you went to bed last night with the barking zebra putting you to sleep, but now it's an instant latter and the camp gopher is knocking on your tent. Its still dark, but you can see the pink light in the east. You roll out of bed and checkyour shoes for scorpians, and the floor for snakes. Not that there any, but its become habit. The chill of the morning hits yu in the face as you walk down the path towards the fire that has been rekindled while you slept. Slining the chair closer to the fire, the gopher brings you a cup of hot coffee and you settle down into the chair next to the fire and listen to the birds of the morning. The shieks are in the trees above you, the doves are cooing, and there is a go away bird making its first sounds. After that huge meal of fresh eland steaks last night you don't feel like breakfast, but another cup of coffee while the PH gets the cruiser ready. You climb up into the back and sit down next to the trackers in that high seat and start off down the road. The chill of the morning soaks through the coast that you thought you'd never need in africa. The sun is coming up over the horizon and the family of warthogs dart accross the road. You're out to check the leopard baits you had hung 2 days ago. 4 impala and one zebra are hung, and you are betting to yourself which one that mr. spots has fed on. As you pass the kudu in the brush you've start another day in heaven.

It appears that your barrel job went well, Butch. Are you yearning to use that new rifle on your next trip to the dark continent? I could get use to this in the morning to get my spirits in order!

Wow, very nice.

That took me back, thanks.

PHC better watch out.

Kyler

I really enjoy reading something that gives you that "Africa" feeling. I'm not hunting here in Juba but..."it had been a long day at the Ministry of Transport & Roads office, punctuated only by a couple of huge blasts from the UN troops accross the road exploding the accumulated UXO from thirty years of civil war. The building we had built, commissioned only three months ago, already had a couple of cracked walls from a few explosions that lifted the tiles on the roof. The concussion came in a waves that lifted the dust in the central courtyard giving the illusion of "seeing" the shock.

The little open air bar on the banks of Nile had half a dozen plastic table set under the mango trees. Dropping mangoes thumped on and near the tables; a few cries of "incoming" sprinkled the conversation. I drank my Ugandan Breweries Bell lager and wished I were hunting."