This is a great story, I missed it when initially posted. Thanks for sending back to the top!

GAHunter,
Great story! I was laughing and reminiscing of my bouts with wait-a-bit bushes and camel thorns in Zim.
I'll have to post the picture I took of thorns stuck in the recoil pad of my rifle. It was that bad...
Thanks for the great read,
Joe
in Houston

No one ever told me, or should I say, warned me, about African acacia thorns.



Now, being a Southern boy, I am no stranger to thorns -- briars, stickers -- whatever you want to call them. They are a part of life in the South, especially for the outdoorsman. Hardly a day in the woods goes by that I don't have to find the least painful (and bloody) way out of a blackberry thicket, or untangle myself from one of those "wait-a-minute" wild rose vines that finds a way to wrap around my neck. And have you ever been climbing a hill and reached out grab a tree to pull yourself up, only to find out that you grabbed a young black locust? You won't make that mistake but once.



I used to think that these instruments of the Devil's revenge on the South were as bad is it gets in terms of flora blood-letting. Little did I know (or that I would soon find out) that compared to African thorns, our briars and stickers are "bush-league".



Advance forward to my very first day ever hunting in Africa. We were in the highlands of Northern Namibia seeking Mrs. Hartmann's zebra (don't know how the sombitch got out of the barn in the first place!). It was me and a young assistant PH, Chris. We were making our way up a rocky ridge when Chris turns around and says, "we'll have to find another way up; this route is too thick."



Too thick? I looked ahead and only saw a couple of willowy branches crossing the game trail in the next hundred yards. "What do you mean 'too thick'? Where I come from, the path to the outhouse is more treacherous. And we make that trip sometimes naked (NOT nekid, which according to Jeff Foxworthy is a whole other state of being)."



"Suit yourself," said Chris. "You go that way and I'll meet you at the top."



"Too thick!" I thought to myself. "Geeez, these Africans are pussies! Why where I come from ........" My thought was interrupted by the initial encounter with one of the willowy branches crossing the trail. I looked at it and could see that it was covered up and down with small black thorns; anemic little things that weren't hardly worthy of notice.



I reached out with my thumb and forefinger to grab a leaf, so I could safely pull the limb out of the way, when.......THE MUTHER F----- ATTACKED ME!!!



Yes, I'm not kidding, it sprung for my hand and wrapped around my wrist. At which point I jerked my hand away in reflex. Big mistake! The bloody stump that had occupied the space where my hand used to be caused intense pain to radiate up my arm. At which point I stepped backward -- right into the main body of the bush! It was at about now that I started to realize that maybe these Africans aren't so dumb after all.



The battle was joined, and I was losing. The bush entangled every appendage (yes, even that one). I could feel the life slipping out of my body. I started thinking about all those stories I had read about PHs and hunters surviving hand-to-claw encounters with leopards, lions and hyenas. I looked to them for strength, but soon came to the realization that all they had to deal with were man-eating cats. I had serious doubts that ANYONE had ever survived an attack by a man-eating acacia!



My thoughts turned to my wife and kids back at the lodge. What if I didn't return? Would my wife blow all the life insurance money on some young stud who would make her much happier than I ever could? Would my kids grow into the avid outdoorsmen I had started them on the path to be, or would they instead grow into happy, successful adults with hot wives?



The thought of their happy and productive lives without me were more than I could bear. It was about here that I summoned my reserve strength. As the cursed limbs dug ever deeper into, first my clothes, and then my precious hide, I spyed a bright light in the dirction of the mountain top (I was later to find out that it was a firey red ball in the sky -- called the "sun"). My only chance was to move toward the light. Gathering my feet under me I pushed with all my might, and to my surprise, actually made headway agains the behemoth's deadly tentacles.



Encouraged, I pushed one last time and..... I was free!



I looked back at evil from which I had escaped. Even though I was torn and bleeding from a thousand (or at least ten)points, I knew I was lucky. Small pieces of shirt and pants material hung ominously from it branches. Otherwise it stood there just as innocent-looking as it had when I first approached.



I continued up the mountain, a much wiser man than I had been even few minutes before. On all sides of the trail stood bushes similar to the one that nearly taken my life and I gave them wide berth.



When I reached the top, Chris was perched on a rock. He took one look at my tattered, torn and bleeding body and said, "I see you found the black-thorn bush."



"Ain't nothin' compared to the blackberry bushes back where I come from," I said. "Where's all them bad thorns you folks is always squawking about?"



Later that day we were getting ready at assault another ridge, when I decided to glass toward the summit. About a mile ahead of us, crossing an otherwise clear 50-foot-wide trail, was the single, willowy limb of a black-thorn acacia. I put the glasses down and looked calmly and Chris and said, "We'll have to find another way up. This route's too thick."

Great story GAHunter. I laughed all the way through it!

Well told!! Hand to hand combat with those thorns is something most can relate to.

I second that great story, GA!

And here I thought I was the only one who went to the outhouse nekid....

Went this morning to check on a deer stand (black powder season opens in the morning). Had to pass through a blackberry patch to get there. As I was I was picking the little b****ards ( blackberry thorns, or rather thorn tips) out of my hide, the memory of this whole experience came rushing back.

Mark,

Are you sure you went to the outhouse nekid?

I said it was Jeff Foxworthy, but the more I think of it, I believe it was the immortal Lewis Grizzard, who explained the difference between "naked" and "nekid". "Naked", he said, ment you ain't go your clothes on. "Nekid", on the other hand, means you ain't got no clothes on, and you're up to something!

Given the choice, I'd rather be nekid than naked, but not in the outhouse!

Your story had me smiling and laughing all the way through. It's very well written.

I loved your "bush league" comment--but if our American thorns are bush league, then what are African thorns--major bush league?

And I also loved how the thought of everyone getting along fine without you gave you the strength to persevere. Sometimes sheer orneriness is the only thing that keeps a man from dying.

Maybe you can persuade Rowland Ward and SCI to add the black thorn acacia as the sixth member of the Big Five.

GAHunter,

GREAT story!! Well told!!! Thanks for posting and sharing that.

-Bob F.

GAHUNTER,

Great story!! I can't wait till its my turn. I'm glad you got that nekid thing right. Lewis would have been disappointed that a Ga resident would not recognize a native son.

Jeff

Well written GA, I was laughing the whole time. One of the things I never got used to while hunting there, especially in the mountains, is that everything you reach for to get a bit of support, BITES! I therefor aleays listen to my PH.

This is an extremely entertaining post and well written.

I will be looking out for the Namibian killer acacia's.

Jeffery,

Did you know that for all his great, down-home southern humor, Lewis had one major flaw -- he hated hunters! In some of columns in the Atlanta Journal/Constitution he railed at the dirty, good-for-nothins' who went out an killed Bambi.

I've always tried to overlook this when reading his work, because, despite this character flaw, he captured southern life to a tee!

Lewis, if you are looking down from that cloud up there with Catfish by your side, you should feel flattered, because there are not many anti-hunters I tolerate. In fact, you might be the only one!

GAhunter,
I am sure you would enjoy what we call the "wait a bit bush"
Maybe its the same plant you tangled with

GAHunter

Enjoyed your little story.

I always take photographs of the thorns of Africa. Something aren't they.

GREAT story! I think this would make any safari veteran reminisce and for future bwana's, something to look forward too.

Funny stuff...

I have lived among the thorns in West Texas and of course been hung up in Africa as well but the funnies thing that ever happened to me was on the Rosillas Ranch adjacent to the Big Bend National Park in West Texas...I had that ranch leased for a number of years.

I was trapping coyotes and Bobcats on our ranch and we had a particularly bad cactus called Tasajia, it had 3" spines as thin as can be and would penitrate boots, chaps and chain mail with ease...

I walked down a long sendero (trail) about 1 foot wide for a couple of hundred yards and set a bob cat track in the middle of a big Tasajia patch early one morning...

The next morning I could hear the trap and drag rattling in the patch, aha I have a cat, so I take off down the sendero to retreve my prize and low and behold here comes a Javalina hog with his back foot in a trap and he is dragging the drag and not hanging up, He is popping his teeth and looks scary as hell, now I know from years of experience that a Javalina is a pretty mild little animal and they do not hurt people but they do have a false reputation for being mean, which is undeserved I might add..

I am in a spot, he must come between my legs and I am surrounded by 6 foot tall Tasajia..but I know he won't hurt me, he will just run through my legs and go on but I shoot at him twice with the 22 shorts in my pistol to no avail I might add,

The closer he got the more my knowledge and bravery faded and the finale decision is up in the air and flatten my poor body over the top of the Tasajia..

I crawled out of the Tasajia and I looked like a porkypine, must have had 500 or more spines sticking everywhere, face, body hand all over me..

The hog had slipped the trap beyond me, as the drag hung up shortly and his foot was still in it, his body gone!!..I took the time to find him and kill him then went and got the trap and in the process of getting the foot out got all four fingers of both hands caught in the trap somehow..Now picture this I can pull the trap open a little but I cannot pull either hand out without slamming shut hard on the other, on top of that I am filled from head to toe with thorns and picture me driving a 4 speed pickup with both hands trapped and having to change gears with my elbows and what not..On top of that is a 100 miles to town and no one at the ranch house..and I have to open several gates..I also have to hold the trap open a bit form time to time as my fingers are turning blue.

About 50 miles down the road a neighbor passes me and I honk and pull over, he backs up and ..The SOB is laughing his ass off at the sight of me but he does finally get up off the ground and helps me get the trap off, by now I am pretty sick and getting a fever,,,He tells me I will be OK because none to the needles were sticking in my heart and the one in my brain proved what he had always known, nothing there!! and this proved it beyond any doubt..He seemed to get a kick out of his own since of humor, and I told him if I lived that I would surly kick his ass.. That scared him, (yeah right) so he drives me to town and I spend the night in the Alpine hospital where the pump me full of dope, benadril and antibiotics, my doctor never quit grinningand laughing through the whole procedure and reminded me that on the bright side all the spines were in the front of my body and I could still take a dump and that I should be gratefull, and I added him to my kick ass list, I didn't see the humor that my friends did, at least not at the time..Not a good week for this kid...

The following week at the coffee shop was not good either, although sworn never to reveal my escapde to anyone, somehow it leaked out and the whole town of Marathon and even in Alpine had the story in every damn detail Oh well it gave everyone a great laugh, even me as a matter of fact...

Here's a photo of some Namibian thorns that make hunting anything there Dangerous Game.



Catch one of these branches across the face while riding on top of the Land Cruiser and even your own mother wouldn't recognize you anymore!







On a South African hunt several years ago one of the Land Cruisers had three tires punctured in one day by these bad boys!

Yeah, Mark, we saw a bunch of those, too. I agree that if you got a face-full, it would stand to ruin your whole day.

But those big fellows are easy to avoid. It's the little black thorn and red thorn acacia that lay in wait for you to pass by before attacking the unsuspecting hunter that scare me.

Sneaky little bastards, they are.

Great tale! I didn't know you could write so darn well. I really enjoyed it. Now, if you could just keep your promise about that juicy steak you promised to grill for me!

I hate to admit this but, in an unladylike fashion I had special names for the acacias I managed to meet up close. I quickly classified them into two distinct groups: One was thorny-b***tard-trees and the other was f***-you-up-bushes.



If you have been there, you can relate.

Earn,

I've had that steak on the grill ever since the last time you said you were coming to A-town. It's starting to get a might done!

But I got another one sitting in the fridge with your name on it. Just let me know when you're a'comin.

BTW, I made my living with the typewriter for about 20 years before entering my present line of work. (I was editor of two different magazines). It's just that that line of work wouldn't support my "habit" (hunting and fishing), and I had to try something a little more lucrative.

Anne,

I think your description of the bushes are a lot more fittting than "acacias".

Hey Ray- Great story. LOL, I guess you'll have to add me to the kick ass list too!!

GAHUNTER,

I really could appreciate your well written story about thorns. I clearly remember on our first safari the stearn look on the tracker's face as he stopped me from barreling head long into a thick "Wait A Bit". The North American machismo evaporates quite quickly when you are hopelessly entangled in this stuff.

Now buffalo bean and stinging nettles are a completely different story. Talk about nasty plants!

Regards,

Mark