Last Day Kill



Lars Smythe was an odd mix of Dutch and English. The Dutch came from his mother’s side and the English was his dear old dad’s. How those two got together is one of those mysteries I can’t answer. When he was born the English and Dutch were not thought of as “kissin cousins.â€

Lars was a bit long in the tooth for a PH , but he had a reputation for getting his clients some great trophies. He was especially known for his skills in the dangerous game arena. It was true that he had lost a step (or two) in the last few years. And maybe his reaction time was a tiny bit slower than when he was a kid. This ain’t just me sayin it, he would admit it himself if you asked him. But the experience this guy has , well, it more than makes up for that. Shoot, Lars has waded into more thickets to sort out leopard than any two other PH’s alive. Been up to his elbows in elephants while nurse maiding greenhorn clients who shook like leaves in the wind when ole jumbo showed himself in tight and personal. In the short time I hunted with him I saw him shoot a lion off another PH when we was asked to help him sort out a wounded simba in some tall grass. But buffalo is where Lars really shines!

Lars was following Meeka and the Frenchman was following Lars.

Meeka has been hunting with Lars for about ten years now. Meeka is very black, shiny black.He is about 5'9" and weighs about a buck ninety. He is Shona. Being an established tracker he makes pretty good money for a person in his village. His relative wealth has allowed him to accumulate three wives and eleven children. When I first met him he had two wives and the number of his offspring was resting tentatively at eight. When we hunted together once for plains game I jokingly asked him to find me a kudu with horns that reached the clouds and gahunas that dragged in the dirt. Gahunas was a new word to him and he grinned and his eyes squinted when Lars translated into Afrikaans what gahunas meant . Two years later when I next got to hunt with Meeka he told me in his broken English that he had picked up a third wife and now had ten children. As I was absorbing this news he reached to take hold of his privates and added, “Gahunas work too good.†Then he gave me that silly grin again.

The area they were hunting was quite a ways from Meeka's village. When they first arrived Lars had enlisted the help of a local tracker to help get the general lay of the land. At the end of the first day the local let Meeka know that he was welcome to spend the night at his Kraal while we were in the area hunting. He had three wives, each with her own hut and land to cultivate. They were all young and fat and warmat night. Only one was with child. Since a man can only sleep with one woman at a time, Meeka was certainly welcome to lie with the one still available. This is the privilege of status I suppose. Mufasa slept in the cook tent and Big John slept beside the truck.

While the boys were busy getting camp squared away Lars took the client out to check the sights on his rifle. A target was hung at a suitable distance and a rest was arranged on the front of the Toyota to shoot off of. When all was ready the Frenchman handed the rifle to Lars and asked , "If you don't mind terribly I would like you to check it.I am still just a bit stiff from the flight over." Lars took the shot and was mildly surprised at how close to spot on the gun actually was.Still, he had to have some reservations about this client.

Setting camp had been hard work and when Lars had finally given the OK on everything he decided to reward the boys by giving them a special treat.

“After supper each of you may have one beer. One only though, tomorrow I do not want anyone not up to snuff.â€

As Lars was having his first cup of coffee the next day,Mufasa eased up beside him and whispered that Big John had disobeyed the order from last night and had drank two beers. Lars nodded and walked away.Just before loading into the truck for the morning hunt Lars gathered the boys for their last minute instruction. He made a show of counting out the remaining beers from the stash just outside the cook tent.

“I have counted the beers and one is missing. Did one of you drink two beers?â€

Big John said, “I had two boss.â€

“Very well John. Tonight Mufasa and Meeka can each have a beer but you will have none.†For the rest of the day Big John moped around with his bottom lip pooched out like a child .

The days passed by slowly. It had been a tough week of hunting with very little to show for it. The rains this year had been late, and meager when they finally did come. The best water was in the park and that is where most of the buffalo were holding. The ones they had seen were mostly small groups of cows and calves.They had come upon one old, old dugga boy. A scrum cap bull. Would have been a hell of a trophy. You want to talk about character. This old boy had seen as many sunrises as Lars had. But with him broomed so badly he would not have scored well and the Frenchman wanted no part of him. Lars physically hurt as he walked away from that old bull, but hoped against hope that they would cross paths again. If they did , he hoped he would be with a client that would be able to appreciate the old boy for the true trophy that he was.

The one good trophy they had seen had given them but just a glimpse before it slipped out of sight and crossed back into the park. If the Frenchman had been a little quicker on the sticks they could have had that bull in the salt and moved on to some other game. But it was not to be, he was too slow and fumbling and unsure of himself, and he just did not get the shot off. Afterwards he blamed Lars cause the sticks were too tall, or they were in the wrong place and something blocked his line of fire. Just like with the old scrum cap bull,Lars walked on,and whatever disgust he held for the Frenchman he kept to himself.

“We will get another chance†he assured anyone that was listening. “And the next time it will be a bigger bull , you will see.†That was Lars’ way. Never berate a client. Work hard to keep the spirits of the client and the crew from sagging.

But inside , both he and Meeka were thinking that this blown opportunity may have been their last real chance at success.

The hunt was on it’s last breath. Tomorrow they would have to start back so as to get the Frenchman to the airport for his afternoon flight. Lars had never let his spirits ebb, at least not outwardly. It was going to be tough to locate a bull, especially a good one. There just were not that many good ones to be had. They were just a few miles away, tucked safely into the park ,but they might as well been on another continent. Since day two the Frenchman had slowed more and more each day, waiting for him to catch up is what had let the one good bull get back to the park before they could get a shot. Lars was not sure the Frenchman could catch up to a bull if they located a good track.

But there was Lars, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to take on the last day of the hunt ,just as eagerly as the first day of the hunt when everyone is excited at the prospects. It was just getting pink in the eastas he finished his coffee and headed for the truck that Meeka had brought around , just like he had brought it around every morning of the hunt. Everything was packed, all the supplies that would be needed for a day in the bush. Meeka knew what was needed, and it was done. Meeka did not necessarily do it all himself, but he did see to it that it got done. Mufassa had prepared the lunch, and Big John had cleaned out the truck, but it was Meeka who checked the water and the air in the tires, made sure the jack and spare were in their place, and that there was an extra length of tow chain under the passenger seat of the truck. Meeka also checked to see that the truck had been cleaned and the lunch had been packed. Lars never even gave it a thought. He did not have to.

Lars picked up his double rifle from the lapa as he made his way to the truck. Meeka was in the drivers seat and the Frenchman has made his way to the truck as well. He had skipped breakfast this morning and gave no explanation why, but he struggled even more climbing into the back of the bakke than he had on the previous mornings.

“Are you ready to go kill that buffalo this morning?†said Lars with all the enthusiasm he could muster.

“Yesâ€, answered the Frenchman.

Those were the only words spoken for the next hour and a half.

Lars had taken the wheel and Meeka had moved up into the back of the Toyota about ten minutes into the trip. From there he could better see tracks crossing the road from the park the night before. A very nice set of elephant tracks led down the road for a hundred meters before crossing onto the hunting area. They held little interest today because the Frenchman held no permit for elephant.

It had started to heat up just as it had every other morning of the hunt; and then Meeka saw it. Almost at the same time Lars spotted it as well. Big solitary buffalo track coming out of the park and heading into the hunting block. Lars could not help but get excited , but he dare not let the excitement overwhelm him. Was the buffalo still in the hunting area? If so,could they catch up to him and could the Frenchman make the shot? Could he possibly pull of another last day kill? How many times had it all come together in the last hours of a hunt in the past? He should have known it would work out OK in the end.Maybe everything would work out OK after all.

Lars drove down the road bordering the park while Meeka got out to examine the track. For nearly a mile he went before turning the truck around and coming back. The bull had not crossed back, at least not over the stretch he covered. Meeka indicated that the track was fresh . Guns were quickly brought out of the truck and loaded. Meeka had no trouble with the track. It was fresh and he was like a hound on a hot scent. In just a short time they came upon a steaming pile of dung. He had to be close. The ash sock indicated the wind was still good. It looked like Lars was going to be able to pull it off on the last day of a hunt one more time. Lars was following Meeka and the Frenchman was following Lars.

They never saw or heard the cow until she was practically on top of them. She must have been just off to the side of the trail they were on because that is where she was when they saw her coming. Lars thought to himself, “How can you get so close to something as big as this elephant without seeing her?†This was the last rational thought Lars had. The cow was trumpeting her rage ,ears layed back and head down. Lars’ gun was coming up as Meeka dove into the bush and the Frenchman fell backwards, dropping his rifle. At once stumbling , crawling ,scrambling like an epileptic hare.

Lars did not even get a shot off before the cow was on him. She bowled him straight over and squatted on top of him, pinning him between her short stubby tusks and crushing him with her turned under trunk. She was deliberate, almost standing on her head. Meeka was able to find the Frenchman’s gun and ran toward the elephant to fire a shot into the cow’s shoulder from less than three feet away. The cow roared in pain and rage and turned to run away. Meeka ,unfamiliar with the gun ,fumbled with the bolt and was not able to get another round chambered in time to get a second shot into the retreating cow.

Lars quite obviously was dead. Meeka had seen enough dead ,both the animal kind and the human kind to know that he was dead. The Frenchman made his way back eventually, sobbing uncontrollably. He knew no Afrikaans and Meeka no French, but there was not much to be said anyway. Nothing that would really matter or be remembered later on anyway.

The Frenchman left Africa the next day as scheduled , never to return again, and without ever having fired his rifle.

Well written.

Why always pick on the French?

Enjoyed that, fictional or not.

Thanks for the kind words.The other night I went to bed at midnight , as is my normal routine. For some reason I could not sleep so rather than keep the wife awake with my tossing and turning I went to the computer and started writing.I guess the loss of several great PH's was on my mind and that led me to write what I did.

Hope some of you will find something familiar in the story.....eyedoc

I enjoyed the story immensely. Thank you.