god meant you to do, is it right to pray to kill. The answer is in the sould of the hunter, your soul. The blind allows you to come in from the back and peer out a small slit. There's nothing there. The blues are starting to come back. But the PH holds his finger to his lips. Quiet, Quiet, Quiet. There are no bird sounds, Not even an insect sound. In a blur of motion there is a shape in the tree. A spotted shape. A beautiful spotted shape. The PH taps your knee and turns with the biggest smile you have every seen on him. He mouths the words, Silently, Its him, Shoot shoot. The rile is at your shoulder and the crosswires of the scope are forming a cross behind his shoulder. Your finger unconsciously caresses the trigger and rifle gun goes off, almost on its own accord. Then it is silent, Almost dark, and silent. The PH asks you how it looked, It looked good in your minds eye, but still, Was it. Stay behind me he says, as your both walk slowly fordard, forward toward the tree, forward to a dream, a last days dream. There, there under the tree, Your PH slaps your shoulder so hard that it would hurt, but all you feel is exuberance. It is the last day and the best day. As you hug the leopard for pictures, the smile on your face could not be erased. The ride back to camp is alright now, even on the last day. The horn on the cruiser is announcing your arrival, and the songs from camp echo it. Its the last day, the last day, but who gives a damn. These will be another last day in the future, there is always one, and another first

Butch,

Well done. If you keep writing these things I am going to have another mid-life crisis and die broke from hunting in Africa. Oh well, what a way to go!
Thanks.

That is truly a good feeling to get your hands on mr. spots

I've seen the last hunting day through the eyes of success and through the eyes of nonsuccess, not failure, never failure... and you captured the emotions perfectly. Well done!

Very well written.

I already have the last day blues, and it's three weeks and a bit more before I arrive.

Another good one butchloc!

Very, very well said.