Actually, he is very good at mounting scopes and adjusting triggers.

In fact, his only mistake happened yesterday.

On those Sako Quads, with their special scope for 4 different cartridges, the eye piece and the objective are about the same size.

Yep, you gussed it. He mounted the scope BACKWARDS! He was very upset about it, and was frentically trying to turn it around, so I had to stop him and take a photo of it!

Me "Stop! Stop!, I want to take a photo of that to show Roy"

Walter "You mean more stuff for blackmail ha?"
Me "Walter, why the hell would I NEED to black mail you?"

Walter "I don't know, but knowing you you will find another way to be nasty to me."
Me "Now just explain to me how you managed to mount that scope BACKWARDS? HA?"

Walter, laughing "I wasn't paying attention, I was watching you putting that snake in the poor guys gun case. Ha ha ha, that was so funny. He did not trust you before, now he REALLY does not trust you, just like everyone else"

Me "I have never done anything to him before, so why would he not trust me?"

Walter "You have a VERY bad reputation. No one trusts you, even people who do not know you. I even heard Roy say he does not trust you, and he is your best friend"

Me "And another thing, where is my new car? Aren't you supposed to get it by now?"

Walter, looking rather miserable "Well, there is a problem"

Me "What problem? I gave you a cheque for it, and I saw you had the receipt too"

Walter "The man I am dealing with is on holiday. And I have lost the receipt. So I cannot get the car until he comes back! Now you know, and don't give me a hard time about it. Because I WILL get the car when the salesman comes"

Me "Wait, wait, you mean the dealer won't give us the car because he has proof of payment right? Is that why you are waiting for the saleman to return from his holiday"

Walter "YES"
Me "How the hell could have lost the receipt? I should have kept it unti it was needed, instead of leaving it with you"

Walter "It is all your fault. I gave it to you, and you gave it back to me. So it was your fault I lost it."

Me " I don't believe this! You really ARE a walking disaster! You should be locked up and the key thrown away for good"

Walter, laughing "And you will come and break the door to get me out, you are my friend, that is why I put up with you, despite all the problems you make for me"

Tomorrow we are having a few friends come over for a BBQ in backyard by the pool. We normally put some targets for the kids to shoot with air rifles, as they always look forward to it. We keep Walter far away from them, busy at the BBQ. He seems to be happiest as long as he is very close to food, especially meat and ice cream. Which I am sure there will be plenty of!

I can't wait for the BBQ story!

In 1996 i washed out on a island in mozambican waters after a fishing trip gone bad with only the clothes on my body. I could see the main land but it was to far to swim.

So i started to explore the island and found a abundance of wild life but i had no gun. so i started to set some traps.My first victim was a duiker that took me hours to skin (no knifes you know) and it took me hours to make fire with some stones. for salt i just let it lay in the sea for a few minutes. so i had my first meal in five days as i dont call bananas and coconuts a meal.

The trapping started to play on my mind and started an organisation called E.F.T.K.O (ethical and fair trapping and killing organisation). Me and the monkeys being the only members. You can only imagine our meatings.
we only had one rule and that is to only trap on tuesdays after a few years you anyway dont know when it is teusday. It must be the coconut mampoer that made us loose track of time.

it was going well and I gained a few pounds and felt like a million dollars. in 2006 while sitting on a rock watching over the sea a sexy 21 year old blond with a 36c bra size came out of the sea only wearing her skiing wet suite.
She greated me but i thought it was the mampoer talking.
She: when last did you have a smoke?
I : 10 years ago
so she unzip her left hand top pocket and pulls out a packet of Camels. i was over the moon and smoked my first one.
She: when last did you have a proper drink?
I : ten years ago
so she unzipped the other pocket and pulled out a half jack of my favourite brandy. i broke the seal and took a big sip.Thinghs was getting hot

she started to unzip her wetsiute and revealed the trophy size 36c brothers in arms and i could not contain myself any more you know how we get after a few drinks and after 10 years .i ripped of the rest of the wet suite she was totally naked. i was highly pissed of and asked " WHERE DID YOU HIDE MY 375 H&H ". i could not understand why she didnt speak to me for a week. I must say it was well worth it.

So far that beats the anticipated BBQ story.

Saeed, your patience with Walter would put Job to shame. If Walter were my hunting buddy, I'm afraid one of my hunting stories would go like the old joke:

Query: I hear you have hunted lion. I am thinking of doing that. Can you tell me about it?

Me: Of course I’ve hunted lion. I went lion hunting with Walter once and brought back a stuffed lion.

Response: What was the lion stuffed with?

Me: Walter.

I do love these stories. Keep 'em coming!

I may have to tell the story of when I was charged by a wounded zebra. A lot of people laughed when that happened, including me after I recovered from shock.

Moose Hunt From Hell

"This is the honest truth, sorry no lies involved"

I decided to take a moose hunt in Northern Ontario. I applied for and received for and received a special permit for the Oba area. My father-in-law to be had also applied for the permit. He also drew but at the last minute he backed out because he did not want to camp. The year was 1976. I had just purchased a 1974 Jeep Cherokee. None of my hunting buddies were able to go so I was stuck taking my fiancé. It was a once in a lifetime hunting trip for her, as you will soon find out. She has never taken another hunting trip with me since. We starting out mid September packing to the gills with my gun, ammo, camping gear, including a tent, Coleman gas stove, fuel, and everything else we could think of to sustain us for the hunt.

We left the Detroit area, headed north toward Sault Ste Marie, Ontario. Everything was good until we crossed the border and we were into Canada for about three hours. At that time the truck decided to misfire. We made it down the road to a gas station, motel, restaurant, repair shop all in one. The owner decided he would serve us food, sell us gas, rent a room, but would not work on the vehicle until the next day. I told him I had just put new points in just before we left, but did not time it. All it needed was the points and timing set. He flatly refused to do anything until the next morning. We did not have any extra money for a hotel room, so we decided to sleep in the Cherokee, with my fiancé in the front and myself in the back. In the middle of the night it decided to snow on us so out came the propane heater. We had to leave the heater outside blowing the heat into the Jeep. Needless to say we got snow on us and froze most of the night. The next morning we got breakfast and waited for the owner to show up. His wife was a good cook, but he was a bad mechanic. He set the points and timing and charged us $100 Canadian, and off we went.

We drove all-day and arrived at the head of the lodging road that would take us to Oba. There it was a 4-wheel drive trail, the whole six hours in. Part way in we punctured the gas tank. I had to drop the skid plate, try to save the gas with our pots and pans, and patch the hole all while it was raining. We finally got to Oba, which was a drop off point for the railroad and logging crews. The only thing there was gas and a small General Store. The two track that we were supposed to take to our area was chained off. The owner of the store said it was for logging crew hunting only, but he would happily sell us gas to leave. Halfway back we punctured another hole in the gas tank. Out come the pots and pans again. The skid plate got left behind and inside the vehicle was a heavy gas odor. Playing in the mud and gas under the vehicle for the second time in one day and listening to Anita cry for about the fifth time, was not my idea of a fun beginning to a Moose hunt.

We finally hit pavement about midnight. After a day and a half without sleep, we were looking for a motel room. We came to the closest town, I think it was Timmins, and found a motel. Smelling of gas, and half covers with mud, I stripped off outside the motel door and jumped in the shower. After I got out of the shower, I found Anita sitting on the edge of the bed balling her eyes out. She held up the ignition key with only half of it there. She had locked the Cherokee up but decided she needed something from the back. She put the key in to lower the rear power window and the key broke off. Of course, that was the only key we had. After this, tears and anger flowed. At least we had gotten a good night sleep. So the next morning I had to put on my gas soaked clothes and try to get the other half of the key out. With this done and a walk to the hardware, we managed to get a new key. Another shower and change of clothes, and off to Ontario Natural Resources we went.

After complaining to the Ontario Natural Resource personnel, which did no good, they sent us to a different area in which my permit was still valid. At the beginning of this road was a Moose check station. Now, we new we were in good moose country. We drove into this area for a couple of hours and finally found a place to camp. There was more mud. It seemed like everywhere we went was muddy. Out came the tent and we were ready for something to eat. While Anita was arranging things in the tent, I pulled out the Coleman gas stove and then set it on the tailgate to fire up some hotdogs. Well, remember earlier about our gasoline problem, one flick of a match was all that it took and the inside of the Cherokee was one fire. We used everything possible to put out the fire including a plastic bag of milk and our sleeping bags and pillows. What a mess we had! With muddy charred up sleeping bags, pillows, clothes, pots and pans, tears began to flow like Niagara Falls. Next morning was opening day. I wasn’t in the mood to go hunting but I didn’t have much choice. I walked away from camp, on a two track, and headed moose hunting. I did my best to imitate a cow moose in heat, even though I had never seen a moose in my life. Out steps a cow moose about 100 yards away. I grabbed a sapling to steady my gun, but that did not help. I had moose fever, save as buck fever but only worse. The first shot was somewhere other than in the moose. The second shot somehow hit the moose in the shoulder. I ran up to the moose and could not believe the size of her. I turned around and there stood a bull, but oh well, I had already got my moose. So, I went back to the tent to tell Anita and she is thrilled with the news because she thinks it is time to go home. I asked Anita to come help me dress the moose out. After convincing her to help me, I had her grab the moose by the hind leg and lift up. One slip in the mud, more tears, and back to the tent she went. I could not do anything with the moose myself so we drove about 20 miles out, and met some Canadian moose hunters. They had lots of Rye and a trailer. These guys were awesome! A couple hours of drinking with them and we all went back to the moose. We then wenched the moose onto their trailer. After that we found a tree we could wench the moose up. That tree broke, so down the trail we went to find another tree.

The second tree was on the other side of a dry riverbed. We then had to cut for almost 3 hours to fill the driver bed, to gain access to the moose. We now had the moose high enough in the tree so the wolves could not reach it. Finally we got a decent night sleep. The next morning, as you can imagine, Anita was ready to call it quits with the whole moose hunt and me. So we then decide to load up the moose and head back home. With the moose barely hanging in the tree, I backed the Cherokee down our shaky, dry riverbed path. Now I was directly under the tree with the moose hanging above the jeep.

Now, my wench cable was connected to the front of the jeep and to the head of the moose. After this was tight, I took the chain off of the tree and the head of the moose. Putting all of the weight on the wench that was connected to the front of my jeep I thought we were in great shape. I now started to lower the moose onto the back of the Cherokee. Bam! The cable snapped. The hind end of the moose hit the back of the roof of the jeep and the rest of the moose fell perfectly across the entire roof. With the head lying across the windshield…perfect! This is exactly what I wanted. The only problem was, went it dropped it caved in the entire roof causing the doors to bow out. (I do have pictures) We not have the moose tired on the roof and we are ready for home.

On the way out, we had to stop at the check station. Three college kids came out and wanted the lower jaw for research, because it wasn’t a trophy. Well, they will not help me detach the jawbone so I’m pissed. Out comes the chainsaw. I cut the four legs off that were hanging four feet off the side of the jeep. I then proceed to climb on the hood and cut off the head. After doing this blood was splattered all over the front of the Cherokee and the ground. I then kicked off the head from the hood and we started to head home. You would not believe the funny looks and stories we heard from the truckers with their C.B.’s.

69Deer
funny story i think Murphy is your brother. That mouse must have cost you about 200$a pound.

375 Fanatic, Beleive it or not, it was a moose!Not a mouse! All fun aside, My wife, she did marry me, still breaks out in a sweat when the story gets told. Thanks.

saeed what happened to the last contast where walter was sitting between the baffalow legs we all comented on it, was the result then ,regards

It was in Namibia 2005, the weather was hot and dry as usual for that area at that time of year. This was my second trip to Africa and I was this time looking for something other than plaines game. As I was in a area with cattle farms there were no Elephants, Buffs, and the like. But, there was the odd Leopard, and that had been on my mind for the last two years. The plans were made and we were off to get Mr. Spots.
Some spore were spotted and a likely area to hang bait was located along with a ground blind paced at 100 yards from the tree. Everythng was set, we thought.
The first afternoen we crept up to the blind and entered it as quietly as we could. A rifle rest, made from bales of hay, was positioned, the spot light hooked up and the wait had started.
Well, being a diabetic the call of nature hit me while it was still daylight. When I let the P.H. know I was met with frowns needless to say. I was told to walk away from the blind and get back as quietly as possible, which I did.
As the time went by, and the pages of my paperback turned it finally got dark enough so I could not read any longer. Since it was in the 90's during the day we all wore shorts. But when the sun went down it became cooler and cooler. Fortunately my PH had thought of everything and army type wool blankets came out and we wraped ourselves up and the wait continued.
When looking out of the hole in the blind one could see the brush and trees in the foreground, the bait tree with the meat hanging next, and in the background beautiful mountains. There were in fact two mountains with a notch between the two of them and the sunset going just off center of the notch, a sight which I will always remember. Behind that notch were clouds, very black angry clouds. Now this is Africa, and it is not suposed to rain at this time of the year. The wind started to pick up, the clouds came ever closer and closer, the lightning started and then the sky opened up. Not just a gentle little sprinkle, but a real gusher. The top of the hide was not what you would ever call weather proof, but just covered with vegetation from the surounding area.
the aforementioned army blankets now became tents held over our heads. At least for a while. With the continuing rain they became heavier and heavier to the point to where they just were sitting on my AR hat and my shoulders, which were now becoming very wet and cold. As the minutes became longer and longer, and the colder we got it became evident that this was not going to be our night to get Mr. Spots.
When the rain did let up we made a dash for the truck many hundreds of yards away. The ground, which was parched when we arrived was now a sea of slimy mud and the truck was put into four wheel drive just to get out of there for the night. A recommendation of an improvement to the top of the blind was made. When we got back to the house a hot shower and dry clothes was in order, then some suds, lies and bed.
The next day was again hot and dry, no clouds in the sky, and no mention of rain on the forecast.The ground even started drying up and little mud cracks were everywhere on the ground. Plans were made to hunt the day, and then go out to the hide again that night. This time we would be going in with long pants and shirts to ward off the cool of the night. It is funny that when you are moving around all seems well, but when you are forced not to move for hours the temperature seems to drop, a bunch.
Again we made our way to the blind, and again we set up fot the wait. Unfortunately, again the black clouds appeared between the vee in the mountains. With the same results in the weather. This time we were prepared though, we thought. But after the wind and rain had it's way with the hide it again became apparent that the rain would again win. The woolen blankets were again held over our heads, and again they became heavier and heavier. Alas, again after the rain slowed down yet another time we again made our way out to the truck, and a very muddy treck back to the house.
Now this is Africa, the hot time of year, not the rainy season of the year. I was called rainman several times, and it looks like that I will always be called my that name there.
A third attempt was made at the same hide, that again was "improved" with more material, this time a plastic sheeting covered with the original material that had been used before. We thought we had finally beaten the odds that the weather could not and would not affect us. That is we "thought" it would not affect us. Well, yes we did get rained out again, three nights in a row unbelievable. The gods were not smiling on our attempts to get Mr.Spots.
So, the next day the dogs were to arrive and we would not go away empty handed,again we thought. Yes the day was clear, very hot and after a few hours dry. Even the ground dried up and tracking were easy, even for me, to follow. We followed the tracks, droppings, bedding areas etc. for many hours and miles. We never did get to see Mr. Spots. The temperature got so hot even the dogs could not follow scents any longer. They did get real interested in a tree, but he was not in the tree when we were there. One of the trackers went with some of the dogs to follow the tracks to see where he went. After several more hours the tracker and the dogs came back with the news that Mr.Spots had crossed some fencing and had gone on to a different farm and could not be followed.
The next year after several E-mails the PH had asked me to perform a white witch doctors dance for rain which I did in fact do. If any of you remember two years ago in Northern Namibia they had the worst rains they have ever had in the last many years, with a dam North of Windhoek having to be opened to let water out to avoid flooding. My PH later told me that his father could only remember one time before in his life time that this dam was ever opened up. That was the last time that I was asked to perform a rain dance for them. This year 2007 they area having a drought in their area, go figure.

A Kodiak Moment


When I first went to Alaska, August 1985, courtesy of my good Uncle Sam, I met another USAF Captain who had been there a few years and had been deer hunting on Kodiak Island once before. Being an utter "Cheechako" myself, (Alaskan greenhorn), it was not hard for this "Sourdough Poseur" to impress me. I had to start somewhere as a resident hunter, so I waited out the year for residency status, then threw in my lot with my new friend, Captain Waldo, and set off on a Kodiak deer hunt as my first Alaskan Adventure.

The name has been changed to protect the guilty: Waldo. Here is Waldo, in his favorite crapping position:

We drove from Anchorage to Seward and pulled the truck onto the ferry to Kodiak, that late September day. Waldo had the bottom bunk in the cabin we shared. After vomiting several times from seasickness, Waldo settled down to snore and fart the rest of the night.

It was raining the next day when we flew out from Kodiak's airport to Spiridon Bay. Magically the sun came out just as the floatplane disappeared into the clouds.

We pitched our two two-man tents, stowing gear in one and both sleeping bags in the other, figuring safety in numbers if a prowling bear came sniffing about our camp while we slept.

We could hunt deer the same day as flying, so we did. No luck the first day in the long grass leading up to the peaks. Captain "Death In the Long Grass" Rip was frustrated:



The next morning. I arose to take a leak, being first out of the tent in my longjohns and hunting boots. As I looked up from the steaming stream upon the frosty grass, 50 feet away a Sitka buck browsed along, oblivious of me. Strange! I retreated slowly to the rear and recovered my rifle from the tent, and shot that deer. So you see, I shot a deer in my pajamas. How he got in my pajamas, I'll never know.

Waldo seemed pissed that I had killed the first deer. So he was up next. We hit the trail and climbed high and traveled wide across our area.
Waldo spied a doe and drew a crosshair on it from 250 yards range. It was up the hill a bit and the bullet missed clean. Waldo tried to work his bolt action and it was locked tight.

He finally hammered the bolt action open with the butt of his hand, as the deer disappeared.
I was a bit concerned at that point, about being in bear country with his 7mm/300WinMag Wildcat handloads backing me up. Waldo looked sheepish, and admitted he had added a few grains more powder for this trip, and not bothered to testfire it at home.

Waldo never fired his gun again on that trip.
I shot another small buck the next day. Being pretty stupid myself, I directed the dragging of the deer to within 400 yards of our tents, then left the gut pile right there, and gamebagged the venison and stuck it in a small tree just 50 feet from our tent. Two deer were cached, and I was more than willing to share with Waldo. But not the bears! So I hung some bear bells on the tree.

That night a young and stupid 8-footer came and shook the tree, trying to drag the venison down, and woke us both up immediately. We heard him "woof" and sniff, and felt the ground shake under his weighty foot falls nearby, and saw the impression of his sniffing nose on our tent sidewall when the flashlight was clicked on.

We rustled around for a firearm, and I came up first with my 340 Weatherby blazing: two holes in the tent.

We spent the rest of the night huddling against the cold, and feeding a fire to scare the bears away. It was a moonless night.

Waldo borrowed my shotgun to take to the latrine. He laid the shotgun beside the pit and threw the shovel down to make it stick in the dirt. Instead, the shovel stuck in my shotgun stock
and busted loose a big divot of walnut ...

There are more installments of my further Alaskan Adventures, like:

Solo Caribou Suicide Attempt
Dick and the Dall Sheep Hunt: Three Out of Four Hunters Injured In Falls, One Sheep Dead
Capsizing Canoe Duck Hunt
King Kong of Kodiak
Prince William and the Three Bears
4-Wheeler Rollovers: Mountain Caribou Fair Chase
Moose On the Loose: Horseback Hunt from Hell
Using Rocks as Tools: A Tundra Mechanic's Repair Manual


But, I type so slowly that I must save it for later.

To Waldo, wherever you are: You have a soulmate in Dubai named Walter.
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Well, Walter, in his infinite generousity, has decided that "we" should give a prize to everyone who posted a story!

He somehow conveniently forgot that I have to make the copies, print them and their labels, pack them and ship them!

"It will give you something useful to do" was all he said!

So everyone who has posted a story please send me your mailing address in a PM, and I will have the DVDs off to you immediately.

Thank you all for participating.

Thanks Walter. I like your style.

Thanks Saeed.I like your patience and generosity.

Gentlemen,

I am getting emails asking for those DVDs. I need your address in a PM.

That is the only way I am certain it is YOU who is sending me the message.

I will ignore all email requests. I will only send the DVDs to an address I get through a PM.

Thank You both very much!

Saeed, the discs came today, much to my suprise at them getting here so fast. Thank you for sending them, Mike.