All,



I have foolishly decided to try to write an extended article, or perhaps even a book, on the subject of the modern, twenty one day, full bag safari. The idea is to take one through it, day by day, in a realistic way, barring no holds and adding no gloss. My target audience is the experienced and the novice.



I am attaching an excerpt below, and would appreciate your thoughts and constructive criticisms, be they specific or general. But to be succinct, what I'd really like to know is, assuming there's more like this, would you read it?



Thanks.



"Today we hunted lions all day long. The score at day�s end was: Lions 1, Hunters 0. The lions continue to ignore all of our baits. I am beginning to think they are a lot of ungrateful bastards. They don�t seem to be the least bit interested in our delectable treats. What more could they want than a six day old waterbuck, dripping blood and other bodily juices, reeking with a stench that would gag a buzzard, swarming with flies by the thousands, and hanging for the taking from a convenient tree?



Similarly, our choice cuts of Cape Buffalo No. 1 were being ignored by our feline quarry. This cape buffalo had been dead for over a week by the time, earlier today, when we finally said enough is enough, and cut him down so that he may be devoured by vultures, hyenas and the other members of the local sanitation crew. I believe that we are on a program, here in Tanzania, to feed all of the starving scavengers and carrion eaters, since clearly the lions don�t want or need our handouts.



Nevertheless, we did do one thing today that might further our chances of getting an opportunity to actually see, and perhaps, if the stars are in the proper alignment, actually shoot, a large maned male lion. What we did was this: We took the putrefied hind quarters of a hippopotamus that I had previously killed and that we had previously hung in one location, to another location, approximately five miles away, where a tribe of presumably more grateful (and, we hope, hungrier) lions resides.



Now, a trip of five miles down any decent road in the USA might require five minutes time, except possibly in northern climes in the early spring after the frost heaves have created the usual thousands of potholes. But a trip of five miles down these certain roads of the Selous Game Reserve in the United Republic of Tanzania required approximately an hour in the best of weather and conditions. And all the while, of course, as we were cruising along, a putrefied, thousand pounds worth of hippopotamus ass was hanging off the back of the truck. Every time the wind changed, we got a nauseating noseful of the rank scent of rotten hippo. I have concluded after this experience that there is no fouler smell on the face of this planet than the smell of a dead hippopotamus. I may be mistaken, since there are some dead creatures I haven�t yet had the displeasure to smell, but I�d bet a year�s salary that a dead hippo�s ripe and rotting ass ranks right down there with the worst of them.



By the way, our trackers consider my wife�s reaction to the smell of this putrefying hunk of meat to be hilarious. Every time the wind changes, she emits a disgusted snort, to which they respond by smiling and laughing uproariously. Anyway, I, for one, share my wife's distaste at these proceedings. I sincerely hope that the newly chosen location for this hippo�s malodorous ass is more productive than the last one, because I�ll be damned if I�ll ride around Tanzania any longer with it. It reminds me of the old proverb: Be careful what you wish for�you just might get it. I did want to shoot a hippo. It is a very dangerous animal that is challenging to stalk and take on land. I didn�t realize, however, that, after shooting him, I would be married to his rotting ass for a week.



Besides our misadventures today with the deceased hippopotamus, we also encountered a few other game animals in the process of trying to catch and kill a lion. We saw a huge herd of hundreds of buffalo along the Mkuyu River, and among them, one truly massive bull; however, the bull managed to elude us in a cloud of dust or, more precisely, ash. The ash is the result of the activities of our band of trackers, who might more accurately be called serial arsonists. Their main vocation, in addition to spotting and tracking big game animals, is lighting fires throughout this area of East Africa.



Their activities would get them arrested anywhere in the USA. But here, lighting brush fires is pretty much de rigueur. Their pockets bulge with packs of matches, which they constantly flick off into the grass. For miles behind us, the Earth is burning and smoke rises in the sky. It is often quite beautiful.







Sometimes, at the end of the day, when we are heading back to camp, the darkening sky is left orange in our wake, lit by the fires our band of roving arsonists have set during our long day�s journey.







I often worry that there are people somewhere scheming to make what we are doing here, and having so damned much fun doing here, illegal or impossible. I am convinced that if we are not very careful, they will succeed in doing so. And knowing how careless we are, that makes me worry all the more."

I think you should start submitting your stuff to the rags and see what their reactions are, like African Hunter, Magnum, etc. They are in a better position to critique your work than us illiterate boobs.

By the way, I liked it (signed, Your Mum).

You have an E-Mail

I read it all the way thru.....I was not bored at all...it kept me going.....actually I liked it.....write more when you get around to it.

Yep count me in for more reads like the example.
I think you should try the various magazines, hopefully the magnum as it is the only magazine we get here in Zambia.
By any chance have you read "How not to shoot pigs" by Bruce Truter? Going by the sample teaser I think you could put together a book, Put me on the list for a copy when you do publish

I agree with Bill, send it off to a mag. Good reading so far!

Very good reading..and well written..Many want to hear the rest of the story..


Mike

I have to agree with Mark. Pretty well written overall. However, the redundant use of ass becomes counter productive. Once or twice is fine, but then you need to vary the description. It not only becomes redundant with the continued use but changes the focus of the reader. Other than a little polishing it is fine and will be a good read.

FWIW, I had the same feeling concerning the "ass" useage. Otherwise, I was entertained.

Thanks to all. I've never been told that I overuse the term "ass" before--I've only been told (more than once) to stop being one.

But as I read this excerpt over again, I do think you're right. I guess I spent so much time with that hippo's stinking rump (see, I'm learning ) that I became way too familiar with it.

There's nothing harder than editing yourself, and I do appreciate your help. I also appreciate the encouraging words from those who took the time to chime in, especially Mommy.

The trouble with this thing is, though, that, as it stands, it's way too long for a magazine and way too short for a book. So, I've got to shrink it or grow it.

Off to a good start, but no need to use the word 'ass' and rotting meat needs less emphasis too.

My main question was WHY DID YOU STOP SO QUICK?. I eagerly await more writing. "D"

All in (gag) all, a (vomit) very nicely written piece. If I might (regurgitate) take the liberty to offer (spew) some corrective criticism (hurl), it would only be that you consider (upchuck) limiting the description of the BAIT (barf) to once. Did you know that if you don't bring any lions in with a carcass you can throw it in the river and two days later have great fishing. Works just like stinkbait. You'll have to choose straws to see who carries it to the river. In all seriousness, all that you can offer is greatly appreciated. Thanks and Good Hunting! Mike