Not just my fingers.... I've spent half my life up to my neck in it with my ex wives!

And they certainly don't come close to appreciating my sense of humour!

if your legs where longer you would not be in it up to your neck or find women with smaller P$%$#%^^#@Y.

what sence of humor your a brit we all know brits don't know no humors

I once had a hunter in camp who brought a rubber snake along. He thought it would be fun to place it on the path outside my chalet. Unbeknown to him my wife saw him doing it. Later she walked out of the Chalet, calmly sidestepped the rubber snake, past us and wlked up to the gun rack. In a flash she had the 12gauge in her hand and promptly blew the offending "snake" to smithereens......We all nearly wet ourselves but the Fellow was most upset with his now rather tatty rubber snake...especially when my daughter said he could use it as a rubber worm for Bass Fishin

quote:

Originally posted by Bwana1:
Slap your arm or the back of your neck, then pretend that you are picking up a tetsee fly then put it in your mouth like you are eating it.

That would make a hell of a first impression on a PH!

In my opinion playing child like pranks has no place in a safari camp. Esp. hunting dangerous game is a serious undertaking and here there is no place for jokes.

465H&H

quote:

Originally posted by JBrown:

quote:

Originally posted by Bwana1:
Slap your arm or the back of your neck, then pretend that you are picking up a tetsee fly then put it in your mouth like you are eating it.

That would make a hell of a first impression on a PH!

Reminds me of a Boy Scouts trick we used to play on new people (and it would probably be really funny in a hunting camp too). We would cook up some brownies, the ones that are really gooey on the inside, then mold them into fecal matter shapes. We would run ahead before a hike and place them in the dirt. As we're hiking along someone points out the very interesting looking animal poop. Someone then says, "I wonder what made it, the only way we'll know for sure is to taste it." Pick it up and eat the brownie while enjoying the horrible look on your friends' faces.

We found the skeleton of a large baboon once, and the hand was so human like, we thought of using it to play a trick on one of our friends.

In the evening, we sit by the fire under a large tree.

We tied the hand with a fishing line, and passed the line over a branch high in the tree. We lowered it, and placed a chair right where the hand was.

We then raised the hand, and tied the line, and left the chair where it was.

Our friend had his usual shower, and came and sat down on the chair that was prepared for him.

After he had settled down with a drink, we slowly lowered the baboon hand until it touch his forhead.

He looked up, jumped backwards screaming, knocked the chair flat, and hand followed him to the ground.

There was utter panic on his face, and the laughter from everyone else lasted throughout dinner.

A rubber snake is going to make the trip with me to Zim in Oct... gonna have some fun with him on my buddies, the PH, the staff, the monkeys (Steve's great idea!)..

Thanks for some GREAT ideas, guys!

Very funny stuff - as long as it doesn't happen to me.

As the old saying goes, with friends like you guys, who needs enemies?

well, this was not a prank(unless one of the trackers goosed the damn goat) but we had a goat in the back of the jeep we were going to use as leopard bait. We had been seeing a lot of fairly recent elephant spoor and the terrain was typical doma terrain; patches of thick elephant grass interspersed with burned out patches. anyway I was wool gathering, thinking about elephants when that goat let out a hell of a loud bleat, right behind me-I had forgotten all about the goat-man, I swear that I was half way out of that moving jeep about to do a snap roll into the bushes, when reason overcame instinct. That scared the living fire out of me!

you guys are too much! If I can find a rubber snake before we go camping tomorrow I'm going to have my 4yo daughter run up to my wife saying,"mommy mommy look what I caught!". I'm sure I'll get in huge trouble, but will be hilarious.

Red

I've mentioned these before but just to remind those that have a memory like mine..... you can also play a few jokes on the monkeys that so often hang around camp.

Take a rubber snake and tie a piece of fishing line about a yard long round it's neck. Then put it into a carrier bag and weigh the corners down with a couple of rocks. Then tie something like a doughnut to the other end and leaving it in sight of the monkeys, just walk away...... it won't take long for a monkey to run down, grab the doughnut and run off. He'll feel a weight pulling his arm back, look round and have hysterics at the snake that's chasing him.

But it's unlikely he'll drop the doughnut!

Another one is to lace a doughnut with (preferably) a sweet booze and leave it out for a monkey to steal....... there's very few things in life funnier than a drunken monkey!

I was hunting on Gunnar Voights' farm in Namibia, my so-called friend Norman Crooks was my PH, second time out with him. We chased a herd of black wildebeast all over the place forever. Finally caught them bedded down, had to wait forever to get a shot. When the bull finally got clear I couldn't see him. Norman, a little frustrated, re-positioned my rifle on the rest and said,"Shoot that one." OK, bang, flop, walked up on a prefectly shot cow black wildebeast. Norman was mortified. Even moreso when he had to tell Gunnar of our screwup than evening.

Next day we are out at it again, same song, second verse. When I finally got a shot at the bull, I repeatedly asked Norman to make sure we were both talking about the same animal in the herd.

Bang,flop.

Norman and the tracker ran up ahead to the wildebeast and I trailed after.I couldn't see it because of the brush. I hear Norman start swearing up a blue streak,"Bl**dy Hell, another f***ing cow". My heart sank, I felt just sick.

Of course, I walked up to Norman and the tracker laughing hysterically, standing over a beautiful black wildebeast bull.

I still owe him for that one.

speaking of snakes!!!! Last aug in Zim, hunting buffalo we returned to camp to lunch and i went to wash up. Gray snake on my doorstep, so i yelled at my ph to come tell me if it was a "good " or "bad" snake. His eyes got big and he say's that is a spitting cobra and we must kill it. I say's YOU kill it and i'll back you up. When he missed with the first big rock, it "hooded up" pissed off. They finally killed it and had it on a big long metal rod. I said to him, put it in the fire now while i"m watching because I don't want that thing in my "sandwich" tomarrow !!!!! Needless to say my eyes were on the ground in camp the rest of the hunt. JS

Nothing origional here, but I have had sone fun http://www.prankplace.com/default.aspxwith the bullet hole decals on Cruisers.

ah yes - and babos - terrorizing baboons is always a welcome endeavor. back when you could take stuff on an airplane we'd take bottle rockets with us. when the babos would come to drink we'd launch a couple in their direction. much humor in doing that. now we're confined to using a slingshot and plinking one of them then watching the fight begin

In my opinion playing child like pranks has no place in a safari camp. Esp. hunting dangerous game is a serious undertaking and here there is no place for jokes.

465H&H

What a disappointment. I posted the above tongue in cheek statement with the certainty that I would get flamed for being an old foggy or a stick in the mud. Then I could say "Bazinga"! What? No takers.

I think that speaks very well for the quality of posters on this thread. I imagine it would have been entirely different response if I had posted it on the political Forum. You guys have gained a lot of new respect from me.

465H&H

Only just buddy..... I nearly bit but then realized what you were up to!

But damn, you nearly got me!

465H&H
I had to bite my tongue chew my fingers and bang my head on the table to keep from calling you more than a stick in the mud are you sure you not Steve's evil twin??????

While hunting on a large Botswana ranch, our comfortable camp was situated beside a largish man-made pond, complete with several hippos that the landowner had brought in. These critters were accustomed to supplementary feeding with hay, but they also left the pond and grazed around and between the stone chalets in which we slept. My chalet was the last in the row, facing the pond at a distance of perhaps forty yards. I often arose at various times during the dead of night and peeked out my door to see what was moving about the area, which was lit by floodlights at night, and I often saw the hippos at those times. Naturally, when walking back to my chalet each night after dark, I kept a sharp watch for them.

My young PH, Steven van der Merwe, was a lot of fun and had a good sense of humour, and we joked around a lot. Like a total idiot, I mentioned to him my caution near the pond at night. One evening, after yet another great day in the African outdoors, we had a couple of drinks after dinner and stayed up a bit later than was usual. As I wended my way towards my chalet afterwards, flashlight in hand and peering about as alertly as alcohol allowed, I heard fast, heavy footfalls at some distance behind me and to my right. This was the general direction of the PH and staff quarters, and I thought nothing of it until much later. As I passed through the darkest and thickest patch of trail leading to my bed, with the pond on my left, I heard a loud and explosive snorting grunt from my right. My original plan if I confronted a hippo at this point was to scramble up the rock wall leading to the small swimming pool nearby. Somehow this idea was forgotten, and I instantly accelerated to about Mach Four, rocketed across the remainder of the clearing, cleared the stone wall of my chalet's front porch in a bound, and dove through the (fortunately open) glass door. My flashlight was still clenched in my fist and it must have been swinging wildly up and down like the headlights of a car rolling down a mountainside. I tripped over a small table in the chalet and landed in a heap, and by this time the sound of insane cackling laughter was clear. I had been thoroughly and completely HAD.

Steven chortled about what he called my "ostrich steps" for the remainder of my stay. My plan for revenge didn't quite prove as successful as I hoped. I guess I'll have to go back and try again.

Talking of snakes a PH told me once that they were hunting down a road and a snake passed in front of them. The client jumped out and ran after it into the grass, quickly took off his trouser belt and threw it into the car which was immediately vacated by all.

quote:

Originally posted by jwm:
While hunting on a large Botswana ranch, our comfortable camp was situated beside a largish man-made pond, complete with several hippos that the landowner had brought in. These critters were accustomed to supplementary feeding with hay, but they also left the pond and grazed around and between the stone chalets in which we slept. My chalet was the last in the row, facing the pond at a distance of perhaps forty yards. I often arose at various times during the dead of night and peeked out my door to see what was moving about the area, which was lit by floodlights at night, and I often saw the hippos at those times. Naturally, when walking back to my chalet each night after dark, I kept a sharp watch for them.

My young PH, Steven van der Merwe, was a lot of fun and had a good sense of humour, and we joked around a lot. Like a total idiot, I mentioned to him my caution near the pond at night. One evening, after yet another great day in the African outdoors, we had a couple of drinks after dinner and stayed up a bit later than was usual. As I wended my way towards my chalet afterwards, flashlight in hand and peering about as alertly as alcohol allowed, I heard fast, heavy footfalls at some distance behind me and to my right. This was the general direction of the PH and staff quarters, and I thought nothing of it until much later. As I passed through the darkest and thickest patch of trail leading to my bed, with the pond on my left, I heard a loud and explosive snorting grunt from my right. My original plan if I confronted a hippo at this point was to scramble up the rock wall leading to the small swimming pool nearby. Somehow this idea was forgotten, and I instantly accelerated to about Mach Four, rocketed across the remainder of the clearing, cleared the stone wall of my chalet's front porch in a bound, and dove through the (fortunately open) glass door. My flashlight was still clenched in my fist and it must have been swinging wildly up and down like the headlights of a car rolling down a mountainside. I tripped over a small table in the chalet and landed in a heap, and by this time the sound of insane cackling laughter was clear. I had been thoroughly and completely HAD.

Steven chortled about what he called my "ostrich steps" for the remainder of my stay. My plan for revenge didn't quite prove as successful as I hoped. I guess I'll have to go back and try again.

Lucky young Steve did not receive .500 grains between his teeth. That would have been a good prank.

I don't think torches come in 500 grains

Being a Southerner, I grew up drinking Iced Sweet TEA. I drink copious amounts of it, at least a gallon a day.

I don't drink alcohol very much, but boy can I put away the tea!

While in Chewore south a couple years ago, I worked with the camp cook to perfect his understanding of the ratios required for my recipe of sweet iced tea, to satisfy my needs for the evening meal.
The problem was there were no containers big enough to hold the quantities required to rehydrate adequately me. So, we settled on the field expedient of 4 empty scotch bottles, recycled and filled with Tea and put in the cooler to be COLD for my evening meal. We had gotten the routine down quite well..............then.........

We were joined my third day in camp by a Spanish judge, his wife, another Spanish gentleman and his son, and another lone Spanish gentleman. Introductions were made over sun-downers .... they found out I was from Texas and spoke a little Spanish.

We all hit it off right away and by the time the evening meal was served we were all fast friends.

The camp staff put an empty tumbler by my plate, and I retrieved the first of "my" bottles of Tea. I poured a tumbler full, and proceeded to down about half of it without stopping. I noticed across table from me the Spanish judge's wife's eyes bug out and she "elbowed" the judge. I quickly realized that the "Scotch" bottle had set up a situation to good to pass up. Before long the "elbowing" had made it's way down the "Spanish" side of the table, and all eyes were on the SCOTCH DRINKING TEXAN.

I continued to fill up and down the tumbler throughout the meal until the bottle was empty, then get up and retrieve another and treat it the same way.

Of course, the PH's and everyone else around the table, snapped to the ploy quick.... and made the appropriate comments to help keep the charade going. "Them damn Texans sure do like their whiskey".........

After the meal, we sat around visiting, while I polished off a 3rd bottle.
When I went off to bed, everyone was feeling no pain, while I appeared still stone cold sober. I had "drank" them under the table.

The next night I started the show over again, after I finished off the first scotch bottle and started the second, the judge motioned me to pour him some from my bottle....I reached over and poured some into his glass and waited ....with the rest of the folks that were in on it...................

The look on his face and the subsequent rapid fire Spanish explanations to the rest was quite hilarious!

Everyone in the dining area was brought to tears..........

quote:

Originally posted by HAMMER'em:
Being a Southerner, I grew up drinking Iced Sweet TEA. I drink copious amounts of it, at least a gallon a day.

I don't drink alcohol very much, but boy can I put away the tea!

While in Chewore south a couple years ago, I worked with the camp cook to perfect his understanding of the ratios required for my recipe of sweet iced tea, to satisfy my needs for the evening meal.
The problem was there were no containers big enough to hold the quantities required to rehydrate adequately me. So, we settled on the field expedient of 4 empty scotch bottles, recycled and filled with Tea and put in the cooler to be COLD for my evening meal. We had gotten the routine down quite well..............then.........

We were joined my third day in camp by a Spanish judge, his wife, another Spanish gentleman and his son, and another lone Spanish gentleman. Introductions were made over sun-downers .... they found out I was from Texas and spoke a little Spanish.

We all hit it off right away and by the time the evening meal was served we were all fast friends.

The camp staff put an empty tumbler by my plate, and I retrieved the first of "my" bottles of Tea. I poured a tumbler full, and proceeded to down about half of it without stopping. I noticed across table from me the Spanish judge's wife's eyes bug out and she "elbowed" the judge. I quickly realized that the "Scotch" bottle had set up a situation to good to pass up. Before long the "elbowing" had made it's way down the "Spanish" side of the table, and all eyes were on the SCOTCH DRINKING TEXAN.

I continued to fill up and down the tumbler throughout the meal until the bottle was empty, then get up and retrieve another and treat it the same way.

Of course, the PH's and everyone else around the table, snapped to the ploy quick.... and made the appropriate comments to help keep the charade going. "Them damn Texans sure do like their whiskey".........

After the meal, we sat around visiting, while I polished off a 3rd bottle.
When I went off to bed, everyone was feeling no pain, while I appeared still stone cold sober. I had "drank" them under the table.

The next night I started the show over again, after I finished off the first scotch bottle and started the second, the judge motioned me to pour him some from my bottle....I reached over and poured some into his glass and waited ....with the rest of the folks that were in on it...................

The look on his face and the subsequent rapid fire Spanish explanations to the rest was quite hilarious!

Everyone in the dining area was brought to tears..........

Now THAT is a real corker!!!

Walter, being himself, cannot do much without raising some eye brows.

On our first hunt together, Walter wanted to shoot a zebra.

Trouble is, as anyone who has hunted zebra would know, they need a bit of leg work. This, Walter was not able to provide.

So my wife found a zebra blanket, made of cloth. We took it with us to Zimbabwe.

We found a nice water hole, and proceeded to make a frame with sticks and brush, and covered it with the zebra blanket.

We placed it in such a way that one could see it from about 200 yards way, partially hidden in the bush.

We went back to camp to have lunch, and invited Walter to come along in the afternoon.

"We are going to a wterhole that had lots of tracks of animals" I said.

We parked the truck a couple of hundred yards from the water hold, and went on foot.

I said to Walter "Come along. If we see sable or eland, I will shoot it. Anything else is yours"

Roy was ahead, and with me, Walter, Alan and everyoen else tagging behind.

Roy did his best actor bit. He glassed around the water hole, then announced, "zebra"!

Walter followed Roy. They both did a fantastic stalk on hands knees. Roy puts up the shooting sticks, and Walter shot the zebra.

Roy "It is still standing there! Shoot it again!"

Walter clobbered it again.

BY this time, I could not contain myself any more, and burst out laughing!

We even had stage blood, and I ran off to the zebra, and placed some blood on the bullet holes.

Good thing it wasn't a real zebra, as Walter shot it smack in the middle of the stomach!

Thanks for reminding me---I need to go get some rubber snakes before I leave.

Not nearly as good as most above but here is one at my expense...
From day one of our safari, our PH - Wayne Bartlett - worried himself sick about making it successful. Literal belly pain from worry every day. He was great, worked very hard and truly took care of my Dad and me. Daneesa, our tracker was just as dedicated to our success as well as to our having a good time. Wayne worried about our getting the Cape buffalo that were our first priority. I told him repeatedly "Don't worry, we are having a great time and whether we ge one, two or none, we have alreay exceeded our dreams of Africa. I never worry, you shouldnt either." I meant it but Wayne worried anyway. We got our Cape buffalo - two in the same day. You would think he relaxed a bit. Nope - "Now we have to get you your Kudu. You won't be satisfied if we dont get your Kudu." Same words of praise and appreciation from me - no effect. We got out Kudu. Same with Impala, Wildebeest and finally Warthog. Every time it was if the entire safari rested on his ability to find the game we wanted and for us to have a good shot. Believe me - after over 40 years of hunting at my dad's side, we know hw blessed we are just to be able to hunt, to see game ... and even more so to fulfill the dream of doing so in Africa. I meant what I told Wayne with all that I am - "Stop worrying, we are having a great time. I am not concerned, I never worry. I don't want you to worry about it either!"

So, we had taken all of the game we had planned and a few we hadn't and were truly thrilled. Everything fell to our shots and we felt like kings. Wayne no longer worried. The plan on the last day of hunting was for me to take an old Blue Wildebeest cow.

We went out and after a long stalk, I was on the sticks and the 416 Weatherby reached out across about 200 yards. I was about to take a second shotas the cow stumbled but Wayne said "Don't shoot!" I guessed he was worried that I might hit another Wildebeest in the herd, though I could have easily hit her again with no concern as nothing else was around. Daneesa looked at me, shook his head solemnly then at Wayne and, using his two huge hands, motioned as if the Wildebeest ran off. "Daneesa said your Wildebeest ran off with the herd. She could go miles and we may never find her. This is terrible, let's run to the spot where you shot and see if we can track her from there."

I ran as hard as I could yelling "Shit!Shit!Shit!" the whole way while Wayne was looking at me saying "I thought you never worry. Dont't worry, there is nothing to worry about. You shouldn't worry. Didn't you tell me you never worry about anything?" I was mentally beating myself up for not taking that second shot, chatizing myself for the poor shot, feeling bad that this might be the first time in my life that I wounded something and couldnt finish it off.

We reached the blood splattered long grass where I had taken that shot and Wayne said "Are you worried?" "Yes I am worried! That's a terrible thing to wound an animal and leave it to suffer."
"I thought you never worry."
Now I was getting pissed - and then saw the smile on Daneesa's then Wayne's face as Daneesa pointed to the Wildebeest cow laying about 3 yards from the bloody grass.

"You SON OF A BITCH!!!"

Wayne easily side-leaped away from the roundhouse intended for his shoulder, laughing as he stumbled over the fallen beast.

"Good one, Wayne, you got me." This time he rocked a bit with the open handed "CLAP" generously applied to the middle of his back.

It WAS a good one and a great ending to a truly indescribable experience.

Paul