Just returned from my 25th safari. Enjoyed it so much, that I booked a return before I left. 76 yo.

Saeed,

Your story about an accidental discharge in the airport reminds me of a trip I took with Michel Mantheakis in 2013. We were flying commercial from Dar to Mbeya for some reason that seemed logical at the time (never again) and were going through the usual inspection before getting on the flight. While we were in the room with the powers at be, I thought I was instructed to load my rifle, but given that my Swahili is far less than fluent I gave a rather stunned look to Michel. He said that's what they want, so here I am, loading a rifle in an international airport to prove to the powers at be that the ammunition fits the rifle. All worked out ok, but there has to be a number of crimes I committed and I wasn't looking forward to time in a Tanzanian jail.

Going back in 2025. I usually go every other year, but will start going every year soon. I'm running out of time.

Airport personnel are not the brightest stars when it comes to firearms.

I have MTM boxes - just replaced by home made ones on 3D printer!

The MTMs were a bit tight with fired cases, and I always take my old ones back to be reloaded.

At the customs going back, they asked if I had ammo in the boxes.

I told them no, they were all empty.

The man wasn't going to take my word.

So he gets an MTM box out, and tries to get am empty case out of it.

He did that and look at the open mouth of the case, then tried putting it back.

I have no idea idea why, but as my daughter always tells me "don't talk to them DAD!"

I asked him if he was looking for the bullets.

He said yes.

By this time he has already put the empty back.

I said sometimes they get stuck inside, you have to shake the it to make sure nothing falls out.

He proceeded to pull every empty in that box, shake it, and put it back!

I had an extremely hard time keeping quiet!

My daughter was right, I should have kept quiet!

I know, it is very hard to believe, but I have been in situations where common sense seems to have been forgotten!

quote:

Originally posted by Bivoj:

quote:

Originally posted by 30.06king:
I'm on the way to Zim as I write this.
No quite ready to throw in the towel. Then Turkey before year's end. Decisions on future hunts might be decided a bit on how these hunts go. Detinitely some animals and places I would love to hunt but, for sure, it's not getting any less complicated.

Where to in Turkey? And for what?

Hunting Bezoar Ibex. Can't tell you the area offhand. Need to check my info at home which is somewhat out of reach presently.

The frustrations are not deniable, but the experience is still worth it to me. I've many places left to see and animals to hunt. With the way trophy shipment prices are going, I'm more and more inclined to look at high quality replicas. Using my own rifles far outweighs the stress of traveling with them.

quote:

Originally posted by jdollar:
Headed back in 3 weeks for what will most likely be my last safari. Money isn’t an issue but advancing age and recently diagnosed heart condition are.

I know the feeling. My nephew lives in Elko and I visited him a few weeks back. We went to the ranch I hunted mule deer on years ago and I told him how did I ever get around these hills. No way at 66 yrs old could I ever do that again. But hunting coyotes in the meadows and flat land I can do. This is off quadruple heart bypass surgery this past mothers day weekend.

I feel blessed that I was able to do a fair amount of DG hunting in my 20's and 30's when it was cheap! Africa seems like just yesterday, but it's been 12 years since I've set foot. In the mean time, I fell in love with mountain hunting and rediscovered fishing. Throw having a kid in the mix and things change. I plan on pretty much wrapping up my miserable, ass-kicking mountain hunts in Nepal when I turn 51 in two years.

My daughter already loves to hunt and should be big enough to be able to do spot and stalk in a few years. I'm already looking forward to going back to Africa, with its plentiful game, comfortable, dry camps, and great food. I have a lot less interest in shooting stuff myself these days, but watching my daughter do it is twice as good!

Saeed,

There is hope for the airport government personnel. I just got back and this year and, for the very first time, I had a customs agent count the boxes of ammo and do the math instead of opening every single box and counting each round individually.

quote:

Originally posted by lavaca:
Saeed,

There is hope for the airport government personnel. I just got back and this year and, for the very first time, I had a customs agent count the boxes of ammo and do the math instead of opening every single box and counting each round individually.

You should have asked for a refund on the number of rounds being re-exported seeing an import duty was paid on arrival.
That would have produced some head-scratching.

I haven't had that thought yet. I have had the thought that I won't be able to afford to return or physically be able to handle the stalks. It doesn't help when buffalo hunting with two PHs that are well over 6'. I had to take 3 steps to their 2. When they walked fast I had to trot.

Recently priced a leopard hunt for a client ... talk about sticker shock! I don't see how younger guys can afford these prices. And I don't see how older guys can physically handle a buff or elephant hunt. Leopard yes. Plains game maybe, except Eland.

Personally haven't done any serious hunting since my Sable and an Elk (dnf) about 5 years ago now, after which I had to deal with the C word, not talking about covid. Looks like I dodged that bullet but boy, the chemo ran me down. I was 61 at the time. I just did a little Karoo hunt on foot, good thing I was alone because I couldn't walk very far or fast. Suffering from plantar fasciitis in my right heel. Left knee also didn't like walking downhill much. Thankfully, cardiovascular system OK.

Never say never but I think I am done as far as African stuff. Other things on my BL. Bought an airplane and learning to fly. Dealing with the ATF is an order of magnitude more complicated than any CBP stuff. Besides I am very attached to Winston, my little Jack Russell.

If I go back, it will be as an observer with a client or friend, just to experience the bush and the camp time. And it will be for more than 10 days. can't amortize that trip over 10 days or shorter.

Meanwhile whitetail and ducks here on the ranch, I expect that will keep the itch scratched for a long time. Enjoy that especially with my son.

quote:

Originally posted by fulvio:

quote:

Originally posted by lavaca:
Saeed,

There is hope for the airport government personnel. I just got back and this year and, for the very first time, I had a customs agent count the boxes of ammo and do the math instead of opening every single box and counting each round individually.

You should have asked for a refund on the number of rounds being re-exported seeing an import duty was paid on arrival.
That would have produced some head-scratching.

HAHAHA! I love it!

When I left Cameroon last March, the airport people asked me how many of the 50 rounds of .375 I brought into the country I was taking out.

I told them: "Je n'ai pas de munitions. J'ai tout tiré." (I have no ammunition. I fired all of it.)

They were astonished and protested: "Combien, vraiment?!" (How many, really?!)

I stuck to my guns and said, "Aucune." (None.)

They asked, how many animals I had killed: "Combien d'animaux?"

I said, "Neuf." (Nine.)

They erupted in laughter, saying, "Vous êtes un très mauvais tireur!" (You are a very bad shot!)

I didn't argue the point!

I didn't even blush.

Fulvio,

Wish I'd thought of that! I brought quite a bit of ammo back this time. We're talking all of about 80 bucks, but it would have blown their minds. I'd likely have missed my flight!

Some customs people at Dar think I am environmentally minded.

Taking my rubbish back home when they see my empties!

At 61 I plan to hunt Africa as long as my health allow it..

It will be a hard day when not being able to do it..

I made my last trip to Africa a decade ago, and have no plans to go back.Money is not the issue. Advancing age has taken its toll. The political climate also puts stumbling blocks in the way. Walking is not as much fun as it used to be with the two new titanium knees, and I simply don't have the endurance I formerly had. Yes, I sure did enjoy it, but those days are over. I still love to hunt, but that is limited to whitetails here in PA and once in awhile, in South Carolina.

My last hunt to Africa was 7 years ago (seems like yesterday). Spent that time chasing critters out west (elk, mule deer and antelope). Had a great time with buddies camping, hunting and enjoying the west. Also wing shooting in Canada and Mexico which has been wonderful.

Western hunting has become quite the rage, costs have gone way up and tags for non-residents are difficult to come by.

Hoping to get back across the pond in the next year or two. NO tags, no lotteries, no drawings.

My last hunt got me my best buffalo at 86 years old, and the body gave out at 85, I feel blessed to have lived the good life roping and hunting more than most...I loved every minute in AFrica and every memory of the hunt and every steer I heeled..

I would still love to shoot an old buffalo, however with age 73 I‘m unable to walk from sunrise to sunset.

I've only been to Africa twice but I'm planning another trip soon. I was in a serious accident on Dec 7 2020. Put things into perspective. Went to Alaska fishing last summer. I have to do things differently than before but I'm getting around ok. The hardest part is shooting lefty now. My shotgun skills are pretty decent but definitely lacking w a rifle. So I'm practicing quite a bit and procurement of new firearms is always fun. My 416 rem should be here next week! I guess I'm going to do as many bucket list hunts as I can before the scar tissue sets in and I can't take it. I'm only 45 but feel like 75. Had to sell most of the cows and upgrade some farm equipment but for the most part I'm back to my new normal. I'll bring quite a few trophies back this time and then I'm done with that. I'll just go and enjoy it. My mountain days are behind me so I'll just plan on easier hunts. Plan is for 3 weeks next summer. Hopefully have an epic story to share with all of you. Going to do 1 week in SA then 2 in Mozambique exploring uncharted ground.

I would love to go again my last trip was to Namibia in April, don’t know if I’ll make it back. Between the long flights, Achilles tendon that torn 3/4 of the way through and my back, hips and shoulders it just maybe my last.

We hunters can only do what we can manage to do, as our physical powers wane.

But we must do it.

I am reminded of the closing words that Eduard Foa wrote, almost a century and a quarter ago, in his memorable book, After Big Game In Central Africa, which I recently re-read, at Saeed's indirect urging.

They explain why we hunters take so many photographs, write our hunt reports and bring home our trophies of the hunt:

. . . [W]hen my forces have diminished, when I have given up travelling, and have definitely placed my rifle in the gun-rack, I shall be able at my fire-side, my heart full of regret, to turn over the pages of these souvenirs, and, looking through these impressions, photographs, and trophies, live once more the life of the chase. Like an old soldier who recollects his battles, more than once shall I, in thought, find myself face-to-face with the big game of Africa, and begin again, in company with my brave black companions, combats of former times.

quote:

Originally posted by Michael Robinson:
We hunters can only do what we can manage to do, as our physical powers wane.

But we must do it.

I am reminded of the closing words that Eduard Foa wrote, almost a century and a quarter ago, in his memorable book, After Big Game In Central Africa, which I recently re-read, at Saeed's indirect urging.

They explain why we hunters take so many photographs, write our hunt reports and bring home our trophies of the hunt:

. . . [W]hen my forces have diminished, when I have given up travelling, and have definitely placed my rifle in the gun-rack, I shall be able at my fire-side, my heart full of regret, to turn over the pages of these souvenirs, and, looking through these impressions, photographs, and trophies, live once more the life of the chase. Like an old soldier who recollects his battles, more than once shall I, in thought, find myself face-to-face with the big game of Africa, and begin again, in company with my brave black companions, combats of former times.

Very well said....

I posted this in 2009 and just found it again. My favorite writer, Gene Hill, captured his feelings about Africa very well.


A little story by Gene Hill on remembering Africa (I have posted this before, but I enjoy reading it over and over)-

Unpacking Some Memories of Africa
By Gene Hill

Just about this time of year, a few years back, I was happily packing for Africa. After I got home I never really unpacked. I played at staying ready to return at a moment’s notice. I kept a few things in my little tin trunk and a lot of things in my heart. But now that my part of Africa is closed t hunting, I guess I might as well shake out most of the things I put away.

I wish I could tell you about the dawns and sunsets, but I can’t. I could attempt to describe the colors of the sky, the ways the light shifted from dark olive to orange to yellow to blue-white, and the way the air went from bone cold to suffocatingly hot, but I can’t really do them justice. I can close my and see the colors change, but I lose the intensity when I open them.

What I would like you to hear most are the sound of mourning—a pair of shrikes, a male and a female, calling so melodiously to each other that you cry from the beauty of it. The baboons setting up an early leopard watch with their angry, vicious backing. And until the morning heat sends everything into a modest quiet, the rising susurrus of sounds: an animal newspaper with everybody reading items aloud to everyone else.

And the n evening comes on and the sun hangs there just the way Cezanne would want it to, framing a perfect acacia tree so long you’d think it was stuck. Then suddenly it’s dark and the night orchestra tunes up: one animal small-talking to others of its kind; another just bragging and shouting; others still going about their nightly business of getting supper and rounding up the kids.

But, as I said, I can’t do it justice and I won’t try. I can’t even get across to you one of the things that I still dream about. It’s a simple thing to say but something else to feel all around you. It’s space, or distance, or horizons, and it’s really no one of these things—it’s all of them; it’s Africa.

Perhaps more than anything I liked riding up in the back of the hunting truck with the trackers, trying each other’s tobacco and snuff. You’d look out in front as the truck topped a hill, and there was Africa everywhere—and you’d smile because that was just what it ought to be. You’d runt around and there it was, even more of it, all spread out behind you. And no one was there, except for a few Masai or Wakambas who you didn’t see unless you went looking, or got on one of the real roads—the kind that didn’t have trees and brush growing up in the middle.

Off in the distance you’d almost always see something: a band of ostriches, giraffes, oryx, zebras, gazelles, or—where we were—rhinos. It was an experience just being there, being part of Africa, part of something so right, so big, so exactly what could never get enough of that I didn’t want the truck to ever stop. In my mind we just keep driving on and around forever… Katheka and Josie and me, poking each other in the ribs whenever we see something, or chucking a little snuff under our lip to make spit. Together we form a kind of Africa Flying Dutchman.

I can’t really explain how this vastness drew something out of me, rid me of some emotional paralysis and made me feel as free and as natural a part of that landscape as the Masai or the oryx or the impala. But I have never been happier.

Another of the memories I didn’t want to unpack was of lunch time: cold meat from yesterday’s supper, maybe a kidney or a Tommy liver, along with a chop or two, some sardines, a fresh-baked bread, and a semi-warm bottle of Tusker beer. I’d lie on my back and watch the clouds play through the leaves of fever trees, or the giant figs. I’d watch the weaver birds in their sort of upside down nests, or the blue rollers doing their aerial chandelles. Then I’d sleep in the heat until Josie work me up for a cup of tea, and we’d be off again, sailing over the sea of Africa.

In the evening, or more often well after dark, we’d spot our campfires and begin wondering what we’d have for supper, what the others had seen or shot, and whether to have a scotch or a gin. At camp a huge fire would be warming our canvas chairs. We’d have a quick drink and chat about the shooting, and then a hot bucket shower, clean clothes, a down jacket, and on or two more drinks before dinner.

It was always early to bed, snuggled under three or four blankets, wish-dreaming like a child for tomorrow’s lesser kudu or a better than 40-inch oryx. The now-familiar night sounds were a touch of home. It was always a great temptation, now and then indulged, to sit up and listen until the small hours and marvel that even the fire smelled like nothing else but Africa.

I would be up early with the ripping sound of my tent zipper being opened by one of the kitchen men bringing me my pot of tea. He’d light the gas lantern as he left so I could see to dress and shave. Then I’d have 15 minutes or so to lie in bed and drink my tea before getting up. No king ever enjoyed such luxury more!

Then breakfast: oatmeal, more tea, toast, and bacon. Afterwards I’d check the rifles and ammo and be off into the chill of a 6 o’clock African morning, my fluting shrikes going slightly off-key in the cold and dark. I would have given anything to be able to whistle just well enough to join them for a minute, but was never tempted enough to risk spoiling it.

A day’s note from the most inadequate diary typically reads: “Morning hunt was a five-hour walk. Perfect day to see top of Mt. Kilimanjaro. Cannot believe I am camped virtually on a side of it. Never want to go home. Watched four kongoni who seem to be practicing sharp turns. Shepherd’s pie for supper. Up tomorrow at five as usual. A lovely day.”

My lovely days went into a notebook with a few words designed more to job the memory than to attempt to capture the uncapturable. There are little notes like, “Saw fourteen fine heads of different species today: rhino, elephant, eland, lesser kudu, etc., etc.” Already I’d gotten too blasé to finish the note. But now I remember some of the others: cheetah, a pride of five that we literally stepped on and flushed, like so many brown-spotted, golden, land-bound birds; a red-maned lion that was far too elegant to shoot—and too smart to come to our bait for a closer look: a leopard at mid-morning that sat a half-mile distant and coldly stared into my eyes until I flinched and looked away.

There are those who will go back without a rifle, but I am not one of them… no yet. I like to hunt. I like to stalk, the tracking mystery, the shot, and the skinning. I suppose I could go without shooting, but that’s a decision I can only make with the legal rifle in my hand. I want both the right to shoot and the privilege of not doing so. I could see Kenya again without my heavy rifles—but I couldn’t experience it.

What I ought to do is keep my tin trunk packed, after cleaning out the despair and the regret, with a fresh notebook and a new pen. Add a box or so of .375’s, my old walking shoes, some fresh chewing tobacco and snuff, and a few pictures to show Josie and Katheka when I get back.

An artist once said that his eyes were stuck to a point and would bleed if he turned away, Just so, my heart has been pierced by the turning of Africa, and bleeds for it.

I'll continue to go as long as my health and finances abide. Guess that's why I'll never retire!

I think the trick here is not to get to comfy at home...get out and walk regularly...do some exercise to build/restore muscle..yes you loose muscle with age.. Eat right and dont drink to much..

A simple scheme that I try to follow..

I loved the hunting that I did in Africa, but I always felt that it was a bit too easy. Sure, I busted my tail training and then tracking elephant, but it seemed that the outcome was rarely in doubt.

Then in 2011 I did some anti poaching work for Cam Grieg in Cameroon. This month long trip included quite a bit of unguided hunting. I was ruined…

Something about hunting on my own, with the success and failure left up to me, took all the shine off the guided hunts. Hunting with the assistance of of small army of spotters, trackers and a well versed PH just doesn’t interest me anymore.

I probably would have hunted on one of Cam’s self guided hunts, but he fell ill and died not long after I returned from Cameroon.

Now at 47 I find myself completely immersed in mountain hunting and the year round physical conditioning that it requires. I feel blessed to have hunted Africa as much as I did, but I find myself thrilled at the thought of racing Father Time in an attempt to complete all of my mountain hunting goals, goals that are based on competency and commitment far more than body count.

And if I’m honest, I see African hunting being killed off by the bunny huggers, and it is far easier for me to willingly move on to something else rather than have it torn away from me.

God bless those of you who are keeping it alive.

quote:

Originally posted by JBrown:
I loved the hunting that I did in Africa, but I always felt that it was a bit too easy. Sure, I busted my tail training and then tracking elephant, but it seemed that the outcome was rarely in doubt.

Then in 2011 I did some anti poaching work for Cam Grieg in Cameroon. This month long trip included quite a bit of unguided hunting. I was ruined…

Something about hunting on my own, with the success and failure left up to me, took all the shine off the guided hunts. Hunting with the assistance of of small army of spotters, trackers and a well versed PH just doesn’t interest me anymore.

I probably would have hunted on one of Cam’s self guided hunts, but he fell ill and died not long after I returned from Cameroon.

Now at 47 I find myself completely immersed in mountain hunting and the year round physical conditioning that it requires. I feel blessed to have hunted Africa as much as I did, but I find myself thrilled at the thought of racing Father Time in an attempt to complete all of my mountain hunting goals, goals that are based on competency and commitment far more than body count.

And if I’m honest, I see African hunting being killed off by the bunny huggers, and it is far easier for me to willingly move on to something else rather than have it torn away from me.

God bless those of you who are keeping it alive.

Great point all Jason.

Yes, there is so much West can offer hunting on your own with absolute unknown results
Europe can be at times just like American west and at times just like Africa with guides in tow, telling you shoot, don’t shoot …

It is hard to do better than an unguided buffalo hunt in Cameroon.

I gave it up 2003 when my 5th safari was overrun by the Settlers in Zimbabwe. Just decided it wasn't worth the hassle.

Yep. Once you’ve done it, a Toyota safari with everything done for you but pulling the trigger pales in comparison.

quote:

Originally posted by JBrown:
I loved the hunting that I did in Africa, but I always felt that it was a bit too easy. Sure, I busted my tail training and then tracking elephant, but it seemed that the outcome was rarely in doubt.

Then in 2011 I did some anti poaching work for Cam Grieg in Cameroon. This month long trip included quite a bit of unguided hunting. I was ruined…

Something about hunting on my own, with the success and failure left up to me, took all the shine off the guided hunts. Hunting with the assistance of of small army of spotters, trackers and a well versed PH just doesn’t interest me anymore.

I probably would have hunted on one of Cam’s self guided hunts, but he fell ill and died not long after I returned from Cameroon.

Now at 47 I find myself completely immersed in mountain hunting and the year round physical conditioning that it requires. I feel blessed to have hunted Africa as much as I did, but I find myself thrilled at the thought of racing Father Time in an attempt to complete all of my mountain hunting goals, goals that are based on competency and commitment far more than body count.

And if I’m honest, I see African hunting being killed off by the bunny huggers, and it is far easier for me to willingly move on to something else rather than have it torn away from me.

God bless those of you who are keeping it alive.

Good on you Jason and you are more than welcome to conduct a hunt by yourself but under the guidance of a PH who when shit happens will troubleshoot for you

A good PH is a hunter who possesses many skills and attributes that are often unseen during a standard safari

quote:

Originally posted by fairgame:

quote:

Originally posted by JBrown:
I loved the hunting that I did in Africa, but I always felt that it was a bit too easy. Sure, I busted my tail training and then tracking elephant, but it seemed that the outcome was rarely in doubt.

Then in 2011 I did some anti poaching work for Cam Grieg in Cameroon. This month long trip included quite a bit of unguided hunting. I was ruined…

Something about hunting on my own, with the success and failure left up to me, took all the shine off the guided hunts. Hunting with the assistance of of small army of spotters, trackers and a well versed PH just doesn’t interest me anymore.

I probably would have hunted on one of Cam’s self guided hunts, but he fell ill and died not long after I returned from Cameroon.

Now at 47 I find myself completely immersed in mountain hunting and the year round physical conditioning that it requires. I feel blessed to have hunted Africa as much as I did, but I find myself thrilled at the thought of racing Father Time in an attempt to complete all of my mountain hunting goals, goals that are based on competency and commitment far more than body count.

And if I’m honest, I see African hunting being killed off by the bunny huggers, and it is far easier for me to willingly move on to something else rather than have it torn away from me.

God bless those of you who are keeping it alive.

Good on you Jason and you are more than welcome to conduct a hunt by yourself but under the guidance of a PH who when shit happens will troubleshoot for you

A good PH is a hunter who possesses many skills and attributes that are often unseen during a standard safari

Jason/Andrew:

You both offer great points. As I said previously, I’m more into hunting at home, than Africa. However, if I decide to go back, I’d love to hunt with Andrew.

There is a most excellent music video by Toby Keith.
'Don't let the old man in.'

Great advice. I am in no bloody hurry to be home from the hills.

I'd forgotten about that song, but love it. Haven't heard it in a while.

At the age of 77 you’d think I’d have health issues to deal with. Au contraire, I got those taken care of in my 60’s. First thing was a torn meniscus of my left knee. Luckily my niece Caitlin is an Orthopedic Surgeon and referred me to her mentor, who scoped the knee. Next issue was an inguinal hernia I’ve had since my Army service in the 1970’s. Had that repaired by a Surgeon once again referred by my niece. My last surgery was Gall Bladder surgery done by the MD who did my hernia.

My wife and I are both retired and live well within our means. I could afford an African safari every other year, but frankly my wife would strongly object. I was able to convince her I should go on my sixth Namibian safari by selling a goodly number of upscale rifles and shotguns I had gathering dust in ny gun vault. I plan on hunting in Namibia in 2025 for another Eland, an Impala, Warthog and as many Baboons as possible. We have over 300,000 Capital One Air Miles and the PH I hunt with, Jan du Plessis of Sebra Hunting Safaris has very reasonable Daily Rates and Trophy Fees.

I’d hunt every other year if the wife would approve of it, but after 53 years of marriage it would be cost prohibitive to get a replacement.

I turned 68 in November. I am still working . Planning to sell out at the end of the year .

Right now, I have booked Greenland (muskox and caribou), dall sheep in Alaska, partridges in Spain, Cameroon for Lord Derby. Possibly another Asian hunt .

I have some health issues. My right knee and my left shoulder need to be replaced. I have to admit that none of this is as easy as it used to be.

I still have the passion for it. Most of the paperwork and bureaucracy don’t bother me too much. Yes, some of it is annoying as hell but I have learned to live with it.

I’ll probably cut back somewhat. It terrifies me to think about running out of money . It terrifies me even more to think of the prospect of not going on these trips .

quote:

Originally posted by Bud Meadows:
At the age of 77 you’d think I’d have health issues to deal with. Au contraire, I got those taken. Are of in my 60’s. First thing was a torn meniscus of my left knee. Luckily my niece Caitlin is an Orthopedic Surgeon and referred me to her mentor, who scoped the knee. Next issue was an inguinal hernia I’ve had since my Army service in the 1970’s. Had that repaired by a Surgeon once again referred by my niece. My last surgery was Gall Bladder surgery done by the MD who did my hernia.

My wife and I are both retired and live well within our means. I could afford an African safari every other year, but frankly my wife would strongly object. I was able to convince her I should go on my sixth Namibian safari by selling a goodly number of upscale rifles and shotguns I had gathering dust in ny gun vault. I plan on hunting in Namibia in 2025 for another Eland, an Impala, Warthog and as many Baboons as possible. We have over 300,000 Capital One Air Miles and the PH I hunt with, Jan du Plessis of Sebra Hunting Safaris has very reasonable Daily Rates and Trophy Fees.

I’d hunt every other year if the wife would approve of it, but after 53 years of marriage it would be cost prohibitive to get a replacement.

You could pray!


Dear God.
You gave me childhood.
You took it away.

You gave youth.
You took it away.

You gave me a wife.

It’s been years now.
Just reminding you.

quote:

Originally posted by Saeed:

quote:

Originally posted by Bud Meadows:
At the age of 77 you’d think I’d have health issues to deal with. Au contraire, I got those taken. Are of in my 60’s. First thing was a torn meniscus of my left knee. Luckily my niece Caitlin is an Orthopedic Surgeon and referred me to her mentor, who scoped the knee. Next issue was an inguinal hernia I’ve had since my Army service in the 1970’s. Had that repaired by a Surgeon once again referred by my niece. My last surgery was Gall Bladder surgery done by the MD who did my hernia.

My wife and I are both retired and live well within our means. I could afford an African safari every other year, but frankly my wife would strongly object. I was able to convince her I should go on my sixth Namibian safari by selling a goodly number of upscale rifles and shotguns I had gathering dust in ny gun vault. I plan on hunting in Namibia in 2025 for another Eland, an Impala, Warthog and as many Baboons as possible. We have over 300,000 Capital One Air Miles and the PH I hunt with, Jan du Plessis of Sebra Hunting Safaris has very reasonable Daily Rates and Trophy Fees.

I’d hunt every other year if the wife would approve of it, but after 53 years of marriage it would be cost prohibitive to get a replacement.

You could pray!


Dear God.
You gave me childhood.
You took it away.

You gave youth.
You took it away.

You gave me a wife.

It’s been years now.
Just reminding you.

That’s funny Saeed! I broke out laughing after I read it. I am very lucky that my wife is a blessing, and I am grateful for that and her.

dogcat, you posed some original good questions (back in Aug.). I thankfully haven’t had to think too hard about it. I’m 72, going on 73 in March, and have no medical concerns. I’ve had no operations, other than my tonsils removed as a child, and have suffered no major diseases. Good genetics I suppose. (Thank you mom and dad!).
Also been an athlete for most all of my life (TaeKwon-Do, running, bodybuilding, walking, hiking the Colorado mountains, hunting, etc.). It all helps to a measure.

I hope to hunt into my 90s, but that may be optimistic! I am happiest when hunting with one of my treasured rifles or shotguns in my hands. I have many. I think I may have driven my PH, Andrew Baldry, crazy by taking a different medium bore rifle on every safari with him. At least the big bore stays the same, a Dakota 404 Jeffery. I enjoy using my beautiful rifles of different calibers as much as I enjoy the hunt itself. I therefore need to hunt well into my 90s to enjoy them all!

I think for some of us at least, there is this love affair of medium to large bore rifles that fascinate us. I have a need to USE them in the fields of Africa and America. This is an addiction that I cannot shake off, nor do I have any desire to do so. If old age does slow me down (I do not consider 72 old age. YMMV), I will attempt hunting in what ever handicapped stage I find myself. To quit, would be the death of my soul, if not my body.

I have some days let my mind consider advancing aging, and asked myself which rifle/shotguns would I sell or let go at that time. I have numerous times gone to my safes and looked over my collection to make some decisions. It usually ends in running over my list of firearms to try to find at least one, hopefully two, that I could part with, but alas, to no avail. I have no children of my own, so I suppose these firearms that have brought me such joy, are perhaps their poor substitutes. I cannot abandon them. It would break my heart, and that will not do.

The only tonic for this conundrum, is more hunting and more safaris! I have decided that this is not such a bad prescription, and thankfully, my retirement pension and 401k, have made that decision possible.

Like some of you perhaps, the immediate pressing quandary is, ‘where will I put all of the trophies that I hope to take?’ Add on to the trophy room? Build a new house? Move into a new house? Safari has hidden expenses that I never suspected early in my hunting career. I am uncomfortable thinking of all the ramifications of continuing my hunting addiction. But there are worse things in life to contemplate, so I leave it at that, and bury it in my pile of other life’s distractions.

At least for now, Life is Good! Wishing the best and the same for all of you, as we inevitably age…